Alexander A

The Secret of Bletchley Park

Written by Alexander Appleyard

Prologue

Dawn had broken into the city of Washington D.C. The stench of ozone was fermented in the crisp morning air. At this city there was a sumptuous and renowned war memorial, which featured numerous meticulously polished sandstone columns lined in a symmetrical fashion, and artificial canals whose water projected the silhouette of the atmosphere reflected from their transparent content. Beside these imposing canals were substantial strips of lawn that featured limestone headstones remarking the death of distinguished soldiers.

But taking place in the presence of the primary memorial was an especially poignant ceremony commemorating the death of Albert Madison. Condensation wafted from the spectators chattering teeth into the algid atmosphere. A man wearing a slate-grey blazer mounted an official sandstone podium that featured the American nation coat of arms embedded within it, and embellished by numerous wreaths laid below. The man began his soliloquy.

“We remember Albert.”

His was most certainly a poignant moment for Albert Madison and his family. Most of the diminished crowd of spectators at the memorial were wearing deteriorated suits or trench coats and came from blue collar origins. Albert was an African-American soldier who lost his life making the greatest sacrifice of all; giving his life to save his troops and consequently became relatively renowned for his service. Not long before his fate, his beloved wife, Sophia Madison, had given birth to young John.

Rain began pelting, tears ran down the depressed spectator’s cheeks.

“We will now sing the American national anthem,” the man continued.

Army personnel proceeded to the podium, they raised a substantial American flag above a row of sophisticated geometric plaque detailing on the forlorn wall of the memorial, and sang.

“Oh, say you can see by the dawns early light…”

Chapter I - The Realisation

Monumental gothic sandstone skyscrapers featuring gargantuan gargoyles canopied above the broad multi-lane city streets below; one of which was home to John Madison, a youthful 25 years old. These buildings illuminated the central business district of New York City. John was currently in the bedroom of his mother’s apartment. This room was devoted to his studies. Numerous sheets of paper were hung suspended by pins inserted into fabric pin boards, located above his comfortable and homely bed.

John was a fairly undernourished type; he featured slender shoulders, was of dwarfish stature, succulent black skin highlighted by projecting turquoise eyes - just like his father. A diminished window was concealed above John’s bed, letting in only a minuscule quantity of natural light through its transparent film. Flecks of weakened rays of light collided onto the carpet littered with an assorted of papers and assignments.

“What will I become? What will I do with my life?” John thought uncertainly, and sighed. “ I wonder…”

The next day John decided he needed a job to better his life; as up until now his family had been living in poverty.

“That’s it!” John thought euphorically. “I’ll find a job in The New York Times! They’ll have the opportunities I’m looking f….Wait, I can’t, because… because of my race. I never knew it. Why do they discriminate against us?” John states in frustrated conviction.

Then he realised, “ I’ll prove them wrong!”

John hastily began to search the room. “There!”

John lent down and raised The New York Times and opened it. “Easy! Hmm, I’ll be a -, wait…”

John promptly scooped up his treasured journal from his nearby desk. The diary was a wrinkled and worn substantial collection of jottings. It featured a rather distinct stain of ink on a particular page, standing out from the rest. John began reading.

January 5, 1928

Dear diary,

I was 13 years old and it’s my first day at school. Up until now I have been home-schooled by my mother. I was teased and discriminated because of my race and economic status. As the days went on, I passed through numerous subjects: History, I was okay; English, yet again okay; Geography, okay; Science, fine; however, I still hadn’t passed through Mathematics. When I’d completed Mathematics and really applied myself, I discovered I was an exceptional mathematician and my teachers recognised I was the best at it in my class.

December 13, 1934

Dear diary,

I’ve recently completed my Year 12 examinations and placed within the top ten students of the nation. My mother, Sophia, and my older brother, Henry, were both immensely proud of my achievement. I loved them both; my mother was infinitely full of contentment and had an immaculate approach to raising children. My brother was empathetic and loyal. My mother would always tell me how much she loved us and said that my father would most certainly be proud of me. My brother would state that he was extremely proud of me. We were both best mates together.

John put the diary down slowly, and thought, “I have to get a meaningful occupation and nobody will stop me!

Chapter 2 - The Distinct Letter

With conviction, John marches out of his room in pursuit of a new occupation. He passes through a narrow series of vast corners and bends featured within the grand building. John finally arrives in front of the substantially wide elevator and dials the ground floor. Beep echoes from the elevators buzzer. Silence. Beep! The elevator arrives at its destination. Young John proceeded to the apartment’s entrance. In a swift motion he opens the door and proceeds to Time Square. He was going to prove them wrong.

