After Dunkirk

by Lee Jackson

  45

  London, England

  The head of MI-6, Brigadier John Menzies, stared coldly around the room. Present with him were Lord Hankey, Major Crockatt, Paul, Jeremy, Claire, and Commander Alastair Denniston, deputy head of the Government Communications Headquarters at Bletchley Park. All looked serious, but Jeremy was also bewildered.

  Menzies first glared at him. “You, Lieutenant,” he said, his voice high-pitched and cracking. “I understand you’re at the center of this discussion. Please explain.”

  Startled, Jeremy uncrossed his ankles and stood up. He wore a new uniform supplied by Crockatt. “Sir, I don’t know what the subject matter is, who you are, or why I’m here. Forty-five minutes ago, I received an order from Major Crockatt to be present for this meeting. Aside from that, I’m in the dark.”

  Menzies studied him. “You’re that officer who was rescued by the Oronsay, aren’t you? The one who saved the little boy?”

  Jeremy nodded. “I suppose I am, sir, but I hardly—”

  “Save your modesty,” Menzies interrupted irritably. “Please wait outside in the next office.”

  Feeling his ears turn hot with humiliation and the eyes of everyone in the room following him, Jeremy rose and exited, closing the door behind him.

  When he had gone, Menzies looked around at the others. “Is there anyone else who claims to be unaware of what we’re here to talk about?” When no one spoke up, he continued. “I brought you here by request of and in deference to Lord Hankey.” He scowled. “Understand that I could have frog-marched each of you in here in handcuffs and leg chains. Bletchley Park’s security has been breached. That risks one of our most closely guarded secrets, which so far is our greatest hope for victory. How and why did the breach take place, and how do we contain the damage?”

  He looked around at each face, his anger evident, and then spoke directly to Denniston. “I would like you to remind the people in Hut 6 at Bletchley Park that it is their job to intercept German communications and decode them. It is not to translate and analyze them or recommend action based on them. Is that understood?”

  Denniston coughed and threw a look at Claire. “I’ll deal with it, sir.”

  Menzies fixed his cold gaze on her. “I understand that you are the source of the breach.”

  “She is not, sir.” Paul stood. “I knew about the purpose at Bletchley independent of her.”

  His discovery of Bletchley’s major role in the war effort had been accidental, although given his job at MI-6, he surely would have learned about its secrets sooner or later. That special section belonging to MI-6 was home to the band of cryptologists and codebreakers, and to Enigma, the cypher machine used by the German army to generate code that was supposed to be unbreakable. Using an Enigma given to British intelligence by Poland just before their own German invasion, not only had the staff at Bletchley Park broken the code, but they also did it at such speeds that they read virtually every message emanating from German high command and its field units. Indeed, it was such messaging that had alerted Churchill to the need and opportunity to evacuate at Dunkirk.

  Menzies leaned back in his chair, clearly angered by the interruption. “Please explain, Lieutenant, concisely.”

  “I work in your organization, sir. I read and analyze lots of intelligence. While I was not specifically authorized to know about the goings-on at Bletchley, if I did not know about it, that would mean I am not doing my job thoroughly, because I would have missed the documents that are associated with my work.”

  Without changing expression, Menzies broke in. “Hmmm. We’ll have to talk about that later. I take it that you are an analyst?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you have any other aspirations for the duration of this war?”

  With a glance at Crockatt and mindful of the major’s pending offer, Paul replied, “I had thought I might transfer to one of the fighter squadrons. I hear they are in desperate need of pilots, and flight school is not very long these days. I’m already a licensed pilot.”

  Menzies scoffed. “Well you can get that idea right out of your head. You know too much about Bletchley. You won’t be allowed out of the country for the duration of the war. We can’t risk your being shot down and captured. Too much is at stake. You’ll be lucky if I don’t have you prosecuted and ask for the death penalty.”

  Paul listened with dismay and a sinking heart. He glanced again at Crockatt, whose expression remained blank.

