Mathematicians, linguists, crossword experts and chess champions all worked at Bletchley Park in England to crack the secrets of Germany's Enigma code during World War II and hastened the end of the war.  Historically, there is no record of a twelve-year-old British girl, fluent in German, translating decoded messages....But what if all secrets have not yet been revealed?  What if it had happened?

Author’s Note

What are the facts behind The Legacy of Bletchley Park? Mathematicians, linguists, crossword experts, and chess champions all worked at Bletchley Park in England to crack the secrets of Germany’s Enigma code during World War II. British authorities used the code name “Ultra” to refer to the intelligence obtained from the enemy codes. The dedicated work of those code breakers saved many lives and hastened the end of the war.

Historically, there is no record of a twelve-year-old British girl, fluent in German, translating decoded messages using the Enigma at Bletchley Park. But what if all secrets here have not yet been revealed? What if it had happened?

Chapter 1

Friday, September 6, 1940

“We’re almost there, Mum.” Gretchen Seabrook sighed and fought back tears as she looked out of the cab’s window and saw the sign to London’s Euston Station. Suddenly, the shrill Air Raid siren blared. Gretchen trembled and covered her ears as the menacing drone of German aircraft pierced the overcast sky.

The driver screeched the cab to a halt when deafening, screaming bombs fell and exploded nearby. Shards of jagged metal and other debris injured several people on the sidewalk and a piece of metal pierced the hood of the cab. Air Raid Precaution Wardens rushed out of Euston Station and pulled the injured inside.

Gretchen grabbed her haversack with her gas mask and a small suitcase as she and mother fled the cab. They climbed over the rubble of brick and splintered wood littering the sidewalk when they ran toward the station’s entrance. Gretchen shuddered as more bombs exploded throughout the city. The air filled with the smell of dust and burning buildings, and made it hard for her to breathe.

The building shook as a nearby bomb exploded right after Gretchen and her mother entered the station. They pushed their way onto a crowded underground train platform. Screams of frightened children filled the air.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Gretchen said, “but now, I understand better why.”

“I’m sure the trains will run as soon as the bombing stops,” her mother assured her and held her close.

Gretchen shivered and prayed the “All Clear” would sound soon. She read the sign on the railway station wall.

EVACUATION CHILDREN FROM LONDON

Friday, 6th September, 1940

Other Main Line and Suburban services will be curtailed during the evacuation.

She brushed tears from her cheeks as she thought about leaving her parents in war-torn London while she sought the safety of a village away from the bombings.

The bombs continued to fall relentlessly for another hour as Gretchen, her mother and the others huddled in Euston Station. The wailing of the younger students also being evacuated continued.

What would it be like once she and the other students from Hanover Academy were evacuated to the country? The “All Clear” siren interrupted her thoughts. The message, “Trains will be boarding soon” echoed through the underground railway station as dust and the lingering fumes from the bombs drifted into the train platform area.

She and her mother found the posted seating schedule and the matching platform number, and determined where Gretchen and the other students from Hanover Academy would board the train to Bletchley, a village northwest of London. Gretchen saw her friend, Heather Bryson, and shouted to her over the noise, “Did they announce our train?”

“Yes, it’s Platform 513.”

Gretchen turned and hugged her mother, fighting back tears.

“Ich Lliebe Sie,” her mother whispered.

Fearfully, Gretchen looked around. “Hush, Mum. Remember, only English! Someone may hear you.” Gretchen glanced around again, hoping no one had heard her mother speak German. No one seemed to notice. She breathed a sigh of relief. She turned back to her mother and gave her another quick hug. “I love you, too, Mum.”

Hastily the girls gathered their haversacks and small suitcases and ran to the train.

Other older students were running, too, turning and waving quickly to family members clustered in small groups in the station. The earlier wailings of the younger students had ceased. Their farewells were now subdued, their faces sad and anxious.

Gretchen and Heather climbed aboard the train for their evacuation out of London as a message blared again over the loud speaker. “The train standing at Platform 513, the Special Service to Bletchley, now boarding.”

The girls quickly found carriage number eight where they joined ten other students who waited in a queue. A chaperone stood in the carriage doorway and checked each name against a list she held.

After Gretchen and Heather checked in and found their seats, Gretchen looked out of the train window and again, blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. She waved to her mother, who looked so anxious and alone on the station platform. Gretchen was glad to be going to a place where no one would know her mother was raised in Germany.

“There’s your mother!” Heather said and waved at Helga Seabrook, too. “This war must be especially hard on your mother since she’s from Germany.”

