14 Biggles Goes To War

by Captain W E Johns

  'Good job we stopped that. There's no telling what mischief they might have caused.

  Haul the whole lot into the shed and throw something over them. We'll attend to them when we get back. Anything else?'

  'Only a map.'

  'Let's have a look at it.'

  While the mechanics were busy on the machine, Biggles examined the map. Several lines had been drawn on it, and in one place an area had been encircled with a fine red line. '

  Hello - hello, what's all this, I wonder?' he muttered. 'Unless I'm mistaken this map is going to tell us a useful story. We'll spend a bit of time on it tonight and try to work out what these lines mean.' He folded the map

  and handed it to Smyth. Tut that in your pocket and don't lose it,' he said. 'Remember to give it to me when I tome back.'

  'There are some people coming down the road,' anounced Ginger.

  'Then we'll get off before they arrive,' declared Biggles. I don't want too many people to see what's going on. I can't quite make up my mind what to do about this machine; my original idea was to dump it somewhere as soon as we had bombed the bridge, but I must say it seems a pity to do away with it. It might be useful. The trouble about an aeroplane is that you can't disguise it.'

  'We could paint out the markings,' suggested Ginger. could paint it red, or some other colour, all over,' put in Smyth.

  'Unhappily, paint doesn't alter the shape of a machine,' murmured Biggles. 'Never mind; perhaps we could keep it hidden. I'll bring it back, anyway, so you get your paint ready, Smyth, and fix up some sort of cover to put it under. I had better speak to Ludwig about some trust-worthy men to form a guard to keep prowlers out of the wood. That's all for the moment; we shall have more time to discuss these things when we get back. Let's get away. Algy, you man the rear gun.'

  'What about me?' asked Ginger.

  Biggles hesitated. think you'd better stay here,' he said.

  Ginger's face fell. 'That's a bit thick,' he muttered in tones of the deepest disappointment.

  Biggles reflected for a moment or two. 'All right, you can come if you like; you had better sit next to me and help to watch the sky.'

  Ginger gave a little whoop and climbed into his seat. Biggles followed, and spent a few seconds examining the

  instrument-board of the big machine; but everything was, as he expected, of standard international pattern, and presented no difficulty. The engines were still hot, so, the usual warming-up being unnecessary, the bomber was soon in position to take off.

  Biggles looked at Ginger, one hand on the throttle. 'Well, here we go for the fireworks,'

  he said.

  The engines roared and the machine sped across the aerodrome.

  Chapter

  The Bridge - and a Capture

  For an hour Biggles flew steadily into the north-east over rough, hilly country, heading on a straight course for his objective. Actually, he struck the river a little way above the bridge, but he soon picked it out in the distance. Before turning towards it, however, he flew up and down inside the Lovitznian frontier, his keen eyes searching the terrain for movements of enemy troops and war material. It was not necessary to look very hard, for evidence of the coming conflict was apparent everywhere - camps, lorries on the roads, and working parties of men.

  'If we hadn't come here, the Lovitznians would be inside Maltovia within a week,' he told Ginger moodily, as he stared down at the military preparations. 'Apparently it has not occurred to Lovitzna that anything might happen to their lovely bridge. Look at the hills on our side of the river; with the bridge out of the way a handful of determined men could prevent the Lovitznians from get-ting across. Well, let's go and give them something to think about.'

  As he spoke, Biggles turned the machine and headed back towards the river, steering for the bridge, which lay like a white road across the water. In this way, to any one watching the machine, it would appear to be coming from the heart of Lovitzna, certainly not from Maltovia.

  At a distance of about two miles he throttled back and began a long glide, at the same time lining the machine up with the bridge. Every few moments he glanced around the sky, but not another machine was in sight, so it may have been the simplicity of his task that brought a faint smile to his face.

  'What are you laughing at?' asked Ginger.

  was just thinking how simple this is compared with the jobs we had to do in France,'

  answered Biggles.

  'Suppose some one is just going over the bridge?'

  'Then it looks like being his unlucky day. It would be just too bad, as the Americans say.

  Can you see any one watching us?'

  'There are some people who look like soldiers at each end of the bridge; I can see their faces so they must be staring up.'

  'They'll have something else to stare at presently,' announced Biggles, as he steepened his glide into a dive. Dispassionately, his right elbow resting on the side of the cockpit, he watched the bridge apparently coming to meet the machine. So unconcerned was he that he might have been going to land on his own aerodrome, but he did not relax his vigilance, and in spite of his casual manner he was flying very carefully, for he had only two bombs and he could not afford to miss. The needle of the altimeter crept slowly back until it was actually resting on zero, although his height might have been two hundred feet as he glided, slowly now, over the blockhouse on the north-ern side of the river. His hand felt for the bomb toggle and gripped it. Still he waited, the machine flying at not much more than stalling speed, his feet applying the slight pressure necessary on one side of the rudder-bar or the

  other. Suddenly he jerked his hand back. The machine rocked. Simultaneously he jerked the throttle wide open, thrust the stick forward and banked away steeply.

  Ginger heard the roar of the explosion above the noise of the engines; he felt the machine surge upwards like a lift under its pressure, but for a moment he could see nothing owing to the cloud of smoke that rose high in the air over the centre of the bridge. Then, as it cleared and the middle of the bridge became visible, a cry of triumph broke from his lips.

