26 Biggles Sweeps The Desert

by Captain W E Johns

  soon as his weight was taken from it, settled as softly as a thistle seed. In a moment he was out of his harness, rolling the fabric into a loose ball. This done, knowing the direction, he gazed across the desert, and was relieved to see a figure walking towards him. Biggles had, of course, landed first.

  'What are we going to do with the brollies?' asked Ginger, when they met. 'We can't hump them round with us; they'll be in the way.'

  'We shall have to abandon them,' answered Biggles, in a low voice. He walked a little way to the nearest rock. 'We'll cover them with sand, and smooth it out,' he said. 'We may have a chance to recover them at some future date.' As he spoke Biggles set down a bundle that he was carrying and started to scoop a hole in the sand.

  It took about ten minutes to dispose of the unwanted parachutes. Then Biggles rose, picking up his parcel.

  'Now let's get along,' he said. 'We've some way to go, but we've plenty of time. We'll keep close to the rock. I hope we shan't see anybody, and I don't think we shall, but if we're challenged we may have to fight it out. Got your gun handy?'

  brought two, to be on the safe side,' answered Ginger.

  Biggles smiled. 'Not a bad idea. I hope it won't come to that, though. But that's enough talking. Don't speak unless you have something important to say; it's amaz-ing how far sound travels when the desert is as quiet as this.'

  Biggles took a small service compass from his pocket, studied it for a moment and then walked on, keeping close against an outcrop of rock that ran like the cara-pace on a crocodile's back in the right direction.

  Chapter 14

  The Storm Breaks

  For half an hour Biggles walked on, keeping close against the rock and stopping often to listen. Occasion-ally he made a cautious survey of the country ahead from the top of a convenient eminence, taking care, though, not to show too much of himself above the sky-line. Ginger did not speak, for he had nothing to say. In the end it was Biggles who, after a reconnaissance, broke the long silence.

  'We're about three hundred yards from the fringe of the oasis,' he breathed. 'The camel lines are to our left. I can see people moving about, but I think we can risk getting a little closer. We're in good time.'

  'What is the time?' whispered Ginger.

  'A quarter to twelve.'

  They went on again, slowly, exercising extreme cau-tion, and after a little while came to a cup-shaped depression in the rocks. Sounds of movement, industry, and noisy conversation in the oasis were now clearly audible.

  'This will do us,' announced Biggles. 'We'll stay here till the music starts.'

  Ginger squatted down to wait. 'Everything seems to be going fine,' he observed.

  Biggles shrugged his shoulders. 'You can never tell. However well a show like this is planned, much still depends on sheer chance. One can't make allowances for the unexpected, for things one doesn't know about.

  I should say that good leadership consists not so much of sitting down quietly at a headquarters and making plans, as adapting them to meet unexpected obstacles as they occur. Everything is all right so far. We'll deal with trouble when it arises— as it probably will. We shall be lucky if it doesn't. We're all set. There are still ten minutes to go.'

  'Sounds like the lads coming now,' murmured Ginger a moment later, as the distant hum of aircraft came rolling through the night air.

  Biggles said nothing for a little while. 'That doesn't sound like a pair of Spitfires to me.

  The sound is coming from the wrong direction, anyway.'

  It was now Ginger's turn to be silent. Standing up he gazed long and steadily towards the north, the direction from which the sound seemed to come. Presently there was no doubt about it. 'There are more than two engines there,' he announced.

  'More than two!' retorted Biggles. should say there are nearer ten. They're not our engines. To me, that broken purr says Junkers. They're coming this way — they must be coming here. We've chosen a lovely time for a raid!' He looked over the rim of the depression. 'Everyone seems to be making for the aerodrome,' he remarked. 'We'd better get a bit nearer and see what is happening. Junkers or not, those lorries have got to be destroyed, somehow. Come on!'

  Sometimes walking and sometimes running they made their way quickly towards the oasis. If they were seen there was no indication of it. There was a consider-able amount of noise, suggesting excitement, in the

  enemy camp. Orders were shouted. The drone of air-craft became a roar. There was no longer any need to talk quietly. Landing lights sprang up round the aerodrome, and a floodlight flung a path of radiance across it.

