The French soldiers, who had watched the coming of the Cigogne through
the rain of bullets and realized the helplessness of their idol, were
recklessly and excitedly hanging over their trenches raging that
they were powerless to help. Almost simultaneously with Guynemer’s
consciousness of his inability to reach his lines the poilus perceived
the fact and with yells they leaped to the rescue, scrambling from
their trenches in a wild charge against the Huns.
The aeroplane fell into a shell hole some forty yards short of the
French lines and was smashed to pieces, but the charmed pilot was
thrown free of the wreck and was absolutely without injury when his
rescuing comrades picked him up and surrounding him carried him
hurriedly to their protecting trenches. He is credited with saying,
when they marveled at his escape, “I was born on Christmas Eve. They
cannot hurt me.”
M. Bordeaux, who is a loving biographer, devotes over three hundred
pages to the events and deeds of the amazing hero, and there is not
with it all an event recorded that is not worthy the record. Among them
is an instance of the irony of fate that occasionally turns intended
service into serious hurt. It was in September, 1916, in the Somme
battle. Guynemer had shot down two Boche machines and was after a third
at an altitude of 10,000 feet when a foolishly fired French shell meant
for the enemy machine caught him in full flight, breaking a wing and
taking off part of his radiator. Of course the machine began falling to
the earth. By energetic efforts with the controls and the swing of his
body Guynemer succeeded in checking the fall and establishing a glide,
but he could not lessen the velocity with which he was approaching
the ground. The catastrophe was witnessed by the troops and when the
Spad crashed head first they ran to take up the remains of the doomed
pilot. But when they reached the spot there stood Guynemer unharmed
regarding mournfully the wreck of his machine. An idea of the force of
the impact may be had from the fact that the nose of the machine was
driven so deep that it could not be budged.
The jubilant soldiers lifted Guynemer to their shoulders and bore him
to the General’s quarters. The General embraced him and ordered the
troops to form for review. Then the adored aviator was led by the
General down the lines. One can imagine the enthusiasm, the emotions of
the French.