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Georges Guynemer - Knight of the Air by Henry Bordeaux
page 45 of 218 (20%)
that his face was altered. Nothing consoled him, nothing amused him. On
those magnificent August days the sea was a waste of sunshine, and the
beach was an invitation to enjoy the soft summer hours; but he did not
go to the beach, and he scorned the sea. His anxious parents wondered
if, for the sake of his health, it would not be easier to see him
depart. As for them, it was their fate to suffer in every way.

Ever since the mobilization, Georges Guynemer had had only one thought:
to serve--to serve, no matter where, no matter how, no matter in what
branch of the service, but to leave, to go to the front, and not stay
there at Biarritz like those foreigners who had not left, or like those
useless old men and children who were now all that remained of the male
population.

Many trains had carried off the first recruits, trains decorated with
flowers and filled with songs. The sons of France had come running from
her farthest provinces, and a unanimous impulse precipitated them upon
the assaulted frontier. But this impulse was perfectly controlled. The
songs the men sang were serious and almost sacred. The nation was living
through one of her greatest hours, and knew it. With one motion she
regained her national unity, and renewed once more her youth.

Meanwhile the news that sifted in, little by little, caused intense
anguish--anguish, not doubt. The government had left Paris to establish
itself at Bordeaux. The capital was menaced. The enemy had entered
Compiègne. Compiègne was no longer ours. The Joan of Arc on the _place_
of the Hôtel de Ville had _pickelhauben_ on her men-at-arms. And then
the victory of the Marne lifted the weight that oppressed every heart.
At the Villa Delphine news came that Compiègne was saved. Meanwhile
trains left carrying troops to reinforce the combatants. And Georges
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