Philly
It felt very strange to be back behind my desk at Bletchley Park again.
My head was still full of images of the extraordinary team at Cadix and the chatter of Polish voices: Marian’s patient tones as he showed me a method he was working on to break a new code; Henryk’s uproarious laughter as he poured another round of drinks; Janina’s gentle words of hope for a peaceful future for her unborn child as she watered her herb garden in the courtyard.
It was all so vivid, and at the same time it felt like another slightly unreal world, a world overshadowed every minute of the day by the threat of deportation and execution.
Dilly Knox was absent when I was asked to report to the Cottage again. I briefed his trusted assistant, Mavis – the woman in the twinset and pearls – and a man who simply introduced himself as ‘Commander Fleming, Naval Intelligence Division’.
I told them everything I’d managed to glean during my stay at Cadix and they took copious notes.
I relayed Marian Rejewski’s insistence on the importance of the police messages, building up that chilling picture of the deportations to camps in the east. And finally I passed on the message he’d given me on that last evening, stressing its importance: ‘He says to look at the radio traffic in and out of a place called Peenemünde. Something is being built there. Something of great strategic significance. Large numbers of Polish workers have been sent to a factory there, they have it on good authority.’
Commander Fleming raised an eyebrow and nodded. ‘That’s helpful,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Miss Buchanan. We’ll make sure this information gets through to those at the very top.’
As I left the Cottage, I asked Mavis, ‘How is Mr Knox?’
She shook her head, her eyes filled with sadness. ‘Not very good, I’m afraid. But he still insists on working. I’ll be visiting him at his home tomorrow. He’ll be very interested to hear everything you’ve brought back from your mission.’
‘Please pass on my best wishes to him. If you think that’s appropriate?’
She smiled. ‘I will. He’ll be glad to know you’re home safely.’
Then the door shut behind me and I made my way back to Hut 8.
It was only years later, in the 1950s, when I read a book called Casino Royale about the escapades of a Secret Intelligence officer called James Bond, that I recognised the author’s photograph.
The man I’d met in the Cottage that day was 007’s creator, Ian Fleming.
And I couldn’t help but wonder just how much inspiration for the characters of Vesper Lynd and Miss Moneypenny he’d drawn from his encounters with women like Mavis and me while he was working at Bletchley Park.
As the summer wore on, my work continued to keep me as busy as ever.
Alan asked me to help work with him on a new project, working with a different team in a section code-named Fish, on a code which they called Tunny .
This was a new method of coding employed by the German army, known as the Lorenz cipher.
Lorenz was even more complex than Enigma – messages were coded using machines that had twelve rotors instead of Enigma’s three or four – and while the Fish team at Bletchley were developing powerful machines to help break the code, Alan had devised a system of calculating mathematical probabilities to help shorten the process of working out the rotor sequences.
We christened the new system Turingery .
It reminded me a little of the methods the Polish team at Cadix were using, meticulously working out mathematical approaches to decoding the Morse-based radio messages they were intercepting there.
I was glad to think the techniques the Poles had shared with me during my stay might have helped inspire his methods again.
Alan’s determination to solve every fresh challenge the German codes could throw at us continually impressed me and I could see how his colleagues held him in the highest esteem. He had a truly brilliant mind.
Our work was all-consuming, but on my precious days off I was able to see Ben a few times.
Now that I knew better, I noticed that his own leave coincided with the two-week periods either side of the new moon, when the night skies were too dark for the Lysander missions to fly.
I tried not to let on to him that I’d been to France, conscious that the details of that trip were so highly classified.
But one hot August day we packed a picnic and walked along the canal and the river to Great Brickhill, where we stopped for a drink in the Old Red Lion.
As we sat eating our fish-paste sandwiches, I couldn’t resist saying, ‘How is Jim Elliot these days?’
It took Ben a few moments to register and then he shot me a look of astonishment.
‘How do you know Jim?’ he asked. I made no reply, just took a sip from the glass of cider I’d been enjoying and smiled enigmatically.
