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
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.