The Return of the Horsemen: Spark Gap, Submarines and Mexican Cave Fish

By Mark Roddy

The phone call was short - a complaint from Mark Webley - a freshman at St. Mary’s college in Maryland - reporting that every Thursday night he was picking up a coded message in morse code - that was being repeated verbatim all the way around the world by other ham radio operators. The situation is addressed at the next executive meeting at the Carlisle War College in Pennsylvania. A decision is made that it ‘wouldn’t hurt’ to set up an informal ROTC program at various schools to explore the possibility that other ‘unfriendly’ nations might still be using primitive forms of communication against the United States. The situation explodes when Mark Webley - now an exchange student at the University of Gibraltar, intercepts communications that accurately describe the movement of US submarines in and out of the Mediterranean.

On the surface, this novel is a love story between Mark Webley and Maria Blasini, as they work their way through the maze trying to get to the end in one piece, and return to college where they belong. On a second level, it is a high action drama involving patriotism, loyalty, love, trust, and respect - as opposed to lying, cheating, treason and corruption, fueled by massive amounts of money. And finally, it is a warning to the United States military that although this book is fiction, there is truth in it which should not be ignored.

As for the horses? I guess you will have to read the book to find out!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798823018982

Mark Roddy

Mark Roddy is a retired US Air Force officer, whose 24-year active-duty career consisted of 12 different assignments around the world, including two tours in Germany. Mark earned a Bachelor of Arts degree, with honors in English Literature from Saint Michael’s College, and a master’s degree in International Relations from Troy University. He has previously published the novels The Third Day and Angela’s Letter. Mark lived in Rhode Island while in high school and college. Today, he lives in Northern Virginia, with his wife of 50 years, Dawn, whom he met when both were on active duty in the Air Force.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Cape Race

Cape Race, Newfoundland. 1912. Not a good place to visit. Not a good place to live. Not a good place to do anything. Lousy weather. Windy and cold. And the fog. Never ending fog. Often referred to as the end of civilization by those few people who lived there.

But Cape Race was a critical location in the maritime world. It was the first lighthouse that a westbound ship would see after crossing the North Atlantic. The lighthouse at Cape Race was a masterpiece of engineering ingenuity. The two ton Fresnel light floating on a platform of liquid mercury. The rotating light could be turned with a one horsepower electric motor. Or by hand if necessary.

Just as importantly, Cape Race was the first radio point of contact for ships traveling from Europe to the United States. It was also the most northern telegraph station on the Atlantic coast. If a ship was able to send a wireless communication to Cape Race - it could be resent by telegraph anywhere on the North American Continent.

Wireless radio had been a gift from the gods for ships a sea. For centuries a missing ship that failed to return to its home port would be labeled lost at sea. Never a trace. Never an explanation. Just lost at sea. Although the wireless was less than 15 years old, every passenger ship of any size had a wireless transmitter and operator who knew how to use it.

Morse code, on the other hand, was not new. Three generations of highly skilled telegraph operators had already come and gone. Every civilized country was crisscrossed by telegraph wires. England had already connected their vast territory’s all over the world with undersea telegraph cables - the Red Line.

Walt, known as Gray to his colleagues, was a native of Scotland, a Scalloway man. He was already a skilled telegraph operator when he decided to go to the Marconi Radio School and learn about this new wireless form of communication. The sounds were completely different. The rapid fire clicks of the telegraph sounder were replaced with static buzzing and beeps from a strange electrical contraption. It took some getting used to. But Walt kept at it, and emerged from the school both a highly skilled telegraph operator as well as a wireless operator. He was perfect for Cape Race. He would have to utilize both.

Both in England and the United States, nearly all of the wireless operators knew each other. Most had all gone to a Marconi College, either in England or the United States. Walt had attended the first Marconi Training School in Essex, England. But the demand for radiotelegraph operators was so high that Marconi had established colleges almost everywhere in the English-speaking world. Being a graduate of the Marconi College almost guaranteed employment. In some ways it was sort of a very exclusive club.

It had been an extremely busy day at this remote and desolate Marconi radio station. Radio traffic was higher than usual. Great Britain’s new queen of the ocean - the Titanic - had come into radio range about 700 miles out. The largest ship afloat. The most luxurious passenger liner ever built. It’s chief wireless operator, Jack Phillips, was pushing out message after message from the ship’s wealthy passengers - to be relayed by telegraph down the East Coast to New York. Walt smiled to himself. Most of them were messages of affection. My dearest so-and-so. I am so looking forward to seeing you when we dock in New York. That sort of thing.

At 10:00 pm Eastern Standard time, Gray decided to call it a day, and left the operating room to attend to other matters. A second Marconi operator, Robert Hunston, relieved him.

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Gray! Gray! Its a CQD. My God, the Titanic has struck a berg!

Gray ran back into the radio room and took the chair. A CQ was a general call asking for anyone to answer. D meant only one thing - Distress. A CQD call took priority over any other transmission.

For the next 2 hours the Titanic continued to call for help. At first Gray did not realize the gravity of the situation. After all, the Titanic was unsinkable. However, he did his best to relay the distress calls with his powerful transmitter to any other ship that might be close enough to render assistance. He was able to reach the Carpathia, a steamer sailing from New York to Croatia. Strangely, the Californian, the closest ship to the disaster, was not answering its radio at all.

Shortly before 2:00 am the messages were becoming much more urgent:

WE ARE SINKING HEAD DOWN

WE ARE PUTTING THE WOMEN OFF IN BOATS

Less than 30 minutes later the Titanic’s calls for help were becoming very weak and distorted - and then stopped abruptly.

Nothing further was heard from the Titanic.