I could see the cogs turning in his mind as he worked it out.
‘No,’ said Ben. ‘You didn’t ...? I knew there’d been a special mission a few weeks back . .. That surely wasn’t you, was it?’
‘I’m afraid it’s classified. If I told you, I’d have to kill you,’ I joked.
He reached for my hand, shaking his head. ‘What an astonishing woman you are, Philly Buchanan.’
I smiled and kissed him. ‘And what an astonishing man you are, Ben Delaney. You and your Lizzies, flying in and out of Tangmere. It’s quite an operation you Special Ops boys have going on there.’
He was quieter as we walked back along the river to my digs. When it was time for him to go, he held me for a long time beside the holly bush at the gate. ‘You will take care, won’t you,’ he whispered, burying his face in my hair.
I tipped my head back to look right into his eyes. ‘Don’t worry, most of my days are spent sitting behind a very safe desk. But I promise I will,’ I said. ‘Just as you must. I couldn’t bear to lose you, you know.’
‘I’ll always be yours, Philly. By the dark of the moon and the light of the sun, remember?’
I nodded. ‘I’ll always remember.’
And I stepped back and watched as he kicked the starter pedal of his motorbike and disappeared down the lane, raising his hand in a final salute. He didn’t need to look back to see if I was watching. He knew I would be.
Summer became autumn and the leaves in the grounds of the Manor turned from red to gold, then tumbled to the earth, forming a thick carpet on the bank surrounding the lake. I was walking there after lunch one day when a soldier in a sergeant’s uniform approached.
‘Miss Buchanan.’ He spoke tersely, unsmiling. ‘They said I might find you here. Would you come with me, please?’
I followed him into the main house and down a corridor to an office.
It was the room where I’d signed the Official Secrets Act on my first day at Bletchley Park.
I glanced at the leather-topped desk, half expecting to see the revolver still lying there, but it had been replaced by a pile of papers, stacked tidily beside an inkwell and a blotter.
I didn’t recognise the man sitting behind the desk, and he didn’t introduce himself, but I could tell from the rows of gold braid on the sleeves of his jacket that he was a General.
He peered at me over the top of his gold-rimmed spectacles and gestured to me to sit on the chair across the desk from where he sat.
He glanced down, consulting the sheet of paper he held in his hands, then back up at me.
‘Miss Buchanan,’ he said. ‘We have received a somewhat unusual request from our people in France. I understand you are familiar with the chateau where the French have given refuge to a team of Polish agents?’ He paused, waiting for me to nod, then continued.
‘We have need of your services once again. Our intelligence suggests the Germans may soon be taking over Vichy France as a result of ... well, suffice it to say some significant developments. So it has become a matter of some importance now that the residents of Cadix leave as quickly as possible and we would like to offer them a new home in Britain. We’ve communicated this to our French counterparts, but unfortunately they do not share our sense of urgency.
They want to hang on to the Poles, but we need them here in Britain.
It has been suggested that a direct approach by you might be able to persuade them – the Frenchman known as Bolek, and the leaders of the Polish team – that they need to leave as quickly as possible. ’
He paused, searching my face to make sure I understood the gravity of the situation. I returned his gaze steadily, giving a brief nod.
‘They should make their way to Spain by whatever route possible and our people will meet them there, facilitating their transport out,’ he continued. ‘Could you do that, do you think? Would you be prepared to go back and deliver this message to them in person? It is vitally important.’
I didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes, sir,’ I said.
‘Very good. In that case, if you are prepared to leave right away, we have a car waiting.’
I was a little thrown by the immediacy of the arrangements. When he said it was urgent, he clearly meant it. But I stifled my qualms and said again, emphatically, ‘Yes, sir.’
‘You’ll go tonight. Everything you need for the trip will be provided, and you’ll be fully briefed.
I think you know the drill by now.’ He stood and extended his hand to shake mine, dismissing me.
‘Thank you, Miss Buchanan. You’ll find the sergeant waiting for you at the front door. He’ll show you to the car.’
My day had begun like any other, but it ended with another journey to the airfield at Tangmere.
The light was just beginning to fade as we drew up in front of the cottage and the moon was visible in the darkening sky.
It was past its fullest, starting to wane.
There would only be a few days left this month when the Lysanders could fly.
But then if I was just going to deliver the message and persuade the Poles to pack up and leave as quickly as possible, I supposed it would all be over and done with quickly and I’d be collected in a day or two’s time.
The door of the cottage opened, and Major Bertram beckoned me in. ‘It’s good to see you again, Miss Buchanan. Or should I say, Eveline,’ he said. While his smile was warm, there was a tension behind his expression as he led me to the Ops Room and began my briefing.
The map was dotted with more pins than the last time I’d seen it, denoting an increase in the areas defended by flak cover.
The corridor along which the planes could get through had definitely narrowed in the past months.
The Captain noticed me scrutinising it. ‘Yes,’ he said.
‘As you can see, the challenges haven’t got any easier.
But then I suppose that’s why you’re here.
Things are hotting up, and not just across France.
’ He frowned. ‘We haven’t had the time I’d have liked to prepare for this mission, but we know it’s important.
You’ll only have a day to liaise with the team at Cadix and we’ll be back to pick you up the next night, before the moon window closes.
We can bring two additional passengers on the return flight, so you may wish to ask the Poles to prioritise those who need to leave the soonest. The others will have to take their chances getting out via Spain, where it will be easier for us to extract them in greater numbers. ’
I thought of Janina, along with Jakub and their unborn baby. Would they qualify as priorities? Or would it be more important to extract the group’s leaders, like Marian, Henryk, Antoni ... how would they decide?
Just then the door of the Ops Room opened, and Wing Commander Elliot walked in.
‘Hello again,’ he said, his tone matter-of-fact as he pulled out a chair and joined us at the table.
Once more I was both disappointed and relieved that it wasn’t Ben who’d be flying the mission.
The map clearly showed how much more dangerous these flights were now.
But then I realised it probably only meant Ben would be flying somewhere else over Europe.
I imagined all the Special Duties pilots flying the Lizzies would be busier than ever these days.
Major Bertram handed me a thick envelope.
‘There’s money and papers in there,’ he said.
‘To help them get out of France. And here are the briefing documents for them, with details of an agent they should liaise with in Spain. If they can make it across the mountains from France into Spain, we can do the rest. I can’t stress it too highly – although it probably goes without saying – if you’re caught you must find a way to destroy this information. You understand that, don’t you?’
I nodded, then glanced across at Commander Elliot. He, too, was looking at the map on the wall, a slight frown creasing his brow.
Major Bertram stood. ‘All right then, Eveline.’ He placed an emphasis on the name, reminding me of my role.
‘If you go upstairs to the first room on the left, you’ll find the things you need.
Clothes, papers and so on. The ones you had last time.
You won’t need to take anything else, other than that.
’ He nodded to the envelope he’d given me.
‘You’ll be extracted tomorrow night. Thankfully, the weather is set fair so at least we have that on our side. ’
‘Right-o,’ said Commander Elliot, getting to his feet in turn. ‘I’ll go and get our Lizzie checked over and ready for the off then. See you back here for supper and then we’ll leave around ten-ish.’
In the bedroom upstairs, beneath the timbered eaves of the cottage, my fingers shook as I did up the buttons of the woollen jacket and tied my bootlaces.
This mission felt horribly less well-prepared than my last, and the timing was tight.
I pulled back a corner of the blackout and peeped out of the window.
Over the wall, above the airfield, the waning moon was rising, just visible in the darkening sky.
I settled the blind back into place and took one last look in the mirror.
Eveline stared back at me, her face pinched and pale.
But her expression was determined, and I gave her a little nod before I turned away, tucking the envelope into a leather satchel that had been provided with the clothes and going downstairs to try to force down a little supper. It was going to be a long night.