Gretchen flinched. First it was her mother and now Heather who revealed her mother’s heritage. “Shh! Don’t ever say that again, Heather. Someone may hear you!” she hissed at her friend.

She hadn’t meant to sound so angry, but everyone hated Germans since the bombing began. She must keep her heritage secret at her new home in the country. She thought about the family photograph her mother took of their last trip to the Bauer home outside of Berlin. Back then her grandfather owned the Bauer steel mill there. Although her grandparents had died several years ago before the Nazis started the war, Gretchen knew the factory now supported Germany’s war effort.

“Mother had to do volunteer work at the Hospital today and my father is lecturing at Oxford. Why didn’t your father come to see you off?” Heather asked, looking at the crowd of people on the platform.

“My father is lecturing today at Oxford, too,” Gretchen said. She didn’t know though what he really was doing. Although he was a language professor at Oxford University, he worked tirelessly in Civil Defense. He often spent his weekends working with the A.R.P. Wardens, marking unexploded German incendiary bombs in the streets of London. Gretchen worried he would be injured or even killed if one of these firebombs exploded. Lately, his activities had been quite hush-hush.

“It won’t be long before we can come back to London, Gretchen,” Heather assured her. “We won’t be ‘Vackies’ forever.”

Gretchen cringed. She didn’t like the term “Vackies” although being called “evacuees” didn’t seem much better.

As the train slowly chugged out of the station, Gretchen waved until she lost sight of her mother in the crowd of people. She hoped their friends and neighbors would be loyal and kind to her mother. What would the journey ahead be like?

Gretchen tried to relax and turned to her friend. “Mum told me that the school at St. Mary’s Church in Bletchley has set up special classes for us. I’ll bet we’ll make some new friends at Bletchley.”

“Well, at least you’ll be at your aunt’s. I’ll be with four others from our school at some strange Rectory with a minister and his wife. I’ll bet we have to go to church three times a day!” Heather wrinkled her nose and frowned.

“I won’t really be living at her house. After Uncle Charles died, Aunt Jeanne became a housekeeper for a geographer in Bletchley. I’ll be staying there,” Gretchen explained. “Mum thinks Aunt Jeanne’s a bit eccentric, but she’s Dad’s sister and she’s offered to look after me. The last time Mum was in Bletchley, Aunt Jeanne was chasing brown rabbits out of the garden with a broom shouting, ‘You rascals won’t get my carrots!’”

“I’ll take ‘eccentric’ over vespers any day,” Heather grumbled.

Gretchen laughed. “Attending a short church service every day will be good for you.”

“We’ll probably have to study history, too, besides vespers,” Heather added.

“Now, Heather, you don’t want to be dim. History can be really interesting, especially the history of Great Britain,” Gretchen answered.

Heather made a face at her friend. “I won’t be a dimwit — just bored.”

Gretchen untied and removed the cashmere scarf she wore from around her neck. When she held it in her hands and felt its softness, she was amazed that her mother had been able to find such a priceless garment in war-torn London. It had been a gift for her twelfth birthday last week. As the train traveled northwest from London toward the village of Bletchley, Gretchen saw homes missing roofs and churches without towers. Bomb craters made deep scars across the countryside. Will we be safe anywhere? she wondered.

She watched as the students of all ages, escaping war-torn London, looked from the train, too. Each wore a nametag and carried a canvas haversack with a gas mask. After the train picked up speed, some of the children grew restless, and some of the younger ones cried for their mothers. Gretchen reached across the aisle and patted the arm of a small boy who sobbed uncontrollably. “It’ll be all right,” she said. “There won’t be any bombs at Bletchley.”

His sobbing stopped and he looked at her, tears streaming down his cheeks. “No bombs?” he echoed.

“No bombs,” she assured, and murmured under her breath, “I hope.”

Their chaperone, Mrs. Norton, knelt down by the child’s seat. “Lawrence, they have cows and horses at Bletchley.”

The child managed a smile and asked, “Can I ride a horse?”

“I’ll be sure you will,” Mrs. Norton promised, as she patted Lawrence on the hand.

Gretchen opened her small suitcase and pulled out a brown teddy bear. She hugged it tightly for a moment before handing it to the boy, “Lawrence, why don’t you take care of this for me until we get to Bletchley?” she asked. “His name is Opa.”

“Opa.” He smiled as he took the teddy bear from Gretchen.

She remembered the Christmas in Berlin when her Grandfather Bauer gave her the teddy bear. She hoped that no one recognized the bear was a Steiff bear, made in Germany, or that its name, Opa, was German for grandpa. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and allowed the train’s movement to rock her to sleep.