Chapter 2

St Mary’s College

Yo bro! A lanky young man with an engaging smile came cruising through the door of Mark’s dorm room.

You must be Mark. I’m Ted. We spoke about two weeks ago on the phone.

Ted threw one of his backpacks on the bed and the other one onto the floor. It hit with a thud.

I guess you’ve already been to the bookstore, Mark ventured.

Ted laughed. Oh no. Those are two 15-pound hand weights. I gotta stay buffed up you know.

Ted looked around. He could see that Mark was already set up.

You left me the bed by the door?

I did. But if you have some objection to that I will be more than happy to switch it around.

Oh no. I come in and out a lot. It might be best if I am near the door.

Ted walked over and shook Mark’s hand. I guess we’re roomies. I’m pretty easy to get along with. Ted flashed a big smile.

Ted started unpacking his backpacks. One sleeping bag, three changes of clothes, and some personal grooming items. And two 15-pound hand weights. That was it.

You are traveling a little light? Mark asked.

Not really. The school has a shuttle bus that goes into Lexington Park twice a week. If I need something else, I will just go and buy it. Ted flashed another big grin. So did you figure out the odds yet?

The odds for what?

The ratio of guys to girls at this college. Six girls to four guys. How can you beat that? I checked out the statistics before I even applied to college. So the way I look at it, you and I have a moral responsibility to take up the slack.

I never looked at it that way.

Well you should. Four years from now you’ll be working some boring 40 hour a week job with nothing to look forward to. But for the next four years, you are going to be in beautiful southern Maryland, surrounded by the nicest collection of eligible hot chicks that you will ever meet, and with no parental supervision. What does all of that say to you?

Mark was taken aback. Frankly, he had been thrilled just to get an acceptance letter. But Ted had it all figured out.

I’ll tell you what it says to me. It says get drunk, get laid, and work just hard enough to get your diploma. Do you think 25 years from now anyone is ever going to ask you what kind of grades you got in college? I don’t think so. A pause. So what is your game plan?

The only advice my father gave me was keep my grades up and don’t come home a father.

I like it! I like it! You always have to be prepared.

Ted pulled a pack of Trojans out of his backpack and put them in the top drawer of his desk. Feel free. Never get caught with your pants down and nothing to put on. . . . Hey, what’s that sitting on your desk? Some type of radio or something?

Yes, Mark answered. A ham radio.

OK cool. I have a neighbor that’s into that sort of stuff. He let me try it out once. Where is the microphone?

I don’t use one. I am a Morse code guy. You know the little beeper that you tap on?

Are you kidding me? No one does that anymore.

You might be surprised, Mark said. There are hundreds of Morse code operators in the United States and thousands all over the world.

Ted came over and put his arm around Mark’s shoulders. Now listen up buddy oh buddy of mine. You train is already going down the wrong track. You have a four year window of opportunity here to enjoy some really hot chicks and you’re gonna be sitting in this room by yourself beeping people who you will never meet, and who couldn’t care less about you? You have the rest of your life to beep people. What are you thinking?

He did have a point.

It’s just a hobby, Ted. I only do it once in a while. Trust me, I will be in the game.

My man Mark! Now we’re talking! There is some type of freshman indoctrination meeting in the student union building at 8 o’clock tonight that we have to go to. Ted reached into his desk. Here, take two of these. Take your father’s good advice. I’ll leave the dorm room open for you.

Chapter 3

The CQ

Mark sat down at his desk in his dorm room. It was Thursday night at 7:45 and his roommate was already drinking at the nearest frat party. No problem. So were the rest of the students at St. Mary’s college. Mark would have some uninterrupted radio time.

Most of the week the funny looking chromed object sitting on top of the stack of papers on his desk was used as a paperweight. However, in reality it was a Vibroplex bug - a high-quality Morse code key. In the hands of a skilled operator, and plugged into a short wave radio, it could do some amazing things.

Mark’s interest in Morse code had been ignited in the fourth grade. His history teacher had played a re-created recording of the distress call sent out by the Titanic in 1912 as it was sinking into the frigid waters of the north Atlantic. At first listen - it was just a garbled bunch of static. But to Mark it was a panicked radio operator screaming for help as his ship was going down. It was then and there that Mark decided to learn Morse code and get his amateur radio license.

By his senior year in high school Mark had become quite proficient. All of his friends thought he was crazy. His parents didn’t object as long as he had his homework done, and got to bed at a decent hour. At least they knew where he was. His sister would continuously tell him you should’ve been born a century ago and would go into her bedroom to get on Facebook. Mark’s younger brother was determined to take over his uncle’s dairy farm in western Pennsylvania and couldn’t care less about anything electronic.

Fortunately, Mark’s Aunt Caroline had also attended St Mary’s College, and had been personal friends with the former President. Under the watchful eye of the Physics department, Mark had obtained permission to run a thin wire from the top of his dorm building to a 150 foot oak tree almost a football field length away. He was on the air!

Mark had cut a deal with his roommate Ted. If Ted brought a girl back from a frat party, Mark would politely vacate the room and sleep elsewhere. In return, Mark would have Thursday nights to work his Morse code stuff uninterrupted until midnight. Mark concluded that he had gotten the better part of the deal – so far Ted hadn’t returned to the room with any females - drunk or not. Either they were frolicking somewhere else or Ted needed a different strategy in the dating world.

Back to the situation at hand. For the last three weeks - on each Thursday - at precisely 8:00 pm, Mark had picked up a radio signal from eastern Canada. V1YA. At first blush it sounded like just another radio amateur attempting to contact Europe and hoping for a reply. No big deal. However, when Mark checked out the call sign on the Internet, he could not locate it. Quite unusual. A little more snooping and it turned out that the last individual holding that particular amateur radio license had died over 80 years ago. Either a dead guy was calling from the netherworld looking for his old friends in Europe or someone was deliberately using his expired license.

