Biggles: The Camels Are Coming
W. E. Johns
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Air combat is the order of the day in the final days of the First World War. Duelling high above the trenches, Biggles knows that he needs more than just flying skills to survive. The enemy is now using their own British aircraft, the Sopwith Camel, to lure them to their deaths. A devil to fly, invaluably fast in a dogfight, this machine commands fierce loyalty from its pilots. Will luck and initiative be enough to keep Biggles alive?
Join cult hero and flying ace, Squadron Leader James Bigglesworth on another action packed adventure!
machine, and every pilot within fifty miles knew of his quest. Major Mullen had protested; in fact, he had done everything except definitely order Biggles out of the machine; but, being a wise man and observing the high pressure under which his pilot was living, he refrained from giving an order that he knew would be broken. So Biggles continued his search unhindered. The Rumpler had become an obsession with him. For eight hours a day he hunted the sky between Lille and Cambrai for it, and at
in uniform, and he wondered vaguely why a man of such obviously splendid physique as Frazer was not in the Army; to save any possible embarrassment he had asked to be introduced as Mr Bigglesworth. He was not left long in wonder, for Frazer, tapping his chest ruefully with his forefinger, complained at frequent intervals of the weak heart that kept him at home and thus prevented him from showing in actual practice how the War could be ended forthwith. The fact that he was obviously making a lot
sidcot* and threw it on the ground with studied deliberation. Cap and goggles followed, leaving that part of his face which they had protected like a white mask. * A thick, padded garment worn by aircrew. 'Officers in the Orderly Room,** please,' said the C.O., turning on his heel. Mahoney lit a cigarette and followed the little group moving towards the Squadron office. ** A room or office used for day to day Squadron business. 'Sit down, everybody,' began Major Mullen. 'A bad show. I blame
line to be on the look-out for me,' he swore to himself. With his nose slightly down and engine at full throttle he sped onwards. An aerodrome appeared ahead; he could see little ant-like figures running around the black-crossed machines which stood on the tarmac. Something struck the Camel with a vibrating sprang—g—g, and he knew the machine-gunners were busy. He put his nose down in a fury and swept across the hangars with his guns spurting a double stream of tracer, and laughed as he saw the
lady?—when?' said Biggles, holding himself in hand with a mighty effort. 'About ten minutes ago, sir. Just before you came in. She came about eight and said she must see you, sir, but I told her you weren't here.' 'Where is she now?' 'She's gone, sir, she was in a car. She told me to bring the letter straight to you when you returned, sir.' 'All right—you may go.' Biggles took the letter, fighting back a wild desire to shout, opened it, and read: 'Good-bye, my Biggles. 'You know now. What