The Signal

The Signal

Night One

The moon slipped through the clouds, temporarily lighting the path, such as it was, ahead. Millie, arm linked through Harriet’s, stumbled, then caught herself. “Bloody hell,” she said, “I hate the midnight shift.”

“It’s only a few more nights,” Harriet said.

“I’ll be happy when the rota goes back to normal,” Millie grumbled.

Ahead, the station, surrounded by antenna towers, was silhouetted against the dark sky. The wind blew in chilling gusts. Millie shivered and hunched further down into her pea coat.

“Almost there.” Harriet said.

The faint sound of the channel could be heard over the breaks in the wind, which caught the scent of the sea.

Entering the station, the smell of coffee greeted Millie and Harriet. The pot rested on a small, black iron stove. A plain table ran the length of the room. On it sat a grey wireless set, two lamps and a telephone. Maps and charts adorned the walls. Two women sat at the desk. One wearing a headset and turning a dial. The other, bent over a logbook, looked up and elbowed her partner.

“Been busy tonight, Marion?” Harriet asked as she hung her coat on a peg. Millie removed her coat and hung it next to the others.

“A bit of chatter earlier. Quiet now,” Marion replied.

Millie poured Harriet and herself a cup of coffee. The woman with the headset removed it, turned up the volume so the fuzzy static could be heard in the room.

“Anything of note to report, Helen?” Millie asked, passing a cup to Harriet.

“No. The usual,” Helen replied as she put on her coat.

Harriet sat, slid the headphones over her ears, and leaned in. Her hand reached for the illuminated dial, turning down the volume. Marion yawned, then wished Harriet and Millie a good evening. A rush of cold air entered the station when Helen opened the door.

“Ta,” Millie called after them. She warmed her hands by the stove before sitting next to Harriet, then pulled the collar of her Royal Navy jumper over her cold nose and read the logbook. Helen and Marion were right. It had been a quiet night. Millie let out a sigh and waited.

At 0100 hours, Millie nudged Harriet. They swapped spots, and Millie took up the headphones. For the next hour, she checked known frequencies. She listened intently, waiting for the familiar dots and dashes.

A quick burst of Morse broke the static. Millie leaned forward.

“Weather,” she said.

“Wind northwest, one five knots. Visibility good. Sea Moderate.”

Harriet wrote quickly in the logbook. 0148 — Wx received. Wind NW 15. Visibility good. Sea moderate.

Millie listened as her fingers worked the dial.

Harriet tapped Millie on the arm at 0200. Again, they swapped. Harriet turned the dial, intent. Millie stretched, then filled their coffee cups. She placed the cups on the table. Harriet was focused, brow creased.

“Listen to this,” Harriet said.

Millie leaned over and slid on the headphones. Di-dah, a three-second pause, then di-dah, a five-second pause. She waited. Di-dah. Ten seconds. Millie shook her head, then passed the headphones back to Harriet. “A buoy?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Harriet replied. “The timing is off.”

Millie looked at the chart on the wall. Her eyes scanned the list of identifiers. A buoy with that signal did not exist.

Millie sat, then wrote 0203 — Repeating signal heard. 312 kHz. Probably Buoy.

“Radio check. Signal strength four. Readability five.” Harriet called out.

Millie wrote Harriet’s words in the logbook.

At 0300, they swapped. Millie turned the dial. Harriet elbowed her softly. When Millie looked, Harriet tapped her pencil next to the buoy entry. Millie nodded and turned the dial to the frequency.

“Static,” she said.

Harriet nodded.

“Position report,” Millie said.

“Five two north,”

“Zero one west.”

“Proceeding to patrol sector.”

Harriet's eyes were fixed on the buoy chart. She shook her head and then quickly wrote what Millie had said.

The door opened, letting in a gust of wind and rain. Millie turned up the volume and set the headphones on the table. “Good morning, Vi, Ethel,” she said, rising from the chair.

“Not much good about it.” Vi said as she shook out her coat, then hung it up.

“Good morning, ladies.” Ethel said, frowning at Vi, “Anything to report?”

“No,” Harriet said. “It’s been quiet.”

Millie and Harriet gathered their coats. “Good luck.” Millie said as they stepped into the cold wet morning.

They walked in silence for a while, heads down against the rain. Ahead, the camp, a few huts in an empty field, lay mostly in darkness with an occasional window emitting a soft amber glow behind blackout curtains.

“What do you think it was?” Harriet asked.

“What do I think what was?” Millie replied.

“The signal. The buoy?”

“Oh, that. I imagine just a buoy. Possibly damaged.” Millie cast a quick glance at Harriet. “Are you okay? I am sure it was nothing.”

“I’m fine. Tired. You are right. Just a buoy.” Harriet replied.

They were all tired.

Night Two

Millie hung up her coat. Marion set the headphones on the table. Harriet grabbed for them without taking off her coat, set them over her ears, and sat. Her hand reached for the dial.

“Someone is keen tonight.” Marion said, inclining her head towards Harriet. Millie shrugged.

