uynemer
whom death could not vanquish.

A wonderful atmosphere men breathe here, for it relieves death of its
horror. One officer, Raymond, I think, said in a careless manner:

"Guynemer's fate will be ours, of course."

Somebody protested: "The country needs men like you."

To which Deullin answered: "Why does it? There will be others after us,
and the life we lead...."

But Captain d'Harcourt broke in gaily: "Come on; dinner's ready--and
with this bright moon and clear sky we are sure to get bombed."

Bombed, indeed, we were, and pretty severely, but in convenient time,
for we had just drunk our coffee. A few minutes before, the practiced
ear of one of us had caught the sound of the _bimoulins_, the bi-motor
German airplanes, and soon they were near. We gained the sheltering
trench. But the night was so entrancingly pure, with the moon riding
like an airship in the deep space, that it seemed to promise peace and
invited us to enjoy the spectacle. We climbed upon the parapet and
listened to the breathing of the sea, accompanying with its bass the
music of the motors. There were still a few straggling reddish vapors
over the luminous landscape, and the stars seemed dim. But other stars
took their place, those of the French _Voisins_ returning from some
bombing expedition, their lights dotting the sky like a moving
constellation, while at intervals a rocket shot from one or the other
who was anxious not to miss the landing-ground. Over Dunkirk, eight or
ten searchlights stretched out their long white arms, thrusting and
raking to and fro after the enemy machines. Suddenly one of these
appeared, dazzled by the revealing light, as a moth in the circle of a
lamp; our batteries began firing, and we could see the quick sparks of
their shells all around it. Flashing bullets, too, drew zebra-like
stripes across the sky, and with the cannonade and the rumbling of the
airplanes we heard the lament of the Dunkirk sirens announcing the
dreaded arrival of the huge 380 shells upon the town, where here and
there fires broke out. Meanwhile the German airplanes got rid of their
bombs all around us, and we could feel the ground tremble.

The Storks looked on with the indifference of habit, thinking of their
beds and awaiting the end. One of them, a weather prophet, said:

"It will be a good day to-morrow; we can start early."

As I spun towards Dunkirk in the motor, these young men and their
speeches were in my mind, and I seem