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is incapable of simple explanation. It is valid (although trite) to liken explaining it to describ-
ing chess to someone who has not even played draughts. The two histories chose instead to
exemplify it, each with a worked example that was complex and required several pages. These
are beyond the scope of this book. They depended on a mixture of practised ingenuity, trial and
error, and successive approximation.
This is where the most skilled cryptanalysts came into their own and used Banburismus to
achieve the purpose of partially identifying the Enigma’s wheels and other elements for the day.
Alexander, always vigilant for the most effective use of staff, observed that:
It paid to have first-class people plus routine clerical assistance; it was very difficult to find useful
work for people of intermediate ability.
He was equally vigilant for their well-being. Seventeen-year-old Hilary Law was a Foreign
Office civilian in Hut 8 from autumn 1943; she recalls:^18
Hugh Alexander . . . a very thoughtful man . . . on a visit to the USA he brought us back nylons
and lipsticks . . . he once took us to see the Wrens at work on the Bombes.
In the autumn of 1944 Alexander left Hut 8 and became head of the Japanese Naval Section NS IIJ.
When he visited the staff at the Colombo outpost ‘he proved a very friendly character, and actually
played in one of our cricket matches’.^19
Alexander’s ‘first-class people’, referred to above, were some eight or ten cryptanalysts, all
civilians, usually two on each of the three shifts. Turing was not among them: once the system he
had devised was up and running, he moved to research and development elsewhere. Alexander
himself was the first amongst them, by repute as well as alphabetically, a top Banburist and
superb manager of cryptanalysts too. Joan Clarke, the only woman among these cryptanalysts,
was described by him as ‘one of the best Banburists’. Hilary Law recalls that:
We always regarded her as a true ‘blue stocking’ who always had an ethereal look about her—
on another planet from us mortals.
And from Christine Ogilvie-Forbes:^20
We found Joan Clarke very amenable in the Registration Room. She was engaged to Prof (A.
Turing) and would walk two steps behind him. Prof avoided eye contact, whether over a piece of
paper or a cup of tea. They were always very good at telling us our results—naturally it made us
work harder. Particularly the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau. And telling us on the 12–9 night shift on
D-Day that the invasion was about to start.
The Scharnhorst and Gneisenau were important German battleships, respectively sunk in
December 1943 and irreparably damaged in February 1942, with assistance from Bletchley Park.
However, it was symptomatic of Bletchley Park’s downgrading of able women that the direc-
tor, Commander Travis, advised Joan Clarke that she might have to transfer to the Wrens to
attain the promotion she deserved. She declined.^21
The cryptanalysts who used Banburismus recalled the experience with great affection.
Mahon called it ‘one of our two most pleasurable pastimes’ and ‘a delightful intellectual game’.^22
Jack Good wrote that it was ‘enjoyable, not easy enough to be trivial, but not difficult enough
to cause a nervous breakdown’.^23 But the recollections of the many more numerous women
who had tediously punched cards in Hut 8 and in the Freebornery, and had strained their