Biggles WWII Collection

by W E Johns

  ‘How does he know what happened at the bungalow?’

  ‘Prince Lalla escaped and told him. They attempted a rescue. It failed. They were shot at, and were compelled to retire. In the confusion that followed they became parted.’

  ‘Where is Prince Lalla now?’

  ‘In the jungle somewhere, presumably hiding. Ayert, of course, made for this spot, to warn us.’

  ‘Are the Japanese still at the bungalow?’

  ‘They were still there a few minutes ago. If I know anything about them they will remain there, eating and drinking until there is nothing left, making a search of the whole place an excuse for staying.’

  ‘What about the major? Where is he?’

  ‘They were about to question him when Ayert and Prince Lalla attempted the rescue.’

  ‘What will they do if he refuses to speak?’

  ‘No doubt they will torture him. Be sure they will do their utmost to make him incriminate himself.’

  ‘We can’t allow that,’ decided Biggles quickly.

  ‘Can we prevent it?’

  ‘We can try.’

  ‘Very well,’ agreed Li Chi imperturbably. ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘You know the layout of the bungalow and its immediate surroundings, I assume?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Biggles took out his notebook. ‘Make a rough sketch map of the place for me.’

  ‘Certainly.’ Li Chi took the pencil, worked rapidly for a minute and handed back the result.

  1 Now Thailand.

  CHAPTER 7

  WAR COMES TO SHANSIE

  IT WAS NOT long before certain noises ahead made it clear that the objective was at hand. Surprisingly, thought Ginger, they were those of revelry and merriment.

  ‘Sounds as if the Japanese have found some booze,’ he opined in a low voice.

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ murmured Biggles. ‘But don’t forget that they often laugh at things which we shouldn’t consider funny,’ he added shrewdly. ‘This may be such an occasion.’

  The forest gave way to a tapioca swamp, which in turn ended in a field of rice, nearly full grown but still green. Beyond it, at a distance of about a hundred yards, appeared a number of palm-thatched roofs. One was considerably larger than the rest.

  ‘The major’s bungalow,’ said Li Chi, pointing, as the party halted at the edge of the rice.

  ‘Is the river between us and the bungalow, or does it flow on the far side?’ asked Biggles.

  ‘The far side,’ replied Li Chi.

  Ayert spoke to him, and he translated: ‘The Lotus is moored to a landing stage which is just above the bungalow.’

  ‘Let’s get nearer,’ suggested Biggles – and then moved like lightning as from the branches of a tree that hung low overhead there came a sharp rustle. A second later, with a swish of twigs, a body dropped lightly to the ground.

  For a moment the whole party looked startled. Then Li Chi spoke and the intrusion was at once explained. ‘Lalla!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Who are these people?’ asked the new arrival breathlessly, in English, spoken with a peculiar accent.

  ‘They are friends – British,’ answered Li Chi. To the others he announced, ‘This is Prince Lalla, Major Marling’s son.’

  Ginger gazed with curiosity on a young fellow of about his own age, slim, straight as a lance, dark-eyed, with skin as smooth as that of a girl. His dress was part European, part Eastern. A khaki shirt was thrust into well-worn riding breeches of the same colour, clipped tight into the waist by a belt which carried a heavy hunting knife with a jewelled handle. Mosquito boots encased his legs. On his head he wore a turban of blue silk, fastened across the front with a gold pin on which was mounted a ruby of considerable size. In the crook of his arm he held a light sporting rifle. He smiled half shyly, half sadly, at the visitors.

  No time was wasted on conventional introductions. Nor did Biggles pay any heed to the rank, real or complimentary, of their reinforcement. ‘What is happening at the bungalow?’ he asked tersely.

  ‘The Japanese have arrested my father,’ answered Lalla. ‘They have tied him to a tree, with the object, I think, of questioning him. He will not answer, so if they follow their usual methods they will torture him to make him speak. I was watching from the branches of this tree when I saw you emerge from the forest.’

  ‘Where are your servants – the men of the village?’ questioned Biggles. ‘Couldn’t they have put up some sort of resistance?’

