Paula Drysdale was not only conscientious about her scheduled work but she also acted on her own initiative at other times. That is why she had continued to listen in every midnight on André’s old frequency just in case he should make contact. Her hopes were not high, so when she picked up a 2-minute message early on the morning of Saturday, January 10, she was astounded and thrilled. So much so that she rushed the encoded message over to the coding building herself and demanded, politely of course, that it be immediately decoded. She sat with the appointed decoder, Mary, and watched her struggle with what she had given her.
“What the devil is this stuff supposed to be? This operator’s file says he uses text from Julius Caesar for coding, but I can’t figure how. He hasn’t defined the five words that were his coding basis, and I can’t pick out his security code or his operator code name. This is an indecipherable. I’m going to flash it up to London for help.”
Paula then explained that it was highly likely that the message sender was not the one defined in their system but a substitute.
“You mean it might have come from the Abwehr? Now you tell me!” said the irate decoder. “Bloody Hell!”
“Look, don’t get pissed off at me, I’m only the dumb person who sends and receives messages,” retorted Paula. “Let’s keep calm and do our best because I think this message is important. All right?”
Mary and Paula looked at one another in silence for a few moments. Both their faces showed signs of strain and a lack of good sleep. Then gentle smiles slowly transformed their mood.
“OK, ducks, sorry, you’re right. Easy does it,” said Mary in a Cockney accent.
Mary dispatched the message to London with an Urgent tag on it, then settled down to apply her considerable brains to the problem at hand. Paula gave her several minutes to think alone then offered a suggestion.
“If the sender does not have an approved poem-code, he’d have to fall back on some other independent method, wouldn’t he?”
“Absolutely, my dear Mrs. Watson. I’ve thought of that. That’s what all these scribblings are. I’m trying to apply other methods but so far I can’t crack it.”
“I believe the new operator is not a beginner. His Morse was very good; clear and fast. Does that help?” asked Paula.
“Not one bit………….Hang on, though! Look at this! I don’t believe it! Talk about simple-minded.” Mary roared with laughter. “He’s using the Caesar cipher which is damn funny because he’s supposed to be using a Julius Caesar poem-code. And I believe his alphabet shift is five letters to the left. How about that! We’ve cracked it, duckie. Give me a minute and I’ll have the whole thing written out in plain text.”
Paula and Mary puzzled over Igor’s decoded message, and, although they now understood all of the words, they could not immediately decide to whom RK referred, and knew nothing about a dog called Brutus who was linked to an instructor called Wimpole. This was a job for the London office. However, Paula and Mary agreed that in three hours time - one hour having gone by since Igor’s transmission - Paula would make contact with Igor, saying his message had been received and understood, and that he should use the poem he had selected for all future transmissions. Paula’s reply would use the Caesar cipher if London had not figured out the name of Igor’s poem by then. Paula returned to the signals building and continued with her scheduled work, but her mind was partly on the letters RK. Whose initials were they?
Paula was an avid reader, particularly of classical literature. She was going up to Oxford University to study French and English Literature before the war intervened. Her mind raced through all the names of French poets and authors that she knew, because surely the new operator would use a French text. But there was no RK. She tried another memory scan of the lesser known literati, but no one was there. She became mad with herself and thumped her clenched fists on her thighs. Another precious hour went by. She wished she could talk to her father; he was good at this kind of thing; always doing crosswords. That’s a stupid thought, Paula said to herself, he’s been posted to India; sweat and flies. India, India………..Oh, my God! It’s Rudyard Kipling, RK. Not a Frog but a Limey poet. So what’s the poem? Something about a road that Kipling or someone liked to travel; a road, a road? Got it! Paula you’re brilliant, even though I say it myself. How does it go? “……..Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!……….On the road to Mandalay, Where the flyin’-fishes play, An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay!”………..Well, I guess I don’t know it all, but that’s not a bad start.
Paula immediately telephoned Mary on a scrambler line and told her the good news.
“You’re kidding, Paula! Get away! You’re really smart, Paula. Well done! I’ll get the information up to London. What a laugh, they’ll be really peeved that little us in Grendon cracked the RK bit first. But it’s still the middle of the night and it might be tricky for London to get a copy of Kipling’s poems. They’ve also got to track down Wimpole and Brutus to see if your new operator is authentic. Look, we’ll stick to our original plan. I’ve got a simple reply message for you to send in about an hour using Caesar ciphering. I’m coming over with it right now. See yuh!”
* * * * *
At 4:00 a.m., Igor was still in Erwan’s barn and tuned into Grendon. He was very nervous because he really should have changed his location to minimize detection by the Abwehr. However, he rationalized that his initial message had been very short, and the poem-code one he had prepared was not much longer.
Paula’s message was received with much joy. Marcel and Jean’s circuit had a lifeline again. Igor quickly decoded it, guessing that it was in Caesar cipher with the same shift as his first message. He knew Grendon or London could not have got Mandalay organized in just four hours. Next, Igor transmitted Marcel’s poem-encoded message requesting an airlift for him and Jean to England as soon as possible. Igor would listen in at 2:00 a.m. every night for SOE’s confirmation and detailed arrangements. Paula acknowledged receipt of Igor’s message and passed it through to decoding to await arrival of Kipling’s Mandalay.