Algy and the Rescue Flight: Chapter 2. Under Fire

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. 

Not for nothing had Algy fought in two wars and been named air ace by several leading flying magazines. Even before Dusty’s cry of dismay rang out, he had already thrown the plane over on its own length and was whirling to face his attacker.

He thanked his lucky stars that there were bullets in the Auster’s guns, left over from their recent mission in the Bahamas. “There’s a machine gun in the back somewhere,” he shouted to Barnes, who was staring, white-faced, at the plane bearing down on them. “Try to find it and see what you can do.”

Barnes nodded and turned away.

“What do I do?” demanded Dusty.

“Sit still and keep your head down,” advised Algy. The lad couldn’t have been much older than twenty-five, and Algy felt a mild pang, wondering what it was that had prompted Dusty to join the secret service at such a young age. “Best keep him out of it as much as possible,” he thought to himself. “Barnes can handle the shooting.”

He could hear the chatter of the gun behind him as Barnes began firing. Algy’s lips set in a grim line as he scanned the sky in front of them. Another plane was fast approaching, and judging from the bullets that spurted from its guns, it was more foe than friend. “Confound it!” snapped Algy. “Where the dickens did they all come from? And why are they shooting at us?” He winced as bullets struck the machine.

“They must have seen you pick us up,” said Dusty, who, following Algy’s advice, was staying down and keeping out of everyone’s way as much as possible.

“This paper of yours must be worth its weight in gold,” muttered Algy, throwing the plane into a steep bank in an effort to dodge some bullets.

“It is that, and more,” replied Dusty grimly. “They already killed one of us, don’t forget. I don’t think they’d be squeamish about killing some more.”

“Wonderful,” said Algy. “Strewth! That was close! Two can play at that game.” Clenching his teeth, he took the closest plane in his sights and fired a rapid stream of bullets.

His aim was good. Black smoke erupted from the plane as it seemed to crumple in on itself. Algy did not wait to see the inevitable ending. He swung the Auster around and went for the second attacking plane with all the agility of a fox chasing a rabbit. He was angry now, the blood boiling in his veins. He had never been the kind of person who turned the other cheek in a fight.

The pilot of the other plane seemed to be flustered by this sudden change in tactics, for it throttled back and ceased its fire.

Barnes let out a whoop of relief. “We’ve won! Look at him run!”

“Don’t celebrate yet,” warned Algy. “If I know anything about it, it’s just waiting for backup. Let’s get out of this while the going’s good. They might call up an army, and I’m not prepared to fight a war single-handedly.”


Algy kept a vigilant eye out for trouble, but no further planes appeared as he sped along towards France. It had been decided, albeit after a prolonged period of heated debate, that they would land in France before traveling on to Latvia.

The main reason for this was petrol. Although Algy estimated that there was just enough to get them to their destination, there definitely was not enough to get them back again, even if the rest of the mission was relatively trouble-free. Also, he felt the need to acquire additional weapons, for he could see that if things continued to escalate, he would be more than thankful to have a gun in his pocket.

Barnes was initially against the stop, insisting that the document in his pocket was of vital importance and had to be delivered within the next forty-eight hours.

Eventually, it was Algy who won, for he was the one who was flying the plane, and he declared that he was not prepared to fly behind the Iron Curtain without enough fuel to get back. “It’s risky enough as it is, without adding the possibility of running out of juice.”

Algy radioed ahead and sent Marcel a request for weapons. These arrived promptly five minutes after the machine had come in to land. Marcel himself was working on a case, and so he did not put in an appearance.

The trio barely had time for a quick bite to eat and a cup of coffee while the machine was refueling. Algy had to snatch time to put a call through to Air Police headquarters in London. Biggles was not yet back in the office, and so Algy had to be content with leaving a brief message with Ginger.

The sky was growing dark as the three men clambered back into the Auster. Marcel had been kind enough to include some maps of the general area with his delivery of weapons, and these Algy went over carefully before taking off, heading for the Iron Curtain.

He was tired, running on adrenaline and a hasty-drunk cup of coffee. A quick glance behind him revealed that both Barnes and Dusty were asleep. He felt a slight pang; it would have been nice to have someone to talk to. More than anything else, it would have helped him keep awake.

Night had well and truly fallen as he drew near the Curtain. He felt more alone than he had ever felt in his entire life, flying into enemy territory with only lone stars for company, not knowing when or if he would be coming back. His heart constricted slightly in his chest, and then, with an effort, he pulled himself together and set a course for his chosen landing ground, on the outskirts of Riga.


Algy woke Dusty and Barnes up when the landing ground came into view. “Better brace yourselves,” he advised them. “The ground looks all right from up here, but you never know what might happen. Landing in unfamiliar places is always tricky.”

He judged his distance and flattened out in preparation for landing. Even before his wheels had touched the ground, however, he sensed that something had gone wrong.

The Auster lurched like a live thing under his hands, and for a nightmare ten seconds he thought that he had misjudged the distance to the ground, but it did not take him long to realize that things were in fact, much, much worse than that.

“The ground’s trapped with wires!” he snapped to the others, desperately fighting the controls in an attempt to keep the plane steady, even though logically he knew there was nothing he could possibly do. “Hold on!” he grated, through gritted teeth, as the plane upended itself violently, the controls wrenching themselves from his hands.

Algy was conscious of being thrown around the inside of the plane as if he were a handful of confetti. His head collided, hard, with one of the Auster’s windows. He heard the sound of tinkling glass nearby. He felt something warm sliding down the side of his face, and without thinking he put a hand up and touched it. “Blood,” he murmured vaguely to himself, as he saw the red staining his fingertips.

There was something he had to do, he could feel it urgently trying to surface from the back of his mind. “Got to—” he muttered. “Got to get—” It was a losing battle, and in another second he had lost it. His eyelids fluttered closed as if of their own accord, and the world went dark around him.


  1. 'There was something he had to do, he could feel it urgently trying to surface from the back of his mind. “Got to—” he muttered. “Got to get—” It was a losing battle, and in another second he had lost it. His eyelids fluttered closed as if of their own accord, and the world went dark around him.'

    And I thought you loved Algy, Soppy. I hope there is a rescue mission in tge offing.

  2. Dear me, Soppy. You have missed endangering Algy haven't you? The poor bloke doesn't know what he's got into.

  3. Well, it's Chapter 2, *something* has to happen to him, or there wouldn't be much point!


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© The Algy Chronicles
Maira Gall