Lachesis from his face thought him a boy, But counting his victories she thought him full of years.]
This young Frederic Ozanam died in the full vigor of manhood before having attained his fortieth year, of a malady which had already foretold his death. At that time he seemed to have achieved perfect happiness; it was the supreme moment when everything succeeds, when the difficult years are almost forgotten, and the road mounts easily upward.
He had in his wife a perfect companion, and his daughter was a lovable young girl. His reputation was growing; he was soon to be received by the Academy, and fortune and fame were already achieved. And then death called him. Truly the hour was badly chosen--but when is it chosen at the will of mortals? Ozanam tried to win pity from death. In his private journal he notes death"s approach, concerning which he was never deceived; and he asks Heaven for a respite. To propitiate it, he offers a part of his life, the most brilliant part; he is willing to renounce honors, fame, and fortune, and will consent to live humbly and be forgotten, like the poor for whom he founded the _Conferences de Saint-Vincent de Paul_, and whom he so often visited in their wretched lodgings; but let him at least dwell a little longer in his home, that he may see his daughter grow up, and pa.s.s a few years more with the companion of his choice. Finally, he is impa.s.sioned by his Faith, he no longer reasons with Heaven, but says: "Take all according to Thy wish, take all, take myself. Thy will be done...."
Rarely has the drama of acceptance of the Divine Will been more freely developed. Now, in the drama which was to impa.s.sion Guynemer even to complete sacrifice, it is not the vocation of aviator that we should remark, but the absolute will to serve. Abbe Chesnais, who does not attach primary importance to the vocation, has understood this well. At the end of his notes he reminds us that Guynemer was a believer who accomplished his religious exercises regularly, without ostentation and without weakness. "How many times he has stopped me at night," he writes, "as I pa.s.sed near his bed! He wanted a quiet conscience, without reproach. His usual frivolity left him at the door of the chapel. He believed in the presence of G.o.d in this holy place and respected it....
His Christian sentiments were to be a sustaining power in his aerial battles, and he would fight with the more ardor if his conscience were at peace with his G.o.d...."
These words of Abbe Chesnais explain the true vocation of Guynemer: "The chances of war brought out marvelously the qualities contained in such a frail body. In the beginning did he think of becoming a pilot? Perhaps.
But what he wanted above everything was to fulfil his duty as a Frenchman. He wanted to be a soldier; he was ashamed of himself, he said, in the first days of September, 1914: "If I have to sleep in the bottom of an automobile truck, I want to go to the front. I will go.""
He was to go; but neither love of aviation nor love of fame had anything to do with his departure, as they were to have nothing to do with his final fate.
III. THE DEPARTURE
In the month of July, 1914, Georges Guynemer was with his family at the Villa Delphine, Biarritz, in the northern part of the Anglet beach. This beach is blond with sunshine, but is refreshed by the ocean breezes. One can be deliciously idle there. This beach is besides an excellent landing-place for airplanes, because of the welcome of its soft sand.
Georges Guynemer never left the Anglet beach, and every time an airplane descended he was there to receive it. He was the aviation sentry. But at this period airplanes were rare. Guynemer had his own thoughts, and tenacity was one of his dominant traits; he was already one of those who never renounce. The bathers who pa.s.sed this everlasting idler never suspected that he was obstinately developing one single plan, and hanging his whole future upon it.
Meanwhile the horizon of Europe darkened. Ever since the a.s.sa.s.sination of the Archduke Ferdinand of Austria, at Sarajevo, electricity had acc.u.mulated in the air, and the storm was ready to burst. To this young man, the Archduke and the European horizon were things of nothing. The sea-air was healthful, and he searched the heavens for invisible airplanes. The conversations in progress all around him were full of anxiety; he had no time to listen to them. The eyes of the women began to be full of pain; he did not notice the eyes of women. On the second of August the order for mobilization was posted. It was war!
Then Guynemer rid himself of his dream, as if it were something unreal, and broke off brusquely all his plans for the future. He was entirely possessed by another idea, which made his eyes snap fire, and wrinkled his forehead. He rushed to his father and without taking breath announced:
"I am going to enlist."
