Portrait taken of Madge Trull on leave in Bournemouth, England in October 1943.Margarita "Madge" Trull
Madge Trull and her family. From left to right: Dick (Henry Arthur) Janes, Merchant Navy, Jean (Janes) Winkler, WREN, Madge (Janes) Trull, Archie Franklin (Boyn) Janes, RAF.Margarita "Madge" Trull
From left to right, Madge Trull, her sister, Jean Winkler (WREN), friends, Joan and Margorie Cawlwell (WREN). Group portrait taken at the WREN's quarters at Stanmore, Middlesex, England.Margarita Trull
From left to right: Coney Taylor, a Canadian friend, Madge Trull's sister, Jean, Madge Trull, and her husband John C. Trull, a pilot in the RCAF.Margarita "Madge" Trull
From left to right: John Trull, Madge Trull and her sister Jean in London, England.Margarita "Madge" Trull
Madge Trull's husband, John, and a Hawker Hurricane, Kenley, England, 1943.Margarita "Madge" Trull
Madge Trull's husband, Flt Lt John Trull. A Spitfire pilot with 403 Squadron (Wolf Squadron), RCAF, John was sent overseas in June 1943 and was stationed at RAF Kenley. In February 1944, Mr. Trull was a mission with his squadron when his Spitfire ran out of fuel over Belgium. After gliding his plane down, Mr. Trull made contact with a family who then connected him with the Belgian resistance. Following a perilous journey through Belgium, Mr. Trull crossed into France on 6 June 1944 (D-Day). Once again making contact with the resistance, Mr. Trull began making plans to return to England. On 7 August 1944, after six months in occupied territory, Mr. Trull was flown back to England along with high-ranking military officials. He and Madge reunited that same day.Margarita "Madge" Trull
Madge and John Trull on their fifty-second wedding anniversary, 1996. Madge and John met in Bournmouth, England on 3 July 1943 at a dance hall; as Mr. Trull said in his memoirs, "She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen!" By Christmas, they were engaged. When Mr. Trull ditched his Spitfire in Belgium and began his long journey back, all Mrs. Trull knew was that her Johnny was missing in action. Indeed, Mr. Trull was unable to contact Mrs. Trull or his family in Canada until just prior to his return in August 1944. When the two were finally reunited near her WRENs quarters in Stanmore, England, his first words to her were, "When are we getting married?" She replied, "Any time you want!" They were married 30 September 1944 and were happily married for fifty-five years. As Mrs. Trull said, "we were in love, and loved each other the whole time."Margarita "Madge" Trull
"Because at the time, if we had divulged anything, we could have either been sent up to detention camp, or… believe it or not, they said shot! We were very careful not to speak to anybody about it"
My name is Margarita Francesca (Janes) Trull. I was married to Flight Lieutenant John C. Trull, Royal Canadian Air Force. I was born in South America – Chile – of English parents, and I went back when I was three years old, so of course I was educated and everything in England. I was known as Madge, but I joined up as WREN Janes with my sister Jean Janes, or “Jeannie”, I called her. We both went to Portsmouth in England to join up in the Women’s Royal Naval Service. I had wanted to be in the nurse, but it was all filled up. But we got chosen for the WRENS, which was very delightful because I liked the idea of the WRENS.
At Eastcote, we had to be trained as … cryptologists, or whatever it is they called us. We were only supposed to be known – very secretive work – as “Writers.” On my discharge papers, I was “Intelligence Writer,” and “Writer” meant “Secretary,” and I had never been a secretary… didn’t even know what to do as a secretary. Now, they call it the ULTRA secret.
After Eastcote, we were sent to Stanmore, where we were really decoding German messages, and I know you’ve heard of the Enigma, and that’s the work we did. First of all, we were sworn under the War Secrets Act, which was ninety years. I haven’t reached that yet, but there are certain things that have to be kept quiet, and I’m never a hundred percent sure what I can or what I can’t talk about. Because at the time, if we had divulged anything, we could have either been sent up to detention camp, or… believe it or not, they said shot! We were very careful not to speak to anybody about it. My mother died not knowing what I did.
And when we were at Stanmore, we worked in what were called “Bays.” And in those Bays, there were these huge machines called “Bombes.” The “Bombes” were sort of a mechanical apparatus, if you want to call it that. They were big. Very, very noisy. They had on them drums, and on these drums had tons of little wires. But if one wire crossed another wire, it would mess up the whole decoding system. So we had to be sure that they were all cleared out and running perfectly. It was kind of hard on our nervous system, even though we were pretty young. When we had maybe broken a code – which the machine helped us to do, but we of course had to set it up – we then had to go into a little room with a machine that looked like the Enigma, and work it back. Now, we weren’t able to read those codes. Those codes were sent to Bletchley Park by a courier in the Army or whoever it was. We didn’t even know much about it at the time, but I’ve learned that since.