WAR

—
PAUL tarascon became involved in aviation in 1911 at Miramas where he made
his first flights in an Anzani-powered Bleriot of the Channel-crossing type. In
August 1911 a control broke and the aeroplane crashed heavily. Tarascon spent
eight months in the hospital and suffered the amputation of his right foot.
In August 1914 he was in Casablanca. He presented himself at the mobilization
center to sign up for the duration. The Major ignored the amputation,
listened for a heart beat, found one, passed Tarascon for the infantry. He was
whisked away to quartermaster, issued a rifle, a pack, and all the gear. This was
not exactly the kind of service he had envisioned. He managed to get next to a
medic and to convince him that while he, Tarascon, was healthy, sturdy, and
willing, he couldn't be much use in the infantry with only one foot. The doctor
got him a twenty-four-hour permission. He dashed to a hotel in Casablanca and
composed a long, detailed letter to the military governor who arranged an interview
with the General of the Territorial Army. The General arranged for a pass
and the necessary transport to get him to Buc-St-Cyr where he was properly
enrolled in the Service d'Aeronautique at the military aerodrome. Tarascon was
an excellent pilot and was soon transferred to Pau as an instructor.
While serving as an instructor at Pau, Tarascon was approached by a Doctor
Lostalot who sought his assistance on behalf of a skinny, gawky youngster, barely
eighteen and puny, who had been rejected by the army and who dreamed of
flying. Tarascon took the case to the commandant, Capitaine Thierry, and argued
that there were many jobs, such as washing aeroplanes and sweeping out the
hangars, that could be performed by even such poor physical specimens as this kid.
The capitaine consented; after all, even Tarascon was a cripple, and "the Kid"
le
Gosse—was given a job.
For a month the Kid did all the dirty jobs, until his father, who was a St-Cyr
graduate, and Tarascon used their influence to get him enrolled as a student pilot.
Tarascon was his instructor. The Kid's name was Georges Guynemer—a name that
will be repeated many times.
On the 19th of July, 1915, two young French aviators were cruising above
the lines near Coucy. They were annoyed with themselves for they had let a
Boche get away. The pilot, a caporal, had just learned to fly; he had joined the
squadron six weeks before; he had made his first flight over the lines five weeks
earlier. Later, in 1917, a man who survived for five weeks was as experienced as a
man could be. The casualty tables indicated that a man who had flown
was either on his own or in
150 hours
the hands of the gods because at that point he passed
the limit of survival. In the summer of 1915, however, the war in the air was only
just
becoming serious.
Up until a few weeks previous to this sunny Monday in July, pilots and
observers waved to each other, generally. Sometimes aeroplanes would pass each
other unnoticed, the pilots and observers so engrossed in their photography or
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