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The Computer That Helped Win World War II

IEEE Spectrum15 min de cititArticolul și perspectiva sunt în engleză.

One summer day in 1941, a British radio operator was monitoring German military frequencies and heard something unexpected in her headphones. A later report called it “strange new music.” Sounding unlike the familiar Morse dit-dit-dah of enciphered messages sent over the German Enigma network, the “new music” was a rhythmic warble of binary teletype code being transmitted at high speed. Germany’s wartime engineers had developed a radically new encryption and transmission system. It was way more advanced than Enigma, which was patented in 1920. To break the complex new cipher, engineer Tommy Flowers built Colossus, the world’s first large-scale programmable electronic digital computer. Flowers previously built Enigma-related codebreaking equipment for Alan Turing, the British mathematician. Colossus was installed in the British codebreaking headquarters at Bletchley Park, about 80 kilometers from London. The room-size machine weighed around a tonne. The computer is being commemorated as an IEEE Milestone. The dedication ceremony is scheduled to be held 29 September at Bletchley Park. Decrypting Germany’s strange new music Britain’s top codebreakers were quickly all over the new “music” being picked up by the intercept stations. Identifying it as encrypted teletype code was the easy part. The real problem was figuring out how the encryption machine worked. Its manufacturer was discovered at the end of the war: Berlin engineering firm C. Lorenz. But in 1941, the Lorenz machine was just a black box to the British. They codenamed it “Tunny,” a British term for tuna fish. The Enigma breakers had set a precedent for using piscine codenames such as Dolphin, Lumpsucker, and Porpoise. Enigma had three or four encrypting wheels. The codebreakers guessed that the Tunny machine also used a system of rotating wheels to encrypt messages. An important clue was that all the intercepted messages shared a curious feature: Each began with an uncoded list of 12 common German names, including Anton, Bertha, Conrad, and Dora. The codebreakers guessed that Tunny had 12 wheels and that the 12 names and their order somehow told the receiving operator which combination they should twist the wheels to before decrypting the message. Then the British had an extraordinary piece of good fortune. John Tiltman, head of the research section at Bletchley Park, started analyzing a pair of intercepted messages, each around 1,200 characters long. Unusually, both began with the same sequence of names. The second message turned out to be a retype of the first, with minor differences in punctuation, a few abbreviations, and other small divergences. Tiltman managed to decrypt the two ciphertexts using a mixture of educated guesswork and intuition. The resulting 1,200 or so pairings of ciphertext and plaintext characters proved to be enough information to deduce the workings of the Tunny machine. That was thanks to Bill Tutte, a quiet young codebreaker who spent weeks poring over the pairings. One day, he shyly announced to his superiors how Tunny worked. His description was uncannily accurate. The next step in the Tunny machine’s downfall was achieved by Turing, fresh from his successes against Enigma. Knowledge of how the Tunny machine worked was not enough to decrypt the messages. Codebreakers also required detailed information about how the wheels of the sender’s machine had been set up. There were adjustable pins around the circumference of each wheel: In one of its two possible positions, a pin would contribute a 1 to the encryption process, and in the other, a 0. The pins were reset from time to time. The codebreakers also needed to know the wheels’ positions at the start of the message—which the German operators gave away in the list of 12 names. Turing invented a tricky method, called “Turingery,” that enabled codebreakers to deduce the positions of the pins from nothing but intercepted ciphertext. After that, the message could be decrypted, using the list of names and a British replica of the Tunny machine. The basis of Turingery was a procedure that Turing introduced, called “delta-ing” (from the Greek letter delta). Also known as “differencing,” the process used “sideways” addition: To delta the four letters ABCD, you add (at the bit level) A to B, B to C, and C to D. Turing used delta-ing to reveal information about the wheels. Tunny messages, often signed by Adolph Hitler himself, turned out to be pure gold for the Allies. The machine was used in Berlin by the Armed Forces High Command to communicate with front-line generals directing the war in the Eastern and Western theaters. Once the system was broken, the Allies could eavesdrop on lengthy back-and-forth communications between the architects of Germany’s battle plans. Turingery was the codebreakers’ only weapon against Tunny for a year, during which they managed to decrypt 1.5 million letters of ciphertext. But everything changed when those helpful lists of names at the start of eac

One summer day in 1941, a British radio operator was monitoring German military frequencies and heard something unexpected in her headphones. A later report called it “strange new music.” Sounding unlike the familiar Morse dit-dit-dah of enciphered messages sent over the German Enigma network, the “new music” was a rhythmic warble of binary teletype code being transmitted at high speed. Germany’s wartime engineers had developed a radically new encryption and transmission system. It was way more advanced than Enigma, which was patented in 1920. To break the complex new cipher, engineer Tommy Flowers built Colossus, the world’s first large-scale programmable electronic digital computer. Flowers previously built Enigma-related codebreaking equipment for Alan Turing, the British mathematician. Colossus was installed in the British codebreaking headquarters at Bletchley Park, about 80 kilometers from London. The room-size machine weighed around a tonne. The computer is being commemorated as an IEEE Milestone. The dedication ceremony is scheduled to be held 29 September at Bletchley Park. Britain’s top codebreakers were quickly all over the new “music” being picked up by the intercept stations. Identifying it as encrypted teletype code was the easy part. The real problem was figuring out how the encryption machine worked. Its manufacturer…

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