"You are lucky."
"Well, then, you authorize me...."
"I envy you."
He had feared to be met with some parental objection on account of the uncertain health which had so often thwarted him, and had postponed his preparation for the ecole Polytechnique. Now he felt rea.s.sured. Next day he was at Bayonne, getting through all the necessary formalities. He was medically examined--and postponed. The doctors found him too tall, too thin--no physiological defect, but a child"s body in need of being developed and strengthened. In vain he supplicated them; they were pitiless. He returned home grieved, humiliated, and furious. The Villa Delphine was to know some very uncomfortable days. His family understood his determination and began to have fears for him. And he returned to the charge, and attacked his father with insistence, as if his father were all-powerful and could, if he would, compel them to accept his son"s services for _la Patrie_.
"If you would help me, I should not be put off."
"But how?"
"A former officer has connections in the army. You could speak for me."
"Very well, I will."
M. Guynemer, in his turn, went to Bayonne. From that date, indeed from the first day of war, he had promised himself never to set obstacles in the way of his son"s military service, but to favor it upon all occasions. He kept his word, as we shall see later, at whatever cost to himself. The recruiting major listened to his request. It was the hour of quick enthusiasms, and he had already sustained many a.s.saults and resisted many importunities.
"Monsieur," he now said, "you may well believe that I accept all who can serve. I speak to you as a former officer: does your conscience a.s.sure you that your son is fit to carry a knapsack and be a foot-soldier?"
"I could not say that he is."
"Would he make a cavalryman?"
"He can"t ride on account of his former enteritis."
"Then you see how it is; it"s proper to postpone him. Build him up, and later on he"ll be taken. The war is not finished."
As Georges had been present at this interview, he now saw himself refused a second time. He returned with his father to Biarritz, pale, silent, unhappy, and altogether in such a state of anger and bitterness that his face was altered. Nothing consoled him, nothing amused him. On those magnificent August days the sea was a waste of sunshine, and the beach was an invitation to enjoy the soft summer hours; but he did not go to the beach, and he scorned the sea. His anxious parents wondered if, for the sake of his health, it would not be easier to see him depart. As for them, it was their fate to suffer in every way.
Ever since the mobilization, Georges Guynemer had had only one thought: to serve--to serve, no matter where, no matter how, no matter in what branch of the service, but to leave, to go to the front, and not stay there at Biarritz like those foreigners who had not left, or like those useless old men and children who were now all that remained of the male population.
Many trains had carried off the first recruits, trains decorated with flowers and filled with songs. The sons of France had come running from her farthest provinces, and a unanimous impulse precipitated them upon the a.s.saulted frontier. But this impulse was perfectly controlled. The songs the men sang were serious and almost sacred. The nation was living through one of her greatest hours, and knew it. With one motion she regained her national unity, and renewed once more her youth.
Meanwhile the news that sifted in, little by little, caused intense anguish--anguish, not doubt. The government had left Paris to establish itself at Bordeaux. The capital was menaced. The enemy had entered Compiegne. Compiegne was no longer ours. The Joan of Arc on the _place_ of the Hotel de Ville had _pickelhauben_ on her men-at-arms. And then the victory of the Marne lifted the weight that oppressed every heart.
At the Villa Delphine news came that Compiegne was saved. Meanwhile trains left carrying troops to reinforce the combatants. And Georges Guynemer had to live through all these departures, suffering and rebelling until he had a horror of himself. His comrades and friends were gone, or had asked permission to go. His two first cousins, his mother"s nephews, Guy and Rene de Saint Quentin, had gone; one, a sergeant, was killed at the Battle of the Marne, the other, councilor to the Emba.s.sy at Constantinople, returning in haste when war was declared, had taken his place as lieutenant of reserves, and had been twice wounded at the Marne, by a ball in the shoulder and a shrapnel bullet in the thigh. Was it possible for him to stay there alone when the whole of France had risen?
