Betty Webb never spoke about her work, until she had to.
Another wonderful obituary from The Economist
She herself had no idea what her work added up to. When she had dropped out of her very ladylike domestic-science course, where she was learning how to run a house and bake sausage rolls, she had not envisaged this. She wanted to help win the war, looking glamorous in uniform and perhaps driving a truck. Instead she was sent to the Auxiliary Territorial Service (ATS), where the uniform featured khaki knickers so vast that they either showed below her skirt or had to be yanked up to her armpits. Meanwhile, her job at Bletchley was to index, by date and call sign, intercepted messages from the German police, and to file them in shoeboxes on her desk…
As a very old woman, watching birds through her cottage window in the quiet West Midlands countryside, she roundly objected to the fascist salutes given by some of Donald Trump’s supporters. How dare they? This was not just dangerous. It was an insult to everything she and her colleagues at Bletchley Park had achieved. For she knew, now, just how much they had done. The secret was indeed out.
Didn’t drive a Tesla either, I suspect.