A dozen desks were lined up in three rows of four, and on top of each one was an odd-looking black machine. Next to them were thin rolls of paper and the wall was lined with filing cabinets.
In the corner Lieutenant Andrews sat a desk, tackling a mountain of paperwork. He looked up, smiled and waved Ellie over.
‘Florry’s in charge of the women and she reports to me. You’re in very capable hands but should you need assistance, just let me know.’ He returned to the paperwork and Ellie went back to Florry.
‘You’re right, it’s all business now,’ whispered Ellie.
Incandescent lights dangled from rafters, giving the room the feel of a rundown newspaper office. It should have been depressing but a buzz of excitement shot through Ellie. She was in the heart of something so momentous and important that it had to be kept secret from the rest of the world. Florry was right, this was a privilege.
Ellie took a closer look at the strange machines that had a typewriter keyboard with a big black box behind it and cylinders on either side.
‘Are these TypeX machines?’ asked Ellie.
‘Yes.’ Florry motioned for Ellie to take a seat at a desk then sat down beside her. ‘Welcome to the communications hub for signals intelligence. The job of Australian Number 11 Cipher Section is to send and receive messages from the Government Code and Cypher School in Britain. We also communicate with Arlington Hall in the United States and the Fleet Radio Unit in Melbourne—FRUMEL for short—another signals intelligence unit. Then there’re outposts in places like India and we have signals stations up north like Darwin and Townsville.’
Ellie looked at the clock on the wall.
‘It’s on Greenwich Mean Time,’ said Florry.
‘Because of the … was it the Government Code and … Cypher School? In Britain?’
‘We call it Bletchley Park. Much easier. And yes, in this room we work on British time.’ Florry patted the machine. ‘And these are what we use to encrypt the messages we send and decrypt the ones we receive. A lot of what we get are Japanese or German messages that have been intercepted and translated. We monitor where the enemy is and what they’re saying to each other. This helps the Allies do what they need to do.’
Ellie stared at her friend. ‘Is that what we’re doing here? Breaking codes?’
‘We’re doing cryptography, which is encrypting a message so someone who doesn’t have a key can’t break it. And we’re also deciphering the codes that come in.’
‘We have these keys?’
‘Yes,’ Florry nodded towards the booklets the women were working with. ‘We get these every day and need to figure out the keys. When we have those, we program the TypeX machines for each message.’
‘Every message has a different key?’
‘It all depends on where the message has come from or where it’s going to. There’s also cryptanalysis, which is when the operator doesn’t have a key and they need to figure out how to get into the message.’
‘We’re spies?’
Florry frowned and leaned in close. ‘We don’t use that word.’
Ellie took a closer look at the keyboard. Just above it was a flat sheet of metal with a small arm to hold loose pages in place. Behind that were two reels with thin white paper tape that fed into the cylinders that sat either side of the keyboard.
‘What are these?’ Ellie pointed at the thin wheels exposed at the bottom of the cylinders.
‘Each wheel has the letters of the alphabet and there’s five wheels in each cylinder. One reel prints out plaintext and the other prints ciphertext. There’s also a scrambler inside. And you use these’—she pointed to a lever—‘to switch to decipher or encipher, depending on what you need to do.’
‘What about these?’ Ellie pointed to a bunch of yellow wires in the front right-hand corner of the machine.
‘You don’t need to worry about those but this’—Florry touched the small black metal box with silver holes in it—‘is where we program in our key with these metal half-rings. See how there’s a letter beneath each hole?’
‘Yes.’
‘One end of the half-ring will go in the hole like so.’ Florry put the metal horseshoe-shape in the hole marked B. ‘Then we put in the other end in the combination needed for the key. For example, it might be Q and we do it like so.’ Florry put the other end in Q and it created a perfect arch between the two letters. ‘And there’ll be a combination of more letters to unlock the key. Don’t worry, you’ll learn quickly.’ Florry ran her fingers along the keyboard. ‘The Germans have a machine called Enigma and the British have broken its code.’
