Aside from the pressing military concerns, Hitler had a variety of other reasons for strenuously opposing the Italian coup, some of which were less obvious than others. For one thing, it was shaping up as a far-reaching public relations dilemma for the Nazis: The loss of a major ally at this stage of the war could send German morale spiraling. As the able spin-doctor of the Third Reich, Goebbels had the unfortunate job of interpreting the Italian crisis for the puzzled German Volk. Not knowing what else to do, he decided simply to print the news of Mussolini’s resignation without any hint of the feverish deliberations going on at the Wolf ’s Lair.
But the ripples could spread far beyond the borders of Germany. A defection by Italy, Hitler feared, might embolden other German allies (such as Rumania and Hungary) to jump ship, further weakening Hitler’s ability to wage war and threatening his access to essential raw materials. “If the Italians collapse,” declared Martin Bormann in a letter to his wife on July 23, two days before the coup, “it cannot remain without repercussions among the Hungarians, who are anyhow a treacherous lot, and among the Croats, the Rumanians and the rest.”21
Far more ominous was the possibility that the Italian revolt might prove a tempting example for would-be plotters in Germany.* The coup, Goebbels noted, “might conceivably encourage some subversive elements in Germany to think they could put over the same thing here that Badoglio and his henchmen accomplished in Rome. The Fuehrer ordered Himmler to see to it that most severe police measures be applied in case such a danger seemed imminent here.”22
It was also clear that Hitler had personal motives for rescuing Mussolini and restoring him to his former grandeur, or what was left of it. In 1938, Hitler had made a dramatic promise regarding the Duce: “If he should ever need any help or be in any danger, he can be convinced that I shall stick to him whatever may happen, even if the whole world gangs up on him.”23 Now, in the summer of 1943, Hitler seemed determined to keep that promise, though he certainly had plenty of other, more self-serving reasons for doing so.
Unfortunately for Hitler, from a practical standpoint there were many factors that seemed to argue against a quick fix in Italy. As Doenitz and others had suggested, Hitler’s heady scheme to turn back the clock in Rome naturally depended on the viability of the Fascist Party. Without its active participation, any heavy-handed intrusion into Italian politics by the now-unpopular Nazis was likely to trigger unrest among the people and within the Italian army. Hitler thus looked eagerly for signs of life in what remained of the decapitated regime.
He was dismayed by what he found. With the Duce gone, the Fascist Party had practically disintegrated overnight. Indeed, Badoglio’s new cabinet dissolved the Party altogether on July 27.24 It was inconceivable to Hitler that the political system dominating Italy for the last twenty years could evaporate so completely. Yet the news from Rome seemed unanimous in proclaiming the speedy and unlamented demise of Fascism. The husk, it seemed, had collapsed.
Cables from Ambassador Mackensen, who was on the scene in the Italian capital, read like a coroner’s report. On July 26, he caught up with Dino Alfieri, until recently the Italian ambassador to Berlin under the Duce’s regime, who informed him that the Fascist Party had “disappeared from the stage unsung and unheard.”25 (Alfieri eventually fled to Switzerland.)26 The next day, Mackensen offered his own prognosis: “The Fascist Party in Italy stood and fell, as events have shown, with Mussolini. The majority of the Fascist leadership had delivered a political death-blow to Mussolini, and without wanting to, at the same time committed suicide.”*27
Yet Hitler professed to be undeterred by such dispiriting news. “At noon I had another long talk with the Fuehrer,” Goebbels wrote on July 28. “He is firmly determined to act, no matter what the cost, preferably by clever improvisation rather than by too systematic preparations that begin late and allow things to become consolidated in Italy. . . . Today he is still entertaining illusions about the Duce and the possibilities of a Fascist comeback.”28
Illusions indeed. Mussolini’s mysterious disappearance represented yet another major wrinkle in Hitler’s plans. Surely he would be a pivotal factor in a Fascist revival in Italy as a figure whom the Party and country at large could rally around, at least in theory. Yet the Germans had no idea where the Duce was or what had really happened on July 25. Had the ailing dictator really stepped down of his own accord? Or had he been physically removed from power as Hitler believed? German intelligence was unable to provide conclusive answers.
When it came to Mussolini, the Italians were giving the Nazis the run-around. Kesselring, for one, had already made an attempt to find out where the Duce was. On Monday, July 26, one day after the coup, he met with Badoglio and the king separately, but was unable to learn anything. Badoglio told him that Mussolini was in protective custody but did not know where—only King Victor Emmanuel had detailed information. The king, in turn, feigned ignorance of the Duce’s whereabouts and suggested that Kesselring ask Badoglio.
With the Axis alliance still intact for the moment, Hitler sought to probe the new Italian leaders for clues regarding his fellow dictator’s fate. Mussolini’s birthday provided the perfect opportunity for Ambassador Mackensen to seek an audience with the king. Their meeting took place in Rome on July 29—the Duce’s sixtieth birthday. Having created a fictional “back story” for the occasion, the nervous monarch was well prepared for this polite interrogation.
