‘I’m not going to pretend that I know much about it, but it seems to me that if the Huns are going to mass their squadrons—as apparently they are—we shall have to do the same or else be wiped out.’ Biggles, having ventured an opinion for the first time since he joined the squadron, glanced up, half-expecting a remark about his inexperience.
‘He’s right!’ exclaimed Mabs emphatically. ‘I’ve been saying the same thing for the last month. Richthofen, they say, has grouped three squadrons together, including all the best pilots in the German Air Force. And, whether he has or not, we know for a fact that he’s sailing up and down the Lines with thirty triplanes1 tagged on behind him. Who’s going to face that bunch? Who’s going to take on that little lot, I’d like to know? What chance has an ordi