  Biggles made swiftly for the fringe of palms that marked the nearest point of the oasis.

  Reaching it, he hesitated. Anxious as he was to get to the lorries, he was equally concerned about the landing aircraft, for he could not imagine what they could be or what they were doing. He glanced at his watch.

  'Four minutes to go,' he said crisply. think we've time to see what all this fuss is about.'

  They hurried forward through the palms until they reached a position which gave them a view of the enemy landing ground. As they came within sight of it a big machine was just coming in.

  'For the love of Mike!' ejaculated Biggles. 'It's an old Junkers commercial, the type Lufthansa used on the Berlin-Croydon run. What the . . Biggles' voice faded away in speechless astonishment as one after another four of the big tri-motored machines landed, filling the air with noise and turbulent sand. But an even greater shock was to come. As the machines came to a standstill cabin doors were opened and men poured out to form up with military precision. Not fewer than twenty men in full marching order emerged from each of the first three machines.

  'Paratroops,' said Biggles in a curiously calm voice.

  'What on earth would they want with paratroops in this part of the world?' demanded Ginger in astonish-ment.

  Biggles threw him a sidelong glance.

  give you

  one guess,' he said.

  'You mean —Salima?'

  'What else? This is von Zoyton's answer. He must have sent for them from North Africa.'

  The big machines now moved forward, like four ante-diluvian monsters, making for a part of the oasis not far from where Biggles and Ginger stood watching. Three rumbled on and disappeared between the palms. The last one stopped. Men ran out and swarmed about it.

  Now what?' said Ginger.

  The question was soon answered. Six anti-aircraft guns of the pom-pom type were quickly unloaded.

  imagine those are intended as a little surprise in case we come over,' said Biggles grimly.

  'Oh to be in the air at this moment with a full load of ammunition.'

  'What a target for Bertie and Tug when they come over!'

  Biggles looked at his watch. 'They'll be thirty seconds too late,' he said bitterly. 'There's still half a minute to go. There goes the last of the Junkers into the trees. Now the lights are going out. It's all over.'

  'But Bertie and Tug will have seen something going on. They can't be far away.'

  'Probably, but they won't know what to make of it. In any case, they have their orders.'

  Biggles bit his lip with annoyance. 'This is the sort of thing that tempts one to depart from the original plan, but we mustn't do that,' he muttered. 'We must go through with what we started. Hark! Here come the Spitfires now. Every-one will be busy with the new arrivals, so we still have a chance. This way.' Biggles began walking quickly through the palms towards the centre of the oasis. There were quite a number of troops about, and one

  or two passed fairly close, but no one challenged the intruders.

  Two minutes sharp walk brought them to a clearing, and by this time pandemonium had broken loose. Such was the uproar that Ginger, after the first shock of astonishment had passed, in spite of the seriousness of their position, burst out laughing. Rising above every-thing was the howl of the Spitfires, which were literally skimming the palm fronds at the bottom of each dive. Occasionally they used
their guns, filling the air with streams of tracer shells and bullets. All sorts of weapons came into action on the ground.

  Musketry rolled. Orders were screamed. Men ran, shouting, apparently under the impression that the oasis was being attacked by a superior force. A pom-pom gun, presumably one of the new ones, added its voice to the din.

  'Strewth!' muttered Biggles, 'what a business.' He caught Ginger by the arm and pointed. '

  Look! There's the Rapide. Now's your chance Get set, but don't start up until I join you.'

  As Ginger made a bee-line for the big machine, Biggles, revolver in one hand and parcel under the other arm, darted along the edge of the clearing to where he had last seen the lorries. His satisfaction was intense when he saw they were still there. He ran forward until he was close enough to hear a dynamo whirring.

