Dot and Crow’s friendship remained so strong that Crow insisted Dot and her husband, Jim Bruce, come to Washington to meet her own fiancé, Bill Cable, and give their stamp of approval before she would marry him. Jim Bruce is at right and Bill Cable is at left. Courtesy of Dorothy Braden Bruce
The women took their oath of secrecy so seriously that even now, at age ninety-seven, Dorothy Braden Bruce (shown here at her birthday party with her grandchildren) has trouble bringing herself to utter certain words she was told never to say outside the grounds of Arlington Hall. Courtesy of Dorothy
Braden Bruce
Acknowledgments
My grateful thanks go, first, to the women who did this work during the war. Most took the secret to their graves, and it is too late, unfortunately, to thank them in person. I also am grateful to the women who consented to be interviewed for this book, many in circumstances that were not easy. Janice Martin Benario broke her wrist the night before our interview, so we conducted it in a hospital emergency room in Atlanta. Dot Braden Bruce took me to lunch, met with my own family, and always walked me to the door despite using a walker. Anne Barus Seeley invited my daughter and me to her Cape Cod home and drew columns on a piece of paper showing how she recovered additives. Margaret Gilman McKenna chatted over Skype. Ruth Schoen Mirsky brought out her scrapbooks. Viola Moore Blount shared recollections by email. Dorothy Ramale and Edith Reynolds White were confined to wheelchairs, but you’d never know it given how smartly they dressed. Suzanne Harpole Embree shared memories over Bloody Marys at the downtown D.C. Cosmos Club. When the Metro broke down, she walked several blocks and stood in line for the bus. Jo Fannon shared pamphlets she had saved for more than seventy years. Jane Case Tuttle wore the most awesome leopard-print bathrobe and gave me a gift bag of clean balled socks to throw at the television whenever a politician said something inane. It was easy to understand how women with this much spirit and fortitude helped the Allies win the war.
I also would like to thank the women in my family—my mother and grandmothers—who attended college. I still recall coming upon my grandmother Anna’s old zoology notebooks from Hood College, and that kind of example makes an impression.
That this book exists is thanks to the efforts of many people who wished to see the women’s story come to light. NSA historian Betsy Smoot, chief among these, shared advice, articles, contacts, links, and many patient explanations. Jennifer Wilcox, administrator at the National Cryptologic Museum, broke ground on this topic in several museum publications, and shared her files. At the Cryptologic Museum Library, Rene Stein, who knows where everything is and has digitized most of it, provided an instant response to my every question. In Dayton, Ohio, Deborah Anderson, the daughter of Joseph Desch, is one of the few Americans who sought to contact former code breakers, and perhaps the only person who orchestrated reunions to honor them. She has amassed a rich collection of photos and clippings and letters, which she shared over the course of several very fun days.
I am grateful to my husband, Mark Bradley, who was reading a declassified history of Venona, written by Robert L. “Lou” Benson, which mentioned the surprising number of female schoolteachers working on that project, and brought it to my attention. Many experts provided patient guidance, including Lou Benson himself. In addition, Robert Hanyok, Chris Christensen, and Jonathan Beard individually met with me to look over documents, give advice, explain (and re-explain), and share expertise. All were kind enough to read this book in manuscript form. Michael Warner was similarly encouraging, taking time from his own work to read the manuscript and offer insight. Julie Tate provided rigorous fact-checking and moral support. Any errors that have escaped their close and expert attention are mine alone.
Kristie Miller helped in many ways, including facilitating interviews with Ann Caracristi and sharing her knowledge of women’s history. At New America, Brigid Schulte, Anne-Marie Slaughter, and the Better Life Lab provided crucial support without which this book could not have been written.
Several people did a service to the women by sharing notes from their own earlier projects. Mary Carpenter wrote a wonderful piece for the Wellesley alumnae magazine and, bless her, saved her notes, which she gave me. She has no idea how many times I reread them. Curt Dalton interviewed the women of Sugar Camp for his own excellent book, and generously provided the audiotapes. These are priceless records. Kerry Feduk at South Carolina ETV went to great lengths to locate and reproduce the full uncut interview with the late Frances Steen Suddeth Josephson, portions of which appear on their South Carolina’s Greatest Generation DVD. Lieutenant Colonel Mike Bigelow from the U.S. Army Intelligence and Security Command History Office shared information on Arlington Hall as well as the oral histories conducted with WACs by Karen Kovach, who also met with me. Regina Akers, naval historian in the Histories and Archives Division at the Naval History and Heritage Command, shared her insights and guided me to those archives.