She jerked awake later with a start as the train lurched. For a moment she thought a bomb had fallen, but it wasn’t a shaking building this time. It was only the train coming to a halt.

The conductor announced, “Bletchley! This is Bletchley. All off!”

Lawrence reached across the aisle, handed the teddy bear back to Gretchen and said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I hope I see you again,” Gretchen replied, taking the teddy bear as the chaperone took Lawrence by the hand.

Gretchen put the teddy bear in her suitcase and picked it up along with her haversack that held her gas mask. She followed Heather, Lawrence and his chaperone down the aisle and off the train. Chaperones herded the students into the station waiting room where a tall woman called names off a list. Other workers distributed hot cocoa, sandwiches, and biscuits to the weary travelers. Gretchen thanked a lady for a biscuit and looked over the group of people to find her aunt. When she saw a very large woman in a flowered dress, she nudged Heather. “There’s Aunt Jeanne,” she whispered as she waved to her aunt.

Heather looked at the woman, who fanned herself furiously with a handkerchief in one hand while waving back to Gretchen with the other hand. “I’d like to meet her some other time,” she said and giggled. “Heather Bryson, Mary Gillis, Jane Garrett, and Martha Jamison – you’ll go with Reverend and Mrs. Wilmot to the Rectory at St. Mary’s Church.”

Heather hugged Gretchen. “I’ll see you later,” she said, feeling suddenly alone.

The large woman in the flowered dress swooped down on Gretchen. “My, dear, it’s so good to see you.” A smile appeared on her flushed face as she embraced her niece. “My! How you’ve grown!”

People came to claim other students who were doled out like packages to these strangers as the woman in charge called their names. Gretchen clutched her small suitcase and haversack and followed her aunt out of the crowded waiting room. They walked for two blocks down a narrow cobblestone street. When they passed a large mansion, Gretchen asked, “Whose home is that?”

“That’s the former home of the Leon family. He was a financier in London,” Aunt Jeanne replied.

“Who lives there now?”

“Well, the Government bought the home and sixty acres of land in 1938. They moved some geographers here from London. I think they chose Bletchley because it’s halfway between Oxford and Cambridge Universities. Some of their professors, including my employer, Dr. Wheatley, work here. I think they still make maps. It’s now called Bletchley Park.”

Gretchen looked at the brick-and-stone façade of the building. The mansion reminded her of other old brick buildings in London — spooky old buildings. She thought the place looked haunted even if important people did work there.

They continued toward Dr. Wheatley’s home, Gretchen asked, “How’s Evan?” wondering about her older cousin who attended University Utrecht in the Netherlands.

Her aunt frowned and her brown eyes were anxious. “We’ve heard very little from Evan since the Germans occupied Utrecht. The last time I had word from him, he was still attending engineering classes. I pray every day for his safety.”

Gretchen reached out and touched her aunt’s arm. “I’m sure he’ll be all right,” she said softly.

“Of course, of course,” her aunt assured without conviction.

They walked past a high towered church next to the Bletchley Park mansion. Her aunt said, “This is St. Mary’s Church where you’ll attend classes.”

Gretchen looked at the building and hoped Heather would be comfortable and reassured at the church’s Rectory.

Her aunt walked down a path that led to a large Victorian home next to the church. As they walked up the slight rise, she said, “This is where I live. It’s Dr. Wheatley’s home,” she said. “You’ll be safe here.”

The muscles in Gretchen’s stomach tightened as she remembered the sounds of the German bombs, raining on London. She shuddered every time she thought of those bombings from the Luftwaffe. The planes with an Iron Cross painted on their underwings struck fear in her heart. The whistle-like screaming the planes made as they dove to drop their bombs seemed to split the sky. They swept over England from Portland to the Thames Estuary and then targeted London.

She had listened with her family to newscasts on BBC and knew how valiantly the Royal Air Force defended the city against the bombers. Their Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, visited the Fighter Command in southern England, and expressed the nation’s gratitude to the RAF airmen. Gretchen would never forget his words: “Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.”

Gretchen and her aunt walked up to the front porch of Dr. Wheatley’s home and Gretchen clutched her haversack and felt her gas mask. She looked at the imposing Victorian home and wondered again if she would really be safe anywhere.

"Author Annie Laura Smith has written an intriguing tale about the top-secret activities of the Bletchley Park decoders of World War II.  Young people today will revel in the courage and sacrifice of the men, women and children of England, when they stood alone against the tyranny of Nazi Germany." - 1st Lt. Joseph W. Cornaughton, Bombardier/Navigator, 319th Bomb Group, Mediterranean and Pacific Theaters of Operation, World War II