  Suddenly a man, armed with a rifle, bayonet fixed, appeared in front of him Whether he was a sentry, or merely an odd soldier on his way to the landing ground. Biggles never knew. At first the man took no notice of him, but, unfortunately, as they were about to pass, a star-shell cut a brilliant parabola across the sky, and showed everything in clear white light. Had the man

  gone on Biggles would have taken no notice of him, for he was concerned only with the destruction of the lor-ries; but it seemed that the soldier suddenly recognized Biggles'

  uniform. At any rate, he pulled up dead and shouted, `Wie gehts da ?' At the same time he dropped the point of his bayonet, ready to thrust.

  With a swift movement of his free arm Biggles knocked the muzzle of the rifle aside.

  The cartridge exploded. The blaze nearly blinded him. Before he had fully recovered his sight the man had jumped forward and knocked him over backwards. Biggles fired as he fell, and the man slipped forward like a swimmer diving into deep water. Picking himself up, Biggles looked around quickly, hoping that in the general uproar the shots would not have been noticed. But apparently they had, for a door in the rear of the nearest lorry, which was built in the manner of a caravan, was flung open, so that light streamed out. In the centre of it, peering for-ward, stood a German airman. He was hatless and his tunic was unfastened, suggesting that he was either an engin-eer or radio operator. In his hand he held a revolver.

  Things were not going quite as smoothly as Biggles had hoped, but there could be no question of retiring. The man saw him and shouted something, and without waiting for a reply fired two quick shots, neither of which hit their mark. Biggles took quick but deliberate aim and fired. The man stumbled out of the lorry on to the sand, ran a few yards, and fell. Biggles took no further notice of him, but jumped into the lorry to find it empty.

  As he had supposed, the interior was a compact, perfectly equipped radio station. He unwrapped his parcel. It was not, as Ginger had vaguely supposed, a bomb, or an explosive charge, for the simple reason that nothing of the sort was available at Salima. Biggles had been compelled to rely on fire alone, and he carried in his parcel no more than a large oil can filled with petrol.

  It took him only a moment to remove the cap and splash the contents over the walls and floors of the lorry. He backed to the door, laying a trail of spirit, for he had no intention of being burnt when the petrol gas exploded, as he knew it would when he applied a light. The second lorry stood so close to the first that the destruction of one would be bound to involve the other. Nevertheless, he flung what remained of the petrol on the nearest wall of it, and then, having struck a match, tossed it on the petrol-soaked sand.

  There was a sheet of blue fire, a vicious whoosh, and the first lorry was immediately enveloped in flame. Blue flame dripped from the adjacent vehicle.

  Biggles backed away, watching to make sure that his work had been well done. A minute sufficed to convince him that it had, so he turned and ran towards the prison hut. What was going on in other parts of the oasis he did not know, but the commotion neither in the air nor on the ground had in any way subsided, and that was all he cared.

  When he reached the long hutment that housed the prisoners he found a curious state of affairs. It appeared that the prisoners, alarmed or excited by the uproar, had crowded outside the hut to see what was going on. As they were not tied up this was possible, although in the ordinary way they would have been intimated by the sentries, who were always on duty. The sentries were, in fact, still there, two of them, brandishing their rifles and shouting in an attempt to chive the prisoners back into their quarters. When Biggles arrived on the scene, the prisoners, talking excitedly, were just moving back into the hut, although they still tried to see what was going on, hoping, no doubt, that British troops had arrived to rescue them.

  One of the sentries saw Biggles coming at a run, shouted something, and levelled his rifle. Biggles swerved and the bullet whizzed harmlessly past him. Before the man could fire again, Biggles' gun had spat, and the man fell. The other sentry turned and ran, shouting for help. Biggles stopped and addressed the prisoners tersely.

  'Keep your heads,' he said. 'I'm trying to get you away. Stay together and follow me.'

  'Well, strike Old Harry!' cried a voice. 'Isn't that Biggles?'

  Biggles stared at the speaker and recognized Freddie Gillson, the Imperial Airways captain of whom he had spoken, and who he had often met at Croydon.

