CHAPTER III
THE INVASION OF ITALY
THE Quebec Conference ended on August 24, and our notable colleagues departed and dispersed. They flew off in every direction like the fragments of a shell. After all the study and argument there was a general desire for a few days’ rest. One of my Canadian friends, Colonel Clarke, who had been attached to me by the Dominion Government during the proceedings, owned a ranch about seventy-five miles away amid the mountains and pine forests from which the newspapers get their pulp to guide us on life’s journey. Here lay the Lake of the Snows, an enormous dammed-up expanse of water reported to be full of the largest trout. Brooke and Portal were ardent and expert anglers, and a plan had been made among other plans at the Conference for them to see what they could do. I promised to join them later if I could, but I had undertaken to deliver a broadcast on the 31st, and this hung overhead like a vulture in the sky. I remained for a few days in the Citadel, pacing the ramparts for an hour each afternoon, and brooding over the glorious panorama of the St. Lawrence and all the tales of Wolfe and Quebec. I had promised to drive through the city, and I had a lovely welcome from all its people. I attended a meeting of the Canadian Cabinet, and told them all that they did not already know about the Conference and the war. I had the honour to be sworn a Privy Counsellor of the Dominion Cabinet. This compliment was paid me at the instance of my old friend of forty years’ standing and trusted colleague, Mr. Mackenzie King.
There was so much to say and not to say in the broadcast that I could not think of anything, so my mind turned constantly to the Lake of the Snows, of which glittering reports had already come in from those who were there. I thought I might combine fishing by day with preparing the broadcast after dark. I resolved to take Colonel Clarke at his word, and set out with my wife by car. I had noticed that Admiral Pound had not gone with the other two Chiefs of Staff to the lake, and I suggested that he should come with us now. His Staff officer said that he had a lot of cleaning up to do after the Conference. I had been surprised by the subdued part he had taken in the far-ranging naval discussions, but when he said he could not come fishing I had a fear that all was not well. We had worked together in the closest comradeship from the first days of the war. I knew his worth and courage. I also knew that at home he would get up at four or five in the morning for a few hours’ fishing before returning to the Admiralty whenever he saw the slightest chance. However, he kept to his quarters and I did not see him before starting.
We had a wonderful all-day drive up the river valley, and after sleeping at a rest-house on the way my wife and I reached the spacious log cabin on the lake. Brooke and Portal were leaving the next day. It was just as well. They had caught a hundred fish apiece each day, and had only to continue at this rate to lower the level of the lake appreciably. My wife and I sallied forth in separate boats for several hours, and though we are neither of us experts we certainly caught a lot of fine fish. We were sometimes given rods with three separate hooks, and I once caught three fish at the same time. I do not know whether this was fair. We did not run at all short of fresh trout at the excellent meals. The President had wanted to come himself, but other duties claimed him. I sent the biggest fish I caught to him at Hyde Park. The broadcast made progress, but original composition is more exhausting than either arguing or fishing.
We returned to Quebec for the night of the 29th. I attended another meeting of the Canadian Cabinet, and at the right time on the 31st, before leaving for Washington, I spoke to the Canadian people and to the Allied world. Next day I reached the White House. The President and I sat talking after dinner in his study, and Admiral Pound came to see us upon a naval point. The President asked him several questions about the general aspects of the war, and I was pained to see that my trusted naval friend had lost the outstanding matter-of-fact precision which characterised him. Both the President and I were sure he was very ill. Next morning Pound came to see me in my big bed-sitting-room and said abruptly, “Prime Minister, I have come to resign. I have had a stroke and my right side is largely paralysed. I thought it would pass off, but it gets worse every day and I am no longer fit for duty.” I at once accepted the First Sea Lord’s resignation, and expressed my profound sympathy for his breakdown in health. I told him he was relieved at that moment from all responsibility, and urged him to rest for a few days and then come home with me in the Renown. He was completely master of himself, and his whole manner was instinct with dignity. As soon as he left the room I cabled to the Admiralty placing Vice-Admiral Syfret in responsible charge from that moment pending the appointment of a new First Sea Lord.