  ‘Most of them were far away, working in the plantations,’ explained Lalla. ‘The house servants did what they could. From this tree you may see them lying dead in the compound. I myself was some distance away, riding my horse, when I heard shots. I galloped home to find out what was happening, but by that time the house had been seized.’ Lalla drew from his shirt a small silver whistle. ‘I could recall the labourers with this,’ he went on, ‘but the Japanese would also hear it, and understanding the meaning of it they would take steps to prevent us from organizing.’

  ‘What are the Japs doing now – I mean, how are they disposed?’ asked Biggles.

  ‘Four remain on the launch to guard it. The others are doing what the beasts always do – eating and drinking, looting and destroying.’

  ‘Have they posted sentries?’

  ‘I did not observe any. Why should they trouble to post sentries here? What have soldiers to fear from a handful of native workmen armed only with swords and spears?’

  Biggles smiled faintly. ‘There are five of us now. We should be able to handle a simple operation like this. But I want one thing to be clearly understood. If we attack the Japanese here none must be allowed to escape to report our presence in the country. If that happened we should find it difficult, perhaps impossible, to get out. The failure of the Japanese to return must be attributed to hostile locals.’

  Said Lalla grimly: ‘If we can seize the launch I promise you that not one of them will reach the coast. My foresters will hunt them down one by one and cut them to pieces.’

  ‘That suits me,’ returned Biggles. ‘As a matter of fact, we could do with that launch ourselves. I have ideas about it. But let’s get mobile, before the devils cut your father to pieces.’

  ‘Why did you come here?’ asked Lalla curiously.

  Li Chi answered. ‘They came to see your father about the scheme which we discussed some time ago.’

  Lalla nodded. ‘Ah! I understand.’

  Biggles beckoned, and dropping on all fours began to make his way through the standing rice towards the bungalow. The others followed. Nothing more was said. In five minutes they were all at the far side of the field, lying flat in the lush growth, with Shansie village in plain view. Facing them at fifty paces, across a square compound of sun-baked earth, level and open except for an occasional tree, was the bungalow. The sides of the square were occupied by palm-thatched houses of simple design but good workmanship. With the exception of Major Marling, who had been lashed to a tree close by his own front door, the only living people in sight were Japanese soldiers. A number of dead men, presumably servants, lay where they had fallen. The enemy troops were standing about without any sort of order, some of them drinking, some eating food which they held in their hands, watching sinister preparations which, under the direction of an officer, were being made near the prisoner. A small fire had been lighted. Into it the point of a spear had been thrust. Laughing, the officer spoke. Biggles heard this, but not understanding the language he looked at Li Chi and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘They know about the ruby mine,’ translated Li Chi. ‘That, no doubt, is why they are here. Major Marling has refused to tell them where it is located. They will torture him until he does.’

  ‘Where precisely is the launch?’ Biggles asked Lalla.

  Lalla pointed. ‘There, beyond the bungalow. You can’t see it because the river flows through low ground.’

  Biggles spoke to Ginger. ‘Take Ayert with you and work your way round the back of the building
s to the launch. You ought to be able to take the guard by surprise. Scupper them, grab the launch, and stay on it. Your job then will be prevent anyone from getting aboard. The general idea is to get the enemy between two fires. We ought to drop half this bunch at the first rush. Get going. If possible I’ll wait till I hear you shooting before I open up, but if they start on Marling I shall have to cut in. Get cracking.’

  Li Chi explained the manreuvre to Ayert, who grinned, showing his yellow teeth, and followed Ginger, who was now crawling away, taking care to keep well within the rice.

  Biggles lay still, watching the scene in front of him with cold hostile eyes. He had heard a lot about Japanese methods of waging war. Now he was confronted with an example, and its effect on him was to induce a feeling of ruthlessness. His fear at the moment was that the Japanese would begin work on their helpless captive before Ginger was in a position to attack the launch. And this, in fact, did happen. Five or six minutes after Ginger had left, the enemy officer drew the spear from the fire and examined the glowing point critically. It was clear from his manner that the next operation was going to provide him with considerable pleasure.

