But much more important improvements were already filling his mind. He
had conceived plans for a magic airplane that would simply annihilate
the enemy, and as he would doggedly carry on a fight, so he ruminated,
begged, and urged until his idea was realized. But he was forced to
practice exhausting perseverance, and on several occasions the lack of
comprehension or sympathy which he encountered infuriated him. Yet he
never gave up. It was not his way in a workshop, any more than in the
air; and when, after some ten months' struggling, trying, and frequent
beginning over again, he saw himself at last in possession of the
wonderful machine, he rejoiced as a warrior may after forging his own
weapons.
In January, 1917, he wrote to M. Bechereau urging him to make all
dispatch: "Spring will soon be here, and the Germans are working like
niggers. If we go to sleep, it will be '_couic_' for us." Henceforth his
correspondence, sometimes rather dictatorial, with the engineer was
entirely devoted to the magic airplane,--its size, controls, wing-tips,
tank, weight, etc. The margins of his letters were covered with
drawings, and every detail was minutely discussed.
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