  Hankey stood, looking impatient. “Lighten up, John. You’re not going to hang anyone in this group.”

  Menzies shifted his eyes, shielding his surprise with a deadpan expression.

  “We’re all loyal subjects here,” Hankey continued. “I agree, though, that this young lieutenant cannot be put in a position in which he could be captured, tortured, and thus jeopardize exposure of Bletchley.”

  “That’s policy,” Menzies interrupted. “No exceptions.”

  “Yes, well, let’s get to the heart of the matter, shall we? What is pertinent is the information that Miss Claire retrieved, not how she got it. It’s germane to all of our missions. The secrets of Bletchley need not be endangered.”

  Menzies sniffed. “Go on.”

  With occasional input from Crockatt and Paul, Hankey told the pertinent parts of Jeremy’s story, dwelling on the particulars of how Ferrand Boulier had saved his life and those of many other British soldiers and French citizens.

  At his conclusion, he said, “The only breach of Bletchley in this instance is that Miss Claire highlighted significant information, which, to my mind, she should have done. She went through channels. In doing so, she shed light on something none of us had yet realized, that the very type of network we wish to establish is growing up of its own accord in northern France. We should capitalize on that.”

  Claire held her breath, feeling the hard scrutiny of Menzies’ stare.

  “You broke the code for those particular messages?”

  Claire squirmed uncomfortably. “Yes, sir.”

  “The decoded messages are in German,” Menzies snapped. “How did you know what they contained?”

  “I studied German in school, sir. We all did. Me”—she glanced nervously at Paul—“and my brothers. We’re all fluent in it. My mother saw to that. She lived in Germany for a while, picked up the language, and wanted us to know it.”

  Appearing somewhat flummoxed, Menzies turned to Denniston. “Did you know that?”

  Denniston shook his head. “I knew she speaks French. She grew up on Sark Island, but I didn’t know she also knew German.”

  Menzies directed his next question to Claire again. “Didn’t you ever tell anyone?”

  “No one ever asked,” she replied. “I was recruited because I play the piano. Musicians make good decoders—something about the discipline involved.”

  For a moment, Menzies just stared at her. Then he grunted and waved his hand. “Sark, eh? Sorry we couldn’t do more down there.”

  Without waiting for a response, he turned his attention back to Denniston. “She went outside of channels.”

  “To a member of your own staff.”

  “Then how did it get to MI-9?”

  “I did that, sir,” Paul broke in. “From my view—”

  “The view of a lieutenant,” Menzies growled.

  “Yes, sir,” Paul replied. “May I continue?”

  Menzies assented with an impatient nod.

  “I regard Major Crockatt as a mentor. I wanted advice on getting the matter in front of you as quickly as possible. Lives hang in the balance, particularly those of Mr. Boulier and his daughters. If we are to believe the communications, Bergmann is after not only the family, but also the network that Boulier established.”

  “I’m sure you feel very self-righteous in your assessment,” Menzies fired back, “but let me clue you in on an aspect of Bletchley so that you rein in your propensity to take independent action.” He poked a finger in Paul’s direction. “We’ve let co
nvoys of ships be attacked when we could have sent messages that would have saved them. We’ve let attacks go forward against our forces when family members of our staff and close friends were in jeopardy. Some were killed. Do you have any clue about why we would do that?”

  Aghast and confused, Paul shook his head.

  “The Germans think their code is unbreakable. They change the setting each morning, but they use it every day. What do you think they would conclude if suddenly, every convoy they assaulted or every objective they attacked was abruptly and miraculously met and defeated by our forces?”

  “I’m not sure, sir.” Paul still reeled from what he had just heard. “I suppose they’d guess we had their code.”

  “Exactly, and what would they do?” Without waiting for a response, Menzies continued. “They would change it. We expect the activity at Bletchley to shorten the war by two years. It’s taken us a long time to get to where we can decipher volumes of encrypted messages and do it rapidly.

