Breaking the code

If I was obsessed with the war, my sister was even more so. Because she was the oldest she got to accompany my father, an air raid warden, up and down South Church Street every night checking to see that all lights on the street were out and that heavy drapes enclosed all windows. She was allowed to wear a helmet and sash just like Daddy.

One day Gloria pulled me aside and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone yet, but I think I have discovered a spy ring.”

Of course I was intrigued.

“I am intercepting their secret code” she continued, “I have heard it on the radio. It keeps interrupting programs and repeating these strange letters—over and over”

“You’d better tell Daddy” I said, wide-eyed.

“I am waiting until I can decipher the code.”

For several days Gloria would disappear into the bedroom with paper and pencil and listen to the radio. Finally she did share her discovery with my father.

It was a disappointment when we were told that the strange letters she had heard over and over—LSMFT LSMFT LSMFT in those pro-smoking days were merely advertisements for cigarettes—Lucky Strikes Means Fine Tobacco.