Mark had carefully copied down the messages sent. At first there was nothing particular about them - actually they were rather short. Just a normal exchange between two amateur radio operators who still enjoyed using Morse code. A standard report on the strength of the signal, the type of radio being used, the height and type of antenna, that type of stuff. Mark could never hear the answering radio operator - not unusual depending upon the other person’s location, the power he was using, and atmospheric conditions.

But tonight the 40 meter band was wide open. No static at all. And then he heard the call. V1YA. The dead Canadian. Mark could hear that the Canadian’s CQ was being answered by someone in Ireland. Mark stayed on the air, thinking that maybe he would reach out and talk to the guy in Ireland after the Canadian was done. Radio conditions were so favorable that Mark’s modest 100 watt setup might just do the trick. Mark could hear both participants clearly, even though he was sitting in his dorm in southern Maryland. As Mark was about to start sending, he noticed that the guy in Ireland was now calling a CQ which was immediately answered by someone in Germany. Mark decided not to interrupt, and continued to listen and copy.

The message was an exact duplicate of the message sent by the Canadian! Mark quickly used his iPhone to record the transmission. There was no question about it - all of the numerical parts of the message were identical.

Mark continued to listen and record. About five minutes later he could hear the German calling a CQ which was immediately answered by someone in Italy. Once again the message was identical.

As soon as that transmission was complete Mark heard a very faint call from an amateur radio operator in Norway on the same frequency. It was answered by an amateur radio operator in Romania. Mark listened in disbelief - the message was identical to the others, at least as far as the numbers were concerned.

There was now no doubt about it. The dead Canadian was sending out some type of coded message which was being picked up by amateur radio operators all over the world and being repeated.

By now Mark’s hands were shaking so badly that he would not be able to work a Morse code key if he had to. What had he stumbled into? Was this some type of secret military operation testing communications if the Internet and the satellites went down in some future armed conflict? Was it some type of radio contest whereby radio operators had to send the same identical message around the world without a mistake? Was he just making a big deal out of nothing at all?

Mark quickly did some math. There were three numbers associated with a radio signal report. There were two numbers associated with the height of an antenna off the ground. There were either two or three numbers associated with the power of the radio being used. Eight random digits created the possibility of, well, millions of different numbers. If those numbers were somehow organized and put into a codebook - the possibilities were endless.

What fraternity had his roommate gone to? It was time to catch up with him and have a serious drink - perhaps more than one.

Chapter 4

The War College

Major Kaplan took a seat at the conference table. The other ten upper ranking officers had flown in from various parts of the country to attend this meeting. The US Army War College in Carlisle was considering revamping its communication courses to integrate and teach the most advanced forms of VHF and UHF coded frequency shifting messaging. Although the college was dedicated to developing critical thinking and strategy in the art of war, the soldier in the field - with just a high school education - might not be able to to understand the new programs that had been developed for Army’s new laptop communications system. What was that old song? Communications breakdown? Major Kaplan sat at the table trying to remember what rock group played it. Maybe Led Zeppelin? Black Sabbath?

General Moffet spoke first. The way I see it, the problem is not with the new technology. The problem is with the fact that a high school diploma doesn’t mean the same now as it used to when we were younger. They just push kids through now. We are getting new recruits on my base that can’t even fill out a form properly. I’ve seen stuff that my third grade teacher would’ve flunked me for.

Lieutenant Grabhorn spoke next. I’m really not sure that’s a fair statement. There are many smart high school kids out there. The real problem is that they are not interested in the military. There is no incentive for them to join. China and other countries have developed programs to recruit some of the smartest kids into their ranks. We have nothing like that. Until we address that problem - this communication stuff can stay on the back burner.

OK guys. We are not here to solve the problems of the universe. The bad guys are using laptops to communicate, and unless we teach our ground troops how to do the same thing we have a big issue. Major General DeLury was respected by everyone, and was diplomatic to everyone. He was a man who could get things done without offending anybody. Quite a skill.

I think we can all agree that the day has come and gone when we give a new recruit a gun, a backpack, and a wrist watch. I think everybody has a good point here. But our goal here is to teach our Army grad students the new technology and they in turn can take it back to the army bases around the country and teach it in their own way. We have just received a huge grant from Congress to purchase heavy duty field proof laptops with the latest secure software and it is now our job to teach the soldier in the field how to use them. We fly drones with laptops, direct artillery with laptops, communicate with the other armed forces with laptops, and order supplies with laptops. In this new world - carrying a laptop may be more important than carrying a gun. The day of the grunt hunched over a Morse code key has come and gone. West Point stopped teaching Morse code 20 years ago. So did our friends at Annapolis. Heads nodded up and down.

General DeLury turned and looked directly at Major Kaplan. Steve, you’ve been rather quiet so far. What’s on your mind?

May I speak freely Sir?

Of course. In reality we are really just a bunch of overgrown high school kids sitting in the cafeteria shooting the shit.

When the laughter died down it was obvious that the tension had been broken. OK. I look at the problem from two angles. The first angle is the ability of our troops to communicate with each other without interference or without anyone else figuring out what we are talking about. In this state of advanced electronics, it’s becoming much easier to pull that off. I haven’t heard of any other country breaking an army code in the last 50 years. A close friend of mine works in the ‘secret squirrel’ building at the Patuxent Naval Air Station and he shares that opinion.

Secret squirrel building? They actually have a building named that?

I don’t know Sir. I guess the Navy has their own way of doing things.

