A few hours before the service took place, Major Garibaldi, sent by General Anthoine, commander of the army to which Guynemer belonged, had brought to the Guynemer family the twenty-sixth citation of their hero, the famous document which all French schoolboys have since learned by heart and which was as follows: 

Fallen on the field of honor on September 11, 1917.  A legendary hero, fallen from the very zenith of victory after three years’ hard and continuous fighting.  He will be considered the most perfect embodiment of the national qualities for his indomitable energy and perseverance and his exalted gallantry.  Full of invincible belief in victory, he has bequeathed to the French soldier an imperishable memory which must add to his self-sacrificing spirit and will surely give rise to the noblest emulation.

On the motion of M. Lasies, in a session which reminded us of the great days of August, 1914, the Chamber decided on October 19 that the name of Captain Guynemer should be graven on the walls of the Pantheon.  Two letters, to follow below, were read by M. Lasies, to whom they had been written.  One came from Lieutenant Raymond, temporary commandant of the Storks, and was as follows: 

Having the honor to command Escadrille 3 in the absence of Captain Heurtaux, still wounded in hospital, I am anxious to thank you, in the name of the few surviving Storks, for what you are doing for the memory of Guynemer.

     He was our friend as well as our chief and teacher, our pride and
     our flag, and his loss will be felt more than any that has thinned
     our ranks so far.

     Please be sure that our courage has not been laid low with him; our
     revenge will be merciless and victorious.

     May Guynemer’s noble soul remember us fighting our aerial battles,
     that we may keep alight the flame he bequeathed to us.

     Raymond
     Commanding Escadrille 3.

The other letter came from Major Brocard: 

     My dear Comrade: 

     I am profoundly moved to hear of the thought you have had of giving
     the highest consecration to Guynemer’s memory by a ceremony at the
     Pantheon.

     It had occurred to all of us that only the lofty dome of the
     Pantheon was large enough for such wings.

The poor boy fell in the fullness of triumph, with his face towards the enemy.  A few days before he had sworn to me that the Germans should never take him alive.  His heroic death is not more glorious than that of the gunner defending his gun, the infantryman rushing out of his trench, or even that of the poor soldier perishing in the bogs.  But Guynemer was known to all.  There were few who had not seen him in the sky, whether blue or cloudy, bearing on his frail linen wings some of their own faith, their own dreams, and all that their souls could hold of trust and