One who, on occasion, told Guynemer _not to mind_ knows how deep was his
sensitiveness, not to the presence of real hostility, which he
fortunately never encountered, but even to an obscure germ of jealousy.
The moment he felt this he shrank into himself. His native exuberance
only displayed itself under the influence of sympathy.
Friendship among airmen is manly and almost rough, not caring for
formulas or appearances, but proving itself by deeds. To these men the
games of war are astonishingly like school games, and are spoken of as
if they were nothing else. When a comrade has not come back, and dinner
has to begin without him, no show of sorrow is tolerated: only these
young men's hearts feel the absence of a friend, and the casual visitor,
not knowing, might take them for sporting men, lively and jolly.
Guynemer was living his life in perfect confidence, feeling no personal
ambition, not inclined to enjoy honors more than work, ignoring all
affectation or attitudinizing, never politic, and naturally unconscious
of his own simplicity. Yet he loved and adored what we call glory, and
would tell anybody of his successes, even of his decorations, with a
childlike certitude that these things must delight others as much as
himself.
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