Guynemer was very different from Navarre, with his powerful profile and broad chest like an eagle in repose, and different from Nungesser, the Nungesser before his wounds had so devastated his body that a medical board wanted to declare him unfit, a decision which he heroically resisted, adding to his thirty victories another triumph over physical disability.  Guynemer differed from them mentally, too, possessing neither their instinct nor their intuitiveness.  These he replaced with scientific accuracy based on study, by a passion for flying, by method allied to fervor, by violent logic.  His power was nervous and almost electric.  The vicinity of danger drew sparks from him.

His most daring exploits were prepared by meditation beforehand, and he never indulged in recklessness without having pondered and calculated.  His action was so swift that it might seem instinctive, but under appearances the reasoning element was always present.

It was now late, but he was willing to talk to us about that wonderful 25th of May, for he had no objection to talking about his enemy-chasing; on the contrary, he would tell us details with the same amusement as if he related lucky plays at poker, and with the same knowing ways.  There was not the least shade of affectation or of posing in his narrative, but he talked with the simplicity of a child.  He told us that his third encounter had been the most enjoyable.  He was coming back to lunch, had seen the impudent German soaring above the camp, had fired, and the man had gone down dead.  After this exceedingly brief account he laughed as usual, a fresh laugh like a girl’s, and his eyes closed.  He said he was sleepy; he had been out twice, and before he went again he wanted a little rest.

* * * * *

I remember how bustling the camp looked!  It was half-past six, and the weather was wonderful, with not a cloud in the sky, for some floating white flakes in the blue could not be called clouds.  But these white flakes began to multiply; they were, in fact, an enemy patrol, which had succeeded in crossing the lines and was now above us.  We counted two, three, four machines, which the sparks of our exploding shells promptly surrounded, while three French Spads rose at full speed to meet them.

As we stood watching and wondering if the enemy would accept the fight, Guynemer suddenly appeared.  He had been called, and now he and his comrades, Captain Auger and Lieutenant Raymond, came running to their machines.  I watched Guynemer as he was being put into his leather suit.  His whole soul was in his eyes, which glared at one moving point in space as if they themselves could shoot.  Three of the German machines had already turned back, but the remaining one went on, insolently counting on his own power and speed.  I shall never forget Guynemer, his face lifted, his eyes illuminated as if hypnotized by this point in space, his figure upright and stiffened like an arrow waiting to be released by the bow.  Before pulling down his helmet he gave the order: