The following correction was printed in the Guardian's Corrections and clarifications column, Friday 24 April 2009

A feature, published in 2006, in which the writer, Erwin James, recounted his experiences in the Foreign Legion contained information that was untrue. James was in the Foreign Legion for a time but his claim to have served with one of its regiments in Beirut in the summer of 1982 was false and a paragraph, which purported to describe his experiences there, was fiction. He did not join the Foreign Legion until the end of 1982, by which time his regiment had returned from Beirut. The article also suggested that James accompanied his regiment on missions to Djibouti and the Central African Republic. While these were regular regiment duties, James did not go there. He did, as he said in the piece, go to Chad. In a more recent article James said he joined the Foreign Legion in 1981. That was also untrue. In both articles, we should have made clear that names and/or nationalities of some individuals had been changed so that they could not be identified (Legion of honour, 13 January 2006, page 8, G2, and 'God help anyone who weakened': my life in the French Foreign Legion, 25 February 2009, page 2, G2). The readers' editor will write about this in her weekly column on 27 April 2009).

'You are legionnaires in order to die - and I am sending you where you can die." So said General François de Negrier during what might be termed a motivational address to a combat-bound troop of the French Foreign Legion in December 1883. Now that the Légion Étrangère is largely integrated with the French army, such an address would not be tolerated.

But this week's reports of bullying and abuse of recruits should not be read as a departure from the old philosophy and tradition. Forging units of rigidly disciplined soldiers programmed to obey orders even when the odds are insurmountable is a challenging task. Inflicting discomfort on those who do not measure up has always been an effective way to "encourager les autres". I remember this well from my own basic training with the legion in the winter of 1981.

Castelnaudary barracks in the south of France was a hive of activity, most of which was geared to maximising physical endurance. Everywhere you looked, young men were running, marching, engaged in unarmed combat, jumping to orders, being screamed at in French, the only language permitted. And God help anyone who weakened.

I remember a young German named Traber who had been struggling with the demands of the training regime for a while. At 5am each morning we would leave the barracks for a five-mile run. The hill at the end was a killer. Traber decided he wasn't going to do it. Twice while running he'd vomited. Suddenly he picked up speed, ran to the head of the group and spoke to our commander, Adjudant Piaget. "Mon adjudant," said Traber. "S'il vous plait. I would like to leave the legion." Piaget turned his head slightly, enough for us to see the rage in his face. His expression was that of a snarling wolf. "Dégagé!" he yelled. Traber hesitated. "But mon adjudant. . ." Before the tired trainee could say any more Piaget swung the full force of his upper body behind a right hook that crashed against the side of Traber's head. The young German spun like a top into the road. A corporal went to assist him. "Negative!" screamed Piaget. He said nobody sent us invitations to join the legion and that anyone who no longer wanted to be a legionnaire should leave "immediatement". As a group we lowered our heads and kept on running. We never saw Traber again.

• Erwin James is writing a book called Legion of Honour, based on his experiences in the French Foreign Legion.

· This article was amended on Wednesday February 25 2009. General de Negrier's first name is François, not Françoise. Also, Castelnaudary was misspelled and a timing was given at 5pm in the morning, rather than 5am. These errors have been corrected.