The Dark Crusader Chapter 2.

By Sopwith

Disclaimer: I do not own, or claim to own, any of the Biggles series characters used in this work. This fan fiction was written for entertainment purposes only and should not be considered part of the official storyline.

Evan was so nervous that he could not finish his lunch.

Badger grinned as Evan approached the FE he was to fly. “You’re looking pale,” he remarked. “Nervous?”

“No,” lied Evan.

His gunner gave him a friendly clap on the back. “We’re all like that the first time,” he said. “Just keep your eyes on Moore and if we get into a scrap, try to get into a position so I can get some nice shots in.”

“Sounds easy enough,” ventured Evan, mustering up a smile.

“Yes, but not as easy as it looks.”

Captain Moore came strolling towards them. “You Lacey?” he inquired, without a trace of the hostility he had displayed the day before.

“Yes.”

“Good. You’re the only one flying the patrol with me today—Hudd’s had to report sick. Stay to my right and try to keep up. Don’t worry about the archie; it’s never hit anyone. Don’t leave the formation for any reason, understand? Right, let’s get away.” And with that brisk round of advice, the flight commander turned back to his own machine and swung himself into the cockpit.

“He’s in a good mood,” remarked Evan, somewhat taken aback.

“That’s what he’s normally like,” was Badger’s reply. “Come on.”

&&&

Evan tried to pick out landmarks from the ground below as he flew, although he made sure to keep an eye on Moore’s machine so that he would not lose his leader. Badger, seeing what he was doing, helpfully pointed out a river, and a few seconds later, a row of sheds that appeared to be part of another squadron.

The third time Badger jabbed a finger downwards they were over the front-line trenches, and Evan found himself dry-mouthed as he saw the ant-like figures below crawling their way through the mud at what seemed to be impossibly slow speeds.

A black cloud of smoke erupted right in front of the FE’s nose, and simultaneously the machine rocked from side to side like a small boat in an ocean. “What was that?” he muttered to himself, as another impact rocked the plane from somewhere underneath him.

Badger, as if sensing his unease, twisted back to face him with an encouraging grin. “Archie!” he bellowed, and although Evan could not hear the gunner’s voice over the sound of the engine, he could decipher the word easily enough from the movement of Badger’s lips.

So this was archie, he thought, gritting his teeth in frustration as another blast shook the FE. Anti-aircraft gunfire. Despite his flight commander’s hurried assurance that archie never hit anything, it was nevertheless a terrifying experience, made more so by the fact that he could never be sure where the next shell would be coming from. He kept unconsciously flinching as more shells exploded around him.

Thinking about his flight commander made him remember that he was supposed to be following the other FE. He automatically turned his gaze to where he had last seen his leader, but to his astonishment the machine was no longer there, nor was it anywhere close to where it had been before.

Evan stared wildly in all directions, but the FE with the streamers seemed to have vanished into thin air. “Where’s he gone?” he muttered, peeved.

Badger had turned again and was waving to get his attention. Evan looked at him. The gunner pointed at something ahead of them, and, to Evan’s astonishment—for he could have sworn that it hadn’t been there a second ago—he saw to his relief that the plane he had been looking for was right in front of him.

“Where did you come from?” he growled, once again at Moore’s right wingtip. “And where did you go, anyway? Dash this for a fool’s game.”

Badger, who had been staring off to their right, suddenly sat up straighter in his seat.

“Hello,” thought Evan. “Something’s happening.” He too looked to their right, but found nothing of interest.

Badger was looking over at Moore’s gunner, exchanging rapid hand gestures in a ludicrous pantomime of conversation. After about ten seconds of this, he nodded, turned away, and began firing at what looked to Evan like empty air.

In front of them, Moore’s FE was going into a steep dive. Evan looked to Badger, wondering if he should be diving too, but Badger was still busy with his guns and did not even have time to spare a glance for his pilot.

Evan decided that the best thing to do under the circumstances was to follow his leader, but once again, when he moved his eyes to the spot Moore had been mere seconds ago, there was nothing there.

It was probably at that moment that Evan got exasperated of war. How on earth was he supposed to follow a leader who was always disappearing, or fly his plane into a better position for combat if he couldn’t even see any of the enemy planes Badger was shooting at?

The exasperation fast turned to panic as something whanged past him, ruffling his hair and grazing his forehead as it went. Evan automatically put a hand up to his head and was horrified to find blood on his fingers when he took them away. “A bullet!” he thought. “I’ve been shot!”

Further shocks were in store as the FE abruptly lurched underneath his hands. The engine whined like a live thing, and when he glanced to his right he saw that his wing was no longer intact; it seemed to have turned into tattered pieces of fabric billowing in the wind when he hadn’t been looking.

The controls seemed to drop out of his hands.

And then, the engine coughed, cut out, and died.

Go to Chapter 3. 

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