Biggles Goes to War

by W E Johns

  ‘Dat vos very kind of him.’

  ‘Not in the least, but I haven’t finished yet. No one in Lovitzna has yet seen a parachute-jump, so he thought that if you happened to be wearing one it would be a good opportunity to provide the public with a spectacle, at the same time putting them into a good mood to subscribe for another machine.’

  The other looked doubtful. ‘I like not jumping,’ he protested.

  ‘It may mean a big order for machines.’

  ‘But I no can jump and leave my machine alone.’

  ‘Of course not; that’s why we’ve brought a big one, and a spare pilot, who will fly your machine while you ride with us. When we get over the aerodrome you will jump out, while we shall follow and land beside you. It should please the crowd.’

  The other shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is unusual,’ he said, and in this Biggles was in mental agreement with him. ‘Goot! Very well, so shall it be. Let us go now, for I am hungry.’

  ‘There will be something waiting for you on the aerodrome,’ Biggles told him warmly; and he meant it, although he was not thinking of food.

  They had a few draws at cigarettes which the German delivery pilot produced, and then they took their seats, the German in the big machine and Algy in the light bomber. In a few minutes they were in the air, heading for the central airport of Lovitzna, which was also the chief Air Force station. Twenty minutes brought them to it, and Biggles turned to his passenger. ‘Well, here we are,’ he said lightly. ‘Over you go.’

  ‘I see no crowds,’ muttered the German suspiciously.

  ‘They are all inside the hangars to make sure that they don’t get in the way,’ declared Biggles. ‘The Lovitznians are not like us, you know; they are apt to get excited, and the chief thought they might rush out and get hurt.’

  The German nodded and climbed out on to the wing. ‘I will see you presently,’ he cried, and leapt into space.

  A slow smile broke over Biggles’s face as he watched the parachute open and the luckless German sail downward.

  Ginger came through from the rear cockpit. He was shaking with laughter, but he tried to adopt a serious pose. ‘I call that a bit steep,’ he declared. ‘What is he going to tell the people down there when he arrives without a machine?’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ replied Biggles. ‘But whatever he tells them you can be pretty sure that it won’t be received with cheers of joy. Well, well, all’s fair in love and war, so they say. Where’s Algy? – ah, there he is.’

  Algy was cruising round the larger machine, and he took position behind it as Biggles turned for home.

  ‘By gosh! Look what’s coming!’ cried Ginger.

  Biggles leaned forward and peered through the windscreen. Half a dozen single-seaters were coming towards them from the direction of Maltovia, led by one that carried black pennants on its wing struts.

  ‘Are they after us, do you think?’ asked Ginger anxiously.

  ‘No. They’re just coming back from a patrol, I expect.’

  And such, presumably, was the case, for the pilots of the Lovitznian squadron gave them a cheerful wave as they sailed past.

  ‘Won’t they be sick when they get home and discover what has happened – that they were within fifty yards of us without knowing who we were!’ chuckled Ginger.

  ‘I don’t expect it will improve their tempers,’ smiled Biggles. ‘But let’s get home ourselves before we laugh too loudly.’

  ‘It will take us all our time to make the aerodrome before dark, won’t it?’

  ‘We ought to just about do it. As a matter of fact, that will suit us very well. Had it been broad daylight we should have been compelled to land somewhere else. I mean, the people in Maltovia might well wonder what is going on if they see two Lovitznian machines landing. I don’t want any one to see us if we can prevent it.’

  For this reason Biggles kept well to the western side of the state as they flew down it, for there the country was but thinly populated. When he drew level with Janovica, however, he turned to the east, and with the sun just sinking below the horizon he crept over the forest into the aerodrome. Landing, he taxied quickly up the runway between the trees, closely followed by Algy.

  Smyth, a rifle in his hand, came running to meet them. ‘What’s this?’ he cried to Biggles, at the same time pointing to Algy’s machine.

  ‘A little present from Lovitzna,’ replied Biggles as he switched off.

