III Guynemer in Camp
On the Somme Guynemer was one of the great French champions; on the Aisne he became their king. No enemy could resist him, and his daring appeared without bounds. On May 27 he attacked alone a squadron of six two-seaters above Auberive at an altitude of 5000 meters, and compelled them to go down to an altitude of 3600 meters. Before landing, he pounced on another group of eight, scattering them and bringing down one, completely smashed, with its fuselage linen in rags, among the shell-holes in a field. He was like the Cid Campeador, to whom the Sheik Jabias said:
...Vous éclatiez, avec des rayons jusqu’aux cieux,
Dans une préséance éblouissante aux yeux;
Vous marchiez, entouré d’un ordre de bataille;
Aucun sommet n’était trop haut pour votre taille,
Et vous étiez un fils d’une telle fierté
Que les aigles volaient tous de votre côté....
His feats exceeded all hopes, and his appearance in the sky fairly frightened the enemy. On June 5, after bringing down an Albatros east of Berry-au-Bac, he chased to the east of Rheims a D.F.W., which had previously been attacked by other Spads. “My nose was right on him,” says Guynemer’s notebook, “when my machine-gun jammed. But just then the observer raised his hands. I beckoned to him several times to veer towards our lines, but noticing that he was making straight for his own, I went back to my gun, which now worked, and fired a volley of fifteen (at 2200 altitude). Immediately the machine upset, throwing the observer overboard, and sank on Berru forest.” However, Guynemer’s day’s work was not done to his satisfaction after these two victories (his forty-fourth and forty-fifth): he attacked a group of three, and later on a group of four, and came back with bullets in his machine.
Meanwhile he had been made, on June 11, 1917, an Officer of the Legion of Honor with the following citation:
A remarkable officer, a daring and dexterous chaser. Has been of exceptional service to the country both by the number of his victories and by the daily example of his never-flagging courage and constantly increasing mastery. Careless of danger, he has become, by the infallibility of his methods, the most formidable opponent of German flyers. On May 25 achieved unparalleled success, bringing down two machines in one minute, and two more in the course of the same day. By these exploits has contributed to maintaining the courage and enthusiasm of the men who, from the trenches, have witnessed his triumphs. Forty-five machines brought down; twenty citations; twice wounded.
This document, eloquent and accurate and tracing facts to their causes, praises in Guynemer at the same time will-power, courage, and the contagion of example. Guynemer loved the last sentence, because it associated with his fights their daily witnesses, the infantrymen in the trenches.
The badge of an Officer in the Legion of Honor was given to him at the aviation camp on July 5 by General Franchet d’Esperey, in command of the Northern Armies. But this solemn ceremony had not prevented Guynemer from flying twice, the first time for two hours, the second flight one hour, on a new machine from which he expected wonders. He attacked three D.F.W.’s, and had to land with five bullets in his engine and radiator.
His new decoration was given him at four o’clock on a beautiful summer afternoon. Guynemer’s comrades were present, of course, and as pleased as if the function had concerned themselves. The 11th Company of the 82d Regiment of Infantry took its station opposite the imposing row of squadron machines, sixty in number, which stood there like race horses as if to take part in the fête. Guynemer’s well-known airplane, the Vieux-Charles, was the fifth to the left, its master having required its presence, though it had been injured that very day. In front of the aviation and regimental flags the young aviator stood by himself in his black vareuse, looking slight and pale, but upright, with eyes sparkling. At a little distance a few civilians—his own people, whom the general had invited—watched the proceedings.
General Franchet d’Esperey appeared, a robust, energetic man, and the following scene, described by one of the trench papers—the Brise d’entonnoirs of the 82d Infantry—took place: “The general stopped before the young hero and eyed him with evident pleasure; then he proclaimed him a gallant soldier, touched his two shoulders with his sword, as they did to champions of past ages, pinned the rosette on his coat, and embraced him. Then to the stirring tune of ‘Sambre-et-Meuse’ the band and the soldiers marched in front of the new officer who, the ceremony now being over, joined his relatives some distance away.”
General d’Esperey, looking over Guynemer’s Vieux-Charles, noticed the damaged parts.
“How comes it that your foot was not injured?” he asked, pointing to one of the bullet-holes.
“I had just removed it, mon général,” said Guynemer, with his usual simplicity.
