Heroes of the air in peace times have been numerous. We already know the stories of many of the pioneers of aircraft, who risked their lives in situations involving the utmost peril. The men who, in the first frail monoplanes and biplanes attempted to fly the British Channel, or to make dangerous cross-country flights under adverse weather conditions were heroes indeed.

Yet undoubtedly the greatest exploits will be told of those heroes who, in the Great War, flew daily over the lines, meeting the aviators of the enemy in mortal combat.

Every allied nation engaged in the great conflict has her sacred roll of honor of those who fought for her in the air. Americans will never grow weary of tales of the great Lufbery; Englishmen will boast of the prowess of Bishop, McCudden and the rest of them; while Frenchmen will tell, with mingling of joy and sadness, of the immortal Guynemer, Prince of Aces.

Georges Guynemer's name will always stand first on the record of the war's great flying men. His short career was a blaze of triumph against the Hun, but with many a hairbreadth escape from death and many a feat of reckless daring. Young, handsome and dashing, anxious to give his life for his beloved France, he became the adored idol of the French nation. On one occasion when he marched in a parade in Paris, the people strewed his path with flowers, and it was necessary for the police to intervene and protect him from the enraptured multitudes who pressed forward to embrace him.

Yet Guynemer came near missing the fighting altogether.

Guynemer was born on Christmas day, 1893, in the town of CompiÈgne. He grew up a tall, delicate boy, who, his friends predicted, would never live to reach maturity. Perhaps the fact that he was almost an invalid turned his attention away from the athletic sports of the other boys and gave him his intense interest in mechanics. He had one consuming ambition: to become a student in the École Polytechnique in Paris; but when by hard study he had finally prepared himself and came up for his entrance examination, the professors of the school rejected him on the ground that he might not live to finish the course. To help the lad forget his overwhelming disappointment, his parents hurried him away to a health resort at Biarritz. He had been there a year when in August, 1914, came the news that his country had been attacked. Burning with zeal to help defend his beloved France, Guynemer offered himself again and again for enlistment in the French army. Hard pressed as that army was, its officers did not feel that they needed the sacrifice of a frail youth with one foot in the grave. Gently but firmly, the young candidate was rejected. Bitterly humiliated he went back to his life of enforced inaction; and while he saw his comrades marching forth to war, he eagerly pondered in his mind what service he could perform in the war against the invader.

At length he hit upon an idea. Since he could not become a soldier, why should he not turn his mechanical skill to some account in one of the great airplane factories where France was turning out her swift squadrons of the air. He volunteered and was accepted. In a short time he had made his presence felt, for he had received a thorough preparatory education in mechanics and was far the superior of the majority of his fellow workmen. Little by little he won the friendship and admiration of his superiors, who promoted him to the position of mechanician at one of the big military aviation fields. Now for the first time he was living among war scenes. While he performed his humble duties in the hangar he burned with ambition to pilot over the lines one of the swift French battle planes. But he hardly dared make the request that he be taught to fly, fearing the rebuff which he had received on every other occasion when he had sought to enlist.

But the officers at the aviation camp had been watching young Guynemer, and their respect for his nobility of character and high intelligence finally outweighed their fears that he might prove too delicate for the service in the air. So the happy day finally arrived when he was permitted to enlist as a student airman. In January, 1916, having completed his course of training, he flew for the first time in a swift scout plane.

From the day that he first flew out over the lines, his higher officers realized that here indeed was a master airman. In three short weeks he had won the distinction of “ace,” having downed his fifth enemy machine. The secret of his success lay partly in the frail constitution which had come so near condemning him to inactivity. For the youth was fully convinced that he had not long to live, and his one idea was to die in such a way as to render the greatest possible service to his native land. Perfectly prepared to meet death when the moment came, he was scrupulously careful never to court it unnecessarily, for he realized that the longer he lived the more damage he would be able to inflict upon the enemy. The early morning invariably found him in his hangar, going over with loving care every detail of the mechanism of his swift scout plane. Not until every portion of engine, wings, struts and stays had been tried and proved in A-1 condition, and every cartridge removed from his machine gun and carefully tested, did he climb into his pilot's seat and wing his way across the sky in search of enemy planes.