More laughter. Hey. A squirrel is a land animal. That’s the Navy. Shouldn’t they have used to fish or something? Maybe the covert catfish building? Perhaps the super secret squid building.

No, I know! How about a mysterious Manta? No! I think the elusive eel sounds better! Parking limited to those cars with the special EE designation sticker on the side window! More laughter. It really was starting to resemble a high school cafeteria.

All right. All right. Very funny guys. It’s a Naval AIR Station. Perhaps the squirrel is a flying squirrel. I don’t know. Anyway I think the real problem is when the bad guys resort to primitive forms of communication and we completely overlook it. And if we do find out about it we are unprepared for it. It would be pretty embarrassing if the bad guys were communicating back-and-forth right in front of our noses and we had no idea. You mentioned Morse code. Anybody who wants to spend a little time and energy can learn it. A small portable transceiver and a wire antenna thrown up in the trees can reach out thousands of miles. You may remember that the Vietcong were using low power transmitters in the jungles of Vietnam and talking to each other on a regular basis - and most of the time we were clueless. I have nothing against advanced forms of communication. But we can’t overlook the primitive forms either.

The room suddenly got quiet.

You have obviously been giving this some serious thought Major, commented General DeLury. Can I ask you what prompted this?

OK, I will tell you. About three weeks ago my secretary got a call out of the blue from some college kid in southern Maryland. He claimed that he had intercepted and recorded ham radio communications that contained codes. He said that the messages were emanating from eastern Canada and were being picked up in Europe and spread by other amateur radio operators verbatim. The kid was serious. I never talked with him but my secretary told him his information would be taken under consideration. I think the kid thought that we were just blowing him off. I discussed it with my friend at the Naval Air Station and he did take the situation seriously. The Navy has more experience than we do in long range communications and my ‘secret squirrel buddy’ told me that a medium to shortwave frequency Morse code signal could reach hundreds of listeners around the world in less than five minutes. Also consider that hundreds of listeners could receive the same message without transmitting. No Internet, no satellites, no nothing. We cannot ignore the possibility that a foreign power might communicate in that way. Don’t forget that in both World War I and World War II amateur radio operators in the US were prohibited from operating at all. There was a good reason for that.

So who is this kid? Did your secretary take down his name and number?

My secretary always takes down numbers. She is old school. I think she told me his name was Mark and he was going to St. Mary’s College in Maryland.

Isn’t that near Pax River?

I think so.

Alright. Here is what we are going to do. While the rest of us figure out a curriculum for teaching the average soldier how to use a laptop with the army’s most advanced communication software, I am putting you in charge of primitive communications. Why don’t you and your secret squirrel buddy get together and pay this college kid a visit?

There was some obvious snickering in the background. But General DeLury got serious in a big hurry. All of you should not forget that there were a bunch of foreign nationals in a flight school a few years ago that wanted to learn how to fly commercial airliners but weren’t particularly interested in learning how to land one. After 9-11 everyone wondered why these people hadn’t been checked out ahead of time. . . . What do you think about all this Slick?

Slick? Who the heck was Slick? It was only then that Steve noticed the group had been joined by another Brigadier General, a tall thin man with a wispy goatee.

Well y’all have some good points here I would say. A careful person shouldn’t be inclined to overlook anything. But you sure have pressed my curiosity button. It sounds like these people are highly organized and know exactly what they are doing - whatever that is. It may be nothin. Probably is nothin I would reckon. But this isn’t just a couple of fruitcakes, these people are snug as gophers in their gopher holes.

Steve was still trying to figure out what all that meant when General DeLury addressed him again. Am I not correct that every amateur radio operator has some type of call sign saying who they are? Sort of like their radio name? If so, then it should be pretty easy to figure out this whole thing. If this college kid was paying such close attention - what call sign was the Canadian guy using?

He gave my secretary that information, Steve answered. V1YA. I checked it out. Benjamin Jamison. Avondale, Canada. He was killed in World War II. No one has been assigned that call sign since then.

Well I do declare. A dead guy talkin on the radio. But if someone stole a dead guy’s call sign I reckon he’s not sitting on ole Ben’s grave with a radio transmitter. I guess he could be broadcasting from just about anywhere. If y’all keep pressing my curiosity button like this I may have to get in on it.

General DeLury started collecting his papers - a sure sign that the meeting was coming to a close.

On the way out, everyone please grab your packet of materials sitting on the table in the hallway. It outlines the new training program that we are considering implementing next semester. Your careful consideration and comments would be much appreciated. As for you Steve, I am not a secret squirrel, but if some Navy secret squirrel is taking this seriously then we are too. Your job is to go find this kid and see what he has to say. Keep us all in the loop. Especially Slick here. By the way everyone, this is Gen. Sidney Beauregard, the new commander at Ft. Polk. Not wired too tight. But a man you definitely want on your team.

With one last round of laughter, everyone started to get up. The meeting was over.

Chapter 5

Spanish Class

Mark sat at his desk staring at the clock on his laptop. He felt like he was back in grade school. When was this Spanish class ever going to end? Why had he taken French in high school and not Spanish? If he dropped out of college - it would be solely because he couldn’t seem to get a grasp of Spanish.

As he walked down the hallway with the other students, he found himself walking next to a girl he only knew as Maria. She never said anything in class and the teacher never called on her. Why couldn’t he be so lucky?

You seem to be having trouble with your Spanish.

So you noticed?

It’s really not that hard. It’s a romance language like French or Italian. You may be making the problem bigger than it is.

OK. I’m assuming that you are quite good at Spanish?

I would hope so. She smiled. My Dad is from Spain and my mother is from Puerto Rico. I am a military kid and have traveled all over the world. I speak fluent Spanish, French, Italian, passable German, and a Moorish dialect that I learned when my family was living in Ceuta. That’s where I grew up and where I live now.

