The Recruiter - Douglas London
this has been very good - low on detail for operations when recruiting , but enough to get an understandingAn inside look at the CIA over the past few decades, including the agency’s degradation and politicization in the age of Trump.
a fair bit of angst about the way the sh1tshow is run , but like any large corp seems to run the full gamut of competence to fail upward
I basically read this in one sitting as I had the time and it kept me interested
THE RECRUITER | Kirkus Reviews
...The Sweetness of Water by Nathan Harris. A well-written story of an unusual white family in the south immediately after the US Civil War and the freeing of slaves.
Hubert Wilkins: Australian flies blind into eye of an Arctic storm and into history
In the mid-1920s, the well-known South Australian war photographer, traveller and adventurer George Hubert Wilkins conceived the idea that it would be possible to fly a plane from the far northern reaches of Alaska across the top of the world and land in Norway. They said it couldn’t be done and ... on his first two Arctic attempts were proven correct. But on his third, in 1928, things look more promising.
Some 13 hours into their flight now, and completely lost in calculation, Wilkins is startled by a shout.
There it is!
Pilot Ben Eielson is pointing: “slightly to the right and not far – perhaps less than 32 kilometres away – the rugged mountain tops of Grant Land piercing the clouds. It was a fleeting glimpse we had but served to stir deep emotion in our hearts.”
It is a significant moment. They are halfway across the Arctic.
Hubert Wilkins and Ben Eielson preparing for their trans-Arctic flight in the Lockheed Vega plane in March 1928. The New York Times would call it ‘an amazing victory of human determination’ and the journey would earn Wilkins a knighthood.CREDIT:UNIVERSITY OF ALASKA FAIRBANKS
“The real flight of exploration was now over, but we still had 1448 kilometres to reach our goal. We headed straight for Spitsbergen by the sun’s position and the compass.”
From now, every mile they travel is a mile closer to safety, not a mile further away from it, and they relax just a little – at least as much as one can while attempting the impossibly improbable – uniquely alone on the earth with no chance of rescue or respite. “We were cheered immeasurably by the fact that our machine had performed wonders, our engine faithful every moment. Calmly content, I ... quickly summed up the situation.”
“It was 38 degrees below zero in the open air, and we were 483 kilometres from the Pole.”
And at least they are now through the worst of the storm!
They fly on calmly, Wilkins focusing on their course, Ben’s eyes on the prize of the far horizon and his ears keenly attuned to the hum of the motor.
Just three hours later, there is another breakthrough, for again out to their right they see, on the far hazy horizon, what can only be the snow-capped mountains of North Greenland! With that sure fix, Wilkins adjusts their position on the map accordingly – not far, for he is nearly bang on – and they keep going.
Hubert Wilkins takes a break wharfside at Deception Island circa 1928.CREDIT:COURTESY OF BYRD POLAR RESEARCH CENTRE, USA
All else being equal, they now have just 965 kilometres and six hours to go, before they should be in the area of Spitsbergen. But will all else be equal?
When they are still some 354 kilometres miles away from Spitsbergen the high curling cloud masses ahead rise to a height that they cannot get above. And so Ben now starts to dart along “selected lanes between the feathery masses”, while Wilkins takes observations from the brief snatches of sun to determine their position. By estimating their speed and direction, with constant references to his watch, he is able to estimate their longitude.
Travelling in this manner for an hour and a half the good news is that they know they must now be in the vicinity of Spitsbergen. The bad news, however, is that with that proximity comes the possibility of running into that island’s mountains, obscured by the cloud they are still flying through. And if they fly over those mountains, the other danger is, “we might be going too far inland, and would therefore probably have to journey over the mountains on foot to reach the settlement”.
The results of that summation are passed in a note for Ben:
There are two courses open. We are above storm now. Down there we can land and wait until it’s over. Can we get off again? If we go on we will meet storm at Spitsbergen and perhaps never find the land. Do you wish to land now?
Wilkins showing films to Inuit people in the Arctic, Christmas 1913. CREDIT:BYRD POLAR AND CLIMATE RESEARCH CENTRE, OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY.
Ben thinks for a full minute before yelling his reply: “I’m willing to go on and chance it.”
Wilkins smiles. Of course you are, Ben. We are both born chancers.
And so they fly on, their light craft now drained of nearly all of its petrol, flung about by the storm.
“She leaped and bucked like a vicious horse, and to add to it all, fine snow and the wind made everything invisible.”
Everything loose in the cabin begins to tumble and rattle.
Rattled they may be, but nerves give way to excitement when the clouds break and they see them!
“Suddenly two sharp peaks, almost needle-pointed, appeared beneath us.”
