Between Silk and Cyanide (70 page)

This reluctance was a new factor because by now Gravy had become 'one of us', but we could no longer talk freely in front of him as the OSS had begun a joint operation with C. We knew that its code-name was Sussex, and that it was an Intelligence-gathering operation taking place in France, but that was the extent of our knowledge, and we hoped that the Germans were equally illinformed.

Gravy had called in to report on his recent inspection of Milton Hall, the Jedburgh training school which was staffed by British and American instructors (by mutual consent, for once genuine, it was under the overall command of the British). He dealt first with the Americans' reaction to the Jedburgh code-book.

Careful to stress his admiration for the way in which it reduced the effects of Morse mutilation, he said that many Americans had complained that looking up the phrases they needed and then copying the code-groups on to one-time pads was 'one hell of a performance', and they wanted to encode their messages straight on to onetime pads without using the code-books. Did we agree?

I replied that it would be perfectly safe for them to do this, but if they had long messages to transmit the code-book would greatly reduce their length and allow them to get off the air quickly, a major consideration at all times, especially on D-Day. We agreed that they should be given the option.

He then said that 'all Jedburghs, not just the Americans' found double-transposition 'heavy going' and that most of them questioned if they'd ever need to use it.

I pointed out that if they didn't know how to, they'd be unable to use WOKs, which would enable them to pass another 200 messages safely. Nor could they use poems, which would be their last chance of communicating if they lost their silks. Heavy going or not, there could be no compromise on this.

He at once changed the subject, and shot a series of questions at Nick which seemed so unrelated to Signals problems that I indulged in an iodoform-brood.

He wanted to know why British instructors placed so much emphasis on the cutting of telephone wires. Surely it was equally important to destroy bridges and railway lines, attack ammunition dumps and make roads impassable? So why was absolute priority given to telephone wires?

I could tell from the silence which followed that he'd asked a key question and Nick's answer was the biggest compliment I'd heard him pay anyone. He told us that the explanation was known to very few people but he was prepared to give it on the understanding that it mustn't be discussed outside this room.

I stood up to leave, partly to save Nick from having to ask me to but mainly because I still couldn't see the relevance of Gravy's question.

Nick waved me back, and took a deep breath. He then told Gravy that twelve months ago 'someone highly placed' (it turned out to be Tiltman the Great) had asked Gubbins to continue to ensure that agents gave absolute priority to cutting telephone lines because it forced the Germans to communicate by radio, and gave Bletchley an opportunity to break their codes. He then explained to the now silent commander and the open-mouthed small boy seated beside him that the Germans didn't realize the extent to which Bletchley had penetrated their traffic—'God forbid they ever do because they'd change their codes at once, which would be a major setback for the entire war effort.'

"Without going into details, he added that the contributions made by Bletchley and Y (the interception service) towards shortening the war would one day be recognized, but at this crucial stage they were known only to Churchill and his trusted advisers. And so it must remain.

The commander shook Nick's hand and promised that what he'd just learned wouldn't be repeated.

The small boy tried to look as if he'd known it all the time.

Despite intense competition from air-raids, the ugliest sounds in June were the voices of the BBC announcers.

They stopped reading 'Stand by' messages on the 4th, and began broadcasting 'Action' messages on the 5th. The prearranged phrases lasted for eight hours, and I learned that it was possible to grow hoarse through listening. The significance of at least fifty iodoforms had been conveyed in poem-codes.

The D-Day uprisings were timed to take place simultaneously right across France to conceal where the Allies intended to land, and above all to divert attention from Neptune. The purpose of this co-operation was to land sea and airborne forces near the mouth of the Seine, and the Resistance was to act as Neptune's trident by attacking enemy troops, disrupting communications and blocking reinforcements.

Nick warned us that Neptune's traffic would be 'somewhere between heavy and crippling', and squads of coders stood by to deal with the holocaust of coding mistakes which the 'Action' calls seemed certain to engender. But on D-Day only one indecipherable was received from the whole of France, and that was the result of Morse mutilation. 'Decipherability-Day' (as 6 June was henceforth known) had other surprises.

The traffic was far lighter than expected, there were no queries from the country sections, and my phone didn't ring until one o'clock. The signalmaster at 53a wanted me to listen to a message from France which had been transmitted en clair over the Butler circuit.