Ceuta? Isn’t that a Spanish enclave on the African side of the Mediterranean - across from the Rock of Gibraltar? I just spoke to some guy from there last week. You actually live there?

Now it was Maria’s turn to be surprised. How do you even know where Ceuta is? Nobody knows. How could you speak to someone from Ceuta? You can’t put together a simple sentence in Spanish.

Morse code. Ham radio. The format is the same no matter what language you speak or what country you live in.

Oh, I see. . . . that would make sense. . . . My dad used to do that stuff way back when I was little kid because the military required it. He doesn’t do it anymore. Now he is the Spanish government’s liaison bringing Spanish pilots over to the Pax River Naval Air Station for aircraft carrier training. Or advanced flight training. Something like that. It’s a five year assignment. He should be here just long enough for me to graduate and then who knows where I will end up.

Mark was suddenly interested. This was no ordinary college girl. Maybe he should take a few moments to chat.

Now out of the building and approaching a park bench, Mark suggested that they sit down. So is there anything that you are not good at? If I might be so pushy as to ask you to help me with my Spanish - what could I help you with in return?

Maria laughed. American history. I know nothing about it. I couldn’t even tell you who your first President was. I’m actually thinking of dropping the course and taking it again my senior year. I just can’t get up the nerve to tell my parents. They really sacrificed a lot to get me here.

Mark could feel the deal shaping up. History was one of his strong points. It fascinated him. He learned back in grade school that the history books presented the boring and superficial view of historical events - but what really happened and why it happened was far more interesting. Reading historical biographies put a whole new take on almost everything. Mark had acquired quite a collection at home.

Maria had been studying his face closely and Mark could feel that she knew what was coming. She put out her hand before Mark could say a word.

When and where?

How about Thursday afternoon?

Maria frowned slightly. I don’t think that would work. Monday through Thursday afternoons I work as a receptionist in the administration building. My desk is right outside of the college President’s office door.

How did you ever get that part-time job? You are only a freshman.

Speaking five languages and typing at 50 words a minute has some perks. Not many - but it certainly worked in this case.

I should have guessed. . . . The only part time job I could get is driving the college recycling truck from the college campus to the Saint Mary’s County Recycling Center every Saturday morning. My perk is that on the way back, I stop at the Crazy Cow ice cream stand and treat myself to a really good milkshake.

Well I have an extra perk too. The administration building is the oldest building on campus. If I roll my chair back a foot or two I can hear everything that’s being talked about in the President’s office. There used to be an old-fashioned heating duct there which never got closed up properly.

Have you heard any cool gossip or anything?

Not really. It’s pretty boring. But I can tell you that we have one very smart college President. I can also tell you that the dean of students is a goofball. He’s always running in there trying to impress the President with something that he did. He is also a bit of a tattletale. I think the President is getting a bit irritated with him.

Are you talking about Dean Düsseldorf?

That’s him all right. . . . . would Thursday night work?

Hmm. Could Mark sacrifice his precious Thursday nights on his ham radio to spend time with Maria? There was an awkward pause, but his heart spoke before his brain had time to answer.

Thursday nights are good for me. The third floor of the library?

Chapter 6

The Light Switch

Hey buddy, can you keep it down over there? I got a chemistry test first thing tomorrow morning.

Mark and Maria looked at each other. Maybe the third floor of the library was not the best place to be practicing Spanish. But Mark had actually been making some progress. Maybe it helped to have a personal tutor. Rather cute too. Spanish was definitely looking up.

OK. Sorry. We will leave. . . They packed up their books, and started walking towards the elevator.

You still owe me an hours’ worth of American history.

Don’t you worry about that, Mark answered. We just have to find a Plan B. . . They exited the front door of the library.

Let’s walk down by the water, Maria suggested. . . It’s a beautiful night.

How are we going to read your history book sitting down there? And what chapter are you up to? What’s the subject?

It is your American Civil War. It’s a battle called Gettysburg. For some reason it’s really important.

It’s important because it’s considered the turning point in the war. Up to then the South was kicking ass. I don’t think I need your history book for this one, so let’s walk down to where the sailboat club keeps their boats.

It really was a beautiful night for late October. No wind. The stars seemed especially bright.

So here’s my first problem, Maria said. It’s the Confederates from the South versus the Union from the North. I get that. But at the beginning of the battle the South approaches Gettysburg from the North and the North approaches Gettysburg from the South. That’s a bit backwards, don’t you think?

Hmm . . . I never looked at it that way. . . Mark was feeling pretty good about himself. He was in his comfort zone. . . . The South decided that they needed to strike a decisive victory to convince Lincoln to give up. They were running low on food, supplies, and money and the longer the war dragged on the better chances the union had of winning the war. So they developed a plan to sneak the confederate army up behind some mountain ranges and attack Harrisburg - the capital of Pennsylvania.

How do you sneak an entire army around without being noticed?

Don’t forget it is 1863. No telephones. No airplanes. The telegraph lines ended at Gettysburg, and didn’t proceed any further west. You could actually get away with something like that. So anyway Lee gets the Confederates almost up to the Susquehanna river where he intends to meet up with his other generals and his cavalry. Then he learns that the main Union army has figured out where he is - and is only about two marching days away. Rather than get his army stuck with its back against the Susquehanna river, he turns his army around determined to meet the Union army head on. The fact that they meet at Gettysburg is of little consequence. It could’ve been any little farm town in southern Pennsylvania.

Wow! You really do know your stuff. Maria was quite impressed. Why don’t you teach my history class?