When asked by Mackensen why Mussolini had not informed Hitler of his intentions to resign, Victor Emmanuel answered that the omission was probably a result of “the Duce’s state of mind.”29 The king then elaborated by spinning the deceptive tale of a twentiethcentury Caesar who was betrayed by his friends. By giving Mussolini a vote of no-confidence in the Grand Council of Fascism on the evening of July 24–25, Emmanuel said, the Duce’s colleagues had broken the dictator’s heart as well as his will to rule.
“In the quite long conversation which had passed as warmly and trustingly as untold others in the course of more than twenty years’ work together,” the king told Mackensen, referring to his meeting with Mussolini at the Villa Savoia on July 25, “he gave the impression of a man struck to the heart, who was faced with the to him inconceivable fact of being rejected by the Party ‘faithful.’ The Duce was at that moment in the same position as the Fuehrer would be if he were suddenly abandoned by Reichsmarshal Goering or Dr. Goebbels. The Duce was broken by his own Party.”30
The king’s account was a complete fabrication, yet the gullible Mackensen had no evidence to the contrary. When asked, Victor Emmanuel refused to disclose the whereabouts of Mussolini, but told Mackensen that certain arrangements had been made for the protection of his person. Mackensen promptly countered with a ruse of his own. Taking advantage of the date, the German ambassador slyly suggested that he personally deliver Hitler’s birthday present to the Duce.31 The king rejected this proposal but told Mackensen that he would accept the gift on Mussolini’s behalf and make certain that the dictator received it.32
To further confuse the Germans, Badoglio had given them a copy of a letter allegedly from the pen of the Duce himself.33 They had no way of knowing whether the letter was a fake, but its deferential tone did seem to lend credence to the king’s claim that Mussolini had gone gently into the good night. It was addressed to Badoglio, and dated July 26, 1943 (one day after the coup). Part of it read: “I wish to thank Marshal Badoglio for the attention he is according my person . . . I wish to assure Marshal Badoglio . . . that not only will I raise no difficulties of any sort but I will co-operate in every possible way.”34
As Goebbels noted, the curious document displayed a conspicuous lack of protest. “The decisive thing, of course,” he wrote in his diary, “is whether Fascism or the Duce has any intention whatever of doing anything about the situation that has now developed. . . . It is hard to tell whether this letter is forged or genuine. If genuine, it would be an eloquent indication that the Duce no longer has any intention of interfering w
ith developments.” However: “Should a German coup create an entirely new set of circumstances in Italy, the Duce would surely be ready to take an active hand again.”35 Or so the Nazis hoped.
When all was said and done, after feverish consultations and ringing declarations, a frustrated Hitler did not give the order to swoop down upon Rome and ensnare the Badoglio regime. At the crucial moment, he backed down.
The reasons were many. The utter collapse of the Fascist Party, the unknown whereabouts of Mussolini, and the lack of German forces on the ground in Italy had all conspired to stay the itchy trigger finger of the German dictator. To be sure, Hitler’s hesitation to act did not reflect a sudden change of heart or lack of determination. He deferred his promised attack on Rome only to give himself sufficient time.*
Hitler would use this peaceful interlude in Axis relations to locate and rescue the Duce, and if possible rally the remaining elements of Mussolini’s Fascist Party. But just as important, Hitler would also use the extra time to race as many German troops as possible into northern Italy—passing them off to Badoglio, somewhat improbably, as reinforcements in the fight against the Allies—in expectation of an open break between the two Axis partners. To accomplish this and amass the necessary forces, it would be necessary to pull units from other theaters, including France and the all-important eastern front.36 This new strike force in the making was dubbed Army Group B and put under the command of Rommel, one of Hitler’s favorites.*
The flexible strategy that Hitler adopted allowed him to keep his options open. He also hoped that the insertion of Army Group B might intimidate the Badoglio regime and discourage it from seriously contemplating the notion of surrender. But even this approach, which was relatively conservative when compared to the alternative of an immediate body blow against the Italians, was not without its risks. Specifically, none of the Germans knew how Badoglio, who was in firm control of the Italian armed forces, would react to the appearance of these uninvited guests from the north—to this virtual invasion of Nazi men and machines cloaked in the transparent guise of friendship.