  “Have we played God and sacrificed lives? Yes. I freely admit that. But we’ve saved many more thousands than we’ve lost, and ultimately, the lives saved could be in the millions.” He glanced at Claire, his eyes piercing. Ferocity tinged his voice. “And we only allow our brightest and most trusted codebreakers inside the huts at Bletchley.”

  Claire squirmed but remained silent. Paul broke the discomfort. “Sir, I don’t know what to say.”

  Menzies was not finished. “Her job is to decode, not translate and analyze what’s received. We have other departments for that.”

  “Which missed it altogether,” Hankey broke in sternly. “We have an opportunity to support an established network, and a high price possibly to be paid if we don’t take it.”

  Menzies peered at Claire in silence. She held his stare a moment, and then dropped her eyes.

  He shifted his view and scrutinized Paul. Finally, he addressed Lord Hankey again. “You feel strongly that this network in northern France is one that should be preserved, if possible?”

  “My sense is that it probably is, but none of us is informed well enough to give a reliable response. We can say that it is one of the first to form, and to date, it is one of the most effective. Failure to preserve it could discourage others from becoming active.”

  “I see,” Menzies said. “Major Crockatt?”

  “I concur.”

  Menzies sat quietly, his anger dissipated, alone with his thoughts. “What do you think should be done about it?” He alternated his view between Hankey and Crockatt. “Neither of your sections is even up and running yet.”

  The lord and the major started to speak at the same time. Crockatt deferred to Hankey. “Your calling this meeting preempted discussion before we could fully analyze the situation,” Hankey said, “but we’re talking about saving the Boulier network. Doing so would advance our combined missions by preserving a proven asset. If in the process we rescue the family, so much the better. If anyone deserves to be rescued, they do.”

  “And what about my point that neither MI-9 nor SOE is operational yet?”

  “That’s only a matter of filling positions in both organizations,” Hankey said. “Our missions are defined, the hierarchy established, and we are now in recruitment and training phase. Besides, this is a war. The enemy didn’t wait on our convenience or when we were fully prepared to launch their attack.

  “We have the assets. I know that you, that is MI-6, are in touch with new groups forming in the south of France, the very ones who alerted us that young Jeremy Littlefield was on his way here. He sits just outside the door because of them, and he’s left wondering what the bloody hell is going on. They already know him and trust him.”

  Hankey stopped talking, a look of realization dawning on his face. Glancing across at Claire, he saw an expression of horror in her eyes. She held her hand in front of her mouth to throttle a gasp. Standing next to him, Paul sucked in his breath.

  “Are you suggesting that we send that lieutenant back in there?” Menzies asked. He too seemed taken aback at the implied suggestion.

  “I suppose I am,” Hankey replied, “although I hadn’t had that notion before I said it. He’d have to volunteer, of course.”

  A pall descended over the room. Menzies was the first to speak.

  “Essentially what you are proposing,” he told Hankey, “is to send a battered evader from Dunkirk who has not yet recovered back into the combat zone to conduct a potential suicide mission. He’s untrained, and he’s emotionally attached to an objective that’s different than the one you propose. That’s what this boils down to. He’s after saving that family, and you want to save the network. Succeeding in one might preserve the other, and his support would come from two sections of British intelligence that are not yet operational. Is that accurate?”

  Hankey did not immediately speak, but then he bobbed his head. “You’ve sized it up, John, although with the assets at your disposal, I expect that you’ll provide whatever additional support we need. Is that accurate?”

  Menzies’ eyes narrowed, but he nodded slightly.

  “This mission can serve as a signal to the Free French that we fully intend to support them throughout this war,” Hankey added.

  Claire fidgeted while the discussion took place. She suddenly blurted, “No.”

  All eyes shifted to her. “You can’t ask him to go back in. You saw him. He still looks wretched from what he’s been through.”

  Silence.

  “He’ll go,” Paul said quietly.

