By W.E. Johns
Reissued with a gorgeous new hide, this can be the ideal advent to this bestselling sequence for brand new readers.
'Well if you'd like difficulty you could have it!' grated Biggles via set tooth. 'See the way you like this!'
In the later phases of the 1st global conflict Biggles and his fellow fliers need to use all their wit and talent to stick prior to the German opponents so made up our minds to carry them down.
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Extra resources for Biggles of the Fighter Squadron: Number 1 of the Biggles Series
Now not so undesirable! ' he grunted, as he loose his safety-belt, stood up, then stared fixedly in the direction of the still-smouldering fireplace within the a ways nook of the sector. All was once nonetheless. now not a soul used to be in sight. With a frown of sadness, he grew to become casually to experiment the facet of the wooden. The sight that met his eyes surprised him. It was once so completely unforeseen that his mind refused to know the picture mirrored upon it. His jaw dropped, and a frown covered his forehead as he struggled to understand what used to be taking place. Fifty yards away, snugly set within the wooden and camouflaged overhead with synthetic branches of incredible realism, have been the open maws of 3 large hangars. simply inside of them have been the vague outlines of a squadron of bombers. The mechanics clustered round them have been staring in his path in seen amazement. And that was once now not the worst. Racing in the direction of him, and already half-way among the wooden and the Camel, used to be a line of grey-clad German troops, an officer at their head, who, for the reason that he was once now saw, flung up his arm and blazed away with a revolver. A bullet ripping in the course of the 'hump' of the Camel no longer inches from the place Biggles' hand rested, galvanised him into feverish task. He dropped again into his seat with a pant and shoved the throttle open. The Camel all started ahead immediately. immediately forward, a row of timber appeared to rear as much as the sky; it used to be evidently very unlikely for the Camel to transparent them. Biggles swung the Camel around in its personal size and tore again down-wind around the box. He ducked instinctively as a volley rang out as he raced around the entrance of the Germans. The tail of the Camel had lifted and the wings have been taking the load while a scarecrow of a determine leapt from the hedge and flung itself throughout his route to intercept him. instantly the pilot swerved to prevent it. there has been a ghastly grinding, rending crash because the wheels have been swept off and the undercarriage buckled lower than the indirect pressure. The nostril of the Camel bored its approach into the floor, after which, in a whirl of flying propeller splinters, the tail whipped up and over in a whole somersault. because the Camel folded itself up concerning the cockpit, it appeared to Biggles as though the tip of the area had come. For a second he lay nonetheless one of the particles, struggling with to revive his numbed schools, after which, with the complete realisation of the disaster flooding his realization, he struggled like a madman to get unfastened. A flying cord* had braced itself throughout his face, slicing his eye badly, yet he felt no discomfort, and shedding to his knees burrowed like a rabbit lower than the head of the fuselage, which was once now approximately flat at the flooring. He simply had time to get transparent, fling himself sideways, and throw a preserving arm over his face because the petrol from the smashed tank reached the recent engine and exploded with a lifeless whoosh! Swaying from the surprise, he snatched a look over his shoulder. To his horror the Germans weren't greater than 2 hundred yards away, spreading out like a fan to intercept him. * Flying wires–particularly on biplane aircraft–help to carry the wings in place within the air.