“Been busy?” Millie asked.

“Had some E-boat chatter earlier but had since quieted.” Helen said. “The coffee is fresh.”

“Thanks,” Millie said, pouring her and Harriet a cup.

“Good luck,” Helen called out as she and Marion left. Millie tapped Harriet on the shoulder, gesturing for her to take her coat off. Harriet removed her coat, then passed it to Millie who hung it on the peg.

Millie sat down. She looked over at Harriet. Her face, deep in concentration, was bathed in a sickly green cast from the desk lampshade. A light rain pinged on the metal roof. Millie turned her head back to the logbook, sipped her coffee, and waited.

After the first swap, Harriet flipped through the pages of the logbook, her finger trailing along the pages. Millie listened as Morse broke through the static.

“Group!” Millie called out. Harriet started and fumbled for the pencil.

“Bravo Charlie Tango

Seven one four nine.

Next group.

Lima Oscar Delta.

Five three zero two.”

The rest of the hour passed in silence. Millie rose from the chair and quickly put the kettle on for tea. She didn’t like coffee, but it was useful in the middle of the night. Tea was comfortable and better for Harriet’s nerves. She listened for Harriet’s voice while she prepared the tea.

“There it is again!” Harriet said. “Listen.”

Millie leaned over Harriet’s shoulder. Harriet turned up the volume. Yes, there it was. Same as last night. Millie went to the logbook and wrote:

0203— Repeat signal. 312 kHz. Possible buoy.

She glanced at Harriet. She hadn’t turned down the volume or changed the frequency. The static droned on in the background. Millie touched Harriet’s arm and inclined her head toward the wireless set. Harriet nodded. Her fingers worked the dial.

At the end of their watch, they left the hut. The door slammed behind them. The rain had stopped. Millie pulled her coat tighter against the cold wind.

“I checked the logbook.” Harriet said.

Millie waited.

“There hasn’t been a record of the signal all day,” Harriet added.

Millie shrugged. Too tired and cold to care.

“Isn’t it strange that both nights at exactly three minutes after two, we heard it?” Harriet asked.

“I don’t know. It’s likely a buoy.”

“I am not so sure,” Harriet said quietly to herself.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I am dying for my bunk right now.”

Harriet said nothing. They walked toward the camp in silence.

Night Three

Millie stood outside the door. She waited for Harriet. It was another cold, wet, and windy night. The camp was quiet, half-asleep. Harriet appeared in the doorway. Behind her, the hut lay in darkness. Millie flicked the torch towards Harriet. Dark circles had formed under her eyes.

“Ready?” Millie asked.

“Yes,” Harriet yawned. They walked across the field to the station.

“I’ve been thinking,” Harriet said. Millie waited. “It can’t possibly be a buoy. There isn’t a buoy with that pattern, and there have been no other recordings of it.”

“How can you know that? A courier picks the logbooks up every morning.” Millie tried not to appear annoyed, but all this talk of a damaged buoy was becoming tiresome.

“I asked some of the other girls. None of them have heard the signal.” Millie paused.

“Vi says there is a dance this weekend in town. Are you going?” Millie asked, changing the subject.

“I wonder if the signal is meant for me. Or us.” Harriet said, glancing at Millie, ignoring her question.

Millie gave a quick laugh. “That is utter nonsense, Harriet.”

“It isn’t,” Harriet replied. She lowered her head, quickened her pace, leaving Millie behind.

“Harriet!” Millie called after her. Harriet moved quickly through the field to the station. Millie sighed and walked on.

At the station, Marion and Helen were leaving as Millie approached the door.

“What’s eating Harriet?” Helen asked.

Millie shook her head. “I think she is just tired, like the rest of us.”

“She practically grabbed the headphones off my head,” Marion said.

“I’ll talk to her,” Millie said, opening the door.

Inside, Harriet was sitting at the wireless. Millie made tea for them, then sat. Glancing at Harriet, she noticed more clearly the dark circles under her eyes, the hard line of her mouth and creased brow.

“Harriet,” Millie said gently, touching Harriet’s arm. Harriet jerked her arm away and leaned forward, concentrating.

Millie frowned. It was going to be a long four hours.

The night passed as the others had before. There were call-outs of positions and weather. Millie briefly heard big-band music. At 0203 Harriet called out, “Repeat signal. 312 kHz. Unknown source.” Millie wrote it in the logbook.

At 0400, Vi and Ethel entered the station. Harriet took her coat from the peg, pushed past them, and left.

“Where’s the fire?” Vi asked.

“You could have at least made fresh coffee.” Ethel said, examining the empty percolator.

“Sorry, it’s been a bit of a night.” Millie replied. “Harriet isn’t feeling well.”

Vi slid the headphones on while Ethel made coffee. Millie hesitated, then put her coat on and went.

Outside, Harriet stood away from the station, facing the channel. “Harriet, are you coming?” Millie asked.

She noticed a vague wave of Harriet’s hand, dismissing her. Millie pulled her coat tight and walked toward camp.