And when Guynemer encountered an enemy plane he maneuvered to overcome it with the same care for exactness of movement. His cool-headed precision made it almost impossible to take him by surprise, while there was many a hapless machine of the enemy that he pounced upon unawares. He was an accomplished aerial acrobat, and one of his favorite tactics was to climb to a great altitude and then, pointing the nose of his plane at his prey, to suddenly swoop down at enormous speed, firing as he came.

Expert as he was, the great French aviator had a number of narrow escapes from death. In September, 1916, seeing one of his fellow aviators engaged in an unequal combat with five German Fokkers, he sped to the scene of the affray. Maneuvering into a favorable position above his opponents he shot down two of them within the space of a few seconds. The remaining three Fokkers took to flight, but Guynemer was hot on their trail. Another of them went crashing earthward. Suddenly, as the plucky Frenchman sped on, hot on the trail of the two that were still unpunished, he was startled by the bursting of a shell just under his machine. One of the wings of his plane had been torn completely away, and from a height of ten thousand feet in the atmosphere, he began falling rapidly. He struggled bravely with the controls but nothing could check the ever increasing speed of his plunge earthward. At an altitude of five thousand feet the airplane commenced to somersault, but the pilot was strapped in his seat. Then, as if some unseen force had intervened, the swiftness of the descent was unexpectedly checked. With speed greatly lessened the airplane came crashing to the earth, and the plucky aviator was rescued from the dÉbris, unconscious but not seriously hurt by his dreadful fall. It was for this exploit that he received the rank of Lieutenant, while he was decorated with the much-coveted French War Cross.

On another occasion Guynemer's machine was shot down by German shells, and came crashing to earth in No Man's Land, between the French and the German trenches. The Prussians turned their machine guns on the spot and plowed the area with scorching fire. But the French had seen their beloved hero fall, and without a thought for the consequences the poilus in the trenches went “over the top” after him. Quickly they bore him back to safety, and if they left some of their comrades fallen out in that dread region, they did not count it too great a sacrifice to have redeemed their idol with their blood.

Practically every fighting nation has had not only its favorite airman but also its favorite aerial escadrille. Guynemer was the leader of the famous band of “Cignognes” or “Storks,” into which had been gathered the pick of all the flying men of France. His historic opponent in the war in the air was the German Baron von Richthofen, whose squadrons were humorously nicknamed “Richthofen's circus” by the Allies, because of their curiously camouflaged wings. The Germans were very jealous of Guynemer's successes, and as the record of the number of machines he had downed grew, they eagerly credited Richthofen with more victories. Guynemer's final score was 54 and his enemy's much higher. Yet as a matter of fact the Frenchman had destroyed many more machines than Baron von Richthofen, for whereas the French gave no credit for planes sent to earth where no other witnesses than the pilot could testify to their destruction, the Germans were very glad to pile up a huge score for their hero, and were not by any means critical in seeking proof of a victory.

Guynemer's remarkable aerial victories made him a hero throughout the world. It was reported that in one day he had been officially credited with the destruction of four airplanes of the enemy. One of his chief ambitions was to bring down an enemy machine within the allied lines, as little damaged as possible. Such a plane gave him an opportunity to indulge his interest in the purely mechanical side of aviation. With the utmost patience he would examine it in every detail, making note of any features which he regarded as improvements on the Nieuport he himself flew. Such improvements would very shortly appear on his own machine. So while Guynemer flew a Nieuport, it was in reality a different Nieuport from any doing service over the lines. In its many little individual features and appliances it reflected the active, eager, painstaking mind of its famous pilot, whose mind was ever on the alert to discover the tiniest detail of mechanism which might gain for him an advantage over his adversaries.