It was barely a minute before John would arrive at the employment centre - but wait, a cloaked figure swiftly passes John, slipping a sealed official looking letter into his suit coats left pocket. The man hastily mutters “Read the letter in secret.”

Time Square was littered with a vast quantity of civilians, meaning John couldn’t return the letter to the owner.

“Sir!” he bellowed. “Sir, you’ve lost your letter!”

The man had vanished from John’s vision. That was odd, John thought inquisitively, “Why’d he do that?” The idiosyncratic nature of the letter impeded John’s conviction to find an ordinary occupation.

“My job can wait. I have business to resolve”he thought.

So John quickly returned to his homely apartment to read the letter. A fresh stench waffled and fermented from the letter’s body; there was a distinctive maroon stamp placed on it featuring a rather substantial B on its body. It was also hand written.

John opened the letter and read the following:

British Department of Defense

Dear Mr. John Madison,

We kindly request your presence at Bletchley Park as a cypher operator. This involves decoding cipher messages. We have heard you are a highly intelligent man and you are up for the task. The British Department of Defense is dependent upon you. We have supplied you with a ship and train ticket below and all expenses are paid by us. Congratulations! You will be the first African-American cipher operator.

After you disembark your ship at Southhampton, head to Southampton Terminus, where you will find Lavish Train lines. A Taxi will meet you at the front of the station, at the taxi stand, when you disembark your train. The number plate will be WB 29 -2901. Remember act as if you’re randomly waiting for a taxi driver. The driver will know your destination.

There was an ocean liner ticket pasted below the primary information. The ticket conveyed the following:

Red Star Line

Meet Tomorrow 30th January - 5 pm - 6pm at the New Jersey Dockyard

Travel from New York to Southampton, England - First Class

“First class?! Wow!”

There were also train tickets; featuring the following information:

Meet February 12th, 2.00pm - 2:30pm

Travelling from Southampton Terminus to Kings Cross Station, London -

Lavish Train Lines - First Class

“First class again?! This left him astonished.

“So that’s why!” he thought euphorically. “That’s why they chose me! I was not going to just be a mailman. I am going to be the first African-American cypher operator in the world! I am going to be famous!

Chapter 3 - Journey Across The Atlantic

John had arrived at the port where a silhouette of an ocean liner was cast by its reflection. He was transfixed upon the ship’s vast funnels exhaling an immense quantity of smog. This ship was rotund, almost as monumental as The Titanic. The pier on which John was standing was raised at a statuesque height, on John’s far left was the grandly imposing depot and passenger terminal mounted on the surface of the wharf. The first class passenger terminal featured gargantuan windows allowing natural light to flow into its sumptuous interior, as for the third class passengers who were only restricted to accept the presence of the lower level of the passenger terminal which was vastly nondescript, incomprehensibly plain in fact.

At first the ship remained immobile, but then it suddenly started to move.

“No, this can’t be the right ship”, John wondered with uncertainty. “Wait!” he bellowed.

He began pacing towards the gangplank but it had already given way. Then he proceeded to the upper entrance but yet again it had given way.

“If I don't get on this ship I will never arrive in London!”

John began to gather a run up, for he was going to Jump: 1, 2, 3. He dashed across the deck and pounced towards the upper most deck of the eccentric ocean liner. Aghast, embedded with fear, John contemplated whether he could make it or not, he was in midair, petrified observing the ground drawing closer, and closer; but as every thousandth of a second passed, the odds of the reality occurring diminished, and the opposite exceeded.

“I have to make it, I have to make it! “John contemplated perplexed. But would he?

Thud! John had landed on the ship’s upper deck. Nearby passengers began to screech.

“It’s okay, I just nearly missed the ship. I’ve got my ticket” he uttered to startled passengers.

By now it was night and John’s journey was well under way and John comforted himself to his spacious luxury first-class stateroom.

John grasped a newspaper, The New York Times. There was an article that received John’s attention. The article explained Henry Madison’ deployment to Europe as a soldier to defend his country in World War Two. The headline of the newspaper read: ‘Madison The Second Sent to War.’ Henry was sent to war to protect his country against Hitler and his army; Hitler had risen to power, demanding mass production of devastating weaponry and arresting innocent Jewish people and sending them to concentration camps in Germany. Hitler had an abominable approach to everything: politics, war, law and human rights.

