“My apparatus fell,” said Guynemer, “broke apart, crumpled up in the abyss, unable to bear me any longer. I really felt the call of death and I seemed to be hastening towards it. It seemed that there was nothing to prevent my crashing to the earth. A tail-spin, terrible, fearful, began at 3,000 meters and continued to 1,600 meters. “I felt as if I were indeed lost, and all that I asked of Providence was that I should not fall in enemy territory. Never that! They would have been too happy. Can you think of me buried with my victims? But I was powerless to exert my will, my airplane refused to obey. “At 1,600 meters I tried anyway. The wind had driven me almost over our lines. I was already half-happy. Now I dreamed of being interred with sympathetic comrades following my body. That was not a fine dream, but at least it was better than the other. “I had no longer to fear the pointed helmets. But, nevertheless, I felt all that death might be, and it was not a pleasant thought. The fall continued. The steering gear would not respond to my tugging. Nothing worked. I tried it to the right, to the left, pulling, pushing, but got no result. The comet did not slow a bit, I was drawn invincibly towards the earth where I was about to be crushed. “There it was! One last brutal effort, but in vain. I closed my eyes, I saw the earth, I was plunging towards it at 180 kilometers[A] an hour, like a plummet. A terrible crashing, a great noise, I looked around. There was nothing left of my Spad. “How did it happen that I was still alive? I asked myself, but I felt that it was so, and that was enough. However, I think that it was the straps which held me in my seat that had saved me. Without them I would have been thrown forward or would have broken some bones. On the contrary, they were dug deep into my shoulders, a silent proof, doubtless, that I should give them full consideration. Had it not been for them I would certainly have been killed.” [A] A kilometer is a thousand meters, or 3,280 feet, 10 inches. [Illustration: GUYNEMER’S FAVORITE AIRPLANE, _VIEUX CHARLES_ (OLD CHARLES), ON EXHIBITION IN PARIS] Infantrymen hurried to the spot to pick up the pieces. Finding Guynemer not only alive, but unhurt except for a bruised knee, they conducted him home in triumph, singing the “Marseillaise” at the top of their voices. Guynemer went to view the remains of the Boche that he had brought down first. The pilot had on his body a card, almost burned up, on which a feminine hand had written these words: “I hope that you will bring back many victories.” _A Quadruple Victory_ [Illustration: GUYNEMER WITH THE MILITARY MEDAL AND “LEGION OF HONOR”]