Throughout the talks at Quebec events had been marching forward in Italy. The President and I had directed during these critical days the course of secret armistice negotiations with the Badoglio Government, and had also been following anxiously and closely the military arrangement for a landing on Italian soil. I deliberately prolonged my stay in the United States in order to be in close contact with our American friends at this crucial moment in Italian affairs. On the day of my arrival in Washington the first definite and official news was received that Badoglio had agreed to capitulate to the Allies, and on September 3 in an olive grove near Syracuse General Castellano signed the military terms of the surrender of Italy. Before dawn on the same day the British Eighth Army crossed the Straits of Messina to enter the Italian mainland.
SOUTHERN ITALY: OPERATIONS, SEPT.-DEC. 1943
It now remained to co-ordinate the terms of the Italian surrender with our military strategy. The American General Taylor, of the 82nd Airborne Division, was sent to Rome on September 7. His secret mission was to arrange with the Italian General Staff for the airfields around the capital to be seized during the night of the 9th. But the situation had radically changed since General Castellano had asked for Allied protection. The Germans had powerful forces at hand, and appeared to be in possession of the airfields. The Italian Army was demoralised and short of ammunition. Divided counsels seethed round Badoglio. Taylor demanded to see him. Everything hung in the balance. The Italian leaders feared that any announcement of the surrender, which had already been signed, would lead to the immediate German occupation of Rome and the end of the Badoglio Government. At two o’clock on the morning of September 8 General Taylor saw Badoglio, who, since the airfields were lost, begged for delay in broadcasting the armistice terms. He had in fact already telegraphed to Algiers that the security of the Rome airfields could not be guaranteed. The air descent was therefore cancelled.
Eisenhower now had to make a quick decision. The attack on Salerno was due to be launched within less than twenty-four hours. He refused Badoglio’s request and at 6 p.m. broadcast the announcement of the armistice, followed by the text of the declaration, which Marshal Badoglio himself announced about an hour later from Rome. The surrender of Italy had been completed.
During the night of September 8-9 German forces began the encirclement of Rome. Badoglio and the Royal Family installed themselves in a state of siege in the building of the Ministry of War. There were hasty discussions in an atmosphere of mounting tension and panic. In the small hours a convoy of five vehicles passed through the eastern gates of Rome on the road to the Adriatic port of Pescara. Here two corvettes took on board the party, which contained the Italian Royal Family, together with Badoglio and his Government and senior officials. They reached Brindisi in the early morning of September 10, when the essential services of an anti-Fascist Italian Government were rapidly set up on territory occupied by Allied forces.
After the departure of the fugitives the veteran Marshal Caviglia, the victor of Vittorio Veneto in the First World War, arrived in Rome to take upon himself the responsibility of negotiating with the German forces closing in round the city. Scattered fighting was already taking place at the gates. Certain regular units of the Italian Army and Partisan bands of Roman citizens engaged the Germans on the outskirts. On September 11 opposition ceased with the signature of a military truce, and the Nazi di
visions were free to move through the city.
Meanwhile, after dark on September 8, in accordance with Allied instructions, the main body of the Italian Fleet left Genoa and Spezia on a daring voyage of surrender to Malta, unprotected either by Allied or Italian aircraft. Next morning when steaming down the west coast of Sardinia it was attacked by German aircraft from bases in France. The flagship Roma was hit, and blew up with heavy loss of life, including the Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Bergamini. The battleship Italia was also damaged. Leaving some light craft to rescue survivors, the rest of the Fleet continued its painful journey. On the 10th they were met at sea by British forces, including the Warspite and Valiant, which had so often sought them under different circumstances, and were escorted to Malta. A squadron from Taranto, including two battleships, had also sailed on the 9th, and on the morning of the 11th Admiral Cunningham informed the Admiralty that “the Italian battle fleet now lies at anchor under the guns of the fortress of Malta”.
