was the Oliver to this Roland, once received this confidence
from Guynemer: "One of the fellows told me that when he starts up he
only thinks of the fighting before him; he found that sufficiently
absorbing; but I told him that when the men start my motor I always make
a sign to the fellows standing around. 'Yes, I have seen it,' he
answered; 'the handshake of the airman. It means _au revoir_.' But maybe
it is farewell I am inwardly saying," Guynemer added, and laughed, for
the boy in him was never far from the man.

* * * * *

Towards the end of July, while he was in Paris seeing to the repairs for
his machine after bringing down his fiftieth enemy, he had gone to
Compiegne for a short visit. His father, knowing his technical ability
and his interest in all mechanical improvements, and on the other hand
noticing a nervousness in his manner, dared for the first time to hint
timidly and allusively at the possibility of his being useful in some
other field.

"Couldn't you be of service with respect to making engines, etc.?"

But he was embarrassed by his son's look of questioning surprise. Every
time Guynemer had used his father's influence in the army, it had been
to bring himself nearer to danger.

"No man has the right to get away from the front as long as the war
lasts," he said. "I see very well what you are thinking, but you know
that self-sacrifice is never wasted. Don't let us talk any more about
it...."

On Tuesday, August 28, Guynemer, having been obliged to come to Paris
again for repairs to his airplane, went to Saint-Pierre de Chaillot. It
was not exceptional for him to visit this old church; he loved to
prepare himself there for his battle. One of the officiating priests has
written since his death of "his faith and the transparency of his
soul."[28] The Chaillot parishioners knew him well, but pretended not to
notice him, and he thought himself one in a crowd. After seeing the
priest in the confessional, he usually enjoyed another little chat in
the sacristy, and although he was no man for long prayers and
meditations, he expressed his thoughts on such occasions in heartfelt
and serious language.

[Footnote 28: _La Croix_, October 7, 1917, article by Pierre l'Ermite.]

"My fate is sealed," he once said in his playful, authoritative way; "I
cannot escape it." And remembering his not very far away Latin, he
added: "_Hodie mihi, cras tibi_...."

* *