  Smyth nodded solemnly. ‘We shall have quite a respectable air force presently, sir, if we go on collecting machines at this rate,’ he grinned.

  ‘Hello, this looks like Ludwig’s car coming down the road,’ put in Ginger. ‘He’s got his foot down, too, by the rate he’s moving.’

  The car skidded to a standstill and Ludwig ran towards them.

  Biggles flicked the ash off the cigarette he had lighted. ‘Something’s happened,’ he said quietly.

  ‘What makes you think that?’ asked Algy quickly.

  ‘You have only to look at his face.’

  Ludwig was pale as he ran up. His manner was agitated, almost distraught.

  ‘What’s the trouble, Ludwig?’ asked Biggles curtly.

  ‘The Count,’ gasped Ludwig. ‘You know he was flying here?’

  ‘Crashed?’

  ‘Worse, if anything,’ declared Ludwig hoarsely. ‘He’s down in Lovitzna.’

  1 A foot-operated bar which moves the rudder, usually mounted at the rear of an aircraft, to turn left or right.

  Chapter 12

  A Blow and a Desperate Mission

  ‘HOW DID IT happen?’ asked Biggles grimly, after a moment’s silence broken only by Ludwig’s deep breathing.

  ‘He got into the wrong machine at Belgrade.’

  ‘By accident?’

  ‘I don’t think it could have been an accident. We are not sure of all the details yet, but it seems that when the pilot whom he chartered in London was refuelling at Belgrade, the Count went into the buffet for some refreshment. While he was there, some one came in and told him that his pilot had been taken ill, but there was no need for him to worry because he had made arrangements for him to be taken on by some one else. Without any suspicion in his mind my uncle got back into the machine. The English pilot was not there, but there was another man whom he did not know in the cockpit. Naturally, he assumed it was the substitute for his own pilot. The machine at once took off and flew to Shavros, the capital of Lovitzna, where my uncle has been detained pending inquiries. It is said that his papers are not in order, which is, of course, absolute nonsense. The fact is, he is being held a prisoner, a hostage.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘The Lovitznian government has given us official notice that the Count has been detained, and one of our agents in Shavros supplied the details.’

  Biggles bit his lip. ‘The whole thing was a plant, of course. Your uncle was tricked – kidnapped.’

  ‘There is no doubt of it.’

  ‘This is very awkward.’

  ‘Awkward! It’s terrible! Anything can happen to the Count now he’s in Lovitzna.’

  ‘I realize that, but it’s no use losing our heads.’

  ‘What can we do?’

  ‘We’ve got to get him back.’

  ‘That’s impossible.’

  Biggles turned a disapproving eye to Ludwig’s pale face. ‘I’ve told you before about using that word,’ he admonished him.

  ‘But how can we get him?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ confessed Biggles frankly. ‘I’ve hardly had time to think yet, have I? Let us have a cigarette and see if we can work something out. This all comes of spies tapping your lines of communication,’ he went on as he led the way into the wood. ‘The enemy Intelligence Service must be very efficient or it couldn’t have known that your uncle was on the way here. I think I know how it’s been done, too.’ He took from Smyth the map that had been found in the Lovitznian machine. ‘Do you know anything about this place?’ he asked, opening
the map and laying a finger on the small area marked off in red.

  Ludwig looked at the point indicated. ‘Why, that’s Bethstein’s hunting-box1,’ he exclaimed.

  Biggles nodded. ‘I thought it might be something like that,’ he muttered. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised if there is a landing-ground there. We’ll attend to that in due course; we haven’t time now. We must get the Count home before we do anything else.’ Biggles sat down on an empty oil-drum, and stared thoughtfully at the ground. Algy and Ginger found seats near him. Ludwig remained standing.

  It was a quarter of an hour before Biggles spoke again. ‘I can think of only one way,’ he said at last, slowly. ‘It’s risky, and, I fear, difficult, but I can think of nothing else.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Ludwig, tersely.

