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                    THE MENTOR 1918.11.01, No. 166,
                               Guynemer




                            LEARN ONE THING
                               EVERY DAY

                  NOVEMBER 1 1918      SERIAL NO. 166

                                  THE
                                MENTOR

                               GUYNEMER

                           THE WINGÈD SWORD
                               OF FRANCE

                           By HOWARD W. COOK

                  DEPARTMENT OF              VOLUME 6
                  BIOGRAPHY                 NUMBER 18

                          TWENTY CENTS A COPY




THE SKYMAN SUPREME

By Commandant Brocard, of the “Stork Squadron”


For more than two years all of us have seen him cleaving the heavens
above our heads, the heavens lighted up by shining sun or darkened by
lowering tempests, bearing upon his poor wings a part of our dreams,
of our faith in success, of all that our hearts held of confidence and
hope.

“Guynemer was a powerful idea in a frail body, and I lived near him
with the secret sorrow of knowing that some day the idea would slay the
container.

“Poor boy! All the children of France, who wrote to him daily, to whom
he was the marvelous ideal, vibrated with all his emotions, lived
through his joys and suffered his dangers. He will remain to them the
living model hero, greatest in all history. They love him as they have
learned to love the purest glories of our country.

“Guynemer was great enough to have done that which he did without
seeking recompense save in the silent consciousness of having done his
full duty.”

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THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION

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  NOVEMBER 1st, 1918.           VOLUME 6                NUMBER 18

Entered as second-class matter, March 10, 1918, at the postoffice at
New York, N. Y., under the act of March 3, 1879. Copyright, 1918, by
The Mentor Association, Inc.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, Inc., 114-116 East 16th Street, New York, N. Y.

Statement of the ownership, management, circulation, etc., required
by the Act of Congress of August 24, 1912, of The Mentor, published
semi-monthly at New York, N. Y., for October 1, 1918. State of New
York, County of New York. Before me, a Notary Public, in and for the
State and county aforesaid, personally appeared Thomas H. Beck, who
having been duly sworn according to law, deposes and says that he
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New York; Editor, W. D. Moffat, 114-116 East 16th Street, New York;
Managing Editor, W. D. Moffat, 114-116 East 16th St., New York;
Business Manager, Thomas H. Beck, 52 East 19th Street, New York. (2)
That the owners are: Mentor Association, Inc., 114-116 East 16th St.,
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New York; American Lithographic Company; 52 East 19th Street, New
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Certificate filed in New York County. My commission expires March 30,
1919.

THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, Inc., 114-116 East 16th St., New York, N.Y.

[Illustration: GEORGES GUYNEMER, WHEN HE BEGAN HIS FLIGHTS]




_GUYNEMER, THE WINGÈD SWORD OF FRANCE_

_His Ancestry and Childhood_


ONE

Not only modern, but ancient French records glorify the name of
Guynemer. In the time of Roland and Charlemagne, there was a Guinemer
that performed noble deeds. An eleventh-century history of the Crusades
extols the name of a Guinemer of Boulogne. The Treaty of Guérande,
which terminated in 1365 a war of succession in Brittany, bore the
signature of Geoffroy Guinemer among thirty knightly signers. In 1464
the old and honorable name was first spelled with a y by Yvon Guynemer,
a man of arms in the service of his country.

Bernard Guynemer, great grandfather of Georges, was an instructor
in jurisprudence in Paris during the Revolution, and was later made
president of the Tribunal of Mayence. A son, Auguste, who lived to be
ninety-three, left to posterity a remarkable collection of memoirs of
the Revolution, the Empire, and the Restoration. One of his brothers,
an officer in Napoleon’s army, was killed at the siege of Vilna in
1812; another, a naval officer, died of wounds received at Trafalgar.
A fourth brother named Achille became the grandfather of Georges, and
it was his exploits, among all the tales of his forbears, that the
youthful grandson loved best to read about. One venturous anecdote of
the child Achille became part of family history, and in its revelation
of mature purpose and utter poise under confounding circumstances
recalls instances of the boyhood of the future Ace of Aces. When the
small Achille arrived one morning at his school in Paris he found it
closed. The mistress, he was told, had been taken away, summoned before
the Revolutionary Tribunal. When he inquired where this Tribunal was,
he was laughingly informed, and straightway he set out to find it. When
the eight-year-old appeared in the court room alone, he was received by
assembly and judges with amazement, then with raillery, but, in no wise
disconcerted, he continued up the imposing aisle to the place where the
mighty Robespierre sat. Humorously, Robespierre met his request that
his teacher be allowed to return to her classes by remarking that the
child’s need of her could not be great, as doubtless she had taught
him little in the past. In his desire to refute the injustice, the
boy begged permission to recite his lessons for the day. When he had
finished, Robespierre impulsively took him in his arms and embraced
him. Then he gave into his charge the school mistress, and permitted
them both to depart.

Seven years later, Achille Guynemer was a volunteer in the army that
invaded Spain. In 1812, he was taken prisoner; later he escaped, and
in 1813, at the age of twenty-one, he was decorated with the Cross of
the Legion of Honor. His grandson, who strongly resembled his early
portraits, received the same honor when he was a few months younger.

Of the four sons of the president of the Tribunal of Mayence, only one,
Achille, had descendants. The son of the latter was Paul Guynemer,
a French army officer and military historian, and his only son was
Georges, the young chieftain of the sky.

Even as a very little boy, Georges carried his head with pride and set
his ambitions high. Adored by his mother and sisters, he was a constant
object of solicitude because of ill health. When he was of school age
he received instruction from the governess of his sisters. Very young
he showed evidences of those qualities of honor, truth and bravery that
earned him in later years all the honors France could bestow. Very
young he fell under the spell of Joan of Arc, she who was wounded in
Compiègne, the home of his boyhood, and he clamored for stories of her
and of others of his country’s warriors.

An indifferent pupil in the grammar-school at Compiègne, he was placed
in Stanislas Military College, his father’s Alma Mater. A group
photograph of the students represents Georges as a boy of twelve,
pale, thin, with dark, wilful eyes lighted by smouldering fires
of dream and ambition. As a student he was quick and intelligent,
but he was mischievous and headstrong under discipline. In play he
preferred warlike games, and invariably chose parts that gave him
opportunities to attack, which he did with agility and vigor, often
to the discomfiture of older opponents. One of his teachers wrote a
sketch of his school-boyhood that betrays many outstanding traits of
the Guynemer of the future. In playground battles he had no desire to
command; he liked above all to fight, and to fight alone. He attacked
the strongest, without consideration for any advantage they might have
of weight, height or numbers. Even as a boy, he excelled by adroitness,
suppleness of maneuver, and will-to-win.

  PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
  ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 6, No. 18. SERIAL No. 166
  COPYRIGHT, 1918. BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.




[Illustration: GUYNEMER AND HIS FAITHFUL GUNNER, GUERDER]




_GUYNEMER, THE WINGÈD SWORD OF FRANCE_

_His Youth and Apprenticeship_


TWO

Though hampered by illness and enforced vacations, Guynemer graduated
from Stanislas College in his fifteenth year with honors. In the autumn
he re-entered the school for a further course of study. His leisure
hours were passed installing miniature telephones, and experimenting
with paper airplane models. His ability for invention and mechanics
was marked. All the sciences held interest for him, but he had special
liking for chemistry and mathematics. He was fond of reading, but his
choice of books fell solely on those that dealt with war, chivalry and
adventure.

One of young Guynemer’s intimates was Jean Krebs, whose father was a
pioneer in the development of aerostatics and aviation. He was then
director of the great Panhard automobile works, and on Sundays the two
youths spent hours studying motor parts. With their fellow students at
the college they were often taken to visit technical establishments
after school. Georges was always to be found beside the one that
explained the operations of the machinery. When they were permitted to
attend automobile and airplane exhibitions, his delight was boundless.
Keen, excited, agitated, he passed from one exhibit to another,
commenting, interrogating, and incidentally filling his pockets with
catalogues and pamphlets about the different makes of cars and planes.
While still at school he fashioned a small airplane, which he launched
with glee over the heads of his companions.

At that time (1910), the eyes of Europe were on the sky. Blériot had
crossed the Channel; Paulhan had soared to a record height of over four
thousand feet. It was the ambition of all French youth to fly. With
Guynemer the desire was an obsession. From the aerodrome near Compiègne
he secretly made his first flight, crouched behind an obliging pilot,
cramped and uncomfortable, but ecstatically happy. So determined
was he to follow the profession of the air that pleasures of world
travel, enjoyed for months in the fond companionship of his mother
and sisters, served in no way to distract him from his purpose. “What
career shall you adopt?” his father inquired, when they returned. And
Georges answered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world,
“I shall be an aviator.” His parent protested that aviation was not
a career, but a sport. The boy was obstinate. He confessed that his
life was already dedicated to this passion. That on the morning he had
first seen a birdman fly above the college of Stanislas, he had been
possessed by a sensation he could not explain. “I felt an emotion so
deep it seemed sacred,” he told his father. “I knew then that I must
ask you to let me become an aviator.”

Refused admission to the _École Polytechnique_ because the professors
believed him too frail to finish the courses, he was taken with his
family to Biarritz on the coast of France, and there rumors came to
them of the war, in the month of July, 1914. War was declared August
second. The following day Georges presented himself for medical
examination at Bayonne,--was rejected, and when he tried still other
times, was rejected again. Finally his persistence, his devotion to
France, his resolve to serve her in the way he felt he could be of the
most value, won him the reward of acceptance in the training school at
Pau.

In January, 1915, Guynemer received his first lessons as a
student-aviator, after having studied two months as a mechanic. On
February first, according to his own narrative, his apprenticeship
as a pilot took on aerial character. “I drove a ‘taxi,’ and then
the following week I mounted an airplane, going in straight lines,
turning and gliding, and on March tenth I made two flights lasting
twenty minutes in daylight. At last I had found my wings. I passed the
examination the next day.”

Once, Guynemer barely escaped being scratched from the list of military
aviators at the school of Avord, because a head pilot complained that
he was imprudent in making flights that were too difficult for one of
his experience, and because he persisted in flying when the weather was
unfavorable.

When he had flown for six months, he was sent one day on a
photographing mission. The enemy discovered him. A rain of shells fell
on his plane. Keeping on amid the deluge, Guynemer made not a single
turn to escape the attacks. For an hour he went straight toward his
objective until his observer gave the signal to return. Even then the
pilot continued to drive on toward the guns that were trying to beat
him down, and, handing his personal photographic apparatus to his
companion, asked him to take some pictures of the mortar attacking the
airplane. From that day, no one in the squadron doubted the future of
this youth, “this eagle of the birdmen, this young Frenchman with the
face of a woman and the heart of a lion.”

  PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
  ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 6, No. 18. SERIAL No. 166
  COPYRIGHT, 1918. BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.




[Illustration: COPYRIGHT BY UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD

GUYNEMER AT THE WHEEL]




_GUYNEMER, THE WINGÈD SWORD OF FRANCE_

_Pioneer Airmen in France_


THREE

Fernand Forest, a countryman of Guynemer’s invented, thirty years ago,
an explosion motor whose operations formed the basis of many subsequent
experiments in petrol engines. And it was a Frenchman, Clement Ader,
who was the first to fly with a motor-driven flying machine. For a time
Ader experimented under the patronage of the French Ministry of War,
but he was eventually deprived of Governmental sanction and assistance
because he was deemed visionary, and his inventions impractical.
However, the machine in which he made several flights in the year 1897,
the “Avion,” was later one of the treasured exhibits of the first
Aeronautical Salon, and was placed beside the airplanes of Wilbur
Wright, Delagrange and Blériot “as convincing proof that to France
belonged the honor of making the first flying machine.” It is related
that when Ader first found himself leaving the ground for a test
flight, “he was so taken by surprise that he nearly lost his senses.”

Charles C. Turner, author of “Marvels of Aviation,” narrates the early
adventures of Alberto Santos-Dumont, the rich young Brazilian who
arrived in Paris in 1898 for the purpose of having a navigable balloon
made there. Already the name Zeppelin had received passing notice in
French and English newspapers, but most people refused to believe
reports of his inventions, and those of Santos-Dumont, concluding
that they were both mad. Santos-Dumont, “the man who initiated the
modern airship movement in France and made the first officially
observed airplane flight in Europe,” flew around the Eiffel Tower and
over the roofs and treetops of startled Paris in his small spherical
balloons, propelled by gasoline motor, and in 1902 made flights over
the Mediterranean. In Paris he built the first airship station ever
constructed. In 1903, his maneuvers above the French army review of
July fourteenth led to negotiations with the French Minister of War, to
whom the young Brazilian made the offer “to put his aerial fleet at the
disposition of France in case of hostilities with any country except
the two Americas.” He explained, “It is in France that I have met with
all my encouragement; in France and with French material I made all my
experiments. I excepted the two Americas because I am an American.”

Santos-Dumont, who had astounded the world by the success of his
airship experiments, was also the pioneer aviator in France, when he
became convinced of the practicality of the heavier-than-air machine.
When Delagrange, Blériot and the Wright brothers leapt into fame,
Santos-Dumont continued quietly to study and contrive, and in 1909
he brought out the “Demoiselle,” a small airplane on whose design he
claimed no patent rights, offering it to the world as a gift of his
invention.

