Soldier of France

To a hawk-nosed French colonel in his sandbagged command post came an unexpected message from Washington. "In common with millions of my countrymen," wrote President Eisenhower last week, "I salute the gallantry and stamina of the commander and soldiers who are defending Dienbienphu." Eisenhower also had a notion about a promotion (see NATIONAL AFFAIRS) with which the colonel was in unabashed agreement.

In five years of campaigning in Indo-China, Dienbienphu's Commanding Colonel Christian de Castries, 51, has fretted and shouted for more chances to fight. "Be patient, Christian," Commanding General Henri Navarre would advise him. "You're not the only one around here who wants to be a general." Then, last fall, Navarre picked swashbuckling Colonel de Castries over several generals for Dienbienphu, the most important field command in Indo-China. "Here is your chance," said Navarre.

"Send for the Fire Chief." Kin to ten dukes, a marshal of France and one of Lafayette's officers, De Castries joined the French army as a private (1921), got his commission at cavalry officers' school, kept in trim between the wars by riding on the French international equestrian team (he once held the world record for the mounted broad and high jump). Early in World War II, De Castries was badly wounded and captured while trying to lead 60 men through an encircling German battalion. He failed in three escape attempts, made it on his fourth and rejoined the French army in time to be wounded again in Italy. Before war's end he went back into Germany and helped capture Karlsruhe and Freudenstadt for the Allies. Once De Castries strolled through a burn ing town during an enemy bombardment, calmly picked an inn where the wine cellar was to his taste and ordered lunch for his officers. The inn caught fire. De Castries just ordered more champagne. "We'll finish our meal," he told the innkeeper. "Send for the fire chief." To the chief he snapped: "Turn your hoses on this house. But if I'm not able to finish my lunch. I'll have you shot."

"Give Them the Gun." An impetuous man, with tawny eyes, a constant wine flush on his cheeks and a towering reputation as a ladies' man, De Castries the soldier holds the high trust of his superiors (the late General de LaUre de Tassigny would never question a De Castries decision) and the admiration of his men, who often shout. "Here comes Cri-Cri [a diminutive for Christian]," when he runs up to lead a charge. "Allons " De Castries has been heard to shout back. "What the hell are you waiting for? Do you expect the enemy to send you violets? Give the bastards the gun!"

Immaculately clad, garlanded with some 20 campaign decorations, scented with shaving lotion, wearing a bright red cap and shadowed by a Moroccan orderly carrying riding crop and carbine, he seemed an improbable Cadet de Gascogne to be in Dienbienphu in command of a battle so crucial to the fate of so much and so many. But those who knew him had few misgivings. "Dienbienphu will be all right unless De Castries gets himself killed," said one last week. "He will get himself killed," added another, "or he'll come back a general."

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