The war was to make them both aviators, and both of them fell from the sky, one in the fullness of glory, the other almost obscure.  When they talked together on school outings, or as they walked along beside the walls of Stanislas, had they ever foreseen this destiny?  Certainly not Jean Krebs, with his positive spirit; he only saw ahead the Ecole polytechnique, and thought of nothing but preparation for that.  But Guynemer?  In his very precious notes, Abbe Chesnais shows us the boy constructing a little airplane of cloth, the motor of which was a bundle of elastics.  “At the next recreation hour, he went up to the dormitory, opened a window, launched his machine, and presided over its evolutions above the heads of his comrades.”  But these were only the games of an ingenious collegian.  The worthy priest, who was division prefect, and watched the boy with a profound knowledge of psychology, never received any confidence from him regarding his vocation.

Aviation, whose first timid essays began in 1906, progressed rapidly.  After Santos Dumont, who on November 22, 1906, covered 220 meters while volplaning, a group of inventors—­Bleriot, Delagrange, Farman, Wright—­perfected light motors.  In 1909 Bleriot crossed the Channel, Paulhan won the height record at 1380 meters, and Farman the distance record over a course of 232 kilometers.  A visionary, Viscomte Melchior de Vogue, had already foreseen the prodigious development of air-travel.  All the young people of the time longed to fly.  Guynemer, studying the new invention with his customary energy, could hardly do otherwise than share the general infatuation.  His comrades, like himself, dreamed of parts of airplanes and their construction.  But the idea of Lieutenant Constantin is different:  “When an airplane flew over the quarter, Guynemer followed it with his eyes, and continued to gaze at the sky for some time after its disappearance.  His desk contained a whole collection of volumes and photographs concerning aviation.  He had resolved to go up some day in an airplane, and as he was excessively self-willed he tried to bring this about by every means in his power.  ’Don’t you know anybody who could take me up some Sunday?’ Of whom has he not asked this question?  But at college it was not at all easy, and it was during vacation that he succeeded in carrying out his project.  If I am not mistaken, his first ascension was at the aerodrome of Compiegne.  At that time the comfortable cockpits of the modern airplanes were unknown, and the passenger was obliged to place himself as best he could behind the pilot and cling to him by putting his arms around him in order not to fall, so that it was a relief to come down again!...”

The noticeable sentence in these notes is the first one:  When an airplane flew over the quarter, he followed it with his eyes, and continued to gaze at the sky for some time after its disappearance. If Jean Krebs had survived, he could perhaps enlighten us still further; but, even to this reasonable friend, could Guynemer have revealed what was still confused to himself?  Jean Constantin only saw him once in a reverie; and Guynemer must have kept silent about his resolutions.