Between the years 1907 and 1910 many unknown inventors and mechanics
won renown through their aerial accomplishments. Outbursts of fervor
greeted every fresh success in air endeavor. On wings the patriotism
of France soared to heights of exaltation. Lethargy gave way to
enthusiasm. Voisin, Blériot, Delagrange, Latham, Paulhan, Védrines
became national heroes. If a popular aviator flew a winning race,
crowds attended his steps and surrounded his hotel. If one was injured,
a sympathetic assembly gathered outside the hospital where he lay,
and extras were issued by the daily journals as to his condition.
Annual airplane meets and exhibitions had the patronage of the French
Government. Experts were constantly occupied in making mechanical
improvements in the motor, steering gear and wings of the wondrous new
machines that had intrigued the imagination, the very soul of awakened
France.

Though France owes a debt to American inventors, always generously
acknowledged, French aviators quickly attained supremacy on the
continent. When the war came, the country was already dotted with
aerodromes and airplane factories, and hundreds of trained aviators and
mechanicians were ready to take the air for their beloved France.

  PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
  ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 6, No. 18. SERIAL No. 166
  COPYRIGHT, 1918. BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.




[Illustration: GUYNEMER BROUGHT DOWN BY A BOCHE, BUT WITHIN FRENCH
LINES]




_GUYNEMER, THE WINGÈD SWORD OF FRANCE_

_The Flying Storks_


FOUR

At the time of Guynemer’s death he was commander of the Flying Storks,
a squadron of high-record fighting aviators whose feats have for over
three years been the sensation of the Allied front. The original
membership comprised ten pilots, some of whom had already attained
national renown. Approximately fifty warriors that have carried its
emblem down the highways of the air have been killed, wounded, or
reported missing. Three squadron chiefs, Captain Auger, Lieutenant
Peretti and Captain Guynemer, have fallen in aerial battles; three
other chiefs have been gravely wounded--Commandant Brocard, Captain
Heurteaux and Lieutenant Duellin. The prowess of The Storks may
be gauged by the statement that fourteen members of this famous
escadrille, (only one of ten score flying organizations attached to the
French army), brought down a third of all the German planes destroyed
before January, 1918, or two hundred in less than three years. This is
the official count. Many more enemy planes met defeat from their guns,
but without the required number of official witnesses.

“_Les Cicognes_” (The Storks) were organized in April, 1915, by
Commandant Brocard, now retired from active fighting. The first machine
adopted by the corps was the Nieuport-3, on whose side was painted a
stork with spread wings. In 1917, Spad models supplanted the Nieuports
in the service of The Storks.

The official records of a dozen Aces of the squadron are given: Captain
Guynemer, 53 enemy planes downed; Lieutenant René Dormé, 24; Captain
Alfred Heurteaux, 21; Lieutenant Duellin, 19; Captain Armand Pinsard,
16; Lieutenant Jean Caput, 15; Lieutenant Tarascon, 11; Lieutenant
Mathieu de la Tour, 11; Captain Albert Auger, 7; Lieutenant Gond, 6;
Lieutenant Borzecky, 5; Adjutant Herrison, 5.

Captain Heurteaux, chief of the corps from December, 1916, until he was
wounded in September of the following year, rivaled the marksmanship
of Guynemer when he downed a hostile plane with a single bullet.
Heurteaux, in the words of an appreciative chronicler of The Storks,
“used to amuse himself in the midst of battle by politely bowing and
waving ironic greetings to his encircling enemies. This open contempt
for them increased their hatred, he explained, and tempted them to
shake their fists at him in reply, thus often exposing them in their
blind fury to his superior adroitness in maneuvering and attack.”

A grave young pilot named René Dormé became so skilful in handling
his machine that the superb Guynemer regarded his ability as greater
than that of any of his fellows. Dormé was also a remarkable shot. In
four months he was victor over twenty-six enemy planes, fifteen of
which were officially witnessed as they fell. The end of René Dormé
is veiled in mystery. Following a fierce combat high in the clouds
on May 25, 1917, he pursued his opponents above German territory.
Later, observation balloons reported that a French airplane had come
to earth across the enemy lines and had been consumed by fire, which
indicated to their practised vision that the pilot had been able to set
his plane ablaze before it was seized by German captors. Though the
enemy subsequently announced Dormé’s death, the report, for certain
suspicious reasons, has been given little credence. “Second only to
the crushing loss of Guynemer, France’s idol,” has his passing been
mourned by fellow aviators and by the nation. As a discriminating
observer of The Storks has stated, “While both were lads of excessive
modesty, Guynemer’s air tactics were far more spectacular than those of
Dormé, Guynemer was perhaps the better marksman of the two, but Dormé,
he conceded, was the better pilot. Dormé’s dodging maneuvers were
celebrated throughout France.”

It was on the day of Dormé’s disappearance that Guynemer achieved the
Magic Quadruple, besides defeating two more planes that fell far within
the German lines. Guynemer the avenger! Guynemer the miraculous knight
of the air! Less than four months later he fell as Dormé fell, on hated
enemy soil. And, in turn, his death was avenged by the famous French
Ace, René Fonck of Escadrille Nieuport-103, who within two weeks slew
the Hun airman that had brought to earth the Wingèd Sword of France.

“He was our friend and our master, our pride and our protection. His
loss is the most cruel of all those, so numerous, alas, that have
emblazoned our ranks. Nevertheless, our courage has not been beaten
down with him. Our victorious revenge will be hard and inexorable.”
These are the words of Lieutenant Raymond, Guynemer’s successor as
Commandant of The Flying Storks.

  PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
  ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 6, No. 18. SERIAL No. 166
  COPYRIGHT, 1918. BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.




[Illustration: GUYNEMER AFTER A BOCHE VICTORY]




_GUYNEMER, THE WINGÈD SWORD OF FRANCE_

_Hunting in the Air, by Captain Georges Guynemer_

Translated from the French


FIVE

The public as a rule has a false idea of hunting and the hunters. They
very easily imagine that we are ’way up there at our ease, directing
events, and that the nearer we are to heaven the more we are invested
with Divine Power. I cannot express in words the enervation that I feel
sometimes while listening to the inept remarks addressed to me in the
form of compliments, and which I am compelled to accept with a smile,
which is almost a bite. I want to shout out to the speaker: “But, my
poor fellow, you ought not to speak about this subject, for you know
nothing whatever about it. You do not understand the first word of it
all, and you can hardly believe how little your eulogies please me,
under the circumstances.”

But if I answered in this way, no one would think of honoring my
sincerity, or my desire to spread sane ideas--rather all would declare
that I was a rude fellow, pretentious and a swaggerer, or something
worse.

This is the reason that I listen, remain dumb, and let the enervation
gnaw at me. Some tell me: “It is better to leave to hunting that
mysterious atmosphere which serves as an aureole to the Ace. If the
layman were to become competent to judge, he would possibly no longer
hold the same admiration for the hunters.” You will admit that this
suggestion is not very flattering to us. In fine, according to this
suggestion, we are interesting to them only because they know nothing
about our work.

They say of me: “Guynemer is a lucky dog.”

Certainly, I am a lucky dog, for I have added up forty-nine (this
was written before the grand total was made) victories and am still
alive, and I might have been killed during my first fight. If we talk
this way, every person alive today is lucky; for he might have died
yesterday.

But I might astonish some persons considerably if I answered: “It’s a
good thing that I was a lucky dog, for I have been brought down by the
enemy on seven different occasions.”

I know that they will rejoin that this was really luck, for I managed
to escape death. But, was it luck that day, when, carried along by the
great speed of my Nieuport, I rushed right past a Boche, giving him
a chance to puncture an arm and wound me in the jaw? Was that luck,
my fall of 3,000 meters after a shell had passed through a wing of
the machine? And how many episodes there are of a similar character!
Certainly, I do not wish to pretend that the question of chance, which
I call Providence, does not intervene in war. But between that and
the assurance that every act is guided by a manifestation of a good
star--there is a world of difference. And if I dispute this opinion so
sharply, as far as it concerns me, it is not, _certes_, because I am
annoyed, but, on the contrary, because I believe that it is rendering a
poor service to say that we succeed in any human activity through luck.

Yet if we will only eliminate this factor we shall recognize the
fact that neither that unfortunate Dormé nor I are instances of the
effect of chance upon the career of airplane-hunters. He was surnamed
“Invulnerable” because he almost always came back from his cruises
without a scratch. We were almost astounded if his airplane bore the
mark of a single bullet. With me, on the contrary, I had the special
faculty of coming back with missiles all over my machine.

Why was there this difference? We had almost the same methods of
attack. We proceeded along uniform principles, approaching the enemy to
point-blank distance. What then? The reason is plain: Dormé was better
at maneuvering than I. He called upon his skill to help him at the
moment of attack, and when he judged that he was not sure of success,
he went into a spin and broke away from the duel. I, on the contrary,
used the normal method of flying, never having recourse to acrobatics,
unless it was the last means to be employed. I stayed close to my
adversary, as if I were possessed. When I held him, I would not let him
go. These two systems have their advantages and their defects, which
should not astonish you, for perfection is not of this world.

I can draw but one conclusion from these two methods of fighting, and
it is of capital importance.

It is that hunting in the air must be done according to the
temperament and character of each individual hunter. If it show
itself as individual prowess, all the better. This must be cried out
aloud, for many young men come to the squadron with false ideas and
arrested wills, planning to bring down Boches in the style of Dormé
or Heurteaux. It is deplorable. Nothing is to be expected of the man
who relies upon his memory in attacking an airplane. He may recall the
way that some Ace acted under similar circumstances. He may attain a
measure of success, but he will never be a real scout.

He who has in him the quality of a champion is the pilot who has
recourse to his own initiative, to his own judgment, to his own
personal equation.

  PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
  ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 6, No. 18. SERIAL No. 166
  COPYRIGHT, 1918. BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.




[Illustration: GUYNEMER, THE ACE OF ACES]




_GUYNEMER, THE WINGÈD SWORD OF FRANCE_

_A Tribute, by Premier Georges Clemenceau_

Translated from the French


SIX

“How difficult it is to find a little black point through a rift in
the clouds, which, found again soon afterwards in the field of blue,
is about to wrap itself in a mist of white smoke, and seems to be
celebrating in its own honor, but is only Death’s messenger. That is
Guynemer, far up there, or some other of ‘The Storks’ under attack by
German shrapnel. This war, beyond the range of vision, in the tragic
infinity of space, watched by all the world!

“He who was able to place himself in the first rank of that band of
messengers from the earth to the heights, in response to the wingèd
beings that the heavens sent us long ago, fully merits to live among us
as a symbol of one of the greatest efforts of the human will.

“There, all alone, in the very highest, in the imperturbable calm of
absolute self-possession, waiting for nothing but a succession of
unerring motions gauged by correctness of eyesight and promptness of
bold decisions, on the edge of a bottomless abyss ready to swallow
everything, without the supreme aid of a look or the hand of a
friend--is that not something far above all the historic beauty of
the greatest sacrifices for the noblest causes--something as it were
of a miraculous concentration of superhumanity? To face every day the
sublime adventure, in the sun, in the wind, in the rain, to pursue the
enemy and seize upon the decisive moment that will place him at the
mercy of the cannonading, beneath the fugitive angle which is offered
suddenly, and will never occur again, to begin, and begin again, every
day, and to always come back victorious. Thus lived Guynemer, now borne
away in a great apotheosis, amid the acclamations of his companions in
glory.

“Guynemer, born to civil life like so many of his companions, when
William II of Germany decided that the hour had come for France to
demonstrate what she had preserved of that nobility of blood in which
her history had been moulded--Guynemer, without a word, resolved to
lift his France to the highest! And upon that day when his destiny was
achieved, all of us bear witness that he acted upon his resolution.

“One day, it was granted me to clasp that hand in which not a quiver
revealed the control of the supreme power of nerves and courage. Eyes
of lovable youth! A gentle smile of timidity! Simple, quiet replies,
gestures disguising the consciousness of great hours incessantly lived
over! In the greatest heart lies the purest simplicity.”

  PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
  ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 6, No. 18. SERIAL No. 166
  COPYRIGHT, 1918. BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.




                  THE MENTOR--DEPARTMENT OF BIOGRAPHY
                           SERIAL NUMBER 166

GEORGES GUYNEMER

_The Wingèd Sword of France_

By HOWARD W. COOK

Entered as second-class matter March 10, 1913, at the postoffice at New
York, N.Y., under the act of March 3, 1879. Copyright, 1918, by The
Mentor Association, Inc.


_MENTOR GRAVURES_

GUYNEMER WHEN HE BEGAN HIS FLIGHTS

GUYNEMER AND HIS FAITHFUL GUNNER, GUERDER

GUYNEMER AT THE WHEEL

[Illustration]

_MENTOR GRAVURES_

GUYNEMER BROUGHT DOWN BY THE BOCHE

GUYNEMER AND A BOCHE VICTORY

GUYNEMER, THE ACE OF ACES

[Illustration]

[Illustration: By courtesy of the Century Co. From the drawing by
Madame J.C. Breslau.

GEORGES GUYNEMER]

    NOTE--The following article is based on Guynemer’s own records
    and the account of his exploits published by his close friend
    and authorized reporter, Jacques Mortane.

