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!
let 'em alone. By the way, I see that the wind has shifted; blowing straight over our way for a change. All right, finish your report, but let those infernal kites alone,' he added, as he left the room. * 'Write-off.' An aeroplane that was so badly damaged as to be of no further use was officially 'written-off' the squadron books. The expression 'write off' was loosely used to infer the complete destruction of anything. Biggles remained with his pen poised, as an idea flashed into his mind. The
got tried to tell me how it was done when he was blotto—that is, the stick and rudder movements, but I couldn't follow how it worked. I've tried to do it in the air; you saw me trying just now. It's a new sort of turn; just when you get on this fellow's tail and kid yourself you've got him cold, he pivots somehow on his wing-tip and gets you. This lad of mine swore that the man who gets on his tail is cold meat—dead before he knows what's hit him. It sounds damned unlikely to me, but then the
you whichever way you come—oh!—I know. Twin mobile guns'll beat fixed guns any day. I'm not aching to commit suicide, so I let it alone, and that's a fact. There was a rumour that Wing had offered three pips to anybody who got it. Lacie of 281 had a go, and went down in flames. Crickson of 383 had a stab at it in one of the new Dolphins*, and it took a week to dig him out of the ground. Most people keep their distance now and watch archie do its daily dozen, but they couldn't hit a damn Zeppelin
objective on their line of flight. That he himself might be in danger did not even occur to him. He was less than five miles from the house now, and taking desperate chances to race the machines. 'The poor kid'll be scared stiff if they pass over her as low as this.' With every nerve taut he tore down the road. He caught his breath suddenly. What was that! A whistling screech filled his ears and an icy hand clutched his heart. Too well he knew the sound. Boom! Boom! Boom! Three vivid flashes of
land them, according to circumstances. Sometimes they come back; more often they do not. Sometimes the pilot who takes them over picks them up at a pre-arranged spot at a subsequent date. Sometimes— but never mind — that doesn't concern you. 'A fortnight ago such an agent went over. He did not come back. We know, never mind how, that he obtained what he went to fetch, which was, to be quite frank, a packet of plans. An officer went to fetch him by arrangement, but the enemy had evidently watched