None of the airmen with whom Guynemer shared his joy ever forgot that afternoon of July 5, 1917. The summer sun, the serene beauty of the hills bordering the Aisne, the distant bass of the battle, lent to the scene an enchanting but solemn interest. Tragic memories were in the minds of all the bystanders, and great names were on their lips—the names of retiring, noble, hard-working Dorme, reported missing on May 25, and of Captain Lecour-Grandmaison, creator of the three-seaters, who, on one of these machines, brought down five Germans, but was killed in a combat on May 10 and brought back to camp dead by a surviving comrade. Guynemer’s red rosette meant glory to the great chasers, to wounded Heurtaux, to Ménard and Deullin, to Auger, Fonck, Jailler, Guérin, Baudouin, and all their comrades! And it meant glory to the pilots and observers who, always together in the discharge of duty, are not infrequently together in meeting death: to Lieutenant Fressagues, pilot, and sous-lieutenant Bouvard, observer, who once fought seven Germans and managed to bring one down; to Lieutenant Floret and Lieutenant Homo, who, placed in similar circumstances, set two machines on fire; to Lieutenant Viguier who, on April 18, had the pluck to come down to twenty-five meters above the enemy’s lines and calmly make his observations; and to so many others who did their duty with the same daring, intelligence, and conscientiousness, to the hundreds of more humble airmen who, while the infantry says the sanguinary mass, throw down from above, like the chorister boys in the corpus Christi procession, the red roses of epics!
The whole Storks Escadrille had received from General Duchêne the following citation: “Escadrille No. 3. Commander: Captain Heurtaux. A brilliant chasing escadrille which for the past two years has fought in every sector of the front with wonderful spirit and admirable self-sacrifice. The squadron has just taken part in the Lorraine and Champagne operations, and during this period its members have destroyed fifty-three German machines which, added to others previously brought down, makes a total of one hundred and twenty-eight certainly demolished, and one hundred and thirty-two partly disabled.”
This battle on the Aisne, with its famous climax at the Chemin des Dames, began to slacken in July; and it was decided that the chasing squadrons, including the Storks, should be transferred to one of the British sectors where another offensive was being prepared. But before leaving the Fismes or Rheims district, Guynemer was active. He had not been given his new rank in the Legion of Honor to be idle: that was not his way. On the contrary, his habit was to show, after receiving a distinction as well as before, that he was worthy of it. On July 6 he engaged five two-seaters, and brought down one in flames. The next day his notebook records two more victories:
“Attacked with Adjutant Bozon-Verduraz, four Albatros one-seaters, above Brimont. Downed one in flames north of Villers-Franqueux, in our own lines. Attacked a D.F.W. which spun down in our lines at Moussy.”
These victories, his forty-sixth, forty-seventh, and forty-eighth, were his farewell to the Aisne. But these excessive exertions brought on nervous fatigue. The escadrille had only just reached its new station, when Guynemer had to go into hospital, whence he wrote his father on July 18 as follows:
Dear Father:
Knocked out again. Hospital. But this time I’m flourishing. No more wooden barracks, but a farmhouse right in the fields. I have a room all to myself. Quite correct: I downed three Fritzes, one ablaze, and the next day again great sport: mistook four Boches for Frenchmen. At first fought three of them, then one alone at 3200 to 800 meters. He took fire. They will have to wait till the earth dries so they can dig him out. An hour later a two-seater turned up at 5500. He blundered, and fell straight down on a 75, which died of the shock. But so did the passenger. The pilot was simply a bit excited, for which he couldn’t be blamed. His machine had not plunged, but came down slowly, with its nose twirling, and I got his two guns intact....
The toubib (doctor) says I shall be on my feet in three or four days. Don’t see many Boches just now, but that won’t last. I read in a newspaper that I had been mobbed in a friendly manner in Paris. I must be ubiquitous without knowing it. Modern science brings about marvels, modern journalism also.
Raymond has two strings (officer’s stripes) and the cross of the Legion. Please congratulate him.
Good night, father.
Georges.
P.S. I, who get seasick over nothing at all, have just been out to sea for the first time. The water was very rough, especially for a little motor-boat, but I smiled serenely through it all. Wasn’t I proud!...
In fact, some newspaper had announced that Guynemer would carry the aviation flag in the Parade of the Fourteenth of July in Paris, and this was enough to persuade the crowd that some other airman was Guynemer. Indeed, there had been talk of sending him to Paris on that solemn occasion, but he had declined. He loved glory, but hated show, and he had followed his squadron to Flanders, where he had taken to his bed.
The foregoing letter bears Guynemer’s mark unmistakably. The son of rich parents rejoicing over having a room to himself, after having renounced all comfort from the very first day of his enlistment, and willing to begin as garçon d’aérodrome; the joke about the German airplane sunk so deep in the wet ground that it would have to be dug out, and the surprise of the pilot; the delight over Raymond’s promotion; the amusing allusion to sea-sickness by the man who had no equal in air navigation, are all characteristic details.
Sheik Jabias thus sums up his impressions after visiting the Cid in his camp:
Vous dominiez tout, grand, sans chef, sans joug, sans digue,
Absolu, lance au poing, panache, au front....
And that Cid had never fought up in the air.