Breaking the Code

by Karen Fisher-Alaniz

  Well, I’d better get a letter off to someone else for a change. Write soon.

  Love, Murray

  It was another late night when I read his letter. Everyone was in bed. Only the ticking of my grandmother’s clock could be heard. Cocoa curled up next to me, her warm body pressed against my leg. I read the letter as I transcribed it. But when I was done, I read it again. This letter was a turning point. Something was finally happening. After all the mundane daily duties he’d endured since coming back from Okinawa, the cadence of his words picked up. He was hoping beyond hope that it would be over soon.

  But as everyone around him prepared to leave for the invasion of Japan’s mainland, my father learned that he would not be among them, and he didn’t know why. How could he not have known? It made sense to me; he’d had a breakdown that had landed him in a military hospital just two months prior. My best guess was that by classifying him as Special Assignment, they were keeping him close in case he had another breakdown. As the nurse had said several weeks prior, he was fine physically, but on that ship off of Okinawa, he’d lost a piece of time. A part of his mind, his memory, was gone. Or perhaps Special Assignment was a way to assure that the investment of time they had put into my father teaching him Katakana would be carefully protected.

  But what struck me the most about that paragraph was the line, I have no idea how I ever got to be Special Assignment. Just a few short months after the trauma of losing his friend, my father did not know what was special about him. He’d already begun the process of wrapping the memories up so tightly that they would remain so for more than fifty years.

  Was that good or bad? I couldn’t be sure. On one hand, he was able to easily transition back to his pre-war life. But on the other hand, those memories came back with a vengeance later. Maybe it would have been best dealt with early, when he was still in his twenties. But that time passed and all we could do now was deal with it as best we could.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The Bomb

  Just heard the official answer to Japan’s offer should come within forty-eight hours at the most. According to the latest press wireless release, they expect it any hour now.—August 10, 1945

  My father’s letters thus far were full of descriptive writing, so I expected the same even as the war was coming to an end. What I didn’t expect was that he’d been right in the middle of events that would change the courses of hundreds of thousands of people. As I read on, I learned that he wasn’t simply sitting on his bunk waiting for someone to announce the war’s end; he was the one doing the announcing. It was another turn in his WWII life that he’d neglected to tell me.

  When I discovered his part in it, I thought about how to best approach him. In my work with children, I’d learned that if you wanted to know more, it worked best to use open-ended questions, ones that can’t be answered with a simple yes or no. So the next week, as we waited for our eggs Benedict to be served, I asked about what I’d read.

  “What is press wireless?” I asked. “It’s in your letters. Apparently, you were pretty good at it.”

  “I was, actually. I learned it at the same place I learned Katakana, at Farragut Naval Base. I was very fast at it. The news in those days would come in fast and furious, and it was important that they had someone who could listen to those dots and dashes coming in and get them typed out into plain English.”

  “So, it was Morse code, like dots and dashes?” I asked.

  “Well, technically it was international code, but yes, dots and dashes,” he said.

  Everyone on the base, including my father, knew that after taking Okinawa, the next step would be to send our troops to mainland Japan. Mass casualties were expected. But then something that wasn’t expected happened.

  My father was relaxing in his bunk when an officer came rushing in and ordered him to go copy the press wireless that was coming in from Washington, DC. At first he thought it would just be a quick message. But the hours wore on with more and more information coming in. He and another man who could copy the high-speed code worked around the clock, having their meals brought in. They were two of just a few on the base who knew how to do it.

  “I even got steak,” he remembers. “And real butter. Real butter was a luxury in those days.”

  All across the base, word spread that something important was happening and that there was this guy who could copy press wireless at unbelievably high speeds. Soon, sailors and officers from all over the base came to see what was going on. My father would hear people walk by saying, “Yeah, that’s the guy. His name is Murray Fisher and he can copy that stuff really fast.”

  But as hours turned into days and nights, he was getting tired. He was falling asleep at the typewriter. He was in dire need of some sleep. A bed was brought in for him, but once his head was on the pillow, he was afraid he would miss something important. He was only able to get a few hours of sleep here and there.

  Then something strange came across the wire. It was called an atomic bomb.

  August 9, 1945

  Dear Folks,

  I suppose you are thinking I could be anywhere in the world by now. But I just couldn’t get started writing letters this week.

  A lot of things have happened in the short (?) time I’ve been across—Iwo Jima, Okinawa, and V-E day and then of course the atomic bomb. And yesterday, Russia on our side and actually in the fighting already. Of course you’ve read as much about it all as I have so there’s no use discussing it especially. Just think, V-J Day might even be on the day you receive this. It’s just unbelievable. To think that eleven pounds of uranium bomb indirectly bring an end to such a terrible war. Of course everyone is jubilant over the possibility that it will be over in a matter of hours or maybe days or weeks, but no wild celebrating like you’d imagine.