In the _Chanson d"Aspremont_, which is one of our most captivating _chansons de geste_, Charlemagne is leaving for Italy with his army, and pa.s.ses by Laon. In the donjon five children, one of whom is his nephew Roland, are imprisoned under the care of Turpin. The Emperor, who knows them well, has had them locked up for fear they would join his troops.
But when they hear the ivory horns sounding and the horses neighing, they are determined to escape. They try to cajole the porter, but he is adamant and incorruptible. This faithful servitor is immediately well beaten. They take away his keys, pa.s.s over his body, and are soon out of the prison. But their adventures are only beginning. To procure themselves horses they attack and unhorse five Bretons, and to get arms they repeat the same process. They are so successful that they manage to join the Emperor"s army before it has crossed the Alps. Will our new Roland allow himself to be outdistanced by these terrible children of former ages? It is not the army with its ivory horns that he has heard departing, but the whole marching nation, fighting to live and endure, and to enable honor and justice and right to live and endure with her.
So we find Guynemer once more on the Anglet beach, sad and discomfited.
An airplane capsizes on the sand. What does he care about an airplane--don"t they know that his old pa.s.sion and dream are dead? Since August 2 he has not given them a thought. However, he begins a conversation with the pilot, who is a sergeant. And all at once a new idea takes possession of him; the old pa.s.sion revives again under another form; the dream rises once more.
"How can one enlist in the aviation corps?"
"Arrange it with the captain; go to Pau."
Georges runs at once to the Villa Delphine. His parents no longer recognize the step and the face of the preceding days; he looks like their son again; he is saved.
"Father, I want to go to Pau to-morrow."
"Why this trip to Pau?"
"To enlist in the aviation corps. Before the war you wouldn"t hear of my being an aviator, but in war aviation is no longer a sport."
"In war--yes, it is certainly quite another thing."
Next day he reached Pau, where Captain Bernard-Thierry was in command of the aviation camp. He forced his way through Captain Bernard-Thierry"s door, over the expostulations of the sentries. He explained his case and pleaded his cause with such fire in his eyes that the officer was dazed and fascinated. From the tones of the captain"s voice, when he referred to the two successive rejections, Guynemer knew he had made an impression. As he had done at Stanislas when he wanted to soften some punishment inflicted by his master, so now he brought every argument to bear, one after another; but with how much more ardor he made this plea, for his future was at stake! He bewitched his hearer. And then suddenly he became a child again, imploring and ready to cry.
"Captain, help me--employ me--employ me at anything, no matter what. Let me clean those airplanes over there. You are my last resource. It must be through you that I can do something at last in the war."
The captain reflected gravely. He felt the power hidden in this fragile body. He could not rebuff a suppliant like this one.
"I can take you as student mechanician."
"That"s it, that"s it; I understand automobiles."
Guynemer exulted, as Jean Krebs" technical lessons flashed already into his mind; they would be of great help in his work. The officer gave him a letter to the recruiting officer at Bayonne, and he went back there for the third time. This time his name was entered, he was taken, and he signed a voluntary engagement. This was on November 21, 1914. There was no need for him to explain to the family what had occurred when he returned to the Villa Delphine: he was beaming.
"You are going?" said his mother and sisters.
"Surely."
Next day he made his _debut_ at the aviation camp at Pau as student mechanician. He had entered the army by the back door, but he had got in. The future knight of the air was now the humblest of grooms. "I do not ask any favors for him," his father wrote to the captain. "All I ask is that he may perform any services he is capable of." He had to be tried and proved deserving, to pa.s.s through all the minor ranks before being worthy to wear the _casque sacre_. The petted child of Compiegne and the Villa Delphine had the most severe of apprenticeships. He slept on the floor, and was employed in the dirtiest work about camp, cleaned cylinders and carried cans of petroleum. In this _milieu_ he heard words and theories which dumbfounded him, not knowing then that men frequently do not mean all that they say. On November 26, he wrote Abbe Chesnais: "I have the pleasure of informing you that after two postponements during a vain effort to enlist, I have at last succeeded. _Time and patience_ ... I am writing you in the mess, while two comrades are elaborating social theories...."