Biggles opened his eyes drowsily as a hand shook his shoulder respectfully but firmly. At the back of his sleep-soaked mind he knew it was his batman1 calling him.
‘Come on, sir!’ said the voice. ‘It’s six o’clock! Patrol leaves at half-past!’
Second-Lieutenant Bigglesworth (Biggles for short) stared at the man coldly. ‘Push off!’ he said, and nestled lower under the bedclothes.
‘Come on, now, sir, drink your tea!’ The batman held out the cup invitingly.
Biggles swung his legs over the side of the bed, shivering as the cold air struck his warm limbs, and took tea.
‘What’s the weather like?’ he asked.
‘Not too good, sir, lot of cloud about, but no rain as yet!’ Satisfied that his officer was really awake, the batman departed.
Biggles stood up and pulled his sweater on. He glanced acr