Well, why don’t you teach my Spanish class? You give me an A and I’ll give you A and everybody will be happy. Their laughter broke the quiet night air.

By now they had reached the college pier and sat down on the wharf with their legs dangling over the side.

So anyway on the first day of the battle the Southern troops meet the advance units of the Union army head on. The fighting is extremely vicious and the Confederates push the Union forces back through town. The Union forces re-group on a hill with apple orchards on it and a small cemetery.

Is that Cemetery Hill?

You got it. The next day the South tries to do an end run around both ends of the Union line. The Union holds on by the skin of their teeth. Desperate for a win and realizing that both sides have just lost thousands of good soldiers, General Lee decides his army will attack the middle of the Union line the following day. He was desperate for a decisive win.

Is that what they call Pickett’s charge?

Yeah. They should’ve named it Pickett’s slaughter. When the confederate troops got near the union line the Union cannons opened up shooting everything they could get their hands on. It was a bloodbath.

That’s really sick. . . Maria shuttered. Really sick. Sometimes I wonder why my dad is in the military. I don’t think God put us here to kill each other.

Mark didn’t know what to say.

They both sat for a while staring out at the sailboats gently bobbing up and down at their moorings.

Well, I do have to write some of this stuff down. It’s a bit dark out here.

Mark thought for a second. My dorm room is up there on the other side of the soccer fields. We could go back there for a couple of minutes and I can take a look at your textbook and you can write some notes.

Will we be bothering anyone?

No. I have a deal with my roommate. On Thursday nights I have the room to myself until midnight so that I can contact people on my short wave radio without interruption. He gets irritated when there is a whole lot of beeping going on.

You gave up your special radio night to study with me?

Well . . . You are special. I just swapped one special thing for another special thing.

As soon as Mark said that he regretted it. This was just supposed to be a study session. That comment crossed the line. But Maria didn’t press it, and Mark could see that she had a small smile on her face.

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So this is your dorm room where you do you your Morse code stuff? Is that why there’s a long wire connected to your window?

Yes. But you don’t need all this equipment to do Morse code. Anybody can do it. You just get yourself a little chart and practice the alphabet. Here - watch this. Mark went over to the light switch by the door and turned off all the lights. I am going to do your name. A quick flash is a dot and a longer flash is a dash. Watch this. Mark slowly spelled out M A R I A in Morse code by flashing the room light on and off.

Ships used to communicate that way with each other when they didn’t want to send a radio signal. That’s probably where your dad learned it. On a clear night you can see a light signal up to 5 miles. But enough of this. Let’s take a look at your history book.

Mark and Maria spent the next hour going through the more intricate details of the Battle of Gettysburg. When Mark was certain that she had a good grasp of the battle he looked at his watch. 11:48 pm. His roommate would be returning soon. Maria got the hint and started closing up her book.

How far away could a ship send light signals? Maria asked. . . . Did you say 5 miles?

Sure. I never tried it though. That’s just what I’ve read.

I’m not good at distances. How far away would you say those buildings are from here? Maria was pointing to other college buildings on the far side of the athletic fields and across the college farm.

I guess about half a mile? . . . It’s a little bit of a hike. Maybe a bit more.

Can I keep this Morse code chart you just printed out? Maria asked.

Sure. I printed it out for you.

Well . . . thank you so much for the interesting study session. I really enjoyed it.

Me too.

Well. . goodbye for now. Have a good night.

You too. Would you like me to walk you back to wherever you are going?

No, I’ll be fine. But thanks anyway.

As Maria was walking out the door she turned. At exactly 12:30 I want you to watch those buildings. Then she was gone.

What is up with that? Mark thought to himself. What did she mean - watch those buildings? He wanted to go to bed.

Ted must’ve been having a good night because at midnight he was still out on the town. Maybe he got lucky for once. Mark hoped so. Mark finished up his Spanish homework and looked out the window. Whatever was supposed to happen to those buildings at 12:30 wasn’t happening. As Mark turned to leave to go down the hall to the bathroom to brush his teeth, he thought he saw a flash of light from the top floor window of one of the girl’s dorms. Then he saw another. . . Unbelievable! He turned out all of his lights and walked back over to the window get a better look. It was very slow - but the letters were clear:

TNK U FOR THE LOVELY EVENING

Mark practically tripped across his bed to get to his light switch. It had to be really simple.

ME TOO ME TOO

As Mark walked down the hall carrying his toothbrush, he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face - no matter how hard he tried.

Chapter 7

President Polk

Mark was already in bed when his roommate came cruising through the door. Ted’s nights of drinking had moved from Friday night, back to Thursday night, and now back to Wednesday night. Not a good sign for someone trying to make it through a difficult four year private college. Ted was a really good guy with a lot of potential. Mark was starting to get a bit worried about him.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news buddy oh buddy of mine. Looks like you’re going to be off the air for a while.

Mark set up in bed. What do you mean by that?

I was hanging out near the athletic fields when the football team got done their practice. One of them noticed the wire stretching from the top of the our dorm to the oak tree. Someone got the bright idea to take off their shoes, tie them together and see if they could get them hung up on the wire. I counted 20 pairs of shoes up there before the wire broke.

Didn’t anyone stop them? Mark asked in disbelief.

You mean me? Not me pal. I’m no match for a football team. I saw the Dean of Students out there, but he seemed to be egging them on. I guess no one likes that wire but you.

Mark got out of bed and turned his radio on. The antenna tuner gauge went spastic when Mark pressed the tuning button. No doubt about it. . . No antenna.

Even more disturbing was the fact that his roommate Ted didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. So much for roommate loyalty.

What time did all this happen?

No answer. Mark turned his chair around. Ted was laying on top of his bed with his clothes on passed out.

