Breaking Point

Description

Breaking Point, a novel by John Rhodes, tells the story of the Battle of Britain and the men and women who fought it...

It's August, 1940. Hitler's triumphant Third Reich has crushed all Europe—except Britain. As Hitler launches a massive aerial assault, only the heavily outnumbered British RAF and the iron will of Winston Churchill can stop him. The fate of Western civilization teeters in the balance. Johnnie Shaux, a Spitfire fighter pilot, knows that the average life expectancy of a pilot is a mere five hours of operational flying time. Sooner or later his luck will run out. Yet he must constantly summon up the fortitude to fly into conditions in which death is all but inevitable and continue to do so until the inevitable occurs…Meanwhile, Eleanor Rand, a WAAF staff officer in RAF headquarters, is struggling to find her role in a man's world and to make a contribution to the battle. She studies the control room maps that track the ebb and flow of conflict, the aerial thrust and parry, and begins to see the glimmerings of a radical strategic breakthrough…Breaking Point is based on the actual events of six days in the historic Battle of Britain. The story alternates between Johnnie, face to face with the implacable enemy; and Eleanor, in 11 Group headquarters, using ‘zero-sum' game theory to evolve a strategic model of the battle.

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About the Author

Author Name : John Rhodes

     John Rhodes was born in World War II while his father was serving at an RAF Fighter Command airfield in southern England. After the war he grew up in London, where, he says, the shells of bombed-out buildings ‘served as our adventure playgrounds.' Rhodes graduated from Cambridge University where he studied history. After a career in international banking he retired to Wilmington, North Carolina. He has written two (so far) Thomas Ford detective novels and is busy on a sequel to Breaking Point. John's love of history informs his fiction. ‘History is not just something to read about; it has to be felt and touched,' he says. For example, drawing at random from his wide knowledge of English history, he says one cannot understand Elizabeth I, and her decision to remain a virgin (at least officially,) without visiting Kenilworth Castle in Warwickshire and walking in the garden in which the Earl of Leicester tried (officially unsuccessfully) to seduce her. John rues the decline of history as a required field of study. ‘If you don't know where you came from, you don't understand why you're here, let alone where you going to be next.' Reflecting John's search for historical accuracy, the battles in Breaking Point conform to the actual performance specifications of the aircraft, down to the details of their rate of climb and turning circles. He believes there is a difference between historical fiction, in which the reader is presented with a combination of factual information and imaginary fiction; and fantasy, in which the reader knows that what he/she is reading might be fascinating but cannot be true. John grew up in an era when reading was still a major pastime, and he inherited a love of old-fashioned detective stories from his father. His favorite authors were, and still are, Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh, Josephine Tey, Margery Allingham, and in John's words, the ‘immortal Dorothy L Sayers.' Sayers's fictional protagonist Harriet Vane is, John confesses, an architype for his character Eleanor Rand in Breaking Point. It is extraordinary, he thinks, that it was this remarkable group of women, writing in the early and mid-20th century, whose works defined and exemplified the art of the British cozy, combining intellectual and literary skills of the highest order. After many years living on the West Side of Manhattan, he now lives in Wilmington, North Carolina. ‘My traveling days are over,' he says. ‘Now I have the luxury of writing every day.'

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The Mermaid (Part One)

 

The evening was cool

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The moon shone bright

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Naked as love

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Her body so wondrous

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Her hair was entangled

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For legs this beauty

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The End........or is it?




The Mermaid (Part Two)

The man with the tear soaked eyes walked along the beach for the thousandth time. 

 

His hands were shaking and his lips quivering in the cold as he constantly looked out to sea, where was she, would she ever return, would she mend his broken heart.

 

He had but caught a fleeting glimpse of this beauty as she preened herself on that ancient granite rock, and a glimpse was all it had taken as he was now completely besotted by this angel from the deep.


Even now, weeks after the event he could still see every tiny detail of his wondrous vision. 

 

The sparkling blue eyes that outshone the sun, and the kelp entangled hair that glistened with the reflection from the moon. Her heaving breasts that had caused the man in him to want her body for his own sexual pleasures, and that oh so innocent smile that had replaced the pure animal lust within him with a more protective desire to take her in his arms and cherish her.


He had not kept her appearance a secret, he had told everyone he had met, and he had talked and talked and talked. 

 

He wanted to tell everyone about his dream girl, his mermaid from the deep, his beautiful fish tailed siren. 

 

But would they listen to him? The answer was no, a resounding no! 

 

He was laughed at, ridiculed, pointed at and made out to be the village idiot, and all just because he wanted to share what he had seen. 

 

But he didn't care, he would see her again, he knew he would see her again, he had to see her again. Otherwise, well otherwise he would go crazy.


Another tear ran down his face as he once again looked at the vacant rock where his angel had once sat. 

 

He realised that maybe they were right, maybe he was mad, just a demented old fool, someone that had let his dreams overtake reality. 

 

His heart wrenched tear fell to the sand and along with his hopes and dreams soaked into nothingness.

 

He turned away and looked no more. 

 

He must preserve his sanity at all costs. 

 

So he walked away and returned to the boredom of his sad uneventful life.


This meant that he was not there an hour later when a ripple formed in the water, as a dream like beauty pulled herself from the sea and perched on her favourite granite rock. 

 

She looked around, but he was not there. 

 

Maybe it was her imagination but she was sure she had seen love in his eyes.

 

Maybe if she waited he would return.

 

But no she thought to herself, she was being foolish. 

 

She slipped off the rock once more and plunged deep into the dark forbidding sea, back to reality she told herself, back in the water where nobody could see her tears.



The End

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