Free Biggles by John Pearson Page B

Fighter as replacement for his battle-scarred old F.E.2. It was a faster aircraft — and more of a match for the German Halberstadts and Albatrosses — and flying it revived his earliest ambitions to join a first-rate combat squadron in place of all this uninspiring work supporting the Artillery and Infantry. So Biggles began to make inquiries about a transfer. But before they came to anyhting the inevitable occurred — on one of his sorties from St Omer, the Bristol was hit by anti-aircraft fire, the engine badly damaged, and Biggles and Lieutenant Way were forced to hike across the mud of no-man’s-land before returning to their Squadron two days later.
    It was the loss of the Bristol Fighter which really spelt the end of Biggles’ time with 169. He was without an aircraft, much of the Squadron was in hospital — or dead — and he was barely on speaking terms by now with Paynter. So when he was suddenly presented with the offer of a posting to a brand new squadron, No. 266, at Maranique, he jumped at it, even though it meant foregoing two weeks’ leave in ‘Blighty’ to which he was now entitled.
    When he told Way of his decision his old observer laughed. ‘I always said that you were mad. This proves it.’
    â€˜Why?’ said Biggles, who was genuinely surprised at his reaction. ‘Who on earth would lose the chance of flying Sopwith Pups just for a fortnight’s lousy leave in England?’
    â€˜I would, for one,’ laughed Way, ‘but off you go and try not to be too daft. You won’t have me to keep an eye on you.’
    Biggles was instantly at home in 266, which had a very different atmosphere from the squadron he was leaving. Instead of the irascible Major Paynter, there was an easy-going Dubliner called Major Mullen as Commanding Officer, and from the very start he seemed to sum Biggles up.
    â€˜I’ve heard a bit about you, James my lad,’ he said. (In all the months that Biggles was with 169, Paynter had never once addressed him by his Christian name.) ‘And on the whole I thinkthat I approve of what I hear. But all the same you need to learn the difference between foolhardiness and courage. Also I insist that all my pilots are fully trained to fly their aircraft before I let them loose upon the enemy. This is a squadron of professionals. Remember that. Now come and have a drink!’
    During the next ten days Biggles spent all his time getting acquainted with his new aeroplane, the single-seater Sopwith Pup. This was the aircraft which seasoned pilots called ‘near perfect’ and ‘impeccable’, and Biggles soon agreed with them. After the heavy old F.E.2, the Pup was light, fast and wonderfully manoeuvrable, and with its forward firing Vickers gun the pilot could take on the German Albatrosses on equal terms. Everything depended on the pilot’s skill, and a few days’ flying the Sopwith was all that Biggles needed to recover from the gruelling weeks in 169. Here in his brand-new cockpit he felt renewed and ready for whatever fate still had in store for him.
    Major Mullen personally checked Biggles out before allowing him to fly in action — and even then the mission that he gave him was a relatively painless one, flying cross-country back to his old base at St Omer to make arrangements with the Aircraft Repair Section for returning a reconditioned fighter plane. No trouble was expected, but as a matter of routine the Vickers gun was loaded and the plane given its full load of fuel — which in the circumstances was just as well. Shortly after take-off, Biggles spotted Allied anti-aircraft fire above the Lines — sure sign of a German aircraft in the vicinity. The shells were bursting high, at something like 15,000 feet, and they were considerably off his course. But although Biggles had no orders to engage in combat, it was not in his nature to miss a chance of ‘bagging’ a German combat