Generals, Bandits, Nuts

Two months ago the French Government suddenly was made to realize that the old French operettas were right: Corsica is full of bandits. The immediate occasion was when a grizzled bandit chief named Caviglioli raided the new hotels at Guagno les Bains, Corsica's latest resort, and shot dead a garage keeper from Ajaccio who had popped his head, cuckoo-clock wise, out of his window and shrilled for help (TIME, Sept. 7).

Moving ponderously to avenge the cuckoo of Ajaccio, a force of 800 blue-clad, blue-capped gendarmes landed from the mainland under command of General Fournier. The General's first move was to commandeer the largest table in the Cafe Napoleon, swankiest cafe in Ajaccio, only one with a plate-glass screen to protect the customers on the terrace from the mistral. He ordered two bottles of Byrrh for the use of the staff, and spread out his maps. His troops were divided into three columns and sent to scour the island.

Early results were good. Caviglioli was shot. Hundreds of bandit suspects or their relatives were arrested. Up in the mountains armed patrols raided three heavily armed bandit lairs--but found no bandits in them. Troop movements were hindered a good deal by the fact that the expeditionary force of 800 gendarmes was accompanied by an additional force of about 200 French, British, U. S., Italian and Spanish reporters who tipped off the natives unwittingly, drank up all the beer and asked so many questions that General Fournier found it impossible to concentrate. The air of Ajaccio, the air that fed the genius of the young Napoleon, gave General Fournier an idea or two. He ordered two gross of tricolored arm bands, drew up the 200 reporters in the public square last week, gave each one a rifle and sent them, happy as schoolboys, to hunt bandits in the woods by themselves and not bother him any more.

Even so, as the week progressed sensitive General Fournier felt that the populace was not in favor of his expedition. Instantly dismissing the suggestion that feeling would improve if he would move out of the Cafe Napoleon and allow the natives to resume their accustomed seats, he wrote long appeals to the people of Corsica for support, inserted them in all Corsican newspapers. In particular he wanted to know the whereabouts of Corsica's "mastermind," Andre Spada, the bandit chief. His home had been raided; he had fled farther into the mountains.

Also hunting for Spada were the proud reporters with their arm bands and their rifles. One found the oldest inhabitant of a mountain village in a more talkative mood:

"If they think they are going to outwait Spada they will need plenty of patience. This is the chestnut season, and Spada and his men can live on chestnuts for months on end!"

Gendarmes tried to hasten matters by arresting nut-munching Spada's sweet heart, swart Antoinette Leca.

In Ajaccio General Fournier handed a reward of $4,000 to one Jean Simonetti, lumber contractor, for killing a bandit and blackmailer named Bartoli. Puffed with Corsican pride, Contractor Simonetti took the money and said to the General:

"You can send your 800 gendarmes back to France. I will go into the mountains and clean up the rest of the gangs. I can manage this job!"

General Fournier did not entirely accept the offer. But he gave Contractor Simonetti a rifle and an arm band too. Later, General Fournier issued a statement: "The bandits will eventually be brought within reach of our guns by their craving for good food, drink, and companionship."

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