‘They have?’ Ellie stared at the TypeX. ‘This is a whole other world.’
‘And now you’re in it,’ Florry grinned. ‘So, the Enigma needs at least two operators but we only need one with our TypeX. Needless to say, it saves a lot of man—or woman—power. And this beauty has very tight security so there’s no chance the Germans or Japanese can break our system.’
‘No chance?’ She tried to keep the scepticism from her tone. ‘If we broke the Germans’s codes surely the Japanese could break ours?’
‘Not if we’re careful.’
‘Do the Japanese have their own version of TypeX?’
‘It’s a Type B Cipher Machine. Nicknamed Purple. That’s all I know.’ Florry put a sheet of paper on the copy board. She used her pencil to point out the five columns. ‘The codes are written in batches of five letters. For example, here’—she pointed to the first column—’we might find JGIRM. Then in the second column, the next code in the sequence might be KBWOH and so on. We work through these methodically and the printout—depending on whether we’re encoding or decoding—either goes up to the house or is sent to different posts, some of them overseas.’ Florry looked at Ellie. ‘The number one thing is accuracy.’
‘Got it.’ Ellie nodded, trying to take it all in. Letters, puzzles, accuracy … no wonder the selection test was complicated.
Florry picked up a message next to the machine. ‘Here’s one that needs to be decoded. We figure out the key, put that into the machine then we type this message in. Once we have legible words we strip the message of filler text and ensure it gets to the right person in a timely manner.’
‘Filler text?’
‘At the beginning and end of every message is filler text. It can be something as banal as the weather, a cousin getting married … it doesn’t matter. The real message lies within and we use five Qs to signify the start of the actual message and its end. For example … The bird sat in the tree QQQQQ A Japanese plane has been spotted one hundred miles north of Darwin QQQQQ My dog eats coconuts.’
‘But wouldn’t those trying to break our code know that the real message is between all the Qs?’
‘No. When someone at Bletchley Park sends a message like the one I just mentioned, the TypeX operator types in the message and the machine scrambles the letters. When the receiver uses their key to decrypt the message, it becomes unscrambled. If, Lord help us, this message got intercepted by the enemy, they wouldn’t make head nor tail of it unless they had one of our machines and the right key.’
‘Is that possible?’
‘It hasn’t happened as far as I’m aware. Look, I haven’t figured all the ins and outs, but believe me, it works brilliantly.’
‘Got it.’ Excitement rushed through her. ‘Thank you.’
‘For?’
‘For putting me forward for this job.’
‘Let’s see if you thank me at the end of the week once your head is exploding with too much information and you’ve been living at the barracks.’ Florry winked. ‘Seriously, though, with Japan now asserting more control over the Pacific, we need to increase personnel. If we don’t, we could miss an important message and our country will suffer more than it already has. Look at what’s already happened in places like Sydney.’
‘It’s hard to forget,’ said Ellie.
Ellie remembered that day clearly when she’d heard the Japane
se had flown over Sydney Harbour and submarines had entered the waters. Darwin and Broome being bombed was scary enough but knowing the enemy had made it as far south as Sydney had come as a shock and a stark reminder the Allies couldn’t become complacent.
Ellie looked at the women bent over their desks, working like their lives depended on it—which they no doubt did. ‘I’m ready to give this my all.’
‘I knew you would.’ Florry nodded at the machine. ‘Let’s get to it.’
Ellie stepped out of the garage and sheltered her eyes from the midday sun. Although it wasn’t a particularly warm autumn day, the garage had become steamy. And to think she’d thought the hangars were as hot as hell …
‘Hello.’ Lillian sat in the courtyard under a tree. ‘How are you finding it?’
‘Complicated.’ Ellie joined Lillian on the grass. ‘Also, very interesting.’
‘It’s a lot to take in but when it clicks’—she snapped her fingers—‘it will become second nature. Our cipher office has only been doing this for a couple of weeks but we’re all coping. Although it is a matter of have to.’
‘True,’ said Ellie. ‘And I thought my old job servicing planes held massive responsibility.’