“Undoubtedly the English and the Americans sponsored this crisis,” Goebbels wrote in his diary on July 27, reflecting Hitler’s initial fears that the Italian coup had been closely coordinated with the Allies. “The Fuehrer was firmly convinced that Badoglio had already negotiated with the enemy before he took these decisive steps. . . . The English would certainly try to land at the most opportune moment, possibly in Genoa, in order to cut off the German troops stationed in southern Italy.”37
These were certainly reasonable enough assumptions, and they rightly filled many of the Nazi leaders with alarm. Fortunately for the Germans, there was no truth to them. (The Allies had also been caught off guard by the Italian coup.)38
With the Duce out of the picture, the fate of Italy abruptly descended on the somewhat creaky shoulders of the seventy-three-yearold Victor Emmanuel III and his obedient Capo del Governo (Head of the Government), Marshal Pietro Badoglio. Though he had held the throne for more than forty years, Victor Emmanuel had taken a backseat to his more charismatic partner Mussolini during the twenty years of Fascist rule and was therefore a bit rusty when it came to actually wielding power.
The diminutive king had a well-earned reputation for being cautious (some said overly so) and playing his cards close to the vest. He had the maddening habit, his visitors often observed, of allowing others to express their views on a subject without disclosing a hint of his own thoughts until he believed the time was ripe. The king’s natural aversion for resolute action led Galeazzo Ciano to remark that he was “more of a Hamlet than Hamlet.”39
At seventy-two, Badoglio had enjoyed a long (though often checkered) career as a soldier but lacked any real experience as a politician.40 As a former chief of Comando Supremo (the Italian High Command), he had led the Italians to a brutal victory in Ethiopia in 1936, becoming a national hero in the process. He was equally successful, cynics observed, at amassing a small fortune during the Fascist years.
His star began to fade in 1940 when Mussolini’s invasion of Greece turned into a debacle and the dictator sacked him in a fit of frustration.41 Since that time, he had watched Italy’s decline from the sidelines, consoling himself with drink—he downed a pint of champagne daily—and passing the time with card games and frequent naps.42 Though ambitious and not averse to power, Badoglio was deferential to the king and rarely made a move without the monarch’s approval.43
As a team, the two men proved to be vacillating and indecisive. Though both desperately wished to break free of the Axis, neither had developed a clear-cut strategy for getting out of the war as quickly and cleanly as possible.44 For better or worse, the king and Badoglio had made no serious efforts to secretly surrender their country to the Allies before the Italian coup and coordinate military plans with General Dwight D. Eisenhower.
This omission was not entirely their fault. They had made several covert attempts to contact the West while the Duce was still in power but found that the Allies were not interested in making compromise peace deals with an Axis Power: “Unconditional surrender” was the only offer on the table.45 And though no one on either side of the war seemed to know exactly what this ominous phrase meant, the king and Badoglio were inclined to reject such a harsh and inflexible stance.46
Even after they had arrested Mussolini, Italy’s new decisionmakers hesitated from contacting the Allies right away and sounding them out on the possibility of making a separate peace. This was because they still held out hope that they could come to an understanding with Hitler and thereby exit the war without incurring any Nazi reprisals.47
“There was a considerable body of opinion [among leading Italians] that thought it possible that the Germans might allow Italy to withdraw into neutrality,” recalled Friedrich von Plehwe, a member of the German embassy in Rome, “and envisaged an agreement with them about the withdrawal of German troops from Italy.”48 The Duce, who understood Hitler better than most of his countrymen, had never put much stock in such naïve fantasies, which helped to explain the paralyzing predicament he faced in the weeks and months before his fall.
But the king and Badoglio did cling to such illusions, or at least felt a responsibility to entertain them. Toward the end of July, Badoglio contacted Hitler and requested a summit meeting in northern Italy between Hitler and the king or Badoglio.49 “I was convinced,” Badoglio recalled, “that the German Government would have to be told that Italy must make peace. This was the step that Mussolini had not dared to take at Feltre on 19 July and though it was not likely that the Germans would agree, I still wished to tell them that we could not continue the war.”50
The Italians were willing only to hold such a conference on their own soil, fearing (correctly) that if they set foot in Germany they would be clapped in irons. But Hitler, who spent much of this week ranting and raving about treachery, promptly rejected the notion of sitting across the table from the Duce’s captors and having a civil conversation.
If Hitler’s first reactions to the coup had been icy, those of the Allies were not much warmer. That the Italians had publicly proclaimed their fidelity to the Axis had not helped matters. This was made abundantly clear in a speech delivered by Winston Churchill.
“A decision by the Italian Government and people to continue under the German yoke,” Churchill told the House of Commons on July 27, “will not affect seriously the general course of the war. . . . The only consequence will be that in the next few months Italy will be seared and scarred and blackened from one end to the other. . . . We should let the Italians, to use a homely phrase, stew in their own juice for a bit, and hot up the fire to the utmost in order to accelerate the process [of capitulation].”51 These vivid culinary metaphors were hardly encouraging to the Italians, who in their attempts to dupe the Nazis had created uncertainty in the minds of the Allies.*52
By midweek, therefore, Italy found herself in an awkward and dangerous position. Having provoked the ir
e of the Nazis and the apparent indifference of the Western powers, the king and Badoglio suddenly found themselves isolated and alone. It was clear that they would be on their own in their dealings with the Germans for several weeks to