But after he had brought down his fiftieth, for some unaccountable
reason a change came over Guynemer. He became nervous and irritable.
He lost his old vivacity, nerve, dash, and with them his instincts
of the air seemed to desert him. Friends urged him to rest, to give
over fighting and direct his genius to teaching others to fly. But he
answered: “They would say I would fight no more because France has no
more decorations to give me”; and he had a jealous pride to work harder
than ever, do even more valiant deeds. And he did work harder. He did
take greater risks. He engaged in combats but was unable to win. Luck
had turned and his chums, his comrades, knew him to be a sick man
in no condition to fly. They ’phoned to their commanding officer in
Paris begging him to come and take Guynemer away for a recuperative
rest. Captain Brocard responded promptly. He arrived at the Dunkerque
aerodrome at nine o’clock the next morning. But Guynemer had ordered
his machine and taken flight half an hour before, accompanied, in
another machine, by Lieut. Bozon-Verduras.
It was Sept. 11, 1918. It was Guynemer’s last flight. All that is known
of it Bozon-Verduras tells. Somewhat northeast of Ypres, at an altitude
of 12,000 feet, a two-seater enemy machine was discovered. Directing
Lieut. Bozon-Verduras to take a position above to guard against rescue,
Guynemer rushed to the attack. While on guard the Lieutenant detected a
distant enemy formation and drove forward to intercept its course. But
without seeing him the formation changed its course and the Lieutenant
returned to position. He did not, however, see Guynemer’s machine, nor
did several hours of extended search lead to any trace above or below
of the vanished aviator. His fuel exhausted, the Lieutenant returned to
the aerodrome hoping Guynemer might be there. But he was not. All day
they waited for his return. He never returned. “Undoubtedly,” said some
one of the men, “he has been taken prisoner.”
Says M. Bordeaux:
“Guynemer a prisoner! He had said one day, laughingly, ‘The Boche
will never have me alive’—but his laugh was terrible. No one believed
Guynemer to be a prisoner. What then?”
Nothing more is known. The Germans made contradictory and unreliable
reports about his death. The simple minded among the French believe
their hero an immortal, taken up into his native heaven. The lofty
minded French name him “Héros légendaire, tombé en plein ciel de
gloire, après trois ans de lutte ardente,” and this they have inscribed
on a marble plaque in the crypt of the Panthéon, that temple which the
French hold sacred as the “Sepulcher of Great Men.”