‘Well, it is rather important to keep planes in the air,’ said Lillian. ‘This work is just as crucial. No room for error.’
‘I can see why.’ Ellie nodded towards the back door of the house. ‘What goes on in there? And why here?’
‘Nyrambla is halfway between MacArthur’s office in the AMP building in the city and Eagle Farm airport where the intercepts and other messages are flown out or brought to us.’ Lillian pointed at the mansion. ‘Have you been told we can’t go in there except for the kitchen and toilet that has been set aside for AWAS use?’
‘Yes. Why is that?’
‘The men work in the main part of the house. There’s traffic analysis and other departments all in signals.’
‘I hope this doesn’t come across the wrong way,’ she paused, ‘but why do we have to work in the garage?’
‘It’s just the way it is.’ Lillian seemed resigned. ‘Also, the men don’t live in barracks like us, they’re in hotels and houses.’
‘Why’s that?’
Lillian shrugged. ‘Men’s barracks are always big so maybe they figured it’s easier to keep those from Central Bureau separate so there’s no chance of anything slipping.’
‘Good morning, ladies.’ A tall, auburn-haired man in an Australian Army uniform walked around the corner.
Lillian scrambled to stand. Ellie got up too.
‘Corporal Wesley, this is Sergeant O’Sullivan, our newest recruit.’
‘Welcome aboard, Sergeant O’Sullivan.’ His smile was the kind that instantly put people at ease, although it did have Lillian blushing.
‘Thank you, Corporal Wesley.’
His smile dazzled Ellie once more. ‘Would you mind if I have a word with Sergeant Carter?’
‘Of course,’ Ellie said. ‘I should head in anyway.’
Ellie walked towards the garage then glanced at the corporal and Lillian. Dapples of sunlight danced across them. Lillian concentrated on the ground then the corporal put his finger under her chin. Their eyes met and Ellie quickly ducked inside, not wanting to spoil their moment.
Returning to her machine, Ellie started work on an intercept from Darwin with Florry watching over her shoulder. A few minutes later Lillian quietly entered the garage and sat at her desk, put her head down and got to work.
Ellie returned her attention to the task at hand. The keyboard was hard to work and she had to press each key with force. But she got there and processing the messages got faster. Soon she had a stack ready to be despatched—to where, she’d never know.
‘Great work, Ellie,’ said Florry. ‘I knew you’d be a natural.’
Corporal Wesley entered the garage and spoke with Lieutenant Andrews, who hadn’t left his desk all day. Lillian and the corporal exchanged a brief smile then she concentrated on her machine once more.
‘I see there’s a blossoming romance.’ Ellie said quietly as she tilted her head in Lillian’s direction.
‘Ah, yes,’ said Florry. ‘She only met Sam last week and they’ve already been to the pictures twice.’
‘Sam?’
‘Corporal Wesley.’ Florry looked at Ellie. ‘Any gentlemen knocking on your door?’
‘No.’ Ellie said firmly. ‘And I am fine with that.’
‘Good,’ said Florry. ‘I’m not saying you can’t go out with anyone. However, I suggest that if you do, there’ll be times when you’re tempted to share details about your life. I don’t care what stories you make up, just make sure it’s never the truth about Central Bureau.’
‘I understand,’ Ellie said. How many times did Florry need to tell her?
‘I know I harp on about it … why are you smiling?’
‘I was just wondering how many times I’ll be told not to say anything.’
Florry rolled her eyes. ‘Sorry.’
‘I promise I will never breathe a word about Central Bureau until the day I die.’
Florry said, ‘Not even after.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ellie pegged her uniform on the clothesline strung between two huts. Although she’d only moved to the barracks a few days ago, it hadn’t taken long to get accustomed to the basic living conditions. After each shift Ellie would return to the barracks, drag her weary body and mind to the hut, then collapse on the hard bed. She’d fall asleep easily, but the darkness was always punctuated by the same dream—she stood in the street as the skies above roared with enemy planes, acrid black smoke choking Brisbane. Sparks of light flashed across the darkened skies, destroying buildings, debris exploding in all directions. Maimed and lifeless bodies were strewn through the streets. And this carnage, this devastation, was her fault. All because she’d missed a vital clue in one of the messages she’d decrypted.