[Illustration: GUYNEMER WHEN SIX YEARS OLD]

When the history of the World War is finally written, one of the
names conspicuous in its pages will be that of Georges (jorje)
Guynemer (gee-ne-mare). The name of Guynemer has become synonymous
with brave deeds and symbolical of the great spiritual glory that
belongs to France. Guynemer has been called “The Ace of Aces” and
“The Wingèd Sword of France”; but these names express only in part
the characteristics of a world-famous hero whose life, as Clemenceau
(klem’-ahng-so) so aptly terms it, “even though short, was a
sufficiently beautiful adventure.” Guynemer’s part in the World War is
over. His own active chapter is done, but his spirit lives on in the
hearts of every allied airman.

Guynemer, born in December, 1894, was the son of a retired officer.
As a boy he was agile and ambitious in sports, though of slender build
and somewhat delicate. He was especially fond of mechanical toys and
miniature airplanes, and even in the early school days, when flying was
looked upon more as a sport than an actual military factor, Georges
declared to his father his ambition to become an aviator.

[Illustration: GUYNEMER AT TEN YEARS OF AGE]

And then came the war. The youth, who because of physical weakness was
refused admission to the army no less than five times, was finally
accepted at the age of twenty, on November 23, 1914. Then began a
career that in a few short years was destined to make the name of
Georges Guynemer immortal.


_Guynemer’s First Victory_

In describing his first meeting with the Boche (bosh) on July 19, 1915,
to his friend, Jacques Mortane, Guynemer said:

    “I was on a two-seated ‘Parasol’ with Guerder, my mechanic, as
    passenger. I had promised myself for some time to undertake
    a pursuit in my airplane, but I had always been ordered on
    reconnaissances or photographic missions, and that kind of
    work did not suit me at all. It is always set aside for the
    newcomers in the squadrons, and I wanted to show that grit was
    not the exclusive possession of the older men.”

A Boche had been sighted at Coeuvres (koev-r), and Guynemer took flight
with Guerder and was soon in pursuit of the enemy. As the Boche’s plane
was faster there was no possibility of catching him. Nevertheless,
the joy of finding a first adversary made Guynemer eager to attempt
anything. From a great distance he fired at his opponent--possibly
without any hope of hitting him, but steadily nevertheless. He pursued
him as far as the Coucy aerodrome, where he saw him alight. This
displeased Guynemer greatly. He had gone out to “get” a Boche and had
to go back empty-handed.

    “There we were,” he said, “with these sad thoughts, when
    suddenly another black point appeared on the horizon. As we
    came nearer, the point became larger and was soon plain, as a
    Boche. He was moving towards the French lines, thinking only of
    what he might find ahead. He did not dream that on his track
    were two young fellows determined not to return to the squadron
    without performing their task, two young fellows who believed
    that to return to headquarters without a Boche would mean
    derision.

    “It was not until Soissons (swahs-sohng) was reached that
    we came up with him, and there the combat took place. During
    the space of ten minutes everybody in the city watched the
    fantastic duel over their heads. I kept about fifteen meters
    from _my_ Boche--below, back of and to the left of him, and,
    notwithstanding all his twistings, I managed not to lose
    touch with him. Guerder fired 115 shots, but could not fire
    precisely, as his gun jammed continually. On the other hand, in
    the course of the fight my companion was hit by one bullet in
    the hand and another ‘combed’ his hair. He answered with his
    rifle, shooting well. We began to ask ourselves how this duel
    was going to end, but at the 115th shot fired by Guerder I saw
    the pilot fall to the bottom of his car, while the ‘look-out’
    raised his arms in a gesture of despair, and the plane did a
    nose spin, and plunged down into the abyss in flames. He fell
    between the trenches. I hastened to land not far away.

    “At last I was able to live my dream! I, who had so long
    desired to join in the fighting, had managed to gain a victory.
    What shall I say about the reception given me by the troops on
    the ground--ovations, congratulations, all under the vengeful
    cannon of the enemy. I have beaten down other Boches since that
    time, but when I think over my aerial duels my recollections
    always fly back to that first one.”

Official recognition came to Guynemer the next day when the Military
Medal was awarded him for being “a pilot full of spirit and boldness.”

In considering Guynemer’s personal accounts of his various flights,
it is evident that the Ace, while not inspired by the same craving
for combat that Major Bishop acknowledges, was a hero of unusually
high-pitched nerves, inspired with dreams of battle, and whose quests
for the Boche were insatiable.

Guynemer talked much concerning his “will.” It was his _will_ to get
into service in spite of his five rejections and being compelled to
enter as a mechanic. He _would_ scorn an observer’s work and become a
hunter. He _would_ make his score larger and larger. He _would_ fly
regardless of climatic conditions or his own health, going up even when
convalescing from injuries. And it was this _will_ which doubtless made
him the terror of his enemies and the glory of France.

Among the first duties assumed by an airman when he is learning the
mastery of his machine is that of reconnoitering. But Guynemer, fast
becoming specialized in pursuit, soon stopped all reconnoitering and
found himself assigned to a single-seated airplane. It was on February
3, 1916, that in the course of a single flight he succeeded in getting
his first official “double.”

[Illustration: A PAGE FROM GUYNEMER’S NOTE BOOK OF FLIGHT

Showing record of his first victory, July 19, 1915]

He was making his usual round in the Roy section just before noon, and
was about to end his flight, when he saw an airplane in the distance.
“The game was coming to me,” he said. All he had to do was not to
let it escape. Guynemer gave chase and soon caught up with it. The
enemy did not seem to wish to avoid the fight. Possibly he had not
seen Guynemer at all. Being faster than he, Guynemer got behind him,
opening fire at 100 meters,[A] and, as he fired at rapid intervals,
his cartridges were soon exhausted. At that instant a cloud of smoke,
which increased rapidly, made a sinister tail to the Boche, who dived,
severely wounded. He fell, however, within his own lines, and Guynemer
could not follow him to earth. It was certainly one enemy less, but
Guynemer’s total record was not improved.

[A] A meter is a little more than a yard in length--exactly stated,
39.37 inches.

    Fortune, however, favored him. “I was coming back,” he said,
    “thinking over the methods of fighting, considering how I had
    attacked, asking myself whether I would not have done better
    to approach from some other direction, when at almost 11.30 I
    found another hunting plane. Yes, I had made a mistake just
    now, when I opened fire from so far away--I should have waited.
    At 100 meters we cannot be sure of the aim. My method, which up
    to this time always consisted in attacking almost point-blank,
    seemed to me much better. It is more risky, but everything
    lies in maneuvering so as to remain in the dead angle of fire.
    Certainly it is rather difficult, but nevertheless it can be
    mastered with skill.

