THE BATTLE OF FRANCE
There was another story of Giraud's about his
campaigns against the rebel tribes in Morocco.
1 often used to fly into the Atlas mountains
on reconnaissance/ he said. 'Like all flying in
mountainous country, it was pretty dangerous. My
pilot was an adjutant who knew his job, and Fve
always been fond of the air myself. One day when
we were flying over some enemy tribes, we were
fired on and a bullet went through our carburettor.
The plane of course, began to lose height. . . My
first thought was: "We're finished." Around us was
nothing but peaks and gorges—no possible landing-
ground of any sort. Suddenly, as we fell, I saw to
our right a white smudge surrounded at regular
intervals by brown smudges. This, I thought, must
be a French camp . . . officer's tent in the middle and
the native tents around it. I tapped my pilot on the
shoulder and pointed to the spot. He understood
and made a despairing effort to straighten up,
which, although failing to check our fall, managed to
direct it towards the particular peak. All this
happened in a split second. We went on falling and,
as we came over the tents, I saw they occupied a tiny
plateau surrounded by precipices. There was about
thirty yards upon which to land. Another split
second and a terrific jolt. ... I found out later that
my adjutant had somehow contrived to capsize his
machine on the platform of rock. As for me, I was
tossed out and fell precisely on the edge of the
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