It was on September 11, 1917, that the beloved aviator fought his last battle in the air. While in flight over Ypres he caught sight of five German Albatros planes, and instantly turned the nose of his machine in their direction. As he bore swiftly down upon them, a flock of enemy machines, over forty in number, suddenly made their appearance and swooped down from an enormous height above the clouds. Baron von Richthofen with his flying “circus” was among them. None of Guynemer's comrades was near enough to aid him. In the distance a group of Belgian machines came in view, rushing to his assistance, but before they had arrived at the spot the plucky French airplane was observed sinking gently to the earth, where it disappeared behind the German lines. Guynemer's comrades cherished the hope that he had been forced to descend and had been taken prisoner by the Germans. Such an ending to a glorious career of service would perhaps not have been desired by the aviator himself. He who had used his life to such good advantage for his country had crowned his victories with death. The Germans themselves, out of respect for his memory, undertook to inform his fellow-men of his fate, and a few days later they dropped a note into the French aerodrome stating that he had been shot through the head. The German pilot who had killed him was named Wissemann, and he was an unknown aviator. When he learned that he had actually killed the great Guynemer, he wrote home to say that he need now fear no one, since he had conquered the king of them all. It was scarcely a fortnight before he was sent to his death by a devoted friend of his renowned victim.

The man who avenged the death of Guynemer was RenÉ Fonck, likewise a member of the French “Cignognes.” Fonck took up the championship of the air where his comrade had laid it down. He stands to-day as the most remarkable of all the French aviators. He has been called “the most polished aerial duellist the world has ever seen.” With an official record of almost half a hundred enemy machines destroyed, he has astounded his spectators by his aerial “stunts” and the absolute accuracy of his aim. Many of Fonck's successful battles have been fought against heavy odds, quite frequently with as many as five of the enemy's airplanes opposing him. Yet with apparent ease he invariably succeeded in warding off his would-be destroyers, whilst one by one he sent them flaming to the earth.

It has been said of Fonck that in all his battles in the clouds he never received so much as a bullet hole in his machine, thanks to his unparalleled skill at maneuvering. He made a world's record at Soissons in May, 1918, when he downed five enemy airplanes in one day. He was flying on patrol duty when he came upon three German two-seater machines, and in less than 10 seconds sent two of them flaming to earth. Later in the same day he actually succeeded in breaking up a large formation of German fighting machines, and after destroying three, sent the rest fleeing in confusion.

On another occasion Fonck made a world's record when he brought down three German planes in the brief space of 20 seconds. While in flight above the lines he came upon four big biplanes of the enemy, flying in single file, one behind the other. He quickly pounced upon the leader, and in less time than it takes to tell, had sent him crashing to the earth. The second had no chance to alter its course. Training his machine gun on it Fonck soon sent it, a mass of flames, after its fellow. The third big biplane dodged out of the line and sped out of harm's way, but the fourth was caught by the plucky Frenchman, who wheeled his machine round with startling rapidity and fired upon it before it could make good its escape.

This remarkable feat, performed in August, 1918, brought Lieutenant RenÉ Fonck's official total of victories up to sixty, and made him the premier French ace, at the age of twenty-four. In all his aerial battles he had never been wounded, passing unscathed through the most formidable encounters by reason of his unparalleled skill at maneuvering.

Guynemer and Fonck are perhaps the two greatest names on the French roll of heroes of the air. But there were many other Frenchmen who did valiant service. Lieutenant RenÉ Dorine had an official record of 23 victories when he disappeared in May, 1917. He was nicknamed the “Unpuncturable” by his comrades, since in all his exploits above the lines his machine had only twice received a bullet hole. Lieutenant Jean Chaput had a record of 16 enemy planes destroyed, when in May, 1918, he made the great sacrifice; and there are many others, some living and some fallen in battle, who, flying for France, day after day and month after month, helped to make her cause at length a victorious one.

The “ace of aces” among British flying men of the war is Major William A. Bishop, who holds the record of 72 enemy airplanes downed. Second to him on the British list stands the name of Captain James McCudden, who had disposed of 56 of his enemies when he himself was accidentally killed. McCudden had had a most picturesque career. He joined the British army as a bugler at the age of fifteen. As a private he fought with the first Englishmen in France in 1914. His first flying experience came at Mons, when owing to the scarcity of observers he was permitted to serve in that capacity. He rapidly made good, and was soon promoted to the rank of officer. He proved himself a clever aerial gunner, and so won the opportunity to qualify as a pilot. With a fast fighting machine of his own he became a menace to the Hun, with whom he engaged in over 100 combats during his flying career, yet never himself received a wound.

