Part 6 (1/2)

Promise me you will.”

”Surely, if it will make you happy.”

”I shall be the happiest of men.”

”Then it's granted in advance.”

”Very well, this is it: every morning you must examine the weather. If it is bad, you will let me sleep.”

”And if it is fine?”

”If it is fine, you will wake me up.”

His sister was afraid to ask more, as she guessed how he would use a fine day. As she was silent, he pretended to pout with that cajoling manner he could a.s.sume, and which fascinated everybody.

”You won't do it? I could not stay home: _c'est plus fort que moi_.”

”But, I promise.”

And to keep him at home until he should be cured, more or less, the young girl opened her window every morning and inspected the sky, secretly hoping to find it thickly covered with clouds.

”Clouds, waiting over there, motionless, on the edge of the horizon, what are you waiting for? Will you stand idle and let me awaken my brother, who is resting?”

The clouds being indifferent, the sleeper had to be awakened. He dressed hastily, with a smile at the transparent sky, and soon reached Vauciennes by automobile, where he called for his machine, mounted, ascended, flew, hunted the enemy, and returned to Compiegne for luncheon.

”And you can leave us like that?” remonstrated his mother. ”Why, this is your holiday.”

”Yes, the effort to leave is all the greater.”

”Well?--”

”I like the effort, _Maman_.”

His Antigone forced herself to keep her bargain with him. The sun never shone above the forest in vain, but nevertheless she detested the sun.

What a strange Romeo this boy would have made! Without the least doubt he would have charged Juliet to wake him to go to battle, and would never have forgiven her for confounding the lark and the nightingale.

On his return to the aviation camp, in the absence of his own longed-for victories, he took pleasure in describing those of others. He knew nothing of rivalry or envy. He wrote his sister Odette the following description of a combat waged by Captain Brocard, who surprised a Boche from the rear, approached him to within fifteen meters without being seen, and, just at the moment when the enemy pilot turned round his head, sent him seven cartridges from his machine-gun: ”Result: one ball in the ear, and another through the middle of his chest. You can imagine whether the fall of the machine was instantaneous or not.

There was nothing left of the pilot but one chin, one ear, one mouth, a torso and material enough to reconst.i.tute two arms. As to the ”_coucou_”

(burned), nothing was left but the motor and a few bits of iron. The pa.s.senger was emptied out during the fall....” It cannot be said that he had much consideration for the nerves of young girls. He treated them as if they were warriors who could understand everything relating to battles. He wrote with the same freedom that Shakespeare's characters use in speech.

Until the middle of September he piloted two-seated airplanes, carrying one pa.s.senger, either as observer or combatant. At last he went up in his one-seated Nieuport, reveling in the intoxication of being alone, that intoxication well known to lovers of the mountains and the air. Is it the sensation of liberty, the freedom from all the usual material bonds, the feeling of coming into possession of these deserts of s.p.a.ce or ice where the traveler covers leagues without meeting anybody, the forgetfulness of all that interferes with one's own personal object?

Such solitaries do not easily accommodate themselves to company which seems to them to encroach upon their domain, and steal a part of their enjoyment. Guynemer never enjoyed anything so much as these lonely rounds in which he took possession of the whole sky, and woe to the enemy who ventured into this immensity, which was now his park.

On September 29, and October 1, 1915, he was sent on special missions.

These special missions were generally confided to Vedrines, who had accomplished seven. The time is not yet ripe for a revelation of their details, but they were particularly dangerous, for it was necessary to land in occupied territory and return. Guynemer's first mission required three hours' flying. He ascended in a storm, just as the countermand arrived owing to the unfavorable weather. When he descended, volplaning, at daybreak, with slackened, noiseless motor, and landed on our invaded territory, his heart beat fast. Some peasants going to their work in the fields saw him as he ascended again, and recognizing the tricolor, showed much surprise, and then extended their hands to him. This mission won for Sergeant Guynemer--he had been promoted sergeant shortly before--his second mention: ”Has proved his courage, energy and sang-froid by accomplis.h.i.+ng, as a volunteer, an important and difficult special mission in stormy weather.”--”This palm is worth while,” he wrote in a letter to his parents, ”for the mission was hard.” On his way back an English aviator shot at him, but on recognizing him signaled elaborate excuses.

Some rather exciting reconnaissances with Captain Simeon--one day over Saint-Quentin they were attacked by a Fokker and, their machine-gun refusing to work, they were subjected to two hundred shots from the enemy at 100 meters, then at 50 meters, so that they were obliged to dive into a cloud, with one tire gone--and a few bombardments of railway stations and goods depots did not a.s.suage his fever for the chase.

Nothing sufficed him but to explore and rake the heavens. On November 6, 3000 meters above Chaulnes, he waged an epic combat with an L.V.G.

(_Luft-Verkehr-Gesellschaft_), 150 H.P. Having succeeded in placing himself three meters under his enemy, he almost laughed with the surety he felt of forcing him down, when his machine-gun jammed. He immediately banked, but he was so near the enemy that the machines interlocked.

Would he fall? A bit of his canvas was torn off, but the airplane held its own. As he drew away he saw the enormous enemy machine-gun aimed at him. A bullet grazed his head. He dived under the Boche, who retreated.