She would wake with a start, her body soaked in sweat, her pulse racing. And each night she’d convince herself it wasn’t real, it was only a nightmare, but the feeling never fully left her, even in the bright light of day. So she’d go to the garage and begin another shift filled with anxiety.
Ellie put the leftover pegs in the tin bucket hanging at the end of the clothesline. Nearby, Vivian Jones, the quietest member of Ellie’s section, sat under a tree reading a book. Being a fellow bookworm, Ellie didn’t interrupt, but when the moment was right, she hoped to get to know Vivian better.
‘Can I interest you in a spot of shopping?’
‘Pardon?’ Ellie whipped around to find Joy holding a large canvas bag in her hand. She set it down and crooked her finger at Ellie, who peered in.
‘Look at these silk stockings—very nice quality.’ Joy opened the bag further. ‘And perfume. You can’t get it in the shops here. And’—she half-pulled out a purple box—‘these chocolates are the sweetest you’ve ever tasted.’
‘Where on earth did you get these?’
Joy looked around, but no one was paying attention as they were busy chatting and painting nails or doing each other’s hair in the late afternoon sun.
‘Contacts,’ she whispered. ‘American.’
‘Won’t you get in trouble for this?’
‘Not if you don’t tell.’
‘Of course, I won’t,’ said Ellie, pleased she had Joy’s trust. Like everyone else, Ellie had got used to making do with what she had and what she and Mrs Hanley could grow. But now, with the lure of silk stockings, delicious chocolate and French perfume, her commitment to austerity for Australia waned slightly. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to examine the products a little more closely …
‘Ellie!’ Lillian rushed over and Joy quickly zipped the bag. Lillian laughed. ‘You need to be less obvious, my friend.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Joy slung the bag over her shoulder and sauntered back to her hut.
‘You have a phone call,’ said Lillian.
‘Thanks.’ Ellie hu
rried over to the rec hut where the phone was located. Picking up the receiver she said, ‘Hello?’
‘Today is Friday.’
‘That is a correct assumption, Mr Dutton.’
‘What are you doing tonight?’
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘Come with me to the Trocadero.’
‘I don’t know …’ She stretched the muscles in her neck. ‘It’s been a really busy week and—’
‘And you need to have some fun.’ She could picture his bright smile and the twinkle in his eyes.
‘Don’t think your charm works on me, Mr Dutton. I am immune.’
‘I will see you and Kat at eight this evening. Bye!’
He hung up.
Ellie entered Trocadero Dansant with Louis on one arm and Kat on the other. Even though it hadn’t even been a week since she’d moved out, Ellie had missed Kat and Mrs Hanley immensely.
‘This is incredible.’ Kat took it all in, her eyes wide.
‘It is rather special,’ said Ellie. ‘Thanks for asking us along, Louis.’
‘It is my pleasure. Besides, who am I to pass up the opportunity to have two beautiful women in my company?’
Ellie groaned and gently punched her friend. He grabbed his arm, his face creased in pain. ‘You should take up boxing.’
‘You should stop being ridiculous,’ she said with mock seriousness.
‘What is it with you two?’ Kat asked.
‘What?’ Ellie and Louis said in unison.
‘You both carry on like five-year-olds the second you get together.’
‘She started it,’ said Louis, playfulness shining in his eyes.
‘Yeah, well, he deserved it.’ Ellie pouted and crossed her arms just like when they were kids and she’d been blamed for whatever dastardly deed Robert and Louis had done.
‘You’re as bad as each other!’ laughed Kat then her expression turned serious. ‘It would have been nice if Mrs Hanley had come along.’
‘Why didn’t she?’ asked Ellie.
‘Air-raid warden patrol.’
‘Ah, yep, she certainly does enjoy telling people off for not complying to brownout regulations. Heaven forbid someone forgot to tape their blinds properly.’
The Codebreakers Page 6