Harry Jennings

I joined the Post Office Engineering Dept. in the Spring of 1942 as a Youth in Training, assigned to the exchange construction group in Bedford. At the end of my two-year training, having assisted in many interesting projects fitting switchboards and telephones on airfields and at secret establishments all round the area, I was made up to “unestablished skilled worker” and continued with much of the same. (I have read many of the books about the wartime sites of Bedford and Bucks, and reckon my colleagues and I must have worked on all of them). Eventually, in the spring of 1944, at very short notice, I was told to pack my tools and report on the Monday to Mr Reeves at Bletchley Park, for a maximum of two weeks (which stretched, in the end, to two and a half years). So it was I joined the strange world of BP and its even stranger inhabitants, and began one of the most interesting phases of my life. My duties were fitting telephones and teleprinters, installing exchange equipment and helping to maintain it. I was a small part of a dedicated crew of men and women doing an essential job and enjoying it greatly.

One of the things that surprised me was the apparent lack of security. It seemed that the red and black badge we wore was a pass to any part of the establishment. True, there were ‘Bluecap’ security guards on the gates and we did see them armed once, when it was rumoured that an intruder had been intercepted. I had been trained as an instrument maker before I joined the GPO, and noticed that all the locks on the huts and blocks were of a cheap surface type; in fact minor adjustments to 2 spare keys afforded entrance to almost any door. This was to give me a very interesting experience. I had to move a telephone in the Naval block and needed to get into a room which was locked. The keyholder was not available, so I simply said, “It’s OK, I’ve got a key” and opened the door. Inside were metal lined trays filled with papers which were damp and smelled of seawater. The heading on some of them said “Unterseeboot Service” and I realised that I was looking at “Liberated” material.

The only time I met with strong security was when I had to fit a telephone in a hut for an American officer, and he insisted that I did as much work as possible outside the room. When at last I was allowed to enter to fit the telephone, he stood in front of his Teletype with his hand on his pistol. I hadn’t the heart to tell him that if I wanted to read it, I could easily monitor it in the repeater room!

Apart from this instance, we were like perfect servants, invisible to those we served. One job I had made me wonder who I was doing it for. I had to fit a phone in the “Sick Bay”, a hut against the perimeter fence to the right of the main gate. It was the first time I had to climb a pole. The odd thing was that I had to fit it with a “Frequency Changer No 6A”, a Scrambler!! I have wondered ever since who was the VIP who was going to occupy that room.

One thing that amused us was that the young ladies of the government departments did not realise that we also were civil servants. On one occasion, an older colleague and I were working in an office where a celebration was taking place. NAFFI cakes and teas were in evidence, and when we enquired what it was all about, one of the girls explained that she had that day heard that she was now “established”, and went on to explain the advantages of such an exalted rank. “Well I never” said my mate, “To think I’ve been established for ten years, and never knew that!”. As a matter of fact, most of us who had 25 years service before BT took over were awarded the Imperial Service Medal. I wonder how many of those young ladies did?

The strange world of BP gave us quite a few laughs. There was the dapper Intelligence Corps officer, who, as he passed the mansion, heard a voice from under his feet: “Excuse me sir.” Looking down, he saw a jointer in a manhole. “Yes?”, “It's your spurs sir.” “What about them?” “They are upside down sir!” Said jointer had been member of the guards.

When at last the war ended, everyone disappeared. A few of us were left to recover about 100 teleprinters and switchboard equipment and miles of lead cable. Even later, I came back to the park to fit radios for the radio school and clocks for the GPO training school. Later still, I attended that same training school as a student. All in all, Bletchley Park has filled a considerable place in my 48 years service with GPO and BT (1942-1990).