  The two centre arches had completely disappeared. 'You've got it!' he yelled exultantly.

  'Yes,' agreed Biggles, 'and I fancy it will take longer to fill up that gap than it did to make it.' As he spoke, he turned the machine and cruised back up the river.

  'Where the dickens are you going?' asked Ginger in alarm.

  'I'm just going to have a look at the damage, that's all,' replied Biggles casually. 'I also want the fellows down there - who, by the way, seem to be excited over something - to see us. Yes, we've certainly made a hole,' he continued, looking down as they passed over the shattered arches. 'Seems a pity to spoil a nice bridge like that, but there it is.

  Well, I think we might be getting home; we'd better go this way. It might not be wise to allow ourselves to be seen roaring straigh t back to Maltovia.' He turned, this time to the left, which took the machine further into Lovitzna; shortly afterwards he turned left again and flew parallel with the river, still well inside Lovitznian territory. It was flat, open country, mostly grassland on which grazed occasional herds of cattle. For the rest, it appeared to be sparsely populated. 'I don't think there is much to see here,' he murmured after a while, and was about to turn on the homeward course when he stiffened suddenly. 'Hello, what's this coming?' he said tersely.

  Ginger had seen nothing, but following the direction of Biggles's eyes, he saw an aircraft coming up towards them from out of the west. 'My goodness! You don't miss much,' he muttered.

  'It doesn't do to miss anything at this game,' Biggles told him. `Go and make sure Algy has seen him.'

  Ginger crept through into the rear cockpit, but Algy had already seen the stranger, and was leaning idly against his gun watching him. Ginger returned to his seat. 'Algy is watching him,' he told Biggles.

  'It looks like a two-seater,' observed Biggles, 'but I can't see any one in the rear cockpit, can you?'

  Ìf there
is any one in it he must be sitting on the floor,' returned Ginger emphatically.

  By this time the machine was only a few hundred yards away, slightly above them and a little to the right, but it had turned slowly in their direction. 'By gosh! It's one of the new high-performance Fokker day-bombers,' ejaculated Biggles, who was watching the machine with knitted brows.

  'It's carrying Lovitznian markings, anyway,' cried Ginger in alarm.

  `So are we, so I don't think we've anything to worry about,' replied Biggles. 'By the look of it I should say that it's a brand new machine, too,' he went on in a low voice, as if he were talking to himself. 'Coming out of the west? It must be a new machine just being delivered to the Lovitznian Air Force. By James, we could do with that ourselves.'

  Ginger stared. 'You're not thinking of trying to capture it by any chance, are you?' he asked, a trifle sarcastically.

  'As a matter of fact, that's just what I was thinking of,' answered Biggles evenly.

  'You don't want me to board it in mid-air, or anything like that, I hope?'

  'Nothing so desperate, Ginger. I never make life harder than it is. Give the chap a wave.'

  The pilot in the bomber, evidently noting that the machine was a Lovitznian, was already waving, and Biggles lost no time in opening the side window of his cockpit and waving back. Then he looked down and noted that there were half a dozen fields within easy reach, each large enough to land in. jab down-wards, Ginger,' he ordered. 'Try to make him understand that we've come to meet him and that we want him to land.'

  'OK,' cried Ginger, suddenly understanding.

  Biggles did not wait. He throttled back and began gliding towards a big field some distance to the right.

  Algy's head popped into the cockpit. 'Are you crazy?' he shouted. 'We're over Lovitzna.'

  `Go back to your gun,' Biggles told him shortly, and a minute or two later his wheels touched lightly on the green turf of enemy country. 'What's he doing, Ginger?' he asked sharply.

  'He's circling,' answered Ginger tersely. 'I think he's going to follow us down.'

  'Fine! Leave the talking to me.'

  Biggles jumped out as soon as the machine had finished its run, and beckoned to the pilot of the bomber, who was still circling the field, evidently undecided what to do. But at Biggles's vigorous imitation he waited no longer, but glided down, his machine coming to a standstill about a hundred yards from the other. The pilot climbed down stiffly, which suggested that he had come a long way. Biggles noticed also that he wore a parachute.

  'Hello!' he called cheerfully. Do you speak English?'

  'The other looked surprised. 'You are English?' he queried, with a strong foreign accent.

  'Yes, we are instructors to the Lovitznian Air Force.' `Goot! I am Wengel. I have brought a new machine for you.'

  'We were expecting it,' returned Biggles easily. 'In fact, we were sent to meet you. My chief has given some special instructions about the delivery of the machine.'

  'So!'

  'Yes, there is a big crowd waiting to greet you at the aerodrome, and the chief wants to celebrate the occasion by presenting you with a decoration - the Purple Pigeon of Lovitzna.'

  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 wartnly; 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.'

  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. 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 downrward.

  Ginger came through from the rear cockpit. He was shaking with laughter, but he tried to adopt a serious pose.

  call that a bit steep,' he declared. 'What is he going to tell the people down there when he arrives without a machine?'

  haven't the faintest idea,' replied Biggles. 'But what-ever 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 wind-screen. 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 respect-able 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 quic
kly. '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.'

  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.'

  Àwkward! It's terrible! Anything can happen to the Count now he's in Lovitzna.'

  Ì realize that, but it's no use losing our heads.' `What can we do?'