Code Name Verity: Part 1: Ormaie 9.XI.43 JB-S Summary & Analysis

The narrator writes that her pen doesn’t work; she wants her pencil back. Thibaut takes over writing and explains to von Linden that the narrator, the English Flight Officer, is telling the truth; the ink has now been thinned with kerosene. Taking over writing again, the narrator curses Thibaut—she’s Scottish, not English. She writes that Thibaut and Engel have been laughing at her, because she got so upset when they came with kerosene (to thin the ink, but she was afraid they’d kill her with it).

The narrator notes that Engel was nervous last night because Engel was afraid the narrator hadn’t revealed enough British secrets for von Linden. But von Linden called the narrator’s account an “interesting overview of the situation in Britain over the long term.” The narrator also believes he hopes she’ll share information about Thibaut and Engel—he distrusts Thibaut for being French and Engel for being female. In exchange for her account, the narrator will now get water and a blanket.

The other prisoners despise the narrator. Thibaut has forced the narrator to watch them torture other French prisoners. The other prisoners all know that the narrator is a collaborator, and the boy she watched them torture yesterday called her a “Little Scottish piece of shit.” Another French girl regularly spits at the narrator. They hate Thibaut too, because he turned on his own countrymen. But perhaps the narrator, with her sniveling, makes it easier for the others—they can vow to be braver than her. 

The Civil Air Guard (Some Figures). Returning to Maddie’s story, the narrator writes that while Maddie’s granddad was well-off, he couldn’t afford flying lessons for his granddaughter. Dympna was the first to take Maddie flying with Beryl in the back (Beryl vomited in her handbag). Though Maddie couldn’t afford lessons, she haunted Oakway, and the mechanics were happy to let her help. In October, her situation improved when Britain started the Civil Air Guard. It offered free flight training, mostly to men. But Maddie’s engineer friends recommended her, and in January of 1939, Maddie made her first solo flight. The timing was perfect: Hitler invaded Poland in September of 1939, and Maddie got her basic pilot’s license six months before civil aircrafts were grounded.

Only a few days before Britain declared war on Germany, Maddie flew alone over the Pennines and Newcastle. She followed the coast; the narrator knows the area well because she regularly took the train from Edinburgh to London to school, and it follows that beautiful route. Maddie followed Hadrian’s Wall, noticed the mountains and the ponds that inspired poets, and observed the old Roman roads. She landed sobbing with love for her home and climbed out of the Puss Moth. Then, Maddie ran her post-flight tests and scraped bugs off the windshield.

Dympna found Maddie hours later and told her not to worry about the bugs. After a minute, Dympna noted that soon the Royal Air Force was going to need girls—they’d run out of men eventually. They were already forming the Air Transport Auxiliary, a civilian unit that took men and women. Dympna’s name was already in, and she promised to get Maddie in once they opened training to girls. Dympna then said that tomorrow, she was taking Maddie to the local Women’s Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF) office to sign up. The WAAF now allows women to do all the jobs men do, but at the time, they needed women to do radio work. Maddie became a radio operator.

Some WAAF Trades. Being in the WAAF, according to the narrator, was a lot like being in school (the narrator went to a Swiss boarding school, though, so maybe Maddie felt differently). Maddie was first stationed at Oakway. It was 1939 and into 1940 then, and not much was happening in Britain.

Telephonist. The narrator says that Maddie was working one day when a man told her to take her headset off. Maddie coolly finished her switchboard transfer and turned to the chief flight instructor for Oakway’s Royal Air Force squadron. He briskly said that tomorrow, she’d start in the radio room; an operator was out with the flu.

Radio Operator. The narrator relates a conversation between a training pilot and Maddie, who was on the ground. The pilot was struggling to identify a reservoir and where he was—and when Maddie was done helping him, she swore and groused that he’d never be able to find Berlin if he couldn’t even identify Manchester. The radio room went quiet—and the radio officer told her she was still transmitting.

Later, when everyone else was leaving, a man asked Maddie to stay behind. He asked if Maddie was the one who “talked down” a new pilot in a Wellington bomber earlier, guiding him through low clouds and the barrage balloons. Maddie admitted that was her. She broke the rules to help the pilot, so she expected to be court-martialed. But instead, the squadron leader complimented Maddie and asked if she’d flown before. Maddie admitted she had her pilot’s license and had flown at night. This was all unusual. Finally, the squadron leader asked if she’d like to fly in a Wellington to see what it was like.

Stooge. The narrator notes that a “stooge” is a person who goes in an aircraft just for the ride—though Maddie was probably more of a backseat driver. Her joyrides weren’t totally secret, but they weren’t authorized either. Once, the boys on a plane carried Maddie off; she was white and faint. She told them to put her down and then explained that they were fired on—by their own men, who apparently can’t recognize their own country’s planes. It was the spring of 1940 then; things were tense, but English skies were still safe from the Germans.

Signals Branch. Not long after, Maddie’s WAAF section officer praised her and asked if she was interested in further secret training. Maddie, of course, agreed. The narrator confesses that she’s making up a lot of names and planes in her account; she can’t remember every bit of Maddie’s life, of course. And this is all she can write today. Now she has to endure several hours of watching Engel struggle to translate for von Linden, and von Linden’s questioning. Hopefully she has some bad soup and a blanket to look forward to later.