Should she talk to the officer on watch? What would she say? Millie stopped and looked behind her. She could see Harriet in the distance walking behind her toward the camp. No, she was being silly. There was nothing to report. Harriet was fine. Only tired.

Night Four

Millie raced to catch up with Harriet. Her torch bounced along the ground in front of her. When she caught up to her, she grabbed her by the arm. “Harriet. Stop. Just talk to me.” Harriet snatched her arm away and continued walking.

“Leave me be, Millie. I am going to do this with or without you.” Harriet said.

“What do you mean? What are you doing with or without me?”

Harriet stopped and faced Millie. “I am going to find the signal. I am just waiting for instructions.” Millie blinked. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“Harriet, please. You can’t find a signal. We aren’t that kind of station. This is ridiculous. Maybe you should go to the infirmary. You need a rest.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. That you wouldn’t understand.” Harriet resumed walking toward the station. Millie followed. She knew she’d have to tell someone.

They fell into their routine at the station. Harriet sat with her jaw set. Millie cast repeated glances at her. She made Harriet tea, which she didn’t drink. At 0203, the signal came. Millie recorded it. Harriet set down the headphones and walked to the window. She stared into the darkness for a moment. Millie watched Harriet’s back, pencil poised. The static from the headphones crackled. When Harriet turned around, Millie quickly lowered her head and waited.

Millie stood at the door of the officer's hut. She took a deep breath and knocked. “Enter,” a voice on the other side said. Millie stepped in. The officer on watch looked up from his papers. Millie cleared her throat. “Sir, I thought you should know that Wren Collins has seemed preoccupied for the last few nights.”

“How long has this been going on?” he asked.

“Four nights, sir.”

“And has she missed any signals?”

“No, sir.”

“Left her post?”

“No, sir.”

The officer jotted something down in his ledger. “I see. I have made a note. Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Millie turned and went. Had she done the right thing? Across the way, a match lit. The glow briefly showed Marion lighting a cigarette.

“Can't sleep?” Millie asked.

“Turning in after this,” Marion said, offering the cigarette to Millie. She shook her head. “What were you doing in there?”

“I was telling the officer on watch I was worried about Harriet.”

“Yeah? She has been acting a bit strange lately.”

“You’ve noticed?”

Marion nodded. “Found her behind the huts the other night. She was just standing there. Staring into the darkness.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“She said she was listening. I figured she just needed to be alone. It’s this place, the work, the war. It gets to you after a while.”

“Yes, it does.” Millie paused. “I am going to the mess. Sleep well.” Millie walked toward the mess hall as a thin, pale streak appeared on the horizon of the dark blue sky.

Night Five

Millie trudged through the field to the station. The wet grass had already soaked the bottoms of her trousers.

“Millie,” she heard Harriet’s voice, stopped and turned to see Harriet running towards her.

“You didn’t wait for me.” Harriet said, in between breaths.

“No, I thought you were upset with me.”

“I am not upset.” Harriet linked her arm through Millie’s.

Millie searched Harriet’s face in the dark. “Are you feeling better then?”

“In fine fettle,” Harriet laughed. “Let’s go.”

Harriet stepped into the station first. “Good evening, ladies.” She removed her coat, then hung it up. She waited for Millie to take off her coat and then hung it on the peg for her.

“You’re chipper tonight.” Marion said as she set down the headphones. Harriet smiled, sat and set the headphones over her ears. She turned down the volume, then leaned in.

“We are out of tea,” Helen said as she put on her coat.

“It’s been quiet. Good luck.” Marion said as she followed Helen out the door.

Millie poured a cup of coffee each, then placed them on the table. Harriet took a sip while she listened. Millie sat, flipped through the logbook, and then glanced at Harriet. She was intent, yet her face was relaxed. What had changed between last night and tonight?

The first two hours were more of the same. Weather. Positions. At 0200 they swapped. Millie tensed as she waited for 0203. She watched the clock.

“Repeat signal. 312 kHz. Unknown source.” Harriet said. Millie wrote it down. Harriet removed the headphones, placing them gently on the table. Millie looked up at her as she walked to the door, opened it and went out. Millie leaned back in her chair, craning her neck to see through the open door. Harriet was running toward the channel. Millie rose from her chair and went to the door.

“Harriet!” she yelled into the dark. She waited a moment. The static buzzed in the background. Another moment passed. Maybe she will come back. Another moment. Millie looked toward the wireless and then back at the night.

She crossed the room to the table and lifted the receiver of the telephone. The line connected immediately. “Duty officer,” the voice on the other end said.

“This is Wren Miller. Wren Collins has suddenly left the station and has not returned.”

“How long has she been absent?”

“About five minutes, sir.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“No, sir.”

“Is the station secure?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Continue monitoring. Do not leave the post.”

“Yes, sir.”

Millie set down the receiver, went to the door, looked out, paused, and then closed it. She sat at the table. Her eyes rested briefly on Harriet’s cold cup of coffee. She slid the headphones over her ears. She realised her hands were shaking as she reached for the dial.