On the whole, therefore, things had so far gone very smoothly for the Allies. After crossing the Straits of Messina the Eighth Army had encountered practically no opposition. Reggio was speedily taken, and the advance began along the narrow and hilly roads of Calabria. “The Germans,” cabled Alexander on September 6, “are fighting their rearguard action more by demolitions than by fire. … While in Reggio this morning there was not a warning sound to be heard or a hostile plane to be seen. On the contrary, on this lovely summer day naval craft of all types were plying backwards and forwards between Sicily and the mainland, carrying men, stores, and munitions. In its lively setting it was more like a regatta in peace-time than a serious operation of war.” There was little fighting, but the advance was severely delayed by the physical difficulties of the country, demolitions carried out by the enemy, and his small but skilfully handled rearguards.
But on the night of the 8th Alexander sent me his “Zip” message. It had been planned that I and those of our party who had not already flown to England should go home by sea, and the Renown awaited us at Halifax. I broke the train journey to say good-bye to the President, and was thus with him at Hyde Park when the Battle of Salerno began. I resumed my train journey on the night of the 12th, to reach Halifax on the morning of the 14th. The various reports which reached me on the journey, as well as the newspapers, made me deeply anxious. Evidently a most critical and protracted struggle was in progress. My concern was all the greater because I had always strongly pressed for this seaborne landing, and felt a special responsibility for its success. Surprise, violence, and speed are the essence of all amphibious landings. After the first twenty-four hours the advantage of sea-power in striking where you will may well have vanished. Where there were ten men there are soon ten thousand. My mind travelled back over the years. I thought of General Stopford waiting nearly three days on the beach at Suvla Bay in 1915 while Mustafa Kemal marched two Turkish divisions from the lines at Bulair to the hitherto undefended battlefield. I had had a more recent experience when General Auchinleck had remained at his headquarters in Cairo surveying orthodoxly from the summit and centre the wide and varied sphere of his command, while the battle, on which everything turned, was being decided against him in the Desert. I had the greatest confidence in Alexander, but all the same I passed a painful day while our train rumbled forward through the pleasant lands of Nova Scotia. At length I wrote out the following message for Alexander, feeling sure he would not resent it. It was not sent till after I had sailed:
“I hope you are watching above all the Battle of ‘Avalanche’, which dominates everything. None of the commanders engaged has fought a large-scale battle before. The Battle of Suvla Bay was lost because Ian Hamilton was advised by his Chief of Staff to remain at a remote central point where he would know everything. Had he been on the spot he could have saved the show. At this distance and with time-lags I cannot pretend to judge, but I feel it my duty to set before you this experience of mine from the past.
2. Nothing should be denied which will nourish the decisive battle for Naples. …”
His answer was prompt and comforting. He was already at Salerno. “Many thanks,” he replied, “for your offer of help. Everything possible is being done to make ‘Avalanche’ a success. Its fate will be decided in the next few days.”
I was also relieved to learn that Admiral Cunningham had not hesitated to hazard his battleships close inshore in support of the Army. On the 14th he sent up the Warspite and Valiant, which had just arrived at Malta conducting to surrender the main body of the Italian Fleet. Next day they were in action, and their accurate air-directed bombardment with heavy guns impressed both friend and foe and greatly contributed to the defeat of the enemy. Unhappily, on the afternoon of the 16th the Warspite was disabled by a new type of glider bomb, about which we had heard something, and were to learn more.
It was a relief to board the Renown. The splendid ship lay alongside the quay. Admiral Pound was already on board, having come through direct from Washington. He bore himself as erect as ever, and no one looking at him would have dreamed that he was stricken. I invited him to join us at my table on the homeward voyage, but he said he would prefer to take his meals in his cabin with his staff officer. He died on October 21, Trafalgar Day. He had been a true comrade to me, both at the Admiralty and on the Chiefs of Staff Committee. He was succeeded as First Sea Lord by Admiral Sir Andrew Cunningham.