John didn’t know what to say, he was truly blown away. His emotions consisted of both being proud and immensely nervous. He didn’t want his brother to perish, but he also was proud of his efforts. John decided to forget about his emotions, so he proceeded to the first-class dining room. He passed through a series of luxuriously decorated hall ways and colossal state rooms. The room featured a substantial atrium and a marble spiral staircase. John was transfixed on the sophisticated jade figurines perched on the surrounding pillars under a gargantuan glass dome above and highlighted by a diamond chandelier hung from the exact centre of the dome. A waiter promptly proceeded towards John, “May I take your order, sir?” he asked, suggesting an authentic English accent.

“Yes thanks.”

“Go ahead, sir.”

“I’d like the Supreme, thanks.”

The Supreme was a delightful feast of a delicious combination of grilled eel, muscles, frog legs and red wine served with crystal decoration. John began to euphorically eat his meal, thinking “this is delicious”.

“Would you like some desert, sir?”

“Yes thanks, I’d like the special please,” he replied.

Yet again he devoured it. When he was finished he returned to the State Room feeling delirious. One morning, after a few weeks at sea he woke from an immense slumber. He hastily put on his deteriorated suit and drew the curtains and… could see land.

Suddenly the ships fog horns sounded, and a vast sound was emitted.

He had arrived at his destination.

Chapter 4 - The Arrival

With enthusiasm John instantaneously grasped his luggage and dashed to the gangplank. He immediately off loaded his luggage onto the crisp wooden planks of the port and glad to finally be on dry land after two largely uneventful weeks at sea, happily strolled towards the nearby train station. It featured a vast clock sandstone tower mounted above the primary structure.

He proceeded to platform 12, where a steam engine emblazoned with Lavish Train lines insignia, was waiting. The steam engine featured 8 carriages, and each had a distinct pattern, for instance, on one there was a mythical dragon engraved within its metallic body, and for another, it featured an especially intriguing wondrous bird of prey with an intricate Japanese cherry blossom embedded within in the carriage’s wooden body. He mounted the unique train, and it began to depart.

The interior of the steam engine was also intricate. There was a mesmerising sequent contraption whereby the push of a button produced a fascinating event to occur - steam would be exposed and vivid lights displayed The contraption was like staring at a spell being cast. The machine was like an all in one kitchen, but only the size of a bookcase. You could also operate the mechanism to do practically anything: cook, be a virtual butler, helping you with anything you requested.

The clanking of the metallic bars driving the train produced a deafening sound. The train’s funnel was bellowing smog unavoidably and the silhouette of a serpent was produced. By now John’s journey was well under way. The train passed vast ragged mountainous terrain, grass meadows of grazing cows and immense lakes. John was relaxing in his confined compartment, as night drew near, he prepared for his arrival at Kings Cross Station.

“Tickets please,” said a man in a grey and blue uniform.

“I’ll just be a second,” John replied, searching for his train ticket. “Uh! there,” John casually passes the ticket to the conductor. The man began to leave the room, leaving only John in his luxurious train compartment.

“Wait!” John thought euphorically, “Are we there already?” John had been slumbering for the past hour and a half where upon he suddenly arrived at Londons Kings Cross Station. The grand old monumental station featured dozens of platforms lined on either side of the mass structure. There were souvenir stores littered throughout the complex and speakers lined above creating a vast projection of the announcer’s voices. John dismounted the train and stepped onto the platform’s crisp surface. He had finally arrived, much to his relief.

Chapter 5 - The Arrest

In a relatively desolate and isolated landscape surrounded by mountainous terrain, the perilous journey had begun; unexploded shells and shrapnel littered across the crisp gravel ground. The Nazis had invaded Commander Henry Madison’s trench.

“Hands up,” ordered a man in Nazi uniform, that featured a minute geometric series of parallel lines forming the Nazi emblem. The German soldier was tempering his urge to shoot. Henry and his troops immediately surrendered and raised their hands. The Nazis shouted “You’re coming with us!” and began escorting the American troops into their armoured tank parked relatively close to the Americans’ trench.

“Into the tank!” the Nazi bellowed. A large man led them into the aft side of the tank and into the storage compartment scented with swirling dust fermented stench. The Nazis then hastily cuffed the troops and with swift and precise motions fastened the heavy metallic door behind them. A frequent meticulous humming sound indicated the motion of the vehicle.

