WAR

—
the storks— Groupe de Combat XII—shifted up and down the Front in much
the same way as a German fighter Circus, the main difference being that they
were not completely self-sufficient and had to move to an established base rather
than just any cow pasture. They arrived in Lorraine in February 1917, settling
down in a field near Nancy.
On May 25, Georges Guynemer shot down four enemy aeroplanes in one
day—his best day yet. On June 1 1
, he was named an officer of the Legion of
Honor, his victory score standing at 45.
By the end of August he was being acclaimed as Ace of Aces with over 50
confirmed victories.
He was at the top, the height of his success, but there's only one way to go
from the top.
He had been wounded too many times, he had lost too many friends in
combat. He was of a frail constitution and precarious health to begin with and
had sustained himself on nothing but nerve for a year.
In July les
Cigognes transferred to St-Pol-sur-Mer near Dunkerque to partake
in another muddy, bloody, dreary, futile battle in Flanders.
Guynemer spent a few days at home where his father broached the subject
of Guynemer retiring from combat, since he was more valuable as an instructor
and technical adviser than as a pilot, even if he got 50 more victories.
"And it will be said that I have ceased to fight because I have won all the
awards," said
Georges.
"Let them say it, for when you reappear stronger and more ardent, they
will understand .
. . there is a limit to human strength."
"Yes, a limit! A limit to be passed. If one has not given everything, one
Guxnemer.
has given nothing."
Guynemer returned to les Cigognes on September 4, to learn that Heurtaux,
one of his best friends, had been critically wounded the day before. The news
seriously upset him and it seemed as if the wheel of fortune had carried him
past the zenith, for now everything seemed to go wrong. His favorite aeroplane
was out of action and he was forced to fly an old one. His guns jammed at the
critical moment; forced landings and bad weather kept him grounded. When he
couldn't fly he paced up and down, fuming. He was irritable; he would flare up,
eyes blazing, even at his old comrades. As frustrating as anything was to spend
a day flying—four or five
patrols of an hour and a half to two hours and a half
and not spot any Boches. This would put him in a black depression. He had the
.incredible bad luck to suffer three forced landings in three different aeroplanes
on September 10.
The following day, a Tuesday, dawned on uncertain weather. The morning
mists eventually began to clear, but not before the unfortunate start to the day
had put Capitaine Guynemer, who had not slept well, in a pretty bad state. He
was nervous and irritable.
Commandant du Peuty, one of the Staff Chiefs for Aviation at GOG, and
Commandant Brocard, former CO. of the Groupe des Cigognes and now Chef
de Cabinet for the Air Ministry, were both due in at nine or ten o'clock from
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