  Someone discovered I could copy the faster press and as it seems the faster the code comes over, the later the news is, I was elected as official press wireless man at the communication school and indirectly, the base. I happened to be copying some press from Guam on the morning of the first atomic bomb, for the officers to read. They foned the base officers and they ordered me to work out about six press schedules a day (and night if necessary). I copy the news and have a staff of four other men who rewrite it, edit it and make a few dozen mimeographed copies to distribute around the base for the men to read. I like it, but this is still the Navy. They just take it as a matter of course that a radioman should be able to copy fast press and that’s all. My task was to copy incoming news [via international code]. I copied one schedule at about 23 WPM, three at about 35 WPM, one at about 40 WPM and one at 45 to 50 WPM [the more important the message, the faster it came across the wire]. The latter is really hot stuff and keeps me jumping to get it all. I usually get about three fourths of it and guess at the rest. Don’t know just how soon it was after the news was sent over the press wireless about the atomic bomb, but it was a half hour before it was announced over the radio after I got it.

  Remember me telling you a long time ago when I was in Farragut about copying a message saying B-29’s had bombed Mt Fujiyama and it was erupting? That turned out to be what is called a dummy message and I thought for a while I had made a mistake and got on the wrong frequency and copied another of the same type…only the atomic bomb story seemed too fantastic to believe at all. One little bomb wiping out a city almost three times the size of Spokane. But it was true of course. News is changing so fast that I can’t hardly keep up with it. Headlines changing hourly. One hour the new bomb. The next Russia declares war on Japan. Then another bomb on Nagasaki and this evening Russia has already advanced almost fifty miles into Manchuria. Then the best news of the war for us amphibs, is the announcement by our amphib admiral Turner that it was very possible that amphibious warfare would not be needed to take Japan. Of course that was just following what we had already guessed anyway. Well, anyway that’s how it happened around here.

  Another little thing—when I took it in to some of the
boys, the first news cast I mean, they read it over and a couple handed it back and laughed and said, “Where’d you pick up that scuttle-butt Fisher?” The boys in the post office just laughed at me when I told them about one bomb destroying a few hundred thousand people. Of course they were half-way kidding, but got a lot of fun out of telling me I was getting rock-happy. You see, I’ve been copying press off and on and bring in a copy now and then to the office boys to see and in amongst a few paragraphs of news I make up a paragraph of my own…maybe about one of the boys being sent home or being awarded a medal or something. Just in fun…well, that’s all that. It still seems almost impossible to believe.

  Write. Love, Murray

  The United States had dropped an atomic bomb, first on Hiroshima and then on Nagasaki. When the message was posted on a bulletin board nearby and copies began to circulate, Dad heard numerous men say, “What’s an atomic bomb?”

  “And then we started to hear that this atomic bomb had taken out a whole city,” he said. “At first we thought that maybe this was just a dummy message, a fake one. Surely one bomb couldn’t do all that. But as details came in, we realized it was true. Then someone turned on the PA system. We only used that for emergencies, so you knew if you heard anything broadcast over it, it was serious. Well, they read what I had copied and no one could believe it, so they started to come around in droves, asking if it was really true. Of course, I didn’t answer any questions. I just kept copying the code.”

  Our breakfast had been served and was half eaten, and he was still talking. Just when I’d thought that I knew all I could about his wartime experiences, he surprised me again. This time, instead of using the top-secret Katakana, he’d used the more common international code. Several times over the next few days, he was called upon to copy the code. Finally, there was reason to celebrate. He may have been too tired to join in, but his comrades weren’t.

  August 10, 1945

  Dear Folks,

  Well, looks like the big day is here. At least the big four are momentarily expected to come out with the acceptance of Japan’s offer of peace. Finished writing you the three-pager last night at around midnite and decided to copy a little press to see how things were coming, so went over for about an hour, then went to bed at one. At three a.m. everything seemed to bust loose at once. Was in my tent about a block from the office. Someone came in and woke me up looking for the keys to the office and the radio was blaring Japan offers peace if we save Hirohito (or words to that effect). I hopped in my clothes and we opened up the office and turned on the P.A. system that is used to call men to the office in case of emergency, on and blasted out with the news. Lights started popping on all over and guys whooped and hollered for the rest of the night. I went right to work on my press sked and got an early copy. Now it’s noon and haven’t been out of my chair except to get a drink. With new news busting loose every few minutes it’s pretty hard to leave things up in the air. The radio is almost as fast as the press wireless today.

  By the way, do you remember a Betty Moat, a girl whose father used to live in Dayton but now in England? I wrote her when I had nothing better to do one day after reading of her in the C.D. and promptly forgot all about it. A while back, got an answer from her and it was written on V-E day in England. She described all the reactions of the different people and the celebrations everywhere. Think I’ll write her on V-J day and do the same. Guess it’s not officially here yet, but everyone is pretty happy just the same. Just heard the official answer to Japan’s offer should come within forty-eight hours at the most. According to the latest press wireless release, they expect it any hour now. They also say leaving Hirohito on the throne won’t make any difference. Have been hearing so many peoples opinions on the subject that I’m just getting tired and sleepy. About all I want to do now is sleep for a couple of days.

  We had a bunch of LCI’s (Landing Craft Infantry) left yesterday (about a hundred I believe for San Francisco, Seattle and Alaska and over to Russia for delivery there. Also another hundred were supposed to leave today. The latest reports cancelled both the crews orders.

  It’s like that Gal Miss Moat said, after so many years of war, it’s hard to believe the fighting is all over and peace is here again.

  ’Twas a surprise to hear that the atomic bomb was made in Hanford too. Don’t suppose any of them knew what it was they were manufacturing tho.

  Personally, I’m not doing any celebrating myself, but will probably celebrate Sunday by going to church in Honolulu and guzzling a double chocolate milkshake.

  That’s all. Bye for now.

  Love, Murray

  We’d finished our breakfast and Biby had cleared our table. But neither of us was anxious to leave. I wanted to hear the rest of the story, and he wanted to share it.

  “Sounds like everyone was pretty excited on the base after your press wireless copy was read,” I said.

  “Oh, they were,” he said. “You could just hear a loud chorus of guys yelling and celebrating. It was really something. Of course, I had orders to keep copying the press wireless, so I had to concentrate on that. And I was so tired. All I really wanted was to sleep.”

  All over the base, rumors continued to fly, but the best one was the rumor of peace.

  August 13, 1945

  Dear Folks,

  I’m so sleepy, I’ll probably mess this letter all up, but thought I should write. Since the first atomic bomb hit and the Japs asked for surrender terms, I’ve been on whats called a continuous watch. That is a “press watch” that means that someone brings in my meals to me and I just drink lots of coffee and try to stay awake. That’s what comes from being so indispensable. I have a cot in the room and lay down every few hours with earphones. Also have a couple of the instructors with me so when I drop off—which is often—they listen and when WCX New York comes on they wake me up and we take off again. Can’t remember how many hours I’ve been on now but it seems like forever. I can type one station with one hand at 25 wpm and drink a cup of coffee at the same time. What a life. They keep the place quiet and no one bothers me so it’s not at all bad. I really enjoy it in a way, as it’s something no one else can do. Guys going by the hut all day, and now and then I hear someone say, yeah, listen to him copy that stuff. He’s the guy that’s been going for several days now. Only guy on the base that can copy it and he’s only a seaman. That’s the Navy for yuh—Ad infinitum—lots of fun. With the peace rumor yesterday at 3:04 p.m. our time things really busted loose all over the island. They had a few recorded speeches made especially for the occasion and a parade in town. Everything went according per sked until a couple of minutes later it was announced a false report. Didn’t bother me any as none of it came over the wire except a few minutes later when it told of both sides of the story. Everything on the island is really buzzing with rumors and I’m looking for a big celebration when it all ends for sure. Looking for it today sometime or possibly in the early morning. Then I’m going to sleep for about a week.

  Have an order out now stating that only five percent of mail will be censored after V-J day. That won’t mean much until it is cut out all together as it would still be impossible to say anything as your letter might be one of the five percent. I have a little something to tell you about stuff and things when they lift it all together.

  Love, Murray

  It was over. The war was finally over. The celebrating continued for several nights, but my father didn’t take part in it. He slept through it all.

  Reaching the end of the war in his letters left me with mixed emotions. The journey through them was nearly over. His secrets were brought to the surface. Yet, it still felt unfinished. I sensed there was another part to this journey. I just didn’t know yet what it was.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Waiting

  Now the Navy point system has come out, which finds me sadly lacking…They come to a miserable twenty out of the needed forty-four.—August 16, 1945

  “The usual,” my father said, as we s
at down at our regular table at Mr. Ed’s, before the waitress had a chance to ask.

  “And extra sauce,” she said.

  My father smiled. It’s a good feeling when someone knows what you want before you ask for it. But it’s even nicer just to be known.

  “So, I’m at a pretty exciting place in the letters,” I said.

  “Oh?” my father asked.

  “Well, the war is over,” I said. “That’s pretty exciting, right? All that’s left to do is send everyone home.”

  Dad laughed at my naiveté.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Well, that’s not exactly how it works,” he replied. “I guess I can try to explain it.”

  He took out his pen and slid his paper placemat to the middle of the table. He drew a thermometer, making marks on the side of it.

  “You had to reach a certain number of points to get to go home. You got points for the missions you were sent on. You got a certain number for being overseas. I think they figured in if you were married or had kids. So in a sense you are right,” he said. “Some of the guys did get to go home right away. But those were the ones who already had a lot of points.”

  “I never thought of it like that,” I said.

  “Everyone made those thermometers. Guys had them on their desk or in their lockers. I made a lot of them. I sent several home to my folks and then I’d tell them in my letters what number I was on,” he explained.