  ‘So this is how the swine interrogate their prisoners?’ muttered Biggles through his teeth. ‘My God! It makes me go cold when I think that some of our fellows may have been treated like this. Well, although he doesn’t know it, that little rat has finished his career as question master. For the first time in a long while, shooting a man is going to give me the greatest satisfaction. This show has gone on long enough. Pick your man, and when I sound the gong, let drive.’ He raised his rifle, snuggling the butt into his shoulder.

  The officer approached his victim while the men, still eating and drinking, gathered round to form an appreciative audience.

  Biggles’ rifle cracked.

  The Japanese officer jumped as though propelled by springs under his feet, throwing the spear high into the air. Landing, he spun round, staggered a little way and sprawled in the dust. Two of the spectators fell as the rifles of Li Chi and Lalla spoke. Biggles went on firing, quickly but deliberately, to take advantage of a situation that he knew could not last long. So far it was evident that the enemy had no idea of where the shots were coming from, and after the first shock of surprise had passed none of them tarried to find out. There was a general rush for cover, in the nature of a stampede; but before this was achieved three more were down. Another, limping, cried aloud in pain and fear as he stumbled on after his companions, who did nothing to help him. The survivors disappeared into, or in the region of the bungalow.

  At this juncture shots from behind the building announced that Ginger and Ayert were in action, although what was happening at the launch could not of course be seen.

  Biggles sprang to his feet. ‘Come on,’ he called, ‘let’s finish the job.’

  Lai la raised his whistle to his lips and blew a succession of short blasts.

  ‘What’s the idea?’ demanded Biggles.

  ‘That should bring our men into the fight,’ was the answer. ‘They won’t be far away.’

  This proved to be correct. A big man, sarong-clad, dark-skinned, swinging a parang, dashed out of the forest yelling like a dervish.

  ‘That’s Melong, my foreman,’ said Lalla, and called to him. More men appeared from various points.

  Biggles did not wait to see what happened. He was anxious about Ginger and the launch. Followed by Li Chi he ran on, dashing across the open spaces between the huts, all the time working towards the rear of the big bungalow. One or two shots were fired, but they were wild and did no damage.

  ‘They’ve lost their heads,’ said Biggles.

  ‘They’ll lose their heads, literally, when Ayert and Malong get amongst them with their parangs,’ prophesied Li Chi without emotion. ‘The Japanese have lost their leader; the Shansians have found one. That will make a lot of difference.’

  As it turned out, Ginger and Ayert were not in any need of help. When Biggles and Li Chi came into sight of the launch they were crouching behind the low bulwark. Seeing them, they stood up. Two Japanese lay dead on the river bank – the head of one some distance from the body.

  ‘I see Ayert has been busy with his razor blade,’ remarked Biggles in passing. To Ginger he called, ‘Where’s the rest of the guard?’

  ‘The other two dived overboard and made for the bungalow. I wounded one of them,’ answered Ginger.

  ‘Lalla and his men will take care of them,’ said Li Chi. ‘It will probably be a gory business so I suggest we leave them to it.’

  As if to confirm this statement shouts and cries came from the vicinity of the bungalow. Ayert, parang in hand, raced away in that direction.

  ‘Yes, it sounds as if Lalla’s boys are mopping up,’ said Biggles. ‘As far as the Japanese are concerned, I shan’t saturate my handkerchief with tears on their account. They asked for what they’re getting. Let’s go and see how the big chief has fared.’

  By the time they reached the compound the only sounds were those of pursuit. They found Major Marling rubbing chafed wrists as he spoke to his son, who stood beside him and had apparently just cut him free. He seemed no worse for his unpleasant adventure, and very little perturbed. But his expression, as his eyes surveyed the compound, where with cries of lamentation the bodies of the slain servants were being carried away by women, was grim.

  ‘Barbarians,’ he muttered savagely. ‘These Japanese call themselves soldiers. Barbarians, that’s what they are.’ He turned to Li Chi. ‘Did you see the way they used my people before they killed them?’

  ‘No,’ answered Li Chi softly.

