Nungesser on Guynemer's death, English Translation

[Transatlantic]

I think at some point I boldly declared that I would share more of the translations. Short on both free time and memory, it seems that was a vain promise. I hope somehow you'll find in it your generous hearts to forgive my most grievous failing . Anyway, here's something that might be of interest, at least more so than the melodramatic book preface I shared last year; A letter to Jaques Mortane from Nungesser regarding Guynemer's death. Though the original can be found online, both in Le Guerre Aérienne Illustrée and Naduad's Guynemer, L'As des As, I have not found an English version. So, a gift to the anglophones, I hope you find it interesting.

It was you, Mortane, who informed me of Guynemer's disappearance on September 12. You remember my emotion. I had grown so accustomed to the idea of hearing the name of our master only to add to the list of his victories that I felt real grief. When Guynemer fell, a bit of each ace seemed to break. And I hoped, despite all the details, that it was still one of those imaginary deaths of which the ace-of-aces was so often the victim. For how many times was he buried before the fatal day when it was, alas, true?

I have been represented as a friend of Guynemer. This is wrong. Like Dorme, I was rarely with our national hero at the front. I saw him two or three times and our relations were cordial, nothing more. We had no bond of friendship given our rare conversations, but we were united by a more powerful feeling: that of air fighters, of rivals whose sole desire is to defeat the greatest number of Boches, of adversaries realizing through their personal experiences the greatness of the work done. Guynemer seemed to me like a real demigod. He amazed me because I knew what the downing of an enemy plane was. I thought I was a sensation the day I shot down three planes in one morning : Guynemer did better, he took down four!

We followed each other's performances with interest and this is really, I believe, the proof of the usefulness of the now abandoned communiqué.

I remember the beginnings of the Battle of Verdun.

I suffered on a hospital bed following the accident where I had had my velum pierced by my lever, my leg fractured, not to mention the other contusions. The struggle between Guynemer and Navarre then did more for my recovery than all the remedies on earth. I had only one wish. Return to my Nieuport to try to catch up with the two leaders of the Boches-hunt. It was because of this agonizing struggle that I refused my exemption, that I tore up my convalescent leave, that I returned to the front. Navarre, wounded, disappeared. Guynemer continued to add up Boches. My injuries forced me to return to the hospital. New reform. Second refusal. But I could only follow the leader at a respectful distance.

Guynemer was always for me a source of admiration. His character, his temperament were really fantastic. He never got tired, nothing put him off, he possessed an incredible tenacity. He made up for his lack of strength with his energy. Despite his frail and delicate constitution, he succeeded by his will to hold the air for 7 to 10 hours a day. And when one such a tension of the spirit, such an effort, one can only bow very low. I never had this continuity, this perseverance in my work. After a fine day when I succeeded in killing one or two Boches, I like to immerse myself in a less holy environment, I want to rest, to remember the sweetness of calm and tranquility. Guynemer on the contrary seemed exacerbated. He shot down a plane today. Tomorrow, before daybreak, he was in his hangar checking his apparatus, his armament and, at first light, was flying: he would triumph over two adversaries. And he kept his word! He was prodigious, there is no other word. His skill was proverbial, and his endurance was beyond belief. Seeing him tireless, you would never have believed that he suffered from a liver disease which often made him pass judgement differently than if he were himself, the trusty comrade, the fellow fighter, slave of duty, the modest victor. Some believed that he had a bad temper because, despite his suffering, he did not hesitate to act as a fighter and was a little irritable, under the influence of fatigue. None of those who lived with him had anything to reproach him with. Good, helpful, loyal, such was the man. Hardworking, skillful, heroic, such was the pilot. That is to say that our great Guynemer leaves only regrets and that his death constitutes one of the most cruel pages of our history.

His disappearance gives me the title of ace of aces. I do not want this title: 23 planes separate me from the total of the King of the Air! Above all, I have a pious duty: to avenge our Guynemer, as I avenged Boillot by shooting down two Boches on the day of his death. My whole ideal consists in catching up with my comrade; it will be hard, but each time I triumph I will have the sweet thought of telling myself that the one who seemed invincible approves of me in the hereafter. And if his memory accompanies me from now on in all my encounters, I will ask him in favor to infuse me with the iron tenacity which made the Ace, whom we mourn, the most formidable hunter of this war.

[Gregvan]

Transatlantic, thanks so much for this!! A very valuable and fascinating document.

[Volker_Nemsch]

.
I agree, that this is a very valuable translation of a document.

I'm amazed, how much Nungesser had to say about a comrade he hardly knew. And it is such a great confirmation of how strong a role model can be for someone who knows, what air war really means.

.

[Pips]

Wonderful translation. Many thanks indeed.