Early the next morning Mark confirmed everything that his roommate had told him. The wire had broken at the dormitory end. Someone must have yanked the other end down from the tree, and there was now a pile of wire on the ground in the woods.

Mark considered his options. If he could somehow put the antenna back up where it was, the football team would notice it and bring it down again. For them it was just a game. He could try to obtain permission to put a vertical antenna on top of his dorm but it was highly unlikely that his Aunt Caroline was going to be able to pull off a second favor with the college President. An indoor magnetic loop antenna would kill his chances of ever talking to people in other countries. He might as well just go out and buy a CB radio and talk to the good buddies driving their trucks on I-95 hauling pigs from Alabama to New York. The Thanksgiving break was a month away. He might as well just take his radios home and leave them there.

The day went slowly. For the first time since he met Maria he really didn’t want to see her. He knew he was in such a bad mood his negativity would spill over. He always looked forward to their study sessions together, and listening to her musical laugh. Fortunately, it was only Wednesday and he had a another whole day before he would see her again. But who was he kidding? They had never even exchanged cell phone numbers. He would probably find out tonight that her Spanish boyfriend had just landed in Washington and was going to spend the next month at her dad’s apartment in Lexington Park. . . . He was just some schmucky freshman trying to figure out what he should do with his life. Mark decided to take a short walk off campus so he could get control of his anger.

It was not to be. Mark’s cell phone vibrated. He pulled it out and saw that it was an international phone number. Must be a mistake. He answered it anyway. It was Maria.

Mark! The college President wants to see you right away. And I mean immediately. Stop whatever you’re doing and get over to the administration building. Like right now! Darse Prisa! Darse Prisa!

It took Mark a few seconds to try and figure out the connection between Maria and the college President. Then he realized that this was one of the days she worked as his personal secretary - translator. What now, was he getting kicked out of school? He turned around and walked back to campus.

The administration building was a large white imposing structure with columns in the front. It had a round white cupola on the top. Mark guessed that has been built in the early 1800s and the cupola allowed the owners to look out over St. Mary’s River and watch the sailing ships go in and out of the Potomac. Mark slowly climbed the ‘Lincoln Memorial" stairway to the second floor and entered through the huge double oak doors. ‘President’s Office to the Left’ the sign said, with an arrow pointing in the proper direction. Pretty hard to go the wrong way with all that instruction. Mark walked down the long hallway toward another set of double doors at the far end. It was so quiet he could hear his own breathing. What was that movie – ‘The Long Green Mile?’ Maria was nowhere in sight. The two desks in the small waiting area outside of the door were empty. Mark knocked and waited.

The President opened the door himself. He was a towering man standing about six foot six and looking quite a distinguished in his three piece suit. Marks eyes slowly adjusted to the dimly lit office. He could see an entire wall containing leather bound volumes of some kind. Heavy red velvet drapes covered the windows. There was someone sitting in the chair off to one side but Mark could not make out who it was.

Good afternoon Mark. The President stuck out his hand. Mark shook it.

Good afternoon to you, Sir.

Come on in and have a seat.

Mark sat in one of the other huge leather bound chairs. It was only then that he noticed the other person in the office was Maria. Now he was totally confused.

Am I getting kicked out of college?

Mark, you can rest assured that you are not in any trouble of all. So relax. I understand that you and Maria know each other so I have invited her to sit in for our little conversation.

Mark waited.

About two hours ago the Dean of Students requested my attention for a couple of minutes. Let me just say that he is a frequent visitor to the administration building. He advised me that he had taken it upon himself to remove the unsightly wire connected from the roof of your dorm to the oak tree on the other side of the athletic fields. He also advised me that some students had complained that your radio activities were interfering with their Wi-Fi TV signals in their dorm rooms.

That’s impossible! Mark interjected. Sorry Sir. I didn’t make mean to speak out of turn.

Quite all right young man. I figured as much.

So before I had an opportunity to continue the conversation with our Dean of Students, and explain to him that I had given our maintenance people as well as our Physics Department permission to put up the antenna in the first place, Maria buzzed me on my intercom. She said ‘There are two very important people out here that need to see you immediately.’ I excused our dean of students and suggested that he go down to the snack bar in the basement and have a cup of coffee and stop back up in half an hour. . . Maria. . . I see that you can hardly contain yourself. Do you want to take the story from here?

Maria’s eyes glowed with excitement. I’ve been connected with the military and military people all my life. I recognize serious military brass when I see it. The two gentleman who walked into the waiting room had it written all over them. They may have been dressed in suits, but there was really no disguising who they were. At least to me anyway. They identified themselves as Major Steven Kaplan from the United States Army and Admiral Tony DeBiasi from Pax River. I let the President know that he had two important guests that needed to see him immediately. I had no clue what it was all about.

Mark sat dumbfounded.

The college President continued. Anyway Mark, it seems that you made a telephone call a few weeks ago. The message ended up at the Tobyhanna Army Depot where Major Kaplan runs the worldwide logistics support program for the Army. Communications, computers, intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance systems, that sort of thing. Whatever you told him - he apparently took seriously and shared the information at a meeting of the upper level brass at the Army War College in Carlisle. They requested my permission to speak with you. In essence, they explained that they were starting a new program that would involve college-age students who had a serious interest in electronics and especially medium to short wave radio communications. Without going into detail they were very complementary of you, and Major Kaplan frankly said Mark is an intelligent young man who is going to go far in this world.

Mark didn’t know what to say. He looked at Maria. Her eyes were glowing so bright she could’ve lit up the room.

So Maria, I can tell you’re busting with excitement over there. Do you want to finish the story?

