Читать книгу Biggles in the Baltic. A Tale of the Second Great War - W E Johns - Страница 3

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As the momentous words ‘England is now, therefore, in a state of war with Germany’ came sombrely over the radio, Major James Bigglesworth, D.S.O., better known as Biggles, switched off the instrument and turned to face his friends, Captain the Honourable Algernon Lacey, M.C., and ‘Ginger’ Hebblethwaite. There was a peculiar smile on his face.

‘Well, that’s that. It looks as if we are in for another spot of war flying,’ he murmured with an affected unconcern which did not deceive the others, who realized full well the gravity of the situation.

‘Seems sort of unreal, as if something which you thought had only been a dream had suddenly come true,’ remarked Algy quietly. ‘What are we going to do about it?’

Biggles shrugged his shoulders. ‘For the moment—nothing,’ he answered. ‘This isn’t the time to go worrying the Air Ministry. They know all about us; no doubt they’ll send for us as soon as they’re ready. As far as we personally are concerned, we have this consolation: we do at least know something about the job—I mean, war flying—and that gives us an advantage over those who don’t. We had better stand by in case the Air Ministry tries to get into touch with us. I only hope they’ll let us stick together and not send us to different squadrons. I——’ He broke off as the telephone bell shrilled. ‘Hello, yes,’ he went on, answering the call. ‘Yes, Bigglesworth speaking—right you are, sir, we’ll come right along.’ He replaced the receiver. ‘I’ll give you one guess who that was,’ he said drily.

‘Colonel Raymond,’ suggested Algy softly.

‘Quite right. He’s already back at his old job on Air Intelligence. He wants us to go along and see him at the Air Ministry right away. Call a taxi, Ginger.’

‘Bringing us here doesn’t sound as if we’re going to an ordinary service squadron,’ remarked Algy suspiciously, as they entered the Air Ministry and took the lift.

‘We shall soon know,’ returned Biggles briefly, as he knocked on the Colonel’s door.

Colonel Raymond gave them a smile of welcome as he rose from his desk and came to meet them. ‘Glad to see you all looking so well,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’ve got a job which I fancy should suit you down to the ground.’

‘Not too suicidal I hope, sir,’ grinned Biggles.

The Colonel indicated three chairs. ‘I would not call it suicidal, although I’m not going to pretend that it’s likely to be all plain sailing. If it was I shouldn’t waste you on it, you may be sure. At a time like this we need our best men for special jobs.’

‘I presume that you are willing to come back into the service?’ inquired the Colonel.

‘What about Gin—I mean Hebblethwaite? He hasn’t been in the regular service yet.’

‘If you take on the job I’ll see that he is gazetted as a pilot officer right away.’

‘Good,’ nodded Biggles. ‘What’s the job, sir?’

Colonel Raymond pointed to a map of Europe that nearly covered one wall of his office; its varnished surface was decorated with drawing-pins of different colours, each marking a point of strategical importance. ‘I need hardly say that what I am going to tell you must be treated in strictest confidence,’ he said earnestly. ‘One careless word might undo the work of months. Incidentally, Bigglesworth, I may as well tell you that you were earmarked for this particular job months ago; in fact, it would hardly be an exaggeration to say that the job was specially created for you. What I mean is, had we not known someone capable of handling it we should hardly have dared to formulate such a dangerous plan.’

The Colonel picked up a long ruler and indicated on the map the area of ocean separating northern Germany from Scandinavia. ‘Here is the Baltic Sea,’ he continued, tracing the coastlines of Germany and East Prussia. ‘You will readily perceive that anyone operating in these waters would be within easy striking distance of enemy country.’

A puzzled look came over Biggles’s face. ‘But the Baltic is Germany’s own sea——’ he began.

Colonel Raymond held up his hand. ‘Not entirely,’ he argued. ‘Germany does, more or less, control the Baltic, but other countries have an interest in it—Lithuania, Latvia, Finland, Estonia, and the Scandinavian countries. You may say, naturally, that they are all neutral. Quite right, they are, and it would be a serious matter if the neutrality of these countries were violated, either intentionally or accidentally. I am now going to let you into a secret so vital that its importance could hardly be exaggerated. Some time ago, perceiving that war might not be averted, we took the precaution of acquiring from one of the countries I have named an uninhabited island so small as to be negligible. Its name is Bergen Ait. It is in fact no more than a mass of rock, quite useless for any commercial purpose. Nevertheless, it embodies a feature that made it worth the large sum of money we paid for it, although here I should say that no one outside the countries concerned is aware of the transaction—that the island is British property, entitling us to use it as a base. It is remote, and in normal times I don’t suppose anyone lands on it year in year out. Naturally, being so small, it could not easily be defended against enemy forces, so its only value to us lies in its secret chamber. The special feature to which I referred just now is a cave that has been worn into the very heart of the rock by the action of the waves. This cave is large enough to house several aircraft. You will now begin to see what I am driving at.’