  Biggles glanced up. ‘As an officer of the Maltovian army, and almost a member of the Cabinet, you had better know nothing about it. I’m going to ask you for a little assistance, though. I shall need two things.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘First, the name of a reliable Maltovian agent, or spy, in Shavros; I expect there is one. I shall also need the password, or whatever is necessary to gain his confidence. The second thing is a couple of suits of workmen’s clothes – just ordinary peasants’ coats and trousers.’

  ‘There will be no difficulty about either, I think. When do you want these things?’

  ‘Now. Just as soon as you can let me have them.’

  ‘But it is dark.’

  ‘That’s why I want them now; I couldn’t do much in daylight.’

  ‘You’re not – thinking of going to Shavros?’

  ‘We shan’t get your uncle home by sitting here, shall we?’

  ‘But they will shoot you as spies.’

  ‘If they catch us.’

  ‘Did you blow up the bridge?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Then you can’t get across the river.’

  ‘I shan’t need a bridge the way I am going.’

  ‘You mean – you are going to fly?’

  ‘How we are going needn’t worry you, Ludwig. You trot off and get those things I asked for and bring them back here as quickly as you can. We’ll be getting ready. How long will it take you, do you think?’

  ‘Half an hour – not more.’

  ‘Then go to it. Time is precious. We’ve got to be back here by daylight, or we may not come back at all. Off you go, and, above all, keep your lips as tight as an oyster. No one must know anything about this. Not a soul – you understand? Nevertheless, if you can find out exactly where your uncle is being housed, it will help us a lot.’

  Ludwig drew a deep breath, opened his mouth as if to say something, changed his mind and departed without a word. A minute later the others heard his car speeding up the road.

  Algy spat out a pine needle which he had been chewing. ‘Am I correct in supposing that we are going to spend the midnight hours fooling about in Lovitzna, instead of sleeping quietly in our beds?’

  ‘You are,’ replied Biggles briefly.

  ‘What’s the scheme?’

  ‘I haven’t got one yet, although there is a glimmering of something at the back of my mind. Our actions will be guided to a considerable extent by whether Ludwig is able to find out where the Count is being held.’

  ‘Hadn’t we better snatch a meal before we start? I have a suspicion that it may be some time before we get another.’

  ‘Good idea.’ Biggles turned to Smyth. ‘Have you got any food down here, Smyth?’

  ‘There’s some cold stuff, sir – a pie, bread and cheese, and–’

  ‘That’ll do. Trot it out. We haven’t time to go into the city. And start getting the big machine ready for the air.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  While they were eating Biggles explained his plan as far as it was possible. This was, briefly, that they should fly over in the big machine and land in a suitable field; one of them would remain in charge of the machine while the other two entered Shavros in the guise of peasants in the hope of effecting the rescue of the Count and bringing him back to the aeroplane.

  ‘The weakest part of that scheme seems to be having the machine on the ground all that time,’ replied Algy. ‘If we land anywhere near Shavros it seems to me that somebody is bound to spot it. What then?’

  Biggles rubbed his chin. ‘It’s a big risk, I must admit,’ he confessed. ‘We might be away for hours.’

  ‘Whoever goes after the Count might not get back before daylight.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘I think it would be better if we employed the scheme used for spies in the old days, in France. Let two of us be landed and the other one take straight off again, returning from time to time until he gets the OK signal to land and pick the others up.’

  ‘That’s sound reasoning, but I think I can do it better than that,’ went on Biggles. ‘Let us compromise and put it this way. We all go over in the machine. Ginger and I will go into Shavros. You, Algy, will stay with the machine and wait on the ground as long as you are undiscovered. If you are spotted, or anything untoward occurs making it risky to remain in the field, you will take off and go home, returning every so often until you get a signal from us. If it is still dark we will signal three flashes on a torch; if it is daylight you will see us waving.’

  ‘That’s better,’ agreed Algy.

  ‘I think I can improve on that, too,’ put in Ginger. ‘Why run the risk of landing near the town? The farther away, the less will be the chances of discovery. Why not go to the field we landed in this afternoon? We know exactly where it is and we know that it has a good surface.’