They must be ... the mountain tops of Spitsbergen! They have done it! Yes, those same mountain tops are in imminent danger of becoming their grave site but for the moment let them savour the flavour of their triumph. After all, it is no small thing to have made the impossible now possible and both men are near overcome with an elation tempered only by the terror that their reward might be a grisly death, just minutes from now. Yes, they have done what no human being has ever done in recorded history, and near completed the hardest, most dangerous, most improbable flight in history, but the final challenge might be the toughest of the lot – to get this bird safely on the ground, or at least on the ice. Their task is clear: they must now make history and not disappear into it permanently.
Nose down with the engine roaring as they descend, the storm continues to slap and thwack the Vega.
“Eielson, never losing the upper hand, held and guided her splendidly around the rugged mountain tops”. For all that, things remain ferociously difficult.
The wind is so furious and freezing that it is not only turning sea- spray to ice but actually breaking up some of the icy surface below and sending small pieces of it smashing into their windscreen. It doesn’t break, but visibility is shocking and – CHRIST! LOOK OUT! – it is only through Ben’s furious concentration and quick reflexes that they miss another mountain peak, which suddenly appears, by what surely must have been inches!
This is madness, and Wilkins is quick to signal his pilot to immediately head back out to sea at once. It is only minutes later they can see the mountain they missed. Heading in once more, towards the island, and into the storm, much the same thing happens with another mountain that had been obscured by the storm!
“We were like an imprisoned bird beating against a window pane.” The risks, great as they are, must be run. They head into the storm and towards land, Eielson flying entirely at Wilkins’ direction.
The windscreen of the Vega is almost “totally obscured with snow and frozen oil”, but through the small patches of visibility they do have, the ice, land and sea, all look ... angry.
“The ice-strewn water and the wind were furious, while spray was whipped from the sea and filled the air. Over the land the snow drifted high and thick, and it was therefore impossible to judge distance.”
One way or another they have to get down, and quickly. Desperately looking left and right out the cabin windows, Wilkins sees it.
It is a single smooth patch of white snow. It is their one chance.
How does one steer a blind pilot?
By instinct of precisely where he thinks that flat white snow is, and with note and note after note, frantically written in just legible haste: “Turn right. Now to the left. A bit more. No, we have passed it. Turn back. Keep as close to the land as possible. There it is on the right.”
Australian explorer and war photographer Hubert Wilkins.
Eielson takes just a glance at each note before instantly responding, throwing the plane through trough after trough of heavy wind, even as he brings her down and turns her into the wind to attempt a landing on that white handkerchief of snowy ice. It looks tiny, but ideally both the snow and the wind will bring her to a quick, tight halt. Wilkins presses his face hard against the window pane, aching to see the first sign of safety or danger, will the surface be jagged ice or smooth? Will they crash or land? “It was impossible for Eielson to see but with steady nerve braced for all eventualities he levelled the ship and lowered her gently until lost in the swirling snow.” There it is!
And it looks . . . smooth enough.
Unbelievably, Ben feathers her down for the landing of his career. Both the thick snow and the wind coming straight at them indeed stop her cold before she can break against the mountain or a snowbank.
“Such was Lieutenant Eielson’s skill that the machine stopped 30 yards (27 metres) after the skis touched the snow.”
Simply radioing their position to the waiting world is not possible as, alas, when landing in extremis, Wilkins had forgotten to wind in the aerial cord and it had sheared off. Apart from that, when it comes to the radio itself, one of its valves has burnt out. He and Ben know they are alive, but what the rest of the world must think, who knows?
Now, after carefully brushing all the snow off their clothes, they can rest, eat and drink at leisure even while the wind continues to buffet them with every gust, and they gratefully chomp down some dry biscuit, chocolate and pemmican, chased down by one gulp each of the still hot coffee in Wilkins’ thermos. Together with a smoke to calm their nerves it gives both men a chance to reflect on their extraordinary achievement.
They have flown 22 hours and 20 minutes.
Coast to coast, non-stop, over the Arctic, 3540 kilometres, the first men in history to do it. And, yes, it had taken it out of them.
“We had to fight,” he will recall. “Fight every inch of the way, anxious, uncertain, never quite helpless but ever against tremendous odds. We had, as we sat in the plane, reached a position of safety not only for ourselves but for our plane.”
Peter FitzSimons new book The Incredible Life of Hubert Wilkins.CREDIT:HACHETTE AUSTRALIA
This is an edited extract from Peter FitzSimons’ book The Incredible Life of Hubert Wilkins published by Hachette Australia and released on October 27.
