In the winter of 1942, a 21-year-old woman sat at a desk in a drafty hut in a Buckinghamshire field, decoding German naval signals. Submarine movements, convoy positions, the Atlantic Ocean, blackout curtains, a paraffin stove, tea in a thick mug, and a tray of intercepted messages that never emptied. The huts were wooden and cold, hastily erected on the grounds of a Victorian country house 50 miles from London. She was not allowed to tell anyone what she did—not her parents, not her friends, and not the man she loved, who was somewhere at sea in the same war. Her name was Osla Benning. Thirty years later, she would die at the age of 53, having spent her entire adult life keeping two secrets. One was illegal to reveal. The other she kept because no one ever thought to ask.
The first secret was imposed by law. Everyone who worked at Bletchley Park signed the Official Secrets Act. The silence lasted for decades after the war ended. Men came home and couldn't tell their wives what they had done. Women were believed to have spent the war doing printing work. About 10,000 people worked at Bletchley Park, and nearly three quarters of them were women. They worked in shifts around the clock in sections that were not allowed to talk to each other. Many didn't learn what their work had actually contributed until they read about it in a book decades later. Osla Benning was one of about 8,000 women in that situation, and the only one among them who was also a prince's girlfriend. They returned home in 1945 and said nothing for 30 years, in some cases to their families. Some died before the secret was lifted. Their obituaries said they had worked as clerks. The second secret was her personal choice and she kept it just as closely. Her daughter knew nothing about it for years. Her daughter put it plainly decades later, saying that he was her mother's first love and that her mother hadn't told her about him for years. That man was Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark. In 1939, he had no country, no money, no home, and he was serving in the Royal Navy. Forty years later, he would be the husband of a queen and the grandfather of a future king. This is the story of the woman who knew him before any of that was possible. Before the title, before the marriage, before the name Mountbatten was ever attached to him. When she knew him, he wasn't even a British citizen. He was a Greek prince serving in the Royal Navy. That was possible then in a way that it wouldn't be now. And it wasn't a comfortable position to be in. And the story begins, as so many of these stories do, with Lord Mountbatten. Margaret Osla Bennig was born in Montreal on the 23rd of August 1921. Her father was James William Bennig, a businessman. Her mother was Edith Black. Her godfather was Lord Louis Mountbatten. That one connection is the hinge of her entire life. It introduced a Canadian girl into British society, and it would bring her the prince eventually. Mountbatten collected godchildren the way other people collect club memberships, and he used them. Two of them appear in this very story alone. He would keep doing it for another forty years. In the episodes about Charles on this channel, the same man is still arranging the same kind of introductions in the 1970s. She was sent to boarding school in Austria, which in the 1930s meant languages, music, etiquette, and a great deal of German. Austria in the mid-1930s was a country sliding towards annexation by Germany, which happened in 1938. She learned German in a place about to disappear inside the Reich, from people about to become the enemy. Five years later, that language would be the most valuable thing she owned. She came out into society as a debutante in August 1939. Britain declared war on 3 September 1939. Her season in society lasted a matter of weeks. The dances stopped, the lights went out, and the young men she had met wore uniform. She was eighteen, Canadian, beautiful, and had nothing useful to do. Almost every woman in this series starts from that position. And hardly any of them stays there for long. The difference is that the women in previous episodes were waiting for a man to decide something. Osla Benning was waiting for a war to give her a job. Her friend Sarah Norton described her as dark-haired, with alabaster skin, a wonderful figure, and a sweet and loving nature. What Osla Benning and Sarah Norton did next is the part that never makes the headlines. When the war started, a close friend of mine, Osla Benning, and I decided that we wanted to do something really important. And we thought of building aircraft. She went to work at the Hawker Siddeley factory in Slough, cutting the metal from which the Hurricane fighter planes were built. Slough had one of the largest industrial estates in the country and was bombed during the war. Metal dust, machine oil, and a shift that started before dawn. The Hurricane was