  ‘But that’s miles away. We shouldn’t get to Shavros before daylight, much less get there and back,’ declared Biggles.

  ‘You would, by going my way.’

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘Let’s take Smyth’s motorbike. He’s got one on which he goes backwards and forwards to the city. There will be plenty of room for it in the machine. You can ride it and take me on the back à la pillion.’

  ‘And how are we going to get the Count back to the machine? We can’t expect one motorbike to carry three people.’

  Ginger looked nonplussed for a moment, then he brightened. ‘I’ve got it!’ he cried. ‘We could pinch a car. Or maybe the agent could get us one.’

  ‘Yes, that might be possible,’ agreed Biggles. ‘There are drawbacks either way, but I’m inclined to agree with you that, taking things all round, it would be safer to land down in that wild part of the country where the field is than near Shavros. All right; if every one has finished eating we will see about getting the motorbike on board.’

  They soon found that there was no difficulty about this, for, like nearly all modern heavy bombers, the big machine was provided with a cabin door for the convenience of the crew. The motorcycle was lashed in an upright position, this work being just completed as Ludwig returned, staggering under a heavy bundle.

  ‘Here are the clothes,’ he said, dropping the bundle on the ground.

  ‘Then we’ll get into them right away,’ declared Biggles. ‘You needn’t bother to change, Algy, as you won’t be leaving the machine. Did you get the other thing I asked for, Ludwig?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ludwig dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘Go to the secondhand shop at the corner of the Stretta Barowsky and the main square. The man’s name is Gustav; he sells all sorts of junk – old clothes, old hardware, and all that sort of thing. He also sells cigarettes and tobacco. Go in and ask for a packet of Cigaretten Greta, – he’ll understand. That is the password. There is no such brand of cigarettes. If the shop is shut you will have to go to the side door.’

  ‘Does he speak English?’

  ‘A little, I believe. In any case, he speaks German and French.’

  ‘That will be all right then. Many thanks, Ludwig; you’d better get off now. if you don’t know what we are going to do you can’t be held responsible for anything that may happen if o
ur plans go wrong.’

  ‘I have one more piece of news for you.’

  ‘You found out where the Count–?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Splendid! That will halve our difficulties. Where is he?’

  ‘In the Hotel Grande. But he is watched.’

  ‘Where is the hotel?’

  ‘In the main square, not very far from Gustav’s shop.’

  ‘Good, then we’ll get off.’

  ‘How shall I know when you are back?’

  ‘You’ll have to wait until you hear from us. We’ll let you know as quickly as we can.’

  ‘Very well. Then I will return to the palace. Some one whom I need not name asks me to wish you God-speed in your venture. She will pray for your success and your safety.’

  ‘Tell her that our task is made the easier for her kind thoughts,’ returned Biggles quietly. ‘Au revoir, Ludwig.’

  ‘Goodbye. I—’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I think you are very brave men,’ blurted Ludwig.

  Biggles smiled. ‘Tush, man. It’s merely a national habit.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Duty to those we serve and finishing the job we start on. We’ll be seeing you.’

  Biggles turned to the big machine as Ludwig disappeared into the darkness. ‘Let’s get away,’ he said briefly. ‘You and Carter will have to stick around, Smyth, to put flares out for us, or for Mr Lacey if he has to come back alone.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  ‘Got your pistol, Algy?’

  ‘Yes.’

  And you, Ginger?’

  ‘You bet I have.’

  ‘Then be careful what you’re doing with it. We’d better get these togs on,’ he added, turning over the clothes which Ludwig had brought. ‘You can be starting up, Algy.’

  Five minutes later the big machine roared up into the night.

  1 Small house for use during the hunting season, usually in a remote area.

  Chapter 13

  In Enemy Country

  IT WAS NOT an ideal night for flying. When they took off the sky was, admittedly, fairly clear, but as they droned northward, climbing all the time for altitude, the open patches became smaller as high cloud drifted down from the direction in which the machine was heading.