11.45.—Attacked a Fritz, let him go at 800 meters, my motor spattered, but the Boche landed, head down, near Goyancourt. I only count him as damaged.
At this instant, I see a Boche cannonaded at 2400, hence at 11.50 a boxing round necessary with a little Rumpler armed with two machine-guns. The pilot got a bullet in his lung; the passenger, who fired at me, got one in his knee. The two reservoirs were hit, and the whole machine took fire and tumbled down at Lignières, within our lines. I landed alongside; in starting in again one wheel was broken in the plowed frozen earth. In taking away the "taxi" the park people completely demolished it for me. It was rushed to Paris for repairs.
25.—I watch the others fly, and fume.
26.—Bucquet loaned me his "taxi." No view-finder; only a wretchedly bad (oh, how bad!) sight-line.
At 12 o'clock.—Saw a Boche at 3800; took the lift.—Arrived at the sun.—In turning, was caught in an eddy-wind, rotten tail spin.—While coming down again I saw the Boche aiming at me 200 meters away; sent him ten shots: gun jammed; but the Boche seemed excited and dived with his motor in full blast straight south. Off we go! But I took care not to get too near so that he would not see that my gun was out of action. The altimeter tumbled: 1600 Estrées-Saint-Denis came in sight. I maneuvered my Boche as well as I could. Suddenly he righted himself and departed in the direction of Rheims, banging away at me.
I tried bluffing; I rose 500 meters and let myself fall on him like a pebble. When I began to think my bluff had not succeeded, he seemed impressed and began to descend again. I placed myself at a distance of 10 meters, but every time I showed my nose the passenger aimed at me. The road to Compiègne: 1000 ... 800 meters. When I showed my nose, the passenger, standing, stopped aiming and made a sign that he gave himself up. All right! I saw under his belly that four shells had struck the mark. 400 meters: the Boche slowed up his "moulin" (motor). 200 meters, 20 meters. I let him go and watched him land. At 100 meters I circled and found I was over an aërodrome. But, having no more cartridges, I could not prevent them from setting fire to their "taxi," a magnificent 200 H.P. Albatros. When I saw they had been surrounded, I landed and showed the Boches my broken machine-gun. Sensation. They had fired at me two hundred times: my bullets, before the breakdown, had gone through their altimeter and their tachometer, which had caused their excitement. The pilot said that an airplane had been forced down two days before at Goyancourt: passenger killed, pilot wounded in legs—had to have one amputated above the knee. I hope this original confirmation will be accepted, which will make 30.
Thirty victories, twenty or twenty-one of which occurred on the Somme: such is the schedule of these extraordinary flights. The last one surpassed all the rest. He fought unarmed, with nothing but his machine, like a knight who, with sword broken, manages his horse and brings his adversary to bay. What a scene it was when the German pilot and passenger, prisoners, became aware that Guynemer's machine-gun had been out of action! Once more he had imposed his will upon others, and his power of domination had fascinated his enemies.
In the beginning of February, 1917, the Storks Escadrille left the Somme after six months' fighting, and flew into Lorraine.