Meanwhile in a different world, John had arrived at Kings Cross Station and had worked his way throughout the complex, to the taxi station which was located beside the mammoth complex. The room was fairly simplistic, no columns, no detailing, nor anything; there was just red brick walls lined in quadrilateral positions, and the most sophisticated of all was the curb connecting the stale grey cobblestone paved road to it.

John waited nervously. A British taxi swiftly approached him. He had seen nothing like it; for instance: the taxis distinctive and eccentric shape, the grill raised higher than the two headlights mounted on the front of the vehicle’s metallic body, and it was painted jet black The number plate was WB 29 -2901, just as his letter had stated it would be.

John dismounted the pavement and retracted himself into its leather seating. The taxi driver nodded to him in the rear vision mirror, and drove away without saying a word. As John passed throughout the renowned city of London, he saw quotations on numerous posters and signs informing the following: “Keep calm and carry on.”

“What is with those posters?” John eventually asks the driver.

“They’re quotes reminding us to well, keep calm and carry on; there’s been Nazi air raids and the government wants us to keep calm. I had to send my sons to the country for protection, and my wife died from an air raid. I don’t know if I’ll last any longer; all I have is a job as a taxi driver” the man replied with an English accent.

“Oh, sorry to hear that.”

“And what happens to be your name?”

“My name’s John, John Madison.”

“And yours?”

“My name’s actually John Wilson.”

“What a coincidence, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Well, it seems we’ve arrived at our destination.”

Chapter 6 - Bletchley Park

John mounted the cobblestone paved pathway and was ecstatic; all this immense work and he had made it. “This must be the place!” John thought euphorically. He was now standing before the renowned and top secret Bletchley Park. The building featured protruding turrets and balconies abounding with distinct structural anomalies.

There was a tranquil green park surrounding the complex lined with English oak trees glowing with stretched branches featuring stiff green leaves. Cobblestone roads wound throughout the rugged park and the horizon was infinite, but the sloping mountainous terrain primarily blocked it; as for the low pitched plains and hills that allowed this marvel beauty to continuously fulfil its tranquil reign.

An army officer swiftly approached him, “You must be John Madison?” the man announced with a posh tone.

“Oh, yes I am.”

“I’m Admiral Adams.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mr Madison, Thank for agreeing to help the British war effort” he replies. “Come inside, I insist.” The admiral promptly led John to the threshold of the complex. “Now, as you know , you shall be working in the department. I would like you to get to work straight away,” Admiral Adams stated. He continued walking throughout the corridor.

“In here Mr Madison;”

He opened a baroque door. The room featured dozens of machines with people operating them; they looked like simplistic stereo boxes with speakers mounted above with hefty headsets attached.

“Now, what do I do?”

“Well, you just have to wear those headphones and read the instruction manual. You shouldn't have any difficulties understanding it, given your vast intelligence.”

“Sure.”

John read the instruction manual in wonder, all it stated was the following...

Cypher Operating

How to decode messages:

1. Insert the coded message into the machine.

2. Use the following strategies.

3. Listen thoroughly for the message

4. decode the message based on the telegraph.

Chapter 7 - Codebreaking

For the next week John learned rapidly and worked diligently at Bletchley Park as a cypher operator. One day John was studiously reading The London Herald and something alarming caught his attention; a perilous event had occurred and his brother had been arrested by Nazis and sent to a concentration camp in Germany, where prisoners were treated brutally and were slated to be slaughtered ferociously in abominable gas chambers. He didn’t want this to happen to Henry. This left him feeling dejected. “The Nazis are despicable!” John thought with deep conviction.

“They are really pond scum! Why’d they do this?!” John cried. “Why?”

This had to be resolved, “Admiral Adams?”

“Yes.”

“Something’s gone wrong, really wrong!”

“Now, what’s the issue?”

“My…” John muttered depressively “My brother has been captured by Nazis! What do I do?”

“We shall action this issue at once!” Adams replied with authority.

“Wait…”

“What?”

“We’ve intercepted a telegram confirming new intelligence about this matter!”

“Thank goodness!”

“But this is a kind of telegraph nobody has been able to decode. We’re relying on you, we’re relying on your brilliance. This will be tough, but you’ll have to work through it...”

Now it was dependent upon John Edward’s exceptional intelligence to save his beloved brother, Henry.

“You should receive the telegraph in a matter of seconds…” Admiral Adams uttered.