  'Hello, Fred,' he said. 'You're the very man I want. Can you handle a Rapide?'

  should think so,' replied Fred, grinning. brought one here—that's my machine they've got.'

  'Fine! We're going home in it—I hope,' snapped Biggles. 'Keep close to me. Make for the cockpit as soon as we reach the machine. A lad of mine is inside, but he may not know for certain how everything works. You take over. Come on.'

  Biggles turned and ran towards the Rapide, which he could not see, although he knew that it was only a hundred yards or so away.

  The prisoners followed, and it looked as though they would reach their objective unmolested. But this was not to be, for, although Biggles was not to know it, the aircraft stood in full view of a spot which had been manned by German paratroops who were lining the fringe of the palms overlooking the landing ground in order to resist the attack which they supposed was being launched. Even then the escapers nearly succeeded in getting aboard without being noticed, for it seemed that the Nazis were concerned only with what was in front of them. Fred had already entered the Rapide, and the others were crowding in behind him when, by a bit of bad luck, one of the German soldiers happened to look round. Even then, possibly because he was a new arrival, he appeared not to understand exactly what was going on. For a moment he just gazed without any particular interest. Then he seemed to realise that something was wrong. He ran a few paces towards the Rapide and then stopped, staring, evi-dently trying to make out just what was happening. Suddenly he understood and let out a yell.

  'Inside everybody—quick!' shouted Biggles.

  keep

  them back. Don't wait for me. Get off as fast as you can.'

  So saying, Biggles ran a little way towards the end of the line of German troops, who by this time had turned towards the scene, and dropping into a fold in the sand opened fire with his revolver. He reckoned that another minute would see all the escapers in the aircraft, and his action was calculated to gain just that amount of time. And in this he was successful. Before his fire, the Germans, thrown into some confusion by so unexpectedly finding themselves enfiladed, ducked for fresh cover, and by the time they were in a position to do anything the Rapide's engines had come to life; the big machine began to move slowly towards the open ground, its airscrews flinging dust and palm debris high into the air.

  This was the moment for which Biggles had waited. There was no longer any point in remaining, for it was not his intention to be left behind. Jumping to his feet he made a dash for the cabin door, which had been left open. Several shots were fired at him, as he knew they would be, but there was no way of preventing this. The Rapide turned a little, presumably to help him, but the result was a blinding cloud of dust right in h
is face.

  Instinctively he flung up an arm to protect his eyes. At that moment a rifle cracked, but he did not hear it. Something inside his head seemed to explode in a sheet of crimson flame that faded slowly to utter blackness. He pitched forward on his face and lay still.

  Chapter 15

  Abandoned

  Probably only one man of all those in the vicinity saw Biggles fall—Ginger, who from the cockpit had seen his perilous position, and had dashed to the door to cover his retreat.

  Biggles, as he fell, was hidden from the Germans by the clouds of dust torn up by the churning airscrews. In the general rush, those in the machine were too concerned with their own affairs to look outside. What had happened was this.

  Ginger had found the Rapide and reached it with surprising ease. Germans were all around him, but not one took the slightest notice of him, this being due, no doubt, to the uproar, which at its worst appeared to produce a state of panic. Entering the cockpit he made a quick survey of the instruments and then proceeded to put the machine in a condition for a quick start-up and take-off. This occupied him for some minutes, during which time he was left quite alone, although there was nothing remarkable about this.

  There was no reason why the Germans should suppose anyone was in the air liner. This done, he was able to turn his attention to what was going on outside. The dominant feature was a fire of sufficient size to throw a lurid glow over everything. Through the dancing shadows of the palms, cast by the leaping flames, he could see figures moving, most in ones and twos. There was as yet no sign of Biggles, who, he realised with a glow of satisfaction, had succeeded in his first object—the destruction of the Nazi power station.

  After two or three minutes had elapsed he saw, not without consternation, that German paratroops were lining the edge of the oasis uncomfortably close to his position; but there was nothing he could do about it. Shortly afterwards he made out a little crowd running towards the Rapide, and knew that Biggles had managed to secure the prisoners.