The message was addressed to Colonel Buckmaster, and was similar to Giskes's on April Fool's day:

WE THANK YOU FOR THE LARGE DELIVERIES OF ARMS AND AMMUNITIONS WHICH YOU HAVE BEEN KIND ENOUGH TO SEND US. WE ALSO APPRECIATE THE MANY TIPS YOU HAVE GIVEN US REGARDING YOUR PLANS AND INTENTIONS WHICH WE HAVE CAREFULLY NOTED. IN CASE YOU ARE CONCERNED ABOUT THE HEALTH OF SOME OF THE VISITORS YOU HAVE SENT US YOU MAY REST ASSURED THEY WILL BE TREATED WITH THE CONSIDERATION THEY DESERVE.

I telephoned Maurice at once, hoping that I'd be in time to cushion the shock.

I received one when he chuckled. 'They're trying to shake our confidence,' he said, and rang off to draft a reply.

Noble and I suspected that he'd never completely shared our conviction that his Butler circuits were blown, and he'd continued to drop stores, explosives and money to them, ostensibly to deceive the Gestapo. But he'd dropped agents as well, and I wondered what his true feelings were.

I also wondered if I were about to receive a similar communication:

WE THANK YOU FOR THE LARGE QUANTITIES OF WOKS AND LOPS YOU HAVE SENT US WHICH WE HAVE HAD MUCH PLEASURE IN BREAKING. WE MUST ALSO THANK YOU FOR YOUR R. TOMMEE TRAFFIC WHICH HAS GIVEN US HOURS OF AMUSEMENT. HOWEVER, WE HAVE LEARNED FROM A RELIABLE SOURCE THAT YOUR FATHER REFUSES TO STOCK MEIN KAMPF, AND REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT HIS SHOP WILL BE TARGETED AT OUR EARLIEST OPPORTUNITY.

Expecting an influx of visitors on D-Day (not one of whom had appeared), the only appointment I'd made was with Valois. He'd never seen my workshop and I'd invited him to call in for a tête-à-tête, confident his tête would be clearer than mine.

But it wasn't the Valois I'd learned to like and respect who stood in the doorway. His hostility was even more apparent than in the days of our mutual antagonism over de Gaulle's secret code, and I grabbed his hand as there seemed a distinct possibility that he was about to return to Duke Street.

Refusing the refreshments I'd prepared in readiness for the invasion which hadn't taken place, he sat glumly at my desk and looked sharply away when he spotted a copy of the FFI code-book. But he couldn't resist examining its next-door neighbour: a code-book on silk which was being widely used in guerrilla warfare against the Japanese (the Far Eastern conflict was of great concern to Duke Street). He looked closely at the code-groups, which minimized the effects of Morse mutilation, and gave a curt nod of approval.

I then showed him the only item which might break his silence: the cigar I was keeping for Tommy (he was still in Fresnes prison). Leaving his own cell for a moment, Valois told me that the Free French had arranged for groups of cyclists to call out the latest BBC bulletins as they rode past the prison courtyard, and that some of them shouted out messages from Barbara. He then returned to his solitary confinement.

Wondering if the Free French had heard bad news which I knew nothing about, I finally asked what had happened to upset him. He looked at me reproachfully as if convinced I knew the answer. It was only when I told him that I regarded us as friends and would repeat nothing he said to me that he began speaking in rapid French; to my astonishment I understood every word of it.

The Free French were outraged at the way France's Allies ('particulierement les Anglais') had treated de Gaulle. He hadn't been allowed to return from Algiers until 3 June, and had been excluded from all discussions about Overlord. He hadn't even been told the date of the invasion until Churchill sent for him on the night of the 4th. But the greatest of all insults was that his troops in the 3rd SAS regiment had received their orders before he'd been allowed to know what they were.

I nodded sympathetically (the best exercise I'd had in months), and was about to ask why he thought I was one of the Anglais responsible for such disgraceful behaviour when he spat out the subject of communications.

The general was anxious to exchange messages with his followers in France and North Africa but had been forbidden to use his own codes. He even had to communicate with his committees in codes which the British had provided. Valois hastened to add that our 'systemes de codage' were safe and excellent, but the British could read them and I must understand that this was no longer acceptable as the committees had proclaimed themselves the provisional government of France.

I explained that the provisional governor of SOE's code room wasn't consulted on such matters, and that what he'd said was complete news to me. I added that as far as I knew SHAEF (the Supreme HQ Allied Expeditionary Force) had decided that only the British, Americans and Russians could use their own codes while the invasion was in progress, and that General de Gaulle hadn't been singled out for special treatment. I then assured him that not even Nick could reverse SHAEF's decision, much as he'd want to.

