Here is a small bit of the Aéropostale flying—which had become so routine that Saint-Exupéry lamented the loss of danger and thus the visceral sense of living.For most of this period he was teamed up with a Corsican radio operator named Jacques Néri, as brilliant a match as could have been made. A 1929 recruit, Néri was a hugely talented radio-navigator; his preferred means of communication was drawing, however. Not only was this easier to understand, he felt, but it was aesthetically more interesting. ...
In Wind, Sand and Stars, it is with Néri that Saint-Exupéry has been drawn off course in the middle of a foggy night. No airport can tell the two men their bearings, which makes them feel as if they have "slipped beyond the confines of this world." The two set their cap on star after star, each time in the vain hope that they are actually headed toward an airport beacon. The first time the skies yield up a light, Néri, singing, begins to pound the fuselage with his fists. Lost in interplanetary space, hungry and thirsty, Saint-Exupéry dreams of the breakfast with which the two will celebrate if ever they return to earth; all the joy of being alive will be his in the first rich, burning mouthful of coffee. But the two remain hopelessly lost. When Néri asks that Cisneros blink its beacon three times, the light ahead "would not, incorruptible star, so much as wink." Finally Néri hands his pilot a scrap of paper. "All's well. Great news." He has received a transmission from Casablanca which he expects will save them. In fact the message has been delayed somewhere in the 1,250 miles of night sky and dates from the previous evening, when a government representative sent out word that Saint-Exupéry was to be disciplined on his return for having flown too close to the Casablanca hangars. He had indeed done so but was never happy to be reprimanded, least of all when he was lost on the company's behalf, in the night sky, in a dense fog, hoping for some more pertinent information. It was as if he had jumped overboard to save a shipmate and—upon asking from the open sea for a buoy—had been told that his socks were mismatched. (From Saint-Exupéry by Stacy Schiff)
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