    “While going over these things to myself I had come near enough
    to the Boche without running any great danger. At 20 meters I
    fired. Almost at once my adversary tumbled in a tail-spin. I
    dived after him, continuing to fire my weapon. I plainly saw
    him fall in his lines. That was all right, no doubt about him.
    I had my fifth! I was really in luck, for less than ten minutes
    later another plane, sharing the same lot, spun downward with
    the same grace, taking fire as it fell through the clouds.

    “The second day afterwards, before Frise, in a new tête-à-tête
    with a hunting Boche, I leaped forward, caught up with him, got
    in back of him, a little below to avoid his fire, and at 15
    meters fired 45 cartridges. He swayed sadly, in the shock of
    death, which I was beginning to be able to diagnose, then fell
    like a stone, taking fire on the way. He must have been burned
    up between Assevillers and Herbecourt. Although he was really
    my seventh Boche, he alone gained me the honor of a special
    mention.”

[Illustration: GUYNEMER BEING DECORATED WITH THE ROSETTE OF THE LEGION
OF HONOR

Guynemer (in dark uniform) has just received the Rosette]

Guynemer’s fifth citation rewarded him for this exploit, and declared
him a hunting pilot with audacity and energy for any adventure.

According to Guynemer’s own testimony, one of the most difficult things
an airman of the Allies has to do is to compel the Boche to accept a
duel, not that the latter lacks courage, but rather that he prefers
not to run the risk of being brought down. As a result of forcing
engagements, Guynemer seldom returned from a flight without a wound of
some sort or other. On several occasions his garments were drilled with
holes, his clothing more than once taking on the appearance of a sieve.
This was the youth who in less than eight months from the downing of
his fifth Boche had been awarded seven palms for his war cross.


_Guynemer and His Parents_

Like Nungesser, Dormé (dor-may) and Triboulet (trib-oo-lay), Guynemer
would not rest when he had left the hospital convalescent from some of
his more serious wounds, and it is by signs like these that we find
the souls of great heroes who know nothing about “vacations,” even for
their health, so long as others are fighting. Guynemer was not strong
and should have rested after his stay in the hospital. His parents
begged him to rest, so Guynemer compromised by agreeing to establish
himself near his family at Compiègne (kom-pee-ane), where at the
same time he could serve France. Not far from his paternal home, at
Vauciennes (vo-see-enn), his Baby Nieuport rested in a hangar, ready to
carry him into those great open spaces to search for the enemy whenever
the atmosphere permitted.

[Illustration: GUYNEMER READY FOR FLIGHT]

One of the hero’s sisters was entrusted with the task of studying the
atmosphere at dawn each day to see if it were “Boche weather.” And
as soon as it was light enough, slyly, like a boy planning mischief
against the orders of his elders, the Second Lieutenant Ace came down
from his room and mounted his Nieuport for a prospective fray.

He was convinced that no one in the house suspected his escapades
except his sister. How little he understood the hearts of a father
and mother! Father Guynemer has told of the anxieties, the worries
lived through during that convalescence. The boy had gone. Would he
come back? Would some hateful enemy appear on the way and prevent his
return to the bosom of his family? The minutes of anxiety were as long
as centuries. As for the loving Mother Guynemer, she did not dare show
her son that she was undeceived by his stratagems, nor did she wish
him to see her when she watched him fly away. Through the blinds, with
tear-dimmed eyes, she watched him depart in the service of his country.
When she saw her boy draw far away, she returned to her household
duties--but not until Georges’ machine had become a tiny speck.

[Illustration: GUYNEMER AND MACHINE AFTER 3,000-METER TUMBLE]

Here is one of the most moving pages in the hero’s life--this feigned
ignorance on the part of the parents, the plotting of brother and
sister. Guynemer, face to face with his family, pretended that he would
run no danger. He insisted on his own prudence. Nothing serious could
happen to him, because he avoided all risks. But as soon as he began
to turn the conversation upon the subject which was all his life, the
comforting words which he had spoken were at once contradicted by the
many adventures and varied anecdotes which he recalled. No peril had
been too great for him. He played with danger, and looked for it.


_A Fall of 3,000 Meters_

Guynemer hated the word “luck,” perhaps because he was accused of
having so much of it, and when his Spad was struck by a shell 3,000
meters from the earth, the airman falling the entire distance, he
repudiated the suggestion that his was a lucky star!

This phenomenal escape took place on September 23, 1916, Guynemer
having just finished an exploit humorously set down by his friend
Mortane as follows: “Put an egg in boiling water when the Ace of
Aces begins a battle; you wait until he has downed three Boches, you
take out the egg, and it is done to a turn. What a triumph for the
restaurant menus!”

While contemplating the immensity of the azure heavens at an altitude
of 3,000 meters above the earth, Guynemer suddenly felt a shell strike
one of the wings of his airplane with all its force. The left wing was
torn to shreds, the canvas sent floating in the wind, as the airman and
his machine began a descent.

[Illustration: GUYNEMER FACE TO FACE WITH A DEFEATED BOCHE]

    “My apparatus fell,” said Guynemer, “broke apart, crumpled
    up in the abyss, unable to bear me any longer. I really felt
    the call of death and I seemed to be hastening towards it. It
    seemed that there was nothing to prevent my crashing to the
    earth. A tail-spin, terrible, fearful, began at 3,000 meters
    and continued to 1,600 meters.

    “I felt as if I were indeed lost, and all that I asked of
    Providence was that I should not fall in enemy territory. Never
    that! They would have been too happy. Can you think of me
    buried with my victims? But I was powerless to exert my will,
    my airplane refused to obey.

    “At 1,600 meters I tried anyway. The wind had driven me almost
    over our lines. I was already half-happy. Now I dreamed of
    being interred with sympathetic comrades following my body.
    That was not a fine dream, but at least it was better than the
    other.

    “I had no longer to fear the pointed helmets. But,
    nevertheless, I felt all that death might be, and it was not a
    pleasant thought. The fall continued. The steering gear would
    not respond to my tugging. Nothing worked. I tried it to the
    right, to the left, pulling, pushing, but got no result. The
    comet did not slow a bit, I was drawn invincibly towards the
    earth where I was about to be crushed.

    “There it was! One last brutal effort, but in vain. I closed
    my eyes, I saw the earth, I was plunging towards it at 180
    kilometers[A] an hour, like a plummet. A terrible crashing, a
    great noise, I looked around. There was nothing left of my Spad.

    “How did it happen that I was still alive? I asked myself, but
    I felt that it was so, and that was enough. However, I think
    that it was the straps which held me in my seat that had saved
    me. Without them I would have been thrown forward or would have
    broken some bones. On the contrary, they were dug deep into my
    shoulders, a silent proof, doubtless, that I should give them
    full consideration. Had it not been for them I would certainly
    have been killed.”

[A] A kilometer is a thousand meters, or 3,280 feet, 10 inches.