‘I understand,’ replied Biggles quietly. ‘The idea is to establish a base right on the enemy’s doorstep, so to speak?’

‘Precisely. From this base raids will be launched on military objectives, some of which have already been decided on, places which could not very well be reached from England or France. We have been preparing this depot for some time. The aircraft are, in fact, already there, as well as other equipment likely to be required, all ready for “Z” Squadron—as we have decided to call it—to take over. I need not describe the equipment in detail now, but in case you wonder—if you go—what the skis are for, I must tell you that in winter the sea is often icebound, and the squadron will be frozen in. For the rest we shall have to rely on the Commanding Officer to use his initiative in dealing with the difficulties and dangers that will certainly arise—events that are impossible to foresee.’

‘How is this officer going to get there, since the Baltic is, anyway, at this moment, controlled by the German fleet?’

There is only one way—by submarine,’ replied the Colonel calmly. ‘The submarine will land the party there—and leave them there.’

‘I see.’

‘You understand that the job is essentially one for volunteers; you needn’t take it on if——’

‘I don’t think we need discuss that, sir,’ interrupted Biggles.

‘Good. I knew you wouldn’t let us down. Make a list of the personnel you think you will be likely to require and I will arrange with the Admiralty for under-water transport. Don’t take more men than is absolutely essential. The fewer there are the longer the stores will last.’

‘One question, sir. I imagine the base is equipped with radio?’

‘It is.’

‘That means we shall get orders from time to time?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are we to confine ourselves to these operations, or am I at liberty to take action on my own account—always assuming that such action is, in my opinion, worth the risk involved?’

Colonel Raymond was silent for a moment or two. ‘That’s a difficult question to answer,’ he said slowly. ‘Naturally we are anxious to preserve the secret of the base as long as possible, but if I said “no” to your question it might mean losing a chance to strike a vital blow at the enemy. I shall have to leave it to your judgement. But if you do take on anything on your own account the responsibility will be yours.’

‘That’s fair enough, sir,’ agreed Biggles. ‘Are there any special instructions?’

‘There are, but I can’t give you them now. You’ll sail under sealed orders, and receive instructions concerning them by radio when you have established yourself at your base. When is the earliest you can start?’

‘Now, sir.’

Colonel Raymond smiled. ‘That’s a bit too early for me. To-day is Sunday; I will arrange for you to embark on Wednesday morning. We’ll have another chat before then; there are one or two minor points I shall have to discuss with you. There is one thing ...’

Biggles waited.

‘Frankly, I think it is certain that sooner or later the enemy will discover your hiding-place,’ continued the Colonel, his eyes on Biggles’s face. ‘You may last three months—a month—or only a week; it depends upon how things fall out. We must do the best we can with the time at our disposal. As far as we know, the German Intelligence Service has no suspicion of what is afoot, but one can never be quite sure. Bergen Ait is no great distance from Kiel, where an old acquaintance of yours is in charge.’

Biggles raised his eyebrows. ‘An old acquaintance? You don’t by any chance mean——’

‘Von Stalhein. Erich von Stalhein—no less. He was bound to be given an important command.’

Biggles smiled faintly. ‘Von Stalhein, eh?’ he murmured reflectively. ‘You know, I’ve almost got to like him. He hasn’t had the best of luck in his encounters with us——’

‘It is to be hoped, for your sakes, that he doesn’t have the best of luck this time,’ said Colonel Raymond seriously. ‘He has old scores to wipe out, remember. He’s your worst enemy, and an implacable one. If ever he catches you——’

‘We shall have to see to it that he doesn’t,’ put in Biggles lightly.

‘That’s the spirit,’ agreed the Colonel. ‘Well, that’s all for the time being. I’ll let the Air Chief Marshal know you’re going. You ought to be able to do the enemy an immense amount of mischief before he finds you out.’ The Colonel held out his hand. ‘Good luck.’

‘We shall do our best, sir,’ promised Biggles.