the plane that shot down more German planes in the Battle of Britain than any other type. Two debutantes on a factory floor in 1940, learning to cut aircraft alloys. It was hard, dirty, repetitive work done on rations in a country expecting invasion within weeks. In the summer they started, the air battle above southern England was being fought in the sky by the very planes they had helped build. Then they decided that wasn't enough either. In 1941, they both sat a German language exam and were sent to Bletchley Park. Recruitment was quiet, through letters and word of mouth, often through families already in service. No one was told the nature of the work until they arrived and signed the Official Secrets Act. Osla was assigned to Hut 4, translating German naval signals. Submarine movements, convoy positions, Atlantic, blackout curtains, a paraffin heater, tea in a thick mug, and a tray of decrypts that never emptied. The huts were wooden and cold, hastily built on the grounds of a Victorian country house 50 miles from London. She wasn't allowed to tell anyone what she did. Not her parents, not her friends, and not the man she loved who was somewhere at sea in the same war. He was 20 years old, and he had no country, no money, and no home to return to on his leave. And one day, she wouldn't be allowed to tell anyone about him either. Not by law this time, but by something harder to explain. Her name was Osla Benning. Thirty years later, she would be dead at 53, having spent her entire adult life keeping two secrets. One was illegal to reveal. The other no one ever asked her about because for most of her life no one knew there was anything to ask about. The first secret was imposed on her by law. Everyone who worked at Bletchley Park signed the Official Secrets Act. The silence lasted for decades after the war ended. Men came home and couldn't tell their wives what they'd done. Women were assumed to have spent the war in typing pools. About 10,000 people worked at Bletchley Park and nearly three quarters of them were women. They worked in shifts around the clock in sections that weren't allowed to talk to each other. Many of them didn't know what their work had actually been until they read about it in a book decades later. Osla Benning was one of about 8,000 women in that position, and the only one who was also a prince's girlfriend. They went home in 1945 and said nothing for 30 years in some cases to their families. Some of them died before the secret was lifted. Their obituaries said they had worked as clerks. The second secret was her own choice and she kept it just as closely. Her daughter didn't know about him for years. Her daughter put it plainly decades later, saying he was her mother's first love and her mother didn't tell her about him for years. That man was Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark. In 1939, he had no country, no money, and no home, and he was serving in the Royal Navy. Forty years later, he would be the husband of a queen and the grandfather of a future king. This is the story of the woman who knew him before any of that was possible. Before the title, before the marriage, before the name Mountbatten was ever attached to him. When she knew him, he was not even a British citizen. He was a Greek prince serving in the Royal Navy. That was possible then in a way that it wouldn't be now. And it was not a comfortable position to be in. And the tale begins, as so many of these stories do, with Lord Mountbatten. Margaret Osla Pennig was born in Montreal on the 23rd of August 1921. Her father was James William Pennig, a businessman. Her mother was Edith Black. Her godfather was Lord Louis Mountbatten. That one connection is the hinge of her entire life. It brought a Canadian girl into British society, and it would bring her the prince eventually. Mountbatten collected godchildren the way other men collected club memberships, and he used them. Two of them appear in this story alone. He would go on doing it for another forty years. In the episodes covering Charles on this channel, the same man is still arranging the same kind of introductions in the 1970s. She was sent to boarding school in Austria, which in the 1930s meant languages and music and etiquette and a great deal of German. Austria in the mid-1930s was a country sliding towards annexation by Germany, which happened in 1938. She learned German in a place about to disappear inside the Reich, from people about to become the enemy. Five years later, that language would be the most valuable thing she owned. She made her debut into society as a debutante in August 1939. Britain declared war on 3 September 1939. Her season in society lasted a matter of weeks. The dances stopped, the lights went out, and the young men she had met wore uniform. She was 18, Canadian, beautiful, and had nothing useful to do. Nearly every woman in this series starts from that position. And