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За последние пару месяцев я заразилась нездоровым интересом к истории де-кодирования немецких радиосигналов математиками английской военной разведки в Блечли Парк. Конечно же, в результате заглатывания сериала "The Bletchley Circle" и просмотра чудесной "The Immitation Game". Все хорошее быстро кончается. Но дочь нашла путь смягчить мой синдром отдаления от чудесной темы, порекомендовав мемуары человека, который на самом деле работал декодировщиком в английской разведке во время второй мировой войны. Он также обладал неизбывным английским чувством юмора, заставлявшим его описывать обычные события - отъезд из дома, обучение, экзамены, повседневную борьбу с ошибками в кодировании многочисленными агентами и с вездесущей бюрократией военного ведомства - в духе своего чудесного соотечественника Джерома К. Джерома. В общем, радостно делюсь и от всей души рекомендую.

Between Silk and Cyanide: A Codemaker's War, 1941-1945





"“At a quarter to five I knocked on the door of Dansey's office and put the decoded message in front of him.
Dansey and Owen sat in silence. They were in mourning for their judgement. I knew I had failed and hoped it wouldn't prevent them from giving someone competent a chance. I thanked my ex-bosses for my tea and turned to go.
'Leave the code here, please.'
'What code, sir?'
Dansey closed his eyes but they continued glaring. 'The code you broke it with!'
'You didn't give me one, sir.'
'What the hell are you talking about? How did you decode that message if I didn't give you one?'
'You told me to break it, sir.'
He was one of the few people who could look efficient with his mouth open. 'You mean you broke it,' he said, as if referring to his I heart, 'without a code?'
I had always understood that was what breaking a code meant, but it was no time for semantics. 'How was I expected to do it, sir?'
'The way the girls do, with all the bumph in front of them. A Straight forward job of decoding, that's all I was “it,' he said, as if referring to his I heart, 'without a code?'
I had always understood that was what breaking a code meant, but it was no time for semantics. 'How was I expected to do it, sir?'
'The way the girls do, with all the bumph in front of them. A Straight forward job of decoding, that's all I was after! So we could test your speed. And compare it with theirs.'
'You mean, sir—that SOE is actually using this code?'
'We were,' said Owen. 'We have others now.'
They looked at each other. Something seemed to occur to them simultaneously. They operated like two ends of a teleprinter.
'Come with us. Marks.'
The three of us crowded into my workroom, which by now resembled an indoor tobacco plantation. Dansey didn't smoke. After a few moments of intensive rummaging he lifted a pyramid of papers and pointed to a blue card with a code typed on it in capital letters. He smiled as he held it up. His efficiency was vindicated. I walked up to him till I was level with the pips on his shoulder. “ I had a request to make and, for the first time in far too long, it wasn't wholly self-interested. 'May I see those other codes, sir?”
Excerpt From: Leo Marks. “Between Silk and Cyanide.” iBooks. […]”
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