The little wizard nodded his head. He then looked at me sadly and said that the war leaders, 'especially Mr Churchill', had treated General de Gaulle as if he were… He struggled for the word. I didn't know the French for 'outsider' and nearly said 'Juif', but that might have been too great an insult.

'Il est tout seui' ('He is quite alone'), he said finally.

He then began to do justice to a bottle of Father's wine and a plate of mother's finest.

At this point Jerry Parker (head of Signal-planning) waddled in, and was astonished to see his Free French opposite number seated beside me toasting the success of the invasion. They immediately began a discussion in English, French and Signalese, and left shortly afterwards for Gerry's office.

General de Marks was left tout seui with his thoughts. Shortly before midnight the Signals Office supervisor read me Buckmaster's reply to the Germans' message, which he'd instructed the station to transmit en clair:

SORRY TO SEE YOUR PATIENCE IS EXHAUSTED AND YOUR NERVES NOT AS GOOD AS OURS BUT IF IT IS ANY CONSOLATION YOU WILL BE PUT OUT OF YOUR MISERY IN THE NEAR FUTURE. PLEASE GIVE US DROPPING GROUNDS NEAR BERLIN FOR RECEPTION ORGANIZER AND W.T. OPERATOR BUT BE CAREFUL NOT TO UPSET OUR RUSSIAN FRIENDS WHO TAKE OFFENCE MORE QUICKLY THAN WE DO. WE SHALL DELIVER FURTHER COMMUNICATIONS PERSONALLY.

I thought about all the agents who were in no position to share the joke. One in particular.

I then thought about Tommy's idol, Winston Churchill, who'd emerged from his wilderness to lead us out of ours. Was the person yet born who could replace him if we needed his like again? For the first time on D-Day I found my pen in my hand:

Are you tomorrow's Winnie
Though still in your pinny?
Tomorrow's war-leader
Though still a breast-feeder?
Tomorrow's saviour
Learning potty behaviour?
Little one
Little one
All snot-and-spittle one
Is our D-Day
Your three times a pee day?
And when you're a giant
On whom the free world is reliant
As well as a gallon of whisky man
Whom lesser mortals
Call a House of Commons risky man
Will you please spare a nod
For every poor sod
Who today met his God
And make sure that Overlord
Really is over. Lord.

A few minutes later it was D-Day plus one.

'If Christ were alive today they wouldn't crucify him. They'd make him a member of the Signals directorate,'

(Nick to author, D-Day plus four)

Why the 'if?

I hadn't the slightest doubt that He was alive as our codes and coders were withstanding the strain of the invasion traffic, and there was no sign that the enemy had penetrated the BBC's iodoforms. But there was every sign that Nick, whose religion was signals, was carrying the heaviest Morse-cross of his long career. He was answerable to the High Command for the security of SOE's traffic, and as if that weren't burden enough the War Office had asked him to supply the codes for all Special Forces. His confidence that we'd delivered the 'right goods' was greater than mine as we'd had little experience of paramilitary traffic, and the SAS were the main recipients of our first venture into it. We would soon know if they regretted zooming along Baker Street for 'a spot of advice'.

One op. which the SAS mounted on D-Day required such audacity—even by their standards—that Gubbins had found time to monitor its progress.

Two three-man teams from the 1st SAS regiment were dropped near the Cherbourg peninsula to convince the Germans that the Normandy landings were only a diversion, and that the main assault was taking place in the Pas-de-Calais. They were cogs in Fortitude, a deception scheme to persuade the enemy to send reinforcements to the wrong beach-heads. But even six members of the SAS couldn't be mistaken for an army of invaders, and hundreds of dummies had been dropped with them to give the impression of a major landing. To heighten the illusion, each team had been issued with gramophones, Very pistols and an assortment of flares. The gramophones played records of intensive small-arms fire with soldiers' voices in the background, and the Very pistols and flares turned the skies into an illuminated manuscript with an unmistakable text. The Germans immediately rushed troops to the area to repel the invaders, and partisans harassed them en route to add verisimilitude to their journey. One SAS operator sent a message to base, 'The buggers have fallen for it,' but as no such phrase was included in his code-book's vocabulary he'd had to spell it out on his one-time pad. Gubbins wanted the Resistance to take a far greater part in Fortitude but the Deception Committee didn't trust SOE's competence. Nor did they have much faith in the SAS's, and three of their deception drops were cancelled without notice, a rejection which they took in their inexhaustible stride.