“10…”

“9…”

“8... “

“7…”

“6…”

“5…”

“4…”

“ 3…”

“2…”

“1…”

“And…”

A buzzing tune echoed in John’s headset and an emitted paper slip of embedded code was printed out. The message had been received; now he’d have to decode the message. The telegraph appeared in set forms of abstract parallel lines, quadrilateral symbols and brackets binding the primary message.

“Okay, wait… wait… wait… there!”

John had miraculously finished decoding the telegraph and now he had to send this message back, which he does with undue haste. He had played his role but the British had to play theirs...

Chapter 8 - The Rescue

At the British military base there was much action about to take place;

“We will now proceed with our battle plans. Unit A will attack the Berlin concentration camp and free the many Jewish captives and Commander Madison,” a Colonel announced.

Henry Madison was located in the eerie and abhorrent presence of the Berlin concentration camp, in a heavily guarded single cell, the room was especially ghastly, and nondescript. All there was were plain cement walls and a miniature quadrilateral opening that let only a diminished ray of unnatural light through it, this opening was bound into a heavy steel door concealing this confined chamber. Henry was inclined to his symptoms of claustrophobia, but little did he know he would soon be escorted to a larger space but for a worse purpose. He could hear the vague murmurings of the two Nazi guards occurring from the outside hallway, “take him to the gas chamber,” one of the men ordered.

“No, No, No!” Stammered Henry. “I have to get out! But how?” One of the Nazis levered the vastly weighty steel door open and began escorting Henry to the ghastly gas chamber, through the seemingly infinite tunnel. The tunnel was yet again vastly nondescript and was hemmed in by the confined concrete walls.

The siren sounded, “Rr! Rr! Rr!” It blared echoing ominously.

“We’re under attack!” One of the guards bellowed perplexedly, “release the prisoners!”

“Yes, sir!” The other replied. Yes! Henry euphorically thought . Henry attempted to release his hands from his handcuffs, struggling and failing. But his mind suddenly clicked; ahu! Coincidentally there happened to be a pin on the surface of the frigid concrete ground. “I’ll use the pin to release the handcuffs”, henry silently grasped the pin of the concrete in an attempt to not be heard. A sudden explosion from the southern end of the tunnel erupted, Boom!

“Take the prisoner to sector 5!” The guard shouted in abhorrence, swiftly pulling Henry’s handcuffs towards him. The Nazi guards still hadn’t noticed the fact that Henry was attempting to release the handcuffs.

British soldiers entered the tunnel then dashed towards Henry, “there!” A commander boomed, “Madison is over there!”

Henry momentarily releases his handcuffs.

The guards began proceeding in a northerly direction when, Boom! Exploded material including steel frame work and dust particles collided in Henry’s direction, littering the crisp concrete fulfilled in the tunnel, Henry sighted a hole gaping out of the cement ceiling, he could see natural light.

Yet again, soldiers entered the tunnel exceedingly by hoisting themselves in, “Madison, We’ll hoist you up!” Another soldier bellowed.

Nazis began rushing in Henry’s direction, “we’re outnumbered! Quickly now!”

The soldier hoists Henry upwards, “this way,” he explains.

Meanwhile back at Bletchley Park the room was full of immense silence, the operators were nervously holding their breaths waiting for confirmation…

Then…“We have received confirmation that Commander Madison has been saved!”

“Madison has freed us!” the free captives of the concentration camp cheered.

“Albert would have been proud!” John’s mother sobs with joy and contentment shimmering in her eyes. In that moment nearly every person in the world enthusiastically cheered concurrently, it was joyful recognition of John’s amazing act of decoding.

“You did it son, you did it!” Admiral Adams applauded “You did it!”

Epilogue

The weeks following the end of the war passed in a blur of immense activity.

Young John’s moment had come and he was located in the sumptuous atmosphere of the renowned Buckingham Palace to receive a knighthood from the King. The lavish richly decorated substantially spacious interior of the building was wondrous, the splendid crystal chandeliers hung from the soaring glass dome centred above, imposing colossal columns towered upwards featuring tranquil representations of the dominant King's reign embedded within the vastly polished sandstone surface of the monumental and distinctive columns.

John stood before the distinguished King George VI. “I knight thee Sir Madison,” he announced placing a substantial sword on either side of his shoulders in a dignified motion.

The crowd displayed enthusiastic applauding.

When John returned to Manhattan two weeks later he was greeted with an especially euphoric welcome. And both his mother, Sophia, and his beloved brother, Henry, were delighted at John’s presence and were genuinely proud of John’s exceptional achievement.

“Your father would have been extremely proud of you,” John’s mother stated, her eyes glimmering with pride.