While we zigzagged our way across the ocean a remarkable stroke was made upon Taranto, for which not only Alexander but Admiral Cunningham, on whom fell the brunt of execution, deserve the highest credit for well-run risks. This first-class port was capable of serving a whole army. The Italian surrender seemed to Alexander to justify daring. There were no transport aircraft to lift the British 1st Airborne Division, nor any ordinary shipping to carry it by sea. Six thousand of these picked men were embarked on British warships, and on September 9, the day of the landing on Salerno beaches, the Royal Navy steamed boldly into Taranto harbour and deposited the troops ashore, unopposed. One of our cruisers which struck a mine and sank was our only naval loss.*
All the time the Battle of Salerno went on. The telegrams flowed in. Alexander was kind enough to keep me fully informed, and his vivid messages can be read in their relation to the whole event. For three critical days the issue hung in the balance, but after bitter fighting, in which we suffered moments of grave hazard, the Germans failed to throw us back into the sea. Kesselring realised he could not succeed. Pivoting his right on the high ground above Salerno, he began to swing his whole line back. The Eighth Army, spurred on by Montgomery, joined hands with the hard-pressed Fifth. The British Xth Corps, with the United States VIth Corps on their right, drove back the enemy’s rearguards around Vesuvius, marched past the ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum, and entered Naples on October 1. We had won.
CHAPTER IV
DEADLOCK IN THE MEDITERRANEAN*
A FEW days after my return from Halifax I had sent General Eisenhower a telegram which should be borne in mind in reading my account of the autumn and winter. The second paragraph sought to establish the proportion of effort, especially where bottle-necks were concerned, which should be devoted to our various enterprises. These proportions should not be overlooked by those who wish to understand the controversies with which this chapter deals. War presents the problem of the correct employment of available means, and cannot be epitomised as “One thing at a time”.
As I have been pressing for action in several directions, I feel I ought to place before you the priorities which I assign in my own mind to these several desirable objectives.
2. Four-fifths of our effort should be the build-up of Italy. One-tenth should be our making sure of Corsica (which will soon finish) and in the Adriatic. The remaining tenth should be concentrated on Rhodes. This of course applies to the limiting factors only. These, I presume, are mainly landing-craft and assault shipping, with light naval craft.
3. I send this as a rough guide to my thought only b
ecause I do not want you to feel I am pressing for everything in all directions without understanding how grim are your limitations.
Eisenhower replied next day:
We are examining resources carefully to give Mid-East necessary support in this project, and feel sure that we can meet minimum requirements of Mid-East.
When Montgomery can get the bulk of his forces forward to support the right of the Fifth Army things will begin to move more rapidly on the Naples front. As is always the case following the early stages of a combined operation, we have been badly stretched both tactically and administratively. We are working hard to improve the situation and you will have good news before long.
This answer did not refer as specifically as I had hoped to what I deemed the all-important part of my message, namely, the small proportion of troops required for subsidiary enterprises, and of these there were many.
The surrender of Italy gave us the chance of gaining important prizes in the Ægean at very small cost and effort. The Italian garrisons obeyed the orders of the King and Marshal Badoglio, and would come over to our side if we could reach them before they were overawed and disarmed by the Germans in the islands. These were much inferior in numbers, but it is probable that for some time past they had been suspicious of their allies’ fidelity and had their plans laid. Rhodes, Leros, and Cos were island fortresses which had long been for us strategic objectives of a high order in the secondary sphere, and their occupation had been specifically approved by the Combined Chiefs of Staff in their final summary of the Quebec decisions on September 10. Rhodes was the key to the group, because it had good airfields from which we could defend any other islands we might occupy and complete our naval control of these waters. Moreover, the British air forces in Egypt and Cyrenaica could guard Egypt just as well, or even better, if some of them moved forward to Rhodes. It seemed to me a rebuff to fortune not to pick up these treasures. The command of the Ægean by air and by sea was within our reach. The effect of this might be decisive upon Turkey, at that time deeply moved by the Italian collapse. If we could use the Ægean and the Dardanelles the naval short-cut to Russia was established. There would be no more need for the perilous and costly Arctic convoys, or the long and wearisome supply line through the Persian Gulf.
The Second World War Page 91
