The book is written in the first person. Exupery dedicated it to one of his fellow pilots - Henri Guillaume.
A man is revealed in the struggle with obstacles. The pilot is like a peasant who cultivates the land and thereby eradicates some of its secrets from nature. The work of the pilot is just as fruitful. The first flight over Argentina was unforgettable: lights flickered below, and each of them spoke of the miracle of human consciousness - dreams, hopes, love.
Exupery began to work on the Toulouse-Dakar line in 1926. Experienced pilots kept themselves somewhat alienated, but in their abrupt tales a fairy-tale world of mountain ranges with traps, dips and whirlwinds arose. The "old men" skillfully supported worship, which only increased when one of them did not return from flight. And now it was Exupery's turn: at night he went to the airfield in an old bus and, like many of his comrades, felt how the ruler was born in him - the man responsible for the Spanish and African mail. Nearby officials talked about illnesses, money, petty household chores - these people voluntarily imprisoned themselves in the middle class welfare, and a musician, poet or astronomer will never wake up in their hardened souls. Another thing is a pilot who has to enter into an argument with a thunderstorm, mountains and the ocean - no one regretted his choice, although for many this bus was the last earthly haven.
Of his comrades, Exupery singles out, first of all, Mermoza, one of the founders of the Casablanca French airline, Dakar and the discoverer of the South American line. Mermoz “conducted reconnaissance” for others and, having mastered the Andes, transferred this section to Guillaume, and he himself took up the domestication of the night. He conquered the sands, mountains and the sea, which, in turn, repeatedly consumed him - however, he always got out of captivity. And after twelve years of work, during the next flight across the South Atlantic, he briefly announced that he was turning off the right rear engine. All radio stations from Paris to Buenos Aires stood on a dreary watch, but there was no more news from Mermoz. Having rested at the bottom of the ocean, he completed the work of his life.
No one will replace the dead. And the pilots experience the greatest happiness when the one who is already mentally buried suddenly rises. This happened with Guillaume, who disappeared during a flight over the Andes. For five days the comrades unsuccessfully searched for him, and there was no doubt that he died - either in the fall or from the cold. But Guillaume created a miracle of his own salvation, passing through snow and ice. He said later that he had endured something that no animal could have endured - there is nothing more noble than these words, showing the measure of greatness of a person, determining his true place in nature.
The pilot thinks in the scale of the universe and re-reads the story. Civilization is just fragile gilding. People forget that under their feet there is no deep layer of earth. An insignificant pond, surrounded by houses and trees, is affected by the tides. Amazing transformations take place under a thin layer of grass and flowers - only thanks to an airplane can they sometimes be seen. Another magical property of the aircraft is that it takes the pilot to the core of the miraculous. With Exupery, this happened in Argentina. He landed on some field, not suspecting that he would fall into a fabulous house and meet two young fairies who were friends with wild herbs and snakes. These savage princesses lived in harmony with the universe. What happened to them? The transition from girlhood to the state of a married woman is fraught with fatal errors - perhaps some fool has already taken the princess into slavery.
In the desert, such meetings are impossible - here pilots become prisoners of sand. The presence of the rebels made the Sahara even more hostile. Exupery knew the burden of the desert from the first voyage; when his plane crashed near a small fort in West Africa, the old sergeant received the pilots as ambassadors of heaven - he cried when he heard their voices.
But in the same way, the rebellious Arabs of the desert were shocked when they visited France, unfamiliar to them. If it suddenly rains in the Sahara, a great migration begins - entire tribes go for three hundred leagues in search of grass. And in Savoy, precious moisture lashed out, as if from a leaky tank. And the old leaders said later that the French god was much more generous to the French than the god of the Arabs to the Arabs. Many barbarians hesitated in their faith and almost obeyed strangers, but among them there are still those who suddenly rebel in order to regain their former greatness - a fallen warrior who has become a shepherd cannot forget how his heart was beating against a night fire. Exupery recalls a conversation with one of these nomads - this man did not defend freedom (everyone is free in the desert) and wealth (there are none in the desert), but his own secret world. The Arabs themselves were fascinated by the French captain Bonnafus, who made bold raids on the nomads. His existence adorned the sands, for there is no greater joy than the killing of such a magnificent enemy. When Bonnafus left for France, the desert seemed to have lost one of its poles. But the Arabs continued to believe that he would return for the lost sense of valor - if this happens, the rebellious tribes will receive the news on the very first night. Then the soldiers will silently lead the camels to the well, prepare a supply of barley and check the gates, and then go on a campaign, guided by a strange feeling of hatred and love.
Even a slave can gain a sense of dignity if he has not lost his memory. The Arabs were given the name Bark to all the slaves, but one of them remembered that his name was Mohammed and he was a cattle driver in Marrakesh. In the end, Exupery managed to redeem it. At first, Bark did not know what to do with his newfound freedom. The old Negro was awakened by the child’s smile - he felt his worth on the earth, spending almost all his money on gifts for children. His guide decided that he was crazy with joy. And he just owned the need to become a man among people.
Now there are no more rebellious tribes left. The sands have lost their secret. But the experience will never be forgotten. Once Exupery was able to approach the very heart of the desert - this happened in 1935, when his plane crashed into the ground near the borders of Libya. Together with the mechanic Prevost, he spent three endless days among the sands. The Sahara nearly killed them: they suffered from thirst and loneliness, their minds were exhausted under the weight of mirages. Almost half dead pilot told himself that he did not regret anything: he got the best share, because he left the city with his accountants and returned to peasant truth. No danger attracted him - he loved and loves life.
The pilots were saved by the Bedouin, who seemed to them an omnipotent deity. But truth is hard to understand, even when you touch it. At the moment of supreme despair, a person finds peace of mind - probably Bonnafus and Guillaume recognized him. Anyone can wake up from hibernation - this requires a case, favorable soil or imperious command of religion. On the Madrid front, Exupery met a sergeant, who was once a small bookkeeper in Barcelona - time called for him, and he went into the army, feeling his calling in this. Hatred of war has its own truth, but do not rush to condemn those who fight, for the truth of man is what makes him a man. In a world that has become a desert, man longs to find comrades - those with whom a common goal connects. You can become happy only by realizing your at least modest role. In the cars of the third class, Exupery had a chance to see Polish workers evicted from France. The whole people returned to their sorrows and poverty. These people looked like ugly clods of clay - so their life was compressed. But the face of the sleeping child was beautiful: he looked like a fairy-tale prince, like a baby Mozart, doomed to follow his parents through the same stamping press. These people did not suffer at all: Exupery was tormented for them, realizing that Mozart might have been killed in everyone. Only the Spirit turns clay into man.
