Transcript
Narrator (0:01)
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Historian/Expert (0:21)
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Narrator (0:29)
It is. March 1941. A woman called Mavis Lever leans over her desk in an outbuilding known as the Cottage at the Bletchley park estate in Buckinghamshire, 50 miles northwest of London. Rain taps at the windows and the cold wind shakes the panes. Mavis eyes flick across the seemingly random string of letters she's working on. She's just 19 years old, a linguist turned code breaker, but she's already familiar with the strange patterns produced by the Enigma machines. Today she is working on a test message for a new Italian naval cipher. She taps her pencil lightly against the desk as she concentrates in the cold room. The steady tick of a clock on a wall behind her is is a reminder that time is always against them. The Enigma key settings will shift again at midnight. As she stares at the letters, a nagging anomaly tugs at her attention. Then suddenly, it swims into focus. Mavis blinks, then checks and double checks. There it is. There is not one single letter L in the entire sequence. The Enigma machine can never encode a letter as itself, which means an operator could never press L and get the same letter back. But here is a relatively long message that avoids L entirely, which sets alarms ringing in Mavis Head. Often enemy operators send decoy messages to delay Allied code breakers, and rather than making up a message, they just hold down a single letter to fill the space. The way the board is wired, repeatedly pressing the same letter results in a string of different letters in the cipher, but never the letter actually being depressed by the German operative. What if this operator has simply been hammering the L key to fill out his message? If he has, he has effectively given away the encryption sequence for the day. Galvanized, Mavis swiftly fetches a colleague from Hut 6 nearby, and he's at her desk in minutes with the clue they have and plenty of what passes for coffee. They dive into the machine settings, testing plugboard swaps and rotor positions. It's painstaking work, but it helps them to break another message that now arrives. Today's the day minus three, it reads. Something big is coming. No one in the cottage sleeps much over the next three days as the team waits for the next piece of news, mugs grow cold beside half eaten sandwiches. Each day brings new settings to be broken again. But with the clues gleaned from the previous day's repetitions, the locks are easier to pick now. Then, at last, on the third night, the message they've been waiting for arrives. Mavis watches as the intercept unspools before them, her breath held. They had detailed plans for an attack on a Royal Navy convoy carrying supplies from Cairo to Greece. Complete with a full timing schedule. The intelligence is swiftly forwarded to the Admiralty in London, which in turn relays it to Admiral Cunningham, the commander of the Royal Navy's Mediterranean Fleet. Armed with this crucial insight, Cunningham seizes the opportunity to turn the table on the enemy, saving the lives of the British sailors on board and winning what becomes known as the Battle of Cape Matapan. It is claimed by the Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, as the greatest victory since the Battle of Trafalgar. And it all began with an absent L. Once just another grand English country estate, in the Second World War, Bletchley park became a crucial top secret headquarters that changed the course of the conflict. The heart of the government code and cipher school, it hosted some of the UK's top minds as they worked to crack enemy communications, most famously the German Enigma cipher. It is estimated that the breakthroughs at Bletchley shortened the conflict by at least two years, saving over 14 million lives. But why was Bletchley park chosen? And what was life like there during the war? Who were the brilliant scientists working tirelessly behind its walls? And when did the veil finally lift on the shadowy world of wartime intelligence? I'm John Hopkins from the Noiser Network. This is a short history of Bletchley Park. In 1883, Sir Herbert Leon, a financier and Liberal Party politician, is looking for the perfect country retreat for his family. Eventually, he finds just the spot. A red brick mansion in Buckinghamshire called Bletchley Park. Sir Herbert becomes the MP for Buckingham. He holds summer fetes and parties in the gardens of the grand house. The sports pavilion is used by the local cricket and hockey club and as the headquarters of the Liberal Party during elections. During his time at Bletchley, Sir Herbert expands it, adding a grand ballroom and billiard room with and a turret to the roof. But when the estate passes to his children, they decide to sell it for development. Much of the land is converted into smaller plots, but the main mansion, with its small lake at the front, remains unoccupied until 1938. Then in September that year, a small group of around 20 people arrive. They have the air of friends enjoying a relaxed weekend at a country house and tell locals they're here for the pheasants. As members of their friend Captain Ridley's shooting party. They've even brought one of the best chefs from the Savoy Hotel to cook their food. But it's just a cover story. The group in fact includes members of the Government Code and cipher school, or GC&CS, a secret team of code breakers founded in 1919 after the First World War. The GC&CS is Britain's central code breaking agency, a joint initiative between the Admiralty and army's experts in the field. The mansion in Bletchley has been acquired by Admiral Hugh Sinclair, head of the Secret Intelligence Service. With his eye on events over in Germany where Hitler is escalating his territorial demands and focusing now on Czechoslovakia. Sinclair knows that war is on the horizon. As such, he has been seeking a secure base for operations outside of London, far enough to evade the anticipated air raids on the capital, yet close enough to remain within strategic reach. Bletchley park fits the bill perfectly. It is also well placed for visitors from both Oxford and Cambridge, an important point given that academics will be among the most sought after codebreakers. But though Sinclair is sold, persuading the government to buy it wasn't without its problems. British historian, writer and broadcaster Tessa Dunlop is the author of the Bletchley Girls.
