Generations of pre-school Junior Field Engineers passed through his hands, including myself, in Montélimar, on the last quarter of 1969, along with my co-trainee Matt O’Donoghue. Other graduates of the “Haulot experience” that I know of are Henry Edmundson (now of R9 Energy – what a fantastic name) and Patrick Vandenabeele.

Gérard had many talents. Many of which were totally unrelated to his job as the manager and sole field engineer of the Montélimar base. One of those was as a great linguist, including some unusual specialities – for example, he spoke and wrote classical Javanese, one of the many roots of the modern lingua franca Bahasa Indonesia, having spent many years living there. His political views were unusual – essentially he was close to being a (non-violent) anarchist – during the celebrated “Evènements de mai 1968” – the open revolt in the streets of Paris and other French cities – Gérard abandoned his post in Montélimar for several weeks, went to Paris, and joined the throngs of students hurling cobblestones at the cops.

His home was unusual – he had bought a ruined mediæval castle on a hill dominating the Rhône Valley above the village of Les Tourettes, 15 km north of Montélimar – le Château de l’Araignée, or Spider Castle, and converted part of it into a fairly modern apartment, if the reader is interested you can find it at a 44°40’01.2″N 4°48’47.2”E. He guarded it when he was absent with a small pack of semi-wild Belgian shepherd dogs. As one of his trainees, and able to speak French and drive a French car, when he and Caroline were absent he assigned to me the task of driving there every couple of days to feed the hounds.

His customers loved him. On one notable logging job in the hills above Jouques in Provence, in the middle of logging at around 11:30 am, he pulled the tool up to the casing shoe, called the toolpusher and the company man (Elf), and declared that it was lunchtime. Then we all, Schlumberger crew including Gérard, Matt, myself, and our two operators André Rousset and Jean-Paul Rossi, as well as the whole rig crew apart from one watchman left to “guard” the rig and the Schlumberger truck, drove off, around 20 of us, to the best country restaurant within easy lunchtime driving distance, close to Manosque. It was all pre-arranged. We sat down at a long table, inside, as it was November, and ate a French country lunch of a type that is no longer fashionable – we were at the table for over 3-1/2 hours. I do recall the main dish was a wonderful chocolatey civet de marcassin – young wild boar stew. Much wine disappeared that afternoon. Then we drove back to the rig, the driller started up the prime movers again, we started up the logging truck again – and went back downhole to complete the logging.

Later that November, it was announced that the Division Manager from Pau, Jacques Giband, was arriving to present Gérard with his 15-year seniority pin on a weekend. That Sunday morning, we all (again, Gérard, Matt, myself, two operators as well as Jacques) drove to the Montélimar aerodrome on the banks of the Rhône, where there was a small restaurant, “Air Escale”, owned and managed by Madame Bonnet. (It is still there, almost 53 years later, although I doubt that Madame Bonnet is still around). I recall the programme. We arrived around 11:30 on a crisp slightly frosty November morning. After a couple of apéros, we sat down to a magnificent Sunday lunch, which took us to around 4:30, including a little digestif at the end. At some point, Jacques formally presented Gérard with his pin. As we had all been sitting, eating and drinking for almost 5 hours, we unanimously decided that a walk around the aerodrome would be a fine idea, so with overcoats or warm winter jackets, we set off. We walked probably 2 km, chatting as we sloughed off the lethargy from lunch. On our return to Air Escale, somebody mentioned they were a little thirsty. So we sat down and had a little apéro. Or two. Then Gérard mentioned that he had “un petit creux”, a little empty spot in his stomach. So we asked Madame Bonnet for some snacks – and so on – it evolved into a full-blown dinner. Followed by digestifs, of course. I do recall that I did not get back to my bedroom above the bar/restaurant “Chez Nous” in the middle of Montélimar until around 1:30 on Monday morning –  14 hours in the same restaurant.

The next day in the Schlumberger shop was a difficult one. I commuted from Montélimar around 5km northwards to the shop on a Velo-Solex, a crazy little French bicycle powered by a tiny single cylinder motor mounted on the the handlebars, driving the front wheel through a friction drive on the tyre. The drive was de-clutched by lifting the motor on a pivot with a latch so it no longer rested on the tyre. And it was November. And the Mistral, the cold katabatibc wind that blows down the Rhône Valley, was around 50 km/hr in my face. That was a tough ride that morning.

Gérard had an endearing personal trait – he had a slight stammer. Thus he is almost universally known by his friends as Hau-Hau-Hau-Haulot. It was said that when serving in the Navy, he was taken off firing practice, as he could only say “Fi-Fi-Fi-Fire!”

He had another endearing habit, which Matt and I were the cause of changing. He always assigned to his English trainees the title “Milord” followed by a number. He didn’t like the English, as he considered them oppressors of the Celts of the British Isles, Gérard was a Celt himself, from Brittany. Henry Edmundson was there in Nov/Dec 1967, as Milord #6. So when Matt and I showed up, Gérard immediately assigned us our “Milord” numbers. But we both immediately objected, Matt is Irish and I am a Scot. So without a moment’s hesitation, Gérard instantly created a new “dynasty”, and I became Celt #1 and Matt Celt #2. In 1971, when Gérard had moved from Montélimar to Troyes, another of his trainees, Patrick Vandenabeele, was immediately named Camarade Flamand #1, as he comes from a village 1km from the Belgian border.

Many years later Gérard and Caroline visited my wife Susan & I in our home in Aiguebelle, Le Lavandou, Département du Var. Then in September 2016, Susan & I organized the Alliance Schlumberger Reunion in Aix-en-Provence. I contacted Gérard in Les Tourettes – and to my great surprise and pleasure he and Caroline signed up for it. And encouraged another very old Schlumberger colleague of that time in 1969 – Laurent Romatier – to come along also. We had a crazy time together again in Aix.

I encourage all the old Milords, Celts, Flamands and other Haulot trainees to add stories about Gérard Haulot for this great and very unusual man.

I will miss him poignantly. And I offer my deepest condolences to Caroline and his children Morgane and Arthur, his other son Foulke pre-deceased him.