[Illustration: GUYNEMER’S FAVORITE AIRPLANE, _VIEUX CHARLES_ (OLD
CHARLES), ON EXHIBITION IN PARIS]

Infantrymen hurried to the spot to pick up the pieces. Finding Guynemer
not only alive, but unhurt except for a bruised knee, they conducted
him home in triumph, singing the “Marseillaise” at the top of their
voices.

Guynemer went to view the remains of the Boche that he had brought down
first. The pilot had on his body a card, almost burned up, on which a
feminine hand had written these words: “I hope that you will bring back
many victories.”


_A Quadruple Victory_

[Illustration: GUYNEMER WITH THE MILITARY MEDAL AND “LEGION OF HONOR”]

The Magic Quadruple,--the successive defeat of four airplanes, was
Guynemer’s achievement, one of which was downed in one minute, on May
25, 1917, according to the following schedule:

1st airplane, 8.30, 2nd airplane, 8.31, 3rd airplane, 12.01, 4th
airplane, 6.30.

[Illustration: THE DEBRIS OF THREE AIRPLANES BROUGHT DOWN BY GUYNEMER
IN ONE DAY]

Four airplanes beaten down on one day by the same aviator was a record.
On February 26, 1916, Navarre secured his first “double.” Nungesser, on
the Somme, destroyed a balloon and two airplanes on a single morning.
But by his quadruple victory Guynemer exceeded these two earlier
records and the one established by himself in the Lorraine when he
brought down three airplanes in one day. On the morning of May 25th
Guynemer saw three enemy airplanes flying in concert toward French
lines. He pounced upon them, and they took to flight. He attacked one
of them, maneuvering to get him in the line of fire, then fired, and
after the first shots the enemy machine dived and fell in flames.

Meanwhile the danger for the single-seated machine was surprise from
the rear. While he was attacking in front, it was necessary for
Guynemer to watch the rear. Guynemer turned, and saw a second adversary
coming full at him, trying to reach him. But he had fired already from
above downward, and hit him with an explosive bullet. Like the first,
this airplane took fire. The victories of Guynemer were lightning-like,
requiring only a few seconds of fighting.

[Illustration: GUYNEMER BROUGHT DOWN BY A SHELL FROM A HEIGHT OF OVER
9,000 FEET

His only injury was a bruised knee]

Towards noon an audacious German airplane flew over the aviation field.
French squadrons have taught the enemy respect for their lines and the
unfortunate fellow who ventures above them seldom returns home. It was
something of a mystery how this one had broken through the barrage.
But to ascend to the sky after him and to reach him, no matter how
speedy the machine, required several minutes, time enough for the enemy
to flee, his mission accomplished. All of the machines had come down
except the one driven by Guynemer.

Guynemer came upon his adversary like a whirlwind. He fired. Only one
shot from his machine-gun was heard. The airplane fell, the propeller
revolving at full speed, and dug itself into the earth. Guynemer had
killed the pilot with a bullet in the head.

That evening Guynemer went out for the third time. It was about seven
o’clock, over the gardens of Guignicourt (geen-ye-koor), that a fourth
machine, beaten down by him, fell in flames.

And as the young conqueror came down at sunset, he executed all
kinds of fancy figures in the air to announce his victory to his
comrades,--all the turns, and twists and loopings of which he was so
great a master.

[Illustration: LAST PAGE OF GUYNEMER’S FLIGHT-BOOK

Recording his final departure]

But some facts must be added as a sequence to the official
announcements. The first airplane brought down was a two-seater, one of
whose wings was broken in descent; it fell into the trees near Corbeny.
The second, another two-seater, fell on fire near Juvincourt. The third
was also brought down afire near Courlandon. Finally, the fourth, also
set on fire, dropped between Condé-sur-Suippes (sweep) and Guignicourt.
Add to this that, on that same day, Guynemer had collaborated with
Captain Auger (the slain Ace) in putting to flight a group of six
single-seaters.

It was the quadruple that brought Captain Guynemer the Rosette of the
Legion of Honor with this commendation:

    “An élite officer, a fighting pilot as skillful as audacious.
    He has rendered glowing service to the country, both by the
    number of his victories and the daily example he has set of
    burning ardor and even greater mastery increasing from day
    to day. Unconscious of danger, on account of his sureness
    of method and precision of maneuvers, he has become the
    most redoubtable of all to the enemy. On May 25, 1917, he
    accomplished one of his most brilliant exploits, beating
    down two enemy airplanes in one minute, and gaining two
    more victories on the same day. By all of his exploits he
    has contributed towards exalting the courage and enthusiasm
    of those who, from the trenches, were the witnesses of his
    triumphs. He has brought down forty-five airplanes, received
    twenty citations and been seriously wounded twice.”

One of the most conspicuous virtues of Guynemer was his extreme
modesty. He wore his crosses and medals not from love of show,
declaring that while it was sweet to know one was celebrated, that
glory was accompanied by many drawbacks.

    “You no longer belong to yourself,” said Guynemer, “you belong
    to everybody. To be well known is to see around you all the
    time a number of persons who never cared for you before but
    have suddenly assumed a pseudo-friendship for you. All at once
    they find out that you are a charming conversationalist, an
    infinitely fine soul, and more of the same kind of gush. Their
    object is to go out with you, and to take you to see their
    people. And when they look at you they imagine that you admire
    them. Such is the misfortune of renown! You no longer know
    where sincerity begins, whether they are pleasant to you out of
    friendship or vanity. We are apt to become unjust to those who
    do not deserve it, and confide in others who deserve it still
    less.”


_The Last Flight_

[Illustration: ON THE EVE OF HIS DEATH, SEPTEMBER 10, 1917

Guynemer--on the further side of the airplane--was obliged to land at a
Belgian aerodrome for repairs]

It was on August 20, 1917, that Guynemer, piloting “Old Charles,”
achieved his last official triumph,--a German plane, which crashed
to earth at Poperinghe, Belgium. A few days after this Guynemer took
command of the Stork Squadron. Thus the difficult task of guiding the
administrative work of The Storks fell upon the shoulders of this young
soldier. With these new duties he might have abstained from flying. But
this would not have been like Guynemer. He flew from five to six hours
each day. On September 11th, notwithstanding the bad weather, Guynemer
started upon a cruise with Second Lieutenant Verduraz. After furrowing
space for a long time without success, for atmospheric conditions kept
the Boches on the earth, the two pilots at last saw a two-seater which
appeared to be lost in the clouds. The hero darted forward, attacked,
but his gun missed fire. He maneuvered for position again without
even trying to dodge the answering fire, so sure was he of himself in
dealing with this Boche. A single two-seater was but a trivial thing to
him.

