From The American Black Chamber by Herbert O. Yardley, 1931

In the latter part of 1928 the newspapers were full of the Anglo-American naval race. The British in 1927 had walked out on Hugh Gibson at the conference at Geneva, but when President Coolidge recommended the fifteen-cruiser bill which would bring us to parity with England, the British statesmen suddenly changed their tone and decided after all that perhaps it might be well to enter [into] an agreement with America on limitation of cruisers.

Everything pointed definitely to a conference in 1929. We therefore set about to play an important part, as we had done in 1921-22 at the Washington Armament Conference.

This was not a simple matter. The Black Chamber had entered a critical period of its history. It became increasingly difficult to obtain copies of the code telegrams of foreign governments . . . Our superiors did not always assist us in the measures necessary to maintain the flow of telegrams into the Black Chamber.

I envied the foreign cryptographer, for he had no such problem to worry over. All coded messages were turned over to him as a matter of routine, as they were to us during the war. In fact England, in her license contracts to cable companies, required them, upon demand, to deliver all telegrams to the Admiralty. And it is in the Admiralty that the skilled English cryptographers are hidden. The difficulty in obtaining material worried me considerably . . .

Momentarily I concentrated on the approaching conference. Both England and Japan would be more aggressive than ever. As late as 1927 during the crisis in China we had seen them still making joint and, so they thought, secret decisions before consulting America. America would need every resource at her command to hold the position she obtained at the Washington conference. The Black Chamber must again play its part.

The new Secretary of State had already taken office, but it was the custom of my correspondents in Washington to permit a new Secretary of State to familiarize himself with his new duties before bringing to his attention the activities of the Black Chamber.

Finally we deciphered a series of important code messages, and when I sent them to Washington I suggested that this presented an opportune moment to acquaint the new Secretary with our skill.

I accordingly awaited the reception of these messages with the greatest anxiety. I was to receive advance news of the Secretary�s reactions. A few days later when I saw a letter on my desk from one of my informants, I studied it la long while in silence before I had the courage to open it.

Finally, I ripped it open. The first words spelled our doom. The letter was almost illegible, full of exclamations, and what-not. I put in a telephone call for more details.

My informant told me that the messages I had sent down were given to the Secretary, who wished to know how they were obtained. When informed of the Black Chamber he had totally disapproved of our activities and ordered that all State Department funds be withdrawn from our support, and that the State Department have absolutely nothing to do with our organization. He took the position that we should not supervise the telegrams of foreign governments. This of course spelled the doom of the Black Chamber which was now supported almost totally by State Department funds.

I slowly hung up the receiver and turned to my secretary, who had been with me for ten years. She had gathered the meaning of the conversation. . . .

�I�m sorry,� I said inanely. �I guess weld better call in the others.�

When I told them the decision at Washington, they all stared at me with uncomprehending eyes. Most of them had devoted many years to cryptography, working secretively, not even their most intimate friends being aware of their real accomplishments. That cryptography as a profession would ever die had never entered their minds. It was tragic to hear these people, their intellect sharpened by years of original investigation, ask me the same questions over and over again. They did not understand . . .

The next day I received official notice of the closing of the Black Chamber, and was ordered to come to Washington at once.

Before reporting to my immediate superior I went the rounds, talking here and there with those who were familiar with the situation. One of these was a member of the diplomatic corps, who, as chief of different bureaus in the Department of State, I figured, had been dependent for his conduct of affairs upon the messages we deciphered.

When I walked into his office he gave me a hopeless smile.

( . . )

�There�s nothing we can do, Yardley. The top side simply won�t have it. Don�t see how we can get along without you.�

�Oh, you�ll manage,� I replied. �Well, good-by. It�s been pleasant to work with you.�

I at last reached the office of my immediate superior. He told me the story, and expressed his profound regret at the sudden manner in which it had become necessary to close the Black Chamber. We both agreed there was nothing that could be done. The Black Chamber was almost entirely dependent on State Department funds. Aside from this, we both agreed that it was up to the Department of State to define policies. If the Department considered the code messages of foreign governments inviolate, then inviolate they must remain. It would be usurpation of power on the part of the War Department if it engaged in activities against the policies of the State Department. There was nothing to do but close the Black Chamber and dismiss its employees. Its chapter in American history was ended.

My superior gave me letters of appreciation and recommendation addressed to each of my employees, and was kind enough to draft one for me to keep.

I left my superior�s office a bit sad, I think, for one does not sever an association of sixteen years without a tug at the heart.

( . . _)

There would soon be another Armament conference. It would be held in London, no doubt. How would America fire in the conference room without the Black Chambers ? The Department of State still used its sixteenth-century codes. I cold see the rush of excitement in the British Admiralty Cipher Bureau, as their skilful, experienced cryptographers prepared for the phalanx of American code clerks and their antiquated codes. I rather envied the British cryptographers.

Would America be defeated at this conference? Would England and Japan force their demands? I felt a bit sorry for the American Delegation, though, of course, I could not then know that it would be so badly defeated in London as to return with six-inch guns, and submarine parity and a ten-to-seven naval ratio with Japan.

America, having abandoned the secret practices of the Black Chamber, must, in self-defense, in order to protect herself from the prying eyes of skilful foreign cryptographers, demand by a new treaty with the Great Powers that diplomatic messages remain inviolate. But would America be shrewd enough to make such demand?

Indianapolis : Bobbs-Merrill, 1931.