Biggles in the Orient by W E Johns

Author:W E Johns [Johns, W E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: War Stories, Adventure
ISBN: 9781409098430
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2012-01-26T18:54:56+00:00

Chapter 10

The Blitz That Failed

When Biggles landed at Dum Dum, and taxied in, he observed with mounting curiosity that the airfield was, to use the common Air Force expression, in a state of flap. Airmen were running about, orders were being shouted, and engines roared as aircraft were dispersed all round the perimeter of the airfield. Having stepped down, he was gazing with mild surprise at this spectacle, when Air Commodore Raymond, followed by Group Captain Boyle, the station commander, came hurrying to him.

‘Thank heaven you’re back,’ began the Air Commodore in a tense voice. ‘You’re the very man I want to see.’

‘What the dickens is going on here?’ asked Biggles.

‘We’re in for a pasting, I’m afraid—and Calcutta, too, no doubt,’ asserted the Air Commodore, pulling a wry face. ‘We’ve just had a signal from our forward observers to the effect that the biggest formation of Jap bombers seen in this part of the world is heading in this direction. Ninety-eight of ’em. We suppose they’re taking advantage of the situation created by the secret weapon to have a really good smack at us. They know we are powerless to stop them.’

‘You mean, they think we are,’ returned Biggles grimly. ‘How far away is this formation?’

‘They’ll be here in twenty minutes.’

‘What are they?’

‘Mitsubishi bombers.’

‘Any escort?’

‘No. They have good reason for thinking they don’t need one.’

‘What are you doing about it?’

‘We’re sending up six fighters to intercept them.’

‘Six! What do you suppose six machines are going to do against that mob? Why only six? There are more fighters than that on the station.’

‘I know, but we daren’t leave ourselves without a reserve. With this secret weapon operating I don’t suppose we shall see any of our machines again.’

Biggles pointed at a pathetically small formation of Spitfires just taking off. ‘Are those the six?’

‘Yes.’

‘Stop them. Call them back.’

‘But —’

‘I know what I’m doing, sir. Recall them.’

The Air Commodore hesitated. ‘But if Calcutta is bombed —’

‘You’re going the right way to get it bombed,’ broke in Biggles impatiently. ‘Look, sir, we’ve no time to waste in argument or explanations. If you’ll leave this operation to me I promise you won’t regret it.’

‘But think —’

‘I’ve never let you down yet, have I?’

The Air Commodore decided. ‘All right.’ He turned to the Group Captain. ‘Recall those machines.’

The Group Captain hurried off, and in a few seconds the flight could be seen returning. Algy and Ginger had landed. Biggles waved to them, beckoning urgently. Then he turned again to the Air Commodore. His voice was brittle.

‘Will you let me handle this?’

‘Yes, but if things go wrong —’

‘I know—you’ll be held responsible. I’m afraid that’s a risk you’ll have to take, sir. I know how many fighters I’ve got, but how many others are there available on the station? I’m including the two Hurricanes belonging to Crisp and Scrimshaw in my outfit.’

‘Apart from those we’ve seven—all that are left of 910 Squadron.’

‘As Crisp isn’t back yet, that means we can put up fifteen, all told, if we include my Beaufighter.

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