  Attention switched to him. He looked across at Claire. “You know he’ll go. We won’t be able to keep him away. He already knows something’s up, and he’ll put two and two together. Lord Hankey is right. He’s the key to overcoming the trust factor, and for that reason alone, he’s the best man to go. If we wait longer, the Bouliers could be dead, and their network demolished.”

  The room remained quiet for a few moments, broken again by Menzies. “The prime minister will want to know about this mission. It won’t go forward without his approval. We’ll have to mount a simultaneous disinformation campaign to protect Bletchley as a source.” He looked across to Claire, and his expression softened. Then he spoke to Paul. “Bring him in, and let’s hear what he says.”

  A knock on the door interrupted the discussion. When it opened, a clerk hurried in and handed a note to Menzies. He read it quickly and dismissed the messenger.

  “Gentlemen, Miss Littlefield,” he said, “if we are going to do anything, we’d better move. We just received word from Marseille. Bergmann just made his first arrest.”

  Twiddling with a pencil, Menzies looked directly at Claire. “I have one more stipulation for securing my cooperation.”

  46

  Jeremy’s reappearance before the group assembled in John Menzies’ office was short and concise. Paul had gone to the door and summoned him. As he entered, Claire made her departure. She turned her face as she passed by him. Neither brother sat down.

  “Lieutenant Littlefield,” Menzies said, directing his gaze at Jeremy, “I understand all the particulars. Your brother can fill you in. I have one question for you: would you volunteer to go back into France to save the Boulier network?”

  Without hesitation, Jeremy replied, “I would do anything for the Bouliers. When can I leave?”

  Menzies broke a rare smile. “I appreciate your zeal, but you need to understand a subtlety. The objective is not to save the Bouliers, although if you succeed, that is a likely outcome. Your mission would be to keep the network intact that Mr. Boulier put in place and that helped you and others escape and evade across France. Is that something you’d agree to do?”

  “Without hesitation, sir. How soon can we get underway?”

  Menzies remained silent for several moments and then turned to Crockatt. “Major, this mission falls in your purview. I won’t speak for Lord Hankey, but I suspect that if any ancillary blowing-up needs doing, his section will be happy to oblige.

  “I’ll
get to the PM, brief him, and request priority across the services. The mission must leave no British fingerprints. To save the viability of Bletchley, it should look like a purely French partisan operation. And, you’ll need other backing. For starters, you’ll need air support of some kind to get our man over there.” He indicated Jeremy with a jut of his jaw. “Any questions?”

  There were none.

  “Well, then,” Menzies said, finality tinging his voice as he redirected his attention to Crockatt. “Keep me apprised, Major. I’ll second young Jeremy’s brother, Lieutenant Paul Littlefield, to you for the duration of the mission; I’m sure it would be a distraction to him anyway. All of this assumes that Mr. Churchill approves. I don’t see why he wouldn’t, except that this mission jumps ahead of established plans. You should have your answer before the day is out. I suggest you start work.”

  “I’m not sure I understand the mission,” Jeremy said when he was alone with Paul and Crockatt. “Are we to rescue Ferrand Boulier or not? Has he been arrested?”

  The major responded, “We don’t know, but he might get captured, or even turn himself in to save his friends. Regardless, the network needs to continue to function. You’d normally be considered too close to the issues to be part of the task, except that the participants in France already know and trust you. We don’t have time to formulate a better alternative.”

  “So, what am I supposed to do?”

  “I’ve barely had time to think things through,” Crockatt said. “The first hurdle is getting you over there. Teams are to be structured with a leader, a radio operator, and a courier. The other members joining you are mostly trained, but you’re not, at least not for this specific leadership role. Again, we don’t have time. You’ll have to rely on what you picked up in combat and while evading across France. We need you on the ground there tomorrow night, but even the way we get you in and out of the country has to be worked out.” He smiled sardonically. “You caught us in our infancy. Everything is experimental.”