hamber, and the following
resolution was passed by acclamation:

The government shall have an inscription placed in the Pantheon to
perpetuate the memory of Captain Guynemer, the symbol of France's
highest aspirations.

On November 5 the foregoing letters were solemnly read aloud in every
school, and Guynemer was presented as an example to all French
schoolboys.

* * * * *

The army then prepared to celebrate Guynemer as a leader, and in default
of any place suitable for such a ceremony they selected the camp of
Saint-Pol-sur-Mer, whence Guynemer had started on his last flight. On
November 30 General Anthoine, commanding the First Army, before leaving
the Flemish British sector where he had so brilliantly assisted in the
success, decided to associate his men with the glorification of
Guynemer.

The ceremony took place at ten in the morning. A raw breeze was blowing
off the sea, whose violence the dam, raised to protect the
landing-ground, was not sufficient to break. In front of the battalion
which had been sent to render the military honors, waved the colors of
the twenty regiments that had fought in the Flemish battles, glorious
flags bearing the marks of war, some of them almost in rags. To the
left, in front of the airmen, two slight figures were visible, one in
black, one in horizon blue: Captain Heurtaux still on his crutches, the
other _sous-lieutenant_ Fonck. The former was to be made an officer, the
latter a chevalier in the Legion of Honor. Heurtaux, a fair-haired,
delicate, almost girlish young man, but so phenomenally self-possessed
in danger, had been, as we have said, our Roland's Oliver, his companion
of old days, his rival and his confidant. Fonck, whom I called
Aymerillot because of his smallness, his boyish simplicity and his
daring, the hope of the morrow and already a glorious soldier, had
perhaps avenged Guynemer's death already. For Lieutenant Weissman,
according to the _Koelnische Zeitung_, had boasted in a letter to his
people of having brought down the most famous French aviator. "Don't be
afraid on my account," he added, "I shall never meet such a dangerous
enemy again." Now, on September 30 Fonck had shot this Lieutenant
Weissman through the head as the latter was piloting a Rumpler machine
above the French lines.

While the band was playing the _Marseillaise_, accompanied by the
roaring of the gale and of the sea, as well as of the airplan