Second Lieutenant Bozon Verduraz had gone towards other fights with
the conviction that his comrade would, without a doubt, come out of the
duel victorious; but he found nothing there when he returned. Guynemer,
the hero of dreams, had vanished in mystery.

And here above Poelcapelle the career of this most brilliant pilot of
the air was terminated, after he had added up 755 hours of airplane
flight!

The censor forbade the announcement of Guynemer’s disappearance, but
the news was passed from mouth to mouth. Guynemer? Every one deemed him
invulnerable--no one believed that he could be killed.

But many days afterward came the news from a German source. The Ace of
Aces had been beaten down near the cemetery of Flemish Poelcapelle. Two
soldiers had been present at the place of the catastrophe. One wing of
the Spad had been broken. The pilot lay there, killed, with a bullet in
his head, and one leg broken. On him was found his commission, which
made it possible to identify the body.

The district in which Guynemer had ended his career in a burst of glory
was being hammered by the English artillery. Attacks followed. The
Allies looked for his grave in the cemetery of Poelcapelle when they
took it. But they never succeeded in finding it. It was learned later
that, on account of the incessant danger, the Germans had not been able
to remove the remains to inter them. The soul of Guynemer in the Great
Beyond had the supreme satisfaction of knowing that the body was not
defiled by his enemy.

Lieutenant Weisemann, the German airman who had brought Guynemer’s
career to a close, survived his success but a few days.

[Illustration: GUYNEMER’S PILOT CARD, REPRODUCED IN “DIE WOCHE” (THE
WEEK) OF BERLIN, AFTER HIS DEATH]

       *       *       *       *       *

_SUPPLEMENTARY READING_

GUYNEMER, THE ACE OF ACES. A Record of His Achievements.

_By His Friend, Jacques Mortane_

EPIC OF THE AIR

Article in _The Living Age_, June 8, 1918

GEORGES GUYNEMER, KNIGHT OF THE AIR. A Biography, Translated from the
French of _Henry Bordeaux_.

GEORGES GUYNEMER, ACE OF ACES

_Literary Digest_, October 13, 1917

⁂ Information concerning the above books may be had on application to
the Editor of The Mentor.




THE OPEN LETTER


A year has passed since Guynemer gave his life for France, and his
story is now history. During the year other skymen have made great
records: some of them may accomplish supreme achievements in the
future. But there is a certain halo of romance about the young Sir
Galahad of the Sky that distinguishes him and gives him a place of his
own.

       *       *       *       *       *

Moreover, there are special considerations to be taken into account in
reckoning up Guynemer’s achievements. While other airmen of the World
War have been credited officially with a greater number of victories,
it is a recognized fact among Parisian journalists and Guynemer’s own
associates among “The Storks,” that Guynemer was victor over perhaps
twice as many Boche planes as the fifty-three accredited him by the
French Militaire. The French system of accounting downed airplanes
has been extremely exacting. The French insist that the aviator must
send his victim to destruction in sight of two official observers. In
Guynemer’s case this rigorous method of checking up official records
was strongly emphasized because of his world-astonishing prowess. When
Guynemer’s friends protested, he only smiled--and downed more Boches.

       *       *       *       *       *

English and German officials, have been more lenient in giving
official credit to their airmen. A German scores if he simply sends
a bullet through his adversary’s motor, compelling descent. Germany,
with her idolatry of all things German-done, accredits Captain Baron
von Richthofen with something more than a hundred victories. Major
William A. Bishop of the English flying forces, according to his own
story recently published, downed seventy-two enemy planes in confirmed
victories during the year 1917. The rigid system of official accounting
by the French is shown in the case of Lieutenant Nungesser, the second
French Ace cited for the Legion of Honor. Also in the officially
accredited victories of Lieutenant René Fonck, recognized as the
greatest French air fighter since Captain Guynemer, Fonck is credited
with bringing down more than sixty enemy airplanes--six of them in one
day in the course of two patrols.

       *       *       *       *       *

While Georges Guynemer received nearly every honor that the French
Government had in its power to bestow for the services rendered his
country, the fifty-three airplanes he officially destroyed meant more
in the period between 1915 and 1917 than the downing of many more
planes thereafter; for it was Guynemer who led French warfare in the
air from defeat to victory, and who was supremely successful despite
the mechanical shortcomings of the airplanes that were in use when he
entered the service.

       *       *       *       *       *

The story of Guynemer and his wondrous exploits forms one of the great
dramatic chapters of the World War, and it will go down the years as
a record of poetic heroism to be read for the inspiration of future
generations of youth. There are many brilliant airmen. Guynemer was
more than that; he was a dedicated soul.

W. D. Moffat

EDITOR




In the Pantheon


That classic mausoleum for famous Frenchmen in Paris, the following
inscription has been set up to perpetuate the memory of Guynemer:

“=Captain Guynemer, commander of Squadron No. 3, died on the field of
honor September 11, 1917. A hero of legendary power, he fell in the
wide heaven of glory, after three years of hard fighting. He will long
remain the purest symbol of the qualities of the race: indomitable in
tenacity, enthusiastic in energy, sublime in courage. Animated with
inextinguishable faith in victory, he bequeathes to the French soldier
the imperishable remembrance which will exalt the spirit of sacrifice
and the most noble emulation.=”




THE ONGOING


            _“Loose me from fear and make me see aright_
            _How each has back what once he stayed to weep--_
            _Homer his sight, David his little lad.”_

    He will not come, the gallant flying boy,
    Back to his field. Somewhere he wings his way
    Where the Immortals keep; where Homer now
    Has back his sight, David his little lad;
    Where all those are we dully call the dead,
    Who have gone greatly on some shining quest,
    He takes his way. That which he quested for,
    That larger freedom of a larger birth,
    Captains him, flying into fields of dawn.

    He has gone on where now the soldier-slain
    Arise in light. Somewhere he takes his place
    And leads his comrades in untrodden fields.
    For never can these rest until our earth
    Has ceased from travail--never can these take
    Their fill of sleep until the Scourge is slain.
    And so they keep them sometimes near old ways
    In the accustomed fields--now flying low,
    Invisible, they cheer the gallant hosts,
    Bidding them be, as they, invincible.

           *       *       *       *       *

    He will come never back! But we who watched
    Him take the upper air and steer his boundless path
    Firmly against the foe, we know that here
    Death could not penetrate. Life only is
    Where all is life, and so, before us, keeps
    Always the vision of his faring on
    To unpathed fields where his great comrades wait,
    And, joyful, take him for their captaining--
    The brave Adventurer,
    The gallant flying Boy!

MARY SIEGRIST.

By permission of the New York _Times_.




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End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mentor: Guynemer, The Wingèd Swor
 of France, Vol. 6, Num. 18, Serial No, by Howard W. Cook

*** 