Hubert Wilkins: Australian flies blind into eye of an Arctic storm and into history
Warning: Be cautious if you are a fragile pink
Umm...are you reading it?
Any opinion on it?
That's what this thread is about.
There are quite a few previous examples of how to post here, if you're still not clear.
It's a kind of a nice hideaway from ham fisted copy pastes, in my opinion.
Because...books.
Errm, yes. Try reading the title of the thread.
Early days, but so far so good.
thanks for that clarification. You know, in case I didn't realise.
Ta. I'm good. but you are a really helpful fellow.
Your opinion is noted.
Don't get too excited, because...dickhead.
Clearly you are missing the love, eh? Do you need some attention, Cy? Surely FaRT gives you plenty, just learn to enjoy that because I am a) not that loony and b) not particularly interested.
After a year and a half I finally finished my Gerald Seymour novel yesterday... and it went straight in the bin. I hate to throw away a book but I'd been reading it so long all the pages were falling out - I guess the glue had broken down in the heat of the tropics - and several pages had blown over the side of the helideck into the sea.
Anyway, this freed me up to read The Complete Angler by Isaac Walton. I love fishing and have been meaning to read this for ages... it was first published in 1653 and I thought I'd maybe pick up some old tips for catching the pla nin in my pond.
God this was hard work... it's all written in oldy worldy English and written like a play. I've never previously given up on a book before getting to the end of Page 1, but this wasn't what I was expecting at all.
It certainly wasn't a relaxing read after a 12 hour night shift...
Stick with it, you'll son be fighting with David44's posts
So far, I have never bothered with audiobooks. I've enjoyed listening to books on R4, but never bought one. I never get quite so involved with an audiobook.
Anyway, I did buy Troy in the end, found it during my last minute shopping before trip to Thailand. It's a bit too engaging, feels more like you are back at school having to learn something rather than a book to relax over.
I brought The Guest List with me and read it in a couple of nights, much easier when I'm not working, but it was still disappointing.
I also bought The Man Who Died Twice, by Richard Osman. This is just nice, much like The Thursday Murder Club, which I posted about before. It reminds me of my mum and her little circle of friends, lovely humour and sweet reminders.
The Imperial Cruise: A Secret History of Empire and War
- by James Bradley
"In 1905 President Teddy Roosevelt dispatched Secretary of War William Taft, his daughter Alice, and a gaggle of congressmen on a mission to Japan, the Philippines, China, and Korea with the intent of forging an agreement to divide up Asia. This clandestine pact lit the fuse that would-decades later-result in a number of devastating wars: WWII, the Korean War, and the communist revolution in China."
Available on loan from:
Internet Archive is a non-profit library of millions of free books, movies, software, music, websites, and more
Internet Archive: Digital Library of Free & Borrowable Books, Movies, Music & Wayback Machine
Most books you will ever want to read or "listen" to. 1 day to 15 day loans available and a very easy to use search engine - book name, author.
Or your favourite vendor.
A tray full of GOLD is not worth a moment in time.
...Afterparties by Anthony Veasna So, a deceased second-generation Cambodian from California...a series of short stories about the difficulties of assimilation into US culture and the shards of Cambodian culture transported to the US...engaging prose...
One of the few threads on Teakdoor that is guaranteed to be free of Chico.
I'm not normally one for fiction or, at least, I never used to be, but I find myself with the urge to lose myself in a good crime thriller when holidays come around.
Jo Nesbo is my go-to man for this and I have just stumbled upon every book of his that somebody sent me a while ago (and I had missed).
Merry Christmas indeed.
I quite enjoy Bryson and Theroux; totally different styles though.
Rereading Our Vietnam: The War 1954-1975.
Twenty-five years after the end of the Vietnam War, historian and journalist A. J. Langguth delivers an authoritative account of the war based on official documents not available earlier and on new reporting from both the American and Vietnamese perspectives. In Our Vietnam, Langguth takes us inside the waffling and deceitful White Houses of Kennedy, Johnson, and Nixon; documents the ineptness and corruption of our South Vietnamese allies; and recounts the bravery of soldiers on both sides of the war. With its broad sweep and keen insights, Our Vietnam brings together the kaleidoscopic events and personalities of the war into one engrossing and unforgettable narrative.
"Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect,"
The Maid by Nita Prose
Written in the first person about Molly the Maid and the mystery death of a guest. Molly is alone in the world and lacks social skills, easy prey to put the blame for murder.
I ended up liking this book more than I expected from the first chapters. I thought it was well written too.
They look like widely accepted assertions* to me, since they are recurrent themes in so many works concerning the Vietnam War, for example 'A Bright And Shining Lie'.
*about as close as we can get to 'facts' regarding wars.
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