Mark, I tried not to listen in but from where I sat I could hear the whole conversation through the wall. After the gentleman left, President Polk came out the office and asked me if I knew who you were - since we are both freshman. I explained to him that you are in my Spanish class and I help you with your Spanish since you’re not particularly good at it.

I think you should also tell him that when I came out of my office you were pretending to read a blank piece of paper.

Oh yes. That too!

And be sure to tell them that when I asked you to look up Mark’s cell phone number in the confidential file in my other secretary’s desk you already knew it.

Oh yes. That too!

President Polk was obviously enjoying himself. So I asked my trusted assistant here to go fetch our Dean of Students and bring him back up to my office. Ok Maria - you take it from here.

You should of seen it! The President invited him into his office and left the door open a bit. First he asked him why he had the antenna taken down without checking with him first. Dean Dusseldorf was quite surprised that President Polk knew anything about the antenna. President Polk flat out told him that he knew about the antenna, and had given the maintenance people permission to put it up. Then Düsseldorf tried to blame the whole thing on the football team! President Polk wasn’t having any of it! Now this is the best part! President Polk told Dean Düsseldorf that the wire antenna was actually federal government property, and was part of a joint project between the United States military and talented college students who are monitoring covert radio communications between North America and other continents.

Mark glanced at President Polk. He was enjoying the story more listening to Maria tell it then if he told it himself.

And get this! He told Dean Düsseldorf that the intentional destruction of military property could get him five years in the federal penitentiary - but that he would use is influence to convince the military not to charge him. I thought Dean Düsseldorf was going to . . . . have a bathroom accident!

Unbelievable! Mark didn’t know what to say. . . . But he couldn’t have been happier. Maria had secretly looked up his cell phone number and memorized it.

President Polk interrupted his thoughts. You will be back on the air by the end of this week. I am going to instruct the maintenance department to put your antenna back up under your specific direction. In addition, I was advised by Major Kaplan that the military is going to install a special vertical antenna on the roof of your dorm that will allow you to monitor almost all radio traffic between North America and Europe. A high gain multi-band or something like that. At the government’s expense. I don’t know what you told them in that telephone conversation, and frankly I don’t want to know. But apparently they were quite impressed.

Finally Mark had the nerve to speak up. Am I supposed to meet with these guys? Are they coming back? . . . I don’t particularly want to be seen with them on campus.

Maria jumped up she was so excited. We already worked that out. It seems that Major Kaplan and Admiral DeBiasi both enjoy ice cream, and they may be at the Crazy Cow this Saturday when you pull up in your recycling truck. . . . Look for a red pick-up truck with two guys in blue jeans and farm boots.

What am I supposed to talk to them about? Do they just want to chat or is there some type of real program that’s been set up? Were you just messing with the dean of students when you told him that?

Absolutely not, Mark. A new program has been created and apparently the you’re the first college student that they intend to enlist.

Are you sure?

I am sure. I specifically asked them the name of the program before they left.

What did they say?

At first they just looked at each other. . . then Major Kaplan spoke up. He said it’s called O.S.S. - Operation Secret Squirrel.

Chapter 8

The Dancer

It was now mid-December, and the campus was unusually quiet. Exam week. One more week to go. . . But it was still a Friday night. Mark settled into his chair. His radio was on. The long wire antenna had been re-erected by the maintenance department over Thanksgiving break while he was away. He had brought back four of his other keys when he returned. They were now wired up so that he could use any key at any time at any point in a Morse code conversation. In the radio world, it didn’t get any better than this.

His meeting with the two farmers in the red truck late October had gone well. They explained the program to him, and told him that there would be other college students joining his ranks. It was agreed that everyone would get on the air every Friday night between 7:30 at 9:30. At exactly 8:30 on a predetermined frequency another Morse code operator would be calling Mark directly and expecting an answer. The call sign might be legit or it might be completely fake. The conversation would last for five minutes. Each member of the ‘O.S.S.’ had been allocated their own five minute time slot within those two hours. It was 7 o’clock now, and Mark figured that he’d take half an hour or so to warm up and get ready. His roommate Ted was already out drinking. Ted’s exams had not gone well. Mark had nailed two of his three final exams this week - but Spanish was still iffy. At least the course was over. Christmas was right around the corner, and Mark was looking forward to going home.

There was a soft knock on the door of his room.

Come in.

Hello? Am I intruding?

Maria! I thought you would be out with your girlfriends. It’s a Friday night.

Maria looked tired. I just wasn’t up to it I guess. I figured I’d stop over and see what you were doing. But I see you’re busy so I’ll just leave.

Wait! This is secret squirrel night! You’re in on this too. If I’m a squirrel, then you’re a squirrel. Plus you can help me out if you wouldn’t mind.

Really? Are you serious? If you’re just trying being nice - don’t worry about it - I’ll see you tomorrow in the library.

Mark’s brain was working overtime at the speed of a high-speed computer. No. I’m serious. Here’s what we will do. Pull up that other chair right next to me. Maria looked puzzled - but happy at the same time. It was a strange look.

Why do you need so many beepers? Or keys? When I was here back in September you only had one.

Funny you should ask. Each key is just a little bit different. Let’s start at the left. This is a J-38 straight key. A lot of old timers still use it. Very nice - smooth action. Tried and true. If you watch any old World War II movies this is the key that everyone is using.

Maria was soaking it up like a sponge. . . Well what does that little flipper on the side do?

That flipper closes the circuit, Mark explained. These keys were used for years by telegraph operators before radio was even invented. If you weren’t actually sending, you had to push that little flipper to the left and close the circuit so that another operator could send on the same telegraph line.

That seems backwards . . . just as long as you know what you are talking about.