called it âthe most stirring.â She had gained confidence from her training with Bernard Lafont, but she admitted a strange sensationâshe rarely if ever had ânerves.â The monoplane quickly rose to sixty meters, performing better than the one she usually flew in. On the first turn she was uneasy, but on the second that feeling âturned into joy unalloyed.â Landing bothered her a bit, but it proved âquite normal,â and on the ground, joy and relief mingled. It was done; she had soloed.
On November 8, after making figure eights, maintaining a certain altitude, and landing near a designated mark, Marie passed with flying colors, and was hailed as the third woman in France and the world to receive a pilotâs license, No. 281, to join that unusual breed of
femmesoiseaux.
Marie always insisted that she finished her training on the difficult Antoinette without
casser du bois
(âshattering woodâ). Considering the fragility of early aeroplanes and the danger from capricious winds, that was a rare accomplishment.
Although she survived splintering a machine while learning, Marie had one notable accident as a licensed pilot. While flying her fragile Antoinette at a meeting at Saintei-Etienne, the motor stopped suddenly as the aeroplane flew over a large crowd that cheered lustily in ignoirance of the danger overhead. Just beyond the crowd, a gust of wind caught the delicate machine and tossed it downward, where, fortunately, it landed in an acacia tree in the midst of a
boule
game. As was often the case with Marie, a camera captured her surprise landing, her wide smile, and the astounded
boule
players. The picture had a good play, and the press applauded her for her adroitness in avoiding a tragic accident.
Another time, flying a Deperdussin monoplane on a cold December morning, Marie capsized to the ground, headfirst into soft earth. Her head was bleeding, her mouth was full of dirt, but she was able to brush the dirt away and call for help, warning the men not to smoke, as she was drenched in gasoline. Incidents like this earned women fliers the same press recognition for bravery as men.
Marie Marvingt crashâlands in a tree in the midst of a game of
boules
after her motor stopped over SaintâEtienne, France.
MUSÃE DE LâAIR ET DE LâESPACE, LE BOURGET
Two weeks after winning her license, Marie was practicing earnestly for the newly established Coupe Fémina. On November 27, she made a flight of fortyâtwo kilometers in fiftyâthree minutesâat that time a record for distance and duration for women, which led to false reports that she won the Coupe. The record would be shortâlived, as Hélène Dutrieu bettered it in December with her flight of 60.8 kilometers. By the following year, competition would be keen among a trio of women aviators: Dutrieu, Jeanne Herveux, and Marvingt, who competed each year but failed to win the prize. Not discouraged, she took part in meets around France and Turin, Italy, winning a reputation for flying, which she attributed to the joy she found in speed, the wind, and the view from above. She was a frequent contributor, as was Raymonde de Laroche, to journals that featured her flying experiences with those of prominent male aviators.
Before the First World War began, Marie had conceived an idea that would prove very beneficial in coming yearsâa flying medical service.
Aviation Sanitaire
became an important part of her life. Together with the engineer Louis Bechereau, she designed an air ambulance capable of carrying an injured person, on a litter slung under the chassis, from the battle scene to the nearest hospital. The service was not an immediate hit with the military, but the course of events would prove it extremely useful. A painting by Emile Friant, a wellâknown artist in Nancy, showing Marie with Georges Gille, a military doctor from Nancy, and a wounded soldier, was reproduced and shown
Penny Hancock
Stendhal
Tess Oliver, Anna Hart
Celia Kyle
F. Paul Wilson
Homer
Jane Lee
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James Patterson