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The Enigma Game

Elizabeth Wein
Chapters (82)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Part 1
  4. Flight Lieutenant James G. Beaufort-Stuart:
  5. Louisa Adair:
  6. Volunteer Ellen McEwen:
  7. Jamie:
  8. Louisa:
  9. Ellen:
  10. Jamie:
  11. Louisa:
  12. Ellen:
  13. Louisa:
  14. Ellen:
  15. Ellen:
  16. Jamie:
  17. Part 2
  18. Ellen:
  19. Louisa:
  20. Jamie:
  21. Ellen:
  22. Jamie:
  23. Louisa:
  24. Jamie:
  25. Ellen:
  26. Louisa:
  27. Ellen:
  28. Louisa:
  29. Jamie:
  30. Louisa:
  31. Ellen:
  32. Jamie:
  33. Louisa:
  34. Jamie:
  35. Louisa:
  36. Part 3
  37. Jamie:
  38. Louisa:
  39. Jamie:
  40. Ellen:
  41. Jamie:
  42. Louisa:
  43. Jamie:
  44. Ellen:
  45. Jamie:
  46. Louisa:
  47. Jamie:
  48. Louisa:
  49. Ellen:
  50. Jamie:
  51. Ellen:
  52. Louisa:
  53. Ellen:
  54. Jamie:
  55. Part 4
  56. Louisa:
  57. Jamie:
  58. Louisa:
  59. Jamie:
  60. Ellen:
  61. Louisa:
  62. Ellen:
  63. Louisa:
  64. Jamie:
  65. Ellen:
  66. Louisa:
  67. Ellen:
  68. Louisa:
  69. Ellen:
  70. Louisa:
  71. Ellen:
  72. Louisa:
  73. Jamie:
  74. Louisa:
  75. Jamie:
  76. Discover More
  77. Author’s Declaration of Accountability
  78. Further reading:
  79. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  80. About the Author
  81. ALSO BY ELIZABETH WEIN
  82. PRAISE FOR

Cover

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Dedication

For Tina,

my travelling companion

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Part 1

ODYSSEUS

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Flight Lieutenant James G. Beaufort-Stuart:

The night of 6–7 November 1940—how many of us dead in that raid?

I don’t know.

I know nine men in 648 Squadron’s A-Flight were killed that night just because of weather. Two planes collided in fog just before landing, and one came down heavy with ice. But I don’t know how many in A-Flight fell to enemy fire.

How many in B-Flight, then? My own lads… I ought to know that, at least.

But I don’t. Not offhand. I’d have to sit and count. I probably made a note in my logbook. That night wasn’t the first time we took a heavy loss, and it wasn’t the last time. Buckets of blood. It wasn’t as many as last time. Anyway it’s hard to remember all the losses, which for Bristol Blenheim bomber crews was just about every mission, and I get some of the dead men muddled when I try to count. The Royal Air Force isn’t going to win the war flying Bristol Blenheims.

I’d argued with Wing Commander Talbot Cromwell before we took off on that mission. That wasn’t the first time, either. I knew he didn’t like me, and I risked an official reprimand, or worse, a demotion, every time I challenged him. We didn’t see eye to eye on anything.

“We’ll never find German warships if we’re flying at twenty thousand feet!” I told my commanding officer. I didn’t even try to hide my anger. “There’s no hope in hell of a Blenheim hitting anything from that height anyway. The bomb doors don’t always open when you want them to, and up there you can’t tell whether a speck out the window is an enemy destroyer or a bit of runway mud stuck on the Perspex!”

“Are you quite finished, Flight Lieutenant Beaufort-Stuart?” said Cromwell, lowering his eyebrows like barrier gates. “You’ll fly at twenty thousand feet, and so will all your men. Orders are orders. That’s where Coastal Command wants you to fly. I take my instructions from headquarters and you take yours from me.”

Cromwell and I had been at each other since the day we first came together about two weeks earlier.