Other English fliers made special records in the Great War, as Captain Philip F. Fullard, who downed 48 enemy machines; Captain Henry W. Wollett, who accounted for 28; and Lieutenants John J. Malone, Allan Wilkinson, Stanley Rosevear and Robert A. Little, all with scores of from 17 to 20. Captain Albert Ball, who was shot down by Baron von Richthofen in 1917, had an official score of 43 victories over the Hun, with the additional honor of having conquered the great German aviator Immelmann.

And now we come to the story of America's great fliers. Long before America herself had entered the World War there had arisen a valiant little company of her sons, who, remembering our ancient debt to France, had gone to fight beside her men in the war against the invader. Many of these Americans became skilful aviators and members of the squadron which the French had appropriately named the “Lafayette Escadrille.” In 1916, three of its most distinguished fliers—Norman Price, Victor Chapman and Kiffen Rockwell—gave their lives to France. Probably the name which all Americans know best is that of Major Raoul Lufbery, till his death American “ace of aces,” who flew with the Escadrille under the flags of both countries.

Major Lufbery's personal story is romantic as any fiction. He was a born soldier of fortune. When a very young chap he ran away from home and for several years rode and tramped over Europe and part of Africa, working at anything that came to hand. After his early wanderings there followed two years of strenuous service with the U. S. regulars in the Philippines; and after that another long, aimless jaunt over Japan and China. It was in the Far East that he came by chance upon Marc Pourpe, the French aviator who was giving exhibition flights and coining money out of the enthusiasm of the Orientals. The two men became fast friends and Pourpe took Lufbery along with him on his travels. As an airplane mechanic under Pourpe's direction Lufbery found his first serious employment and also his first serious interest. He conceived a deep interest in aviation and became an apt pupil.

Then came the war, and Pourpe offered his services to France. Lufbery went along as his mechanic. It was only a few months before his friend had fallen, and Lufbery, anxious to avenge his death, sought admission to the ranks of French fliers. In 1916, after much excellent service over the lines, he became a member of the Lafayette Escadrille. The spectacular period of his career had now begun. He had soon claimed the five official victories necessary to make him an “ace,” and in addition was presented with the Croix de Guerre for distinguished bravery in action. With his swift Nieuport he engaged in combat after combat, coming through by sheer cool-headedness and skill born of long experience. He was officially described by the French Government as “able, intrepid, and a veritable model for his comrades.”

In November, 1917, America had the honor of claiming back her son, when he became a major in the U. S. service and commanding officer of the Lafayette Escadrille. And it was with the utmost sorrow that the American public, a little over six months later, read that our great aviator had met his death. He fell on May 19, 1918, in an attack on a German “armored tank,” which already had sent five American airplanes plunging to earth. Lufbery's official total was 17 German planes destroyed, but actually he had accounted for many more. He had been made a Chevalier of the Legion of Honor by France, and like others of his American comrades had done much to cement the friendship between the two countries.

Another American ace who deserves the gratitude of the American people, not only because he brought down twenty-six German aircraft but because of the extraordinary inspiration of his example as a leader at the front to other American air fighters, is the present premier American ace, Captain Eddie Rickenbacker, idol of the automobile racing world before the war.

America's entrance into the war fired Rickenbacker with an ambition to get into the fighting at all costs and after an attempt to organize a squadron composed of expert auto racing men, unsuccessful because of lack of funds, he enlisted in the infantry. He became General Pershing's driver at the front and while serving in this capacity watched his chance to get into the flying end of the air service. An opportunity soon presented itself and Rickenbacker advanced rapidly. In eighteen months he had, as commanding officer, perfected the finest and most efficient flying squadron in the Allied armies, and had become America's ace of aces. His service was distinguished by untiring energy, devotion to his men and sacrifice of personal ambition in the demands of his duty as a leader, for it is a self-evident fact that had Rickenbacker been a free lance, he might easily have doubled his score of victories. He is a chevalier of the Legion of Honor, has received the Croix de Guerre with three palms, and also the Distinguished Service Cross with nine palms.

CAPTAIN EDDIE RICKENBACKER