  ‘Prodded them with their bayonets. By God! I’ll make them pay for this.’ With a visible effort Major Marling resumed his composure. He turned to Biggles. ‘I don’t know who you are, sir, but I thank you for your timely intervention,’ he said stiffly. ‘Things were just beginning to look decidedly nasty when you opened fire. Well, the devils are now getting what they deserve. Did you see the way they were swilling my brandy? Scandalous behaviour! But come in, come in, and I’ll see what I can do in the way of hospitality. Lalla, try to get hold of any servants who are left. Malong will take care of the pursuit. I expect the brutes have turned my house into a pigsty. No matter – we’ll soon have it cleared up. I must apologise for this reception, gentlemen.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ returned Biggles drily, winking at Ginger who was regarding their host with curiosity and not a little surprise, for he did not fill the picture he had imagined.

  What he imagined does not matter. Major Marling was, in fact, a man of between fifty and sixty years of age, of medium height, slim – one might say dapper. He was still a good-looking man in spite of the fact that his hair was snow-white. His voice was crisp, brittle; he was obviously accustomed to being obeyed without question. He was dressed in a European flannel suit of semi-military cut, with white buckskin tennis shoes on his feet.

  Apparently he became conscious of Ginger’s scrutiny. ‘What are you staring at, my boy? Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?’ he asked sharply – so sharply that Ginger flushed.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ blurted Ginger.

  ‘I should think so, by God!’ snapped the major. ‘But what are we standing here for? Let’s get inside.’ He led the way into the house.

  CHAPTER 8

  DECISIONS

  MAJOR MARLING WAS right about the bungalow being a pigsty. Signs of the brief Japanese occupation were everywhere apparent. Not only had cupboards, chests and other receptacles been ransacked in a frenzied search for loot, but much of the furniture had been wantonly smashed. However, some servants of both sexes appeared, and under the direction of one of their number proceeded to tidy up. Major Marling clapped his hands and gave an order, as a result of which, after a short delay, refreshments were brought.

  ‘It appeared that they were about to do you a personal injury when we arrived, sir,’ said Biggles.

  ‘That was undoubtedly the intention,’ asserted the Majo
r. ‘The rascals had heard about my rubies. I have some very fine ones, you know. Apart from these there is some very valuable jewellery that belonged to my wife. That confounded officer wanted to know where I kept the valuables. I wouldn’t tell him – not me. No sir.’

  ‘If they had learned about the rubies that would be sufficient reason for the raid,’ opined Biggles. ‘The question is, how did they learn about them?’

  ‘No idea – no idea at all,’ answered the major. ‘My people are absolutely trustworthy. If it comes to that. they seldom go down the river.’

  Biggles accepted a drink and looked at Li Chi. ‘You may have been indirectly responsible,’ he remarked.

  Li Chi raised his eyebrows.

  ‘You know about the rubies,’ Biggles pointed out. ‘So, presumably, did Ayert, since he came here with you. Did you ever speak of them when you returned to Elephant Island?’

  ‘We may have done.’

  ‘Then Pamboo may have overheard you talking. I’m beginning to wonder how much that fellow does know. One spy in a camp can learn a lot if he has the run of the place.’

  Li Chi admitted the truth of this.

  ‘What brought you fellows here, anyway?’ demanded Major Marling. ‘I don’t encourage visitors, you know. I see by your uniforms that you’re in the Air Force. Had a forced landing, perhaps?’

  ‘No. We made a special trip to see you,’ said Biggles.

  Li Chi explained the object of the visit. ‘Of course, this raid has altered the entire situation,’ he concluded.

  ‘Why has it?’ asked the major curtly.

  ‘I imagine you won’t stay on here now, after what has happened today,’ observed Biggles.

  Major Marling flared up. ‘And why not, sir? What the deuce do you take me for? Do I look the sort of man who would bolt at the first spot of bother – eh?’

  ‘No,’ conceded Biggles. ‘But in view of what has just happened it may be supposed that you will have more unwelcome visitors at Shansie. I imagined—’

  ‘Imagined what, sir?’ broke in the major indignantly. ‘My place is with my people so here I stay. There’s nothing more to be said about it.’