The Secret Listeners by Sinclair McKay
Like McKay's book about the wartime codebreakers of Bletchley Park, this is engaging, well-researched, and filled with fascinating details about what life was like for the men and women of the Y (wireless) service in the same historic era. Enjoying and enduring their mundane task of listening to Morse signals and taking them down, they laboured in stations across the world, some "unspeakably dreary;" others comfortable, romantic and exciting.
Breaking up the focus of routine, they experienced bizarre moments, as when late in the war, two Germans were overhead to abuse Hitler and agree on the spot that both would desert. At a base in Ceylon (Sri Lanka), "daubs of colour and brilliance from nocturnal insects" and "lizards on the football pitches" afforded some consolation for "the wearying slog of the shift system."
As they gave their youthful energy to the task at hand, some experienced moments of true horror. The author quotes Aileen Clayton's expression of the terrible burden of secret knowledge she had to bear. When she danced with a young man she felt a chill at learning his unit; she knew it was bound for Anzio. The fact that she could not speak of this, or warn him in any way, made her feel '"very cold and alone...almost old.'" (She was 25.) And indeed her dance partner was killed within a few days of landing. After the war, Clayton penned a memoir called The Enemy is Listening, which describes her wartime work in the Y service.
Superseded by digital technology, Morse is a dying art. "No one will ever again acquire that fast-thinking fast-fingered skill that the Y service veterans mastered." Working with incredible speed and accuracy as well as patience and endurance, those young people had "a grandstand view of history." In 2009, they were finally given commemorative medals. Most by then were dead.
"Possibly due to their numbers" Sinclair McKay comments, "the various branches of the Y service seem to have been better at organizing reunions over the years, giving a sense of community and remembrance to many who had worked at the more secretive Bletchley Park."
Breaking up the focus of routine, they experienced bizarre moments, as when late in the war, two Germans were overhead to abuse Hitler and agree on the spot that both would desert. At a base in Ceylon (Sri Lanka), "daubs of colour and brilliance from nocturnal insects" and "lizards on the football pitches" afforded some consolation for "the wearying slog of the shift system."
As they gave their youthful energy to the task at hand, some experienced moments of true horror. The author quotes Aileen Clayton's expression of the terrible burden of secret knowledge she had to bear. When she danced with a young man she felt a chill at learning his unit; she knew it was bound for Anzio. The fact that she could not speak of this, or warn him in any way, made her feel '"very cold and alone...almost old.'" (She was 25.) And indeed her dance partner was killed within a few days of landing. After the war, Clayton penned a memoir called The Enemy is Listening, which describes her wartime work in the Y service.
Superseded by digital technology, Morse is a dying art. "No one will ever again acquire that fast-thinking fast-fingered skill that the Y service veterans mastered." Working with incredible speed and accuracy as well as patience and endurance, those young people had "a grandstand view of history." In 2009, they were finally given commemorative medals. Most by then were dead.
"Possibly due to their numbers" Sinclair McKay comments, "the various branches of the Y service seem to have been better at organizing reunions over the years, giving a sense of community and remembrance to many who had worked at the more secretive Bletchley Park."