hardly any of them stay there for long. The difference is that the women in previous episodes were waiting for a man to decide something. Osla Benning was waiting for a war to give her a job. Her friend Sarah Norton described her as dark-haired, with a creamy complexion, a wonderful figure, and a sweet and loving nature. What Osla Benning and Sarah Norton did next is the part that never makes headlines. When the war started, a close friend and I, Osla Benning, decided we wanted to do something really important. We thought of making aeroplanes. She went to work at the Hawker Siddeley factory in Slough, cutting the metal from which Hurricane fighters were built. Slough had one of the biggest industrial estates in the country, and it was bombed during the war. Metal dust, machine oil, and a shift that started before dawn. The Hurricane was the plane that shot down more German aircraft in the Battle of Britain than any other type. Two debutantes on a factory floor in 1940, learning to cut aircraft alloys. It was hard, dirty, repetitive work done on rations in a country expecting invasion within weeks. In the summer they started, the air battle over southern England was being fought in the sky by the planes they had helped build. Then they decided that wasn't enough either. In 1941, they both sat a German language test and were sent to Bletchley Park. Recruitment was quiet, through letters and word of mouth, often through families already in service. No one was told the nature of the work until they arrived and signed the Official Secrets Act. Osla was assigned to Hut 4, translating German naval signals. U-boat movements, convoy positions, the Atlantic, blackout curtains, a paraffin heater, tea in a chunky cup, and a tray of decrypts that never emptied. The huts were wooden and cold, hastily erected on the grounds of a Victorian country house 50 miles from London. She was not allowed to tell anyone what she did, not her parents, not her friends, and not the man she loved who was somewhere at sea in the same war. He was 20 years old, and he had no country, no money, and no home to return to on leave. And one day, she would not be allowed to tell anyone about him either. Not by law this time, but by something harder to explain. Her name was Osla Benning. Thirty years later, she would be dead at 53, having spent her entire adult life keeping two secrets. One was against the law to disclose. The other no one ever asked her about because for most of her life, no one knew there was anything to ask about. The first secret was imposed on her by law. Everyone who worked at Bletchley Park signed the Official Secrets Act. The silence lasted for decades after the war ended. Men came home and couldn't tell their wives what they'd done. Women were thought to have spent the war in printing works. About 10,000 people worked at Bletchley Park and nearly three quarters of them were women. They worked in shifts around the clock in sections that were not allowed to talk to each other. Many did not know the true nature of their work until they read about it in a book decades later. Osla Benning was one of about 8,000 women in that position, and the only one among them who was also a prince's girlfriend. They returned home in 1945 and said nothing for 30 years in some cases to their families. Some died before the secret was lifted. Their obituaries said they had worked as clerks. The second secret was her personal choice and she kept it just as closely. Her daughter knew nothing about it for years. Her daughter expressed it clearly decades later, saying that he was her mother's first love and that her mother didn't tell her about him for years. That man was Prince Philip of Greece and Denmark. In 1939, he had no country, no money, no home, and was serving in the Royal Navy. Forty years later, he would become the husband of a queen and the grandfather of a future king. This is the story of the woman who knew him before any of that was possible. Before the title, before the marriage, before the name Mountbatten was ever attached to him. When they met, he was not even a British citizen. He was a Greek prince serving in the Royal Navy. That was possible then in a way that it would not be now. Nor was it a comfortable position to be in. And the story begins, as so many of these stories do, with Lord Mountbatten. Margaret Osla Pennig was born in Montreal on the 23rd of August 1921. Her father was James William Pennig, a businessman. Her mother was Edith Black. Her godfather was Lord Louis Mountbatten. That single connection is the hinge of her entire life. It introduced a Canadian girl into British society, and it would eventually bring her a prince. Mountbatten collected godchildren the way other people collected club memberships, and he used them. Two of them appear in this story alone. And he would go on doing it for another forty years. In the episodes about Charles on this channel, the same man is still arranging the same kind of introductions in the 1970s. She was sent to boarding school in Austria, which in the 1930s meant languages, music, etiquette, and a great deal of German. Austria in the mid-1930s was a country sliding towards annexation by Germany, which happened in 1938. She learned German in a place about to disappear into the Reich, from people about to become the enemy. Five years later, that language would be the most valuable thing she owned. She came out as a debutante in August 1939. Britain declared war on 3 September 1939. Her season in society lasted a matter of weeks. The dances stopped, the lights went out, and the young men she had met put on uniform. She was eighteen, Canadian, beautiful, and had nothing useful to do. Every woman in this series starts from that position. Hardly any of them stay there for long. The difference is that the women in previous episodes were waiting for a man to decide something. Osla Benning was waiting for a war to give her a job. Her friend Sarah Norton described her as dark-haired, with a creamy complexion, a wonderful figure, and a sweet and loving nature. What Osla Benning and Sarah Norton did next is the part that never makes headlines. When the war started, a close friend and I, Osla Benning, decided that we wanted to do something really important. We thought of making aircraft. She went to work at the Hawker Siddeley factory in Slough, cutting the metal from which Hurricane fighters were built. Slough had one of the largest industrial estates in the country, and it was bombed during the war. Metal dust, machine oil, and a shift that started before dawn. The Hurricane was the plane that shot down more German planes in the Battle of Britain than any other type. Two debutantes on a factory floor in 1940, learning to cut aircraft alloys. It was hard, dirty, repetitive work, done on rations in a country expecting invasion within weeks. In the summer they started, the air battle over southern England was being fought in the sky by the planes they had helped build. Then they decided that wasn't enough either. In 1941, they both sat a German language test and were sent to Bletchley Park. Recruitment was quiet, through letters and word of mouth, often through families already in service. No one was told the nature of the work until they arrived and signed the Official Secrets Act. Osla was assigned to Hut 4, which was the German naval section. The work was decoding, translation, and intelligence. She was one of about 8,000 women there. The men went to war, and the women went to Bletchley. That is not a metaphor. The women went to Bletchley Park in their thousands, and they did so in silence. They were not allowed to tell anyone what they were doing. Not their families, not their friends, not the men they loved. And when the war ended, they went home and said nothing for 30 years. In some cases, they never said anything at all. The work was so secret that even the nature of the work was secret. They could not tell anyone that they worked at Bletchley Park, only that they were doing war work. They could not tell anyone what they did there, not even each other. And they could not tell anyone about the men they met there. أوسلا بينينغ التقت بالأمير فيليب في حفل عشاء في منزل سارة نورتون في لندن في عام 1941. كانت تبلغ من العمر 20 عاماً، وكان يبلغ من العمر 20 عاماً. كان في إجازة من البحرية الملكية، حيث خدم في البارجة إتش إم إس راميليس. كان يقضي إجازته مع عائلة نورتون، الذين عرفوهم منذ الطفولة. كان اللورد مونتباتن قد رتب لها هي وسارة للعمل في بليتشلي بارك. كان ذلك في شتاء عام 1941، وكانت قد عملت في الكوخ 4 لمدة ستة أشهر تقريباً. كانت هي وسارة نورتون في إجازة في لندن. كان اللورد مونتباتن قد رتب لهما دعوة لتناول العشاء مع عائلة نورتون. كان فيليب ماونتباتن هناك أيضاً. كان في إجازة من البحرية الملكية. كانت الحرب في البحر الأبيض المتوسط في أكثر مراحلها دموية، وكانت السفينة الحربية التي يخدم عليها قد نجت للتو من قصف عنيف. كان في إجازة، وكانت في إجازة، وكلاهما كانا صغيرين، ووسيمين، ويرتديان الزي الرسمي. لقد كانا شابين، في زمن الحرب، في لندن، في الليل. لقد حدث ما حدث. كان ذلك في عام 1942. كان فيليب في الحادية والعشرين من عمره وكانت هي في العشرين. كان ضابطاً شاباً في البحرية الملكية، وكانت تعمل في بليتشلي بارك. بدأ كل شيء برقصة. بدأ كل شيء برقصة. في إجازة في لندن، ذهب هو وصديق له إلى ملهى ليلي. كانت أوسلا هناك مع صديقتها. قدمهما صديق مشترك. بدأوا في الرقص. كان ذلك في عام 1942، وكانت لندن مدينة تتعرض للقصف، وكانت الرقصة هي ما يفعله الناس. كان الشابان في العشرينات من عمرهما، وسيمين، وفي خضم حرب، وكانا يعيشان في اللحظة. لقد كانا معاً بشكل متقطع لمدة عامين. في عام 1943، كان فيليب في الرابعة والعشرين من عمره، وكانت أوسلا في الثانية والعشرين. كان يعمل في البحرية الملكية، وكانت تعمل في بليتشلي بارك. لم يكن لديها أي فكرة عن هويته الحقيقية. لم يكن اسمها معروفاً في ذلك الوقت. كان يعرف باسم فورمان فيشر. لم تكن تعلم أنه أمير. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي. لم تكن تعلم أنه ملكي.
