3rd September 1942
Dearest Millie,
I’ve only been away a few days, and I already feel your absence all the way to my bones. Whenever I’m not forcing it to focus on something else, my mind turns to you. It doesn’t seem fair, how days spent drifting in a lifeboat stretch on for what seems like forever and how a honeymoon can slip by so quickly when I never wanted it to end.
Today I swore allegiance to King George VI. I’m not a British citizen, but I’ve promised to do my duty and serve to my full ability as a member of his navy, and I intend to keep that commitment. You’re part American, part British, so maybe you can understand it more than most people—how I can be sworn to the king of England and still be Austrian.
The last thing I said to my father was, “Red-white-red until we’re dead.” I meant it as a promise that I would always be an Austrian patriot. Our last chancellor used the phrase just before the country was lost. I’m not sure what happened to him. He’s probably in jail somewhere or dead like Papa. Regardless, I’m committed to fighting for peace and freedom. Strange, isn’t it, that sometimes the only way to get peace is by going to war . . .
* * *
8th September 1942
Dear Karl,
I wish I could have seen you take your oath. You were fighting before, when you were bringing your ships safely to Britain. Yet this change feels fitting and right for you. Since I can’t be there with you, you’ll have to tell me all about your training in letters.
I miss you. It was strange to go back to Mrs. Twill’s home and return to work. It’s just like it was before, except that I’m a different person now because I’m your wife. Yesterday I wanted to be with you so badly. I took out all your letters and read them, from the earliest to the most recent. Some of the pages are getting a little worn because I read them so often.
I looked at the New Testament your father gave you. I tried to see if there was a connection between the five-letter groups and the pages they were on. Tried to line them up with something on the page before or after, tried to double the page number. Then I wrote them all down and did a frequency count. The letters all seem to occur about how I would expect them to in normal German. E appears the most, X the least, and all the others in between roughly where I’d assume them to be. I don’t think it’s encoded, just scrambled, but it’s too long to unscramble without a key. I’m familiar with double transposition, so I tried using the phrases “red-white-red” and “until we’re dead” as keys, but that only created gibberish. Like so many ciphers, it seems locked until the right key is found.
I wish I could tell you I’ve broken the message your father sent. I can’t. But regardless of his unbreakable code, I’m grateful for the man he raised. I’m proud of what you’re doing, even though it’s hard to be apart.
Love,
Millie
* * *
17th September 1942
Dearest Millie,
Thank you for trying with Papa’s code. I have a feeling that whatever he wanted to hide won’t be revealed unless one has all the pieces.
Do you have a week with more than a single day off coming up? I can’t take any real leave, but I usually have a few hours free in the evenings. It’s not much. Might not be worth such a long train ride, but I miss you too. I’d jump through an awful lot of hoops to spend even an hour with you . . .
* * *
7th October 1942
Dear Karl,
I’m back in Buckinghamshire. My trip was over so quickly that it’s almost like it didn’t happen, but I’m grateful for a few new memories with you, even if I still think it’s silly that the Royal Navy names old holiday camps as if they were ships.
* * *
15th October 1942
Dearest Millie,
. . . Now that I am a member of His Majesty’s navy, I believe I am obligated to defend names such as the HMS Royal Arthur for this former holiday camp. I also think I’m expected to complain about the food, but I’m usually so hungry that I happily eat whatever they give me. I think I’m only about five pounds below what my weight was when the Hillingdon went down.
Training is still going well, overall. I’m familiar enough with basic seamanship that I can pick up everything else quickly—like the differences between how things are done in the Royal Navy versus the Merchant Navy. I want training to fly by. I still miss you, and now I’m starting to miss the sea too. The beach is lovely for strolling along when one’s wife comes to visit, but without you, it makes a poor substitute for being on a ship and surrounded by water as far as the eye can see.
* * *
18th October 1942
. . . Do you miss me more, or the sea?
* * *
23rd October 1942
. . . Definitely you.
* * *
10th November 1942
Dear Karl,
Have you heard the latest news? I’m sure you have, especially by the time you get this. American sailors have been dying for over a year. Airmen too. But to think of how many soldiers might be dying on the coasts of Morocco and Algeria—and so many all at once. Shirley and I have stayed up far too late the last few nights listening for updates . . .
* * *
13th November 1942
Dearest Millie,
Yes, we’ve been keeping up with the news from Africa. I wonder if I would have been involved somehow had I not joined the Royal Navy. Not in the landings themselves, of course, but in shipping supplies to the right places so they don’t run out of fuel or food or ammunition.
My next assignment is the RN Signals School in Devonport. Four weeks of training to be a coder, and if everything works out, I’ll be assigned to a warship soon after that. Many of my fellow sailors hope to be assigned to a battleship or be sent to the Pacific. I’ll go where I’m needed, but I know how desperate things are on the convoy runs through the North Atlantic. That’s where I want to be. Despite all the recent news, I don’t think this war is going to be decided on land or in the air. It’s going to be decided on the sea.
Devonport. It seems a long way from Fenny Stratford, and I’m not sure how strict they’ll be with leave. Skegness has seemed far away too. I suppose I fell into the habit of thinking that if I’m on land in Britain for any length of time, I ought to be able to see you. Now months have passed, and I’ve seen you only once. I’m glad to get letters more often, but it’s not anywhere near the same as being with you.
I hope they’ll give me a few days for travel—days I can spend with you.
Love,
Karl
* * *
16th November 1942
Any word on if you’ll have leave?
* * *
20th November 1942
Millie,
I have three days to get from Skegness to Devonport. The most direct route isn’t exactly through Buckinghamshire, but it’s not completely out of the way either. I ought to get in late on the 23rd, maybe an hour before your shift finishes. Plan the first is to kiss you quite thoroughly the moment I see you, even if people are watching. I thought I ought to warn you in advance.
* * *
23rd November 1942
There isn’t time to mail this, but maybe I’ll leave it for you in the hotel. We’re married, so kissing in public can hardly be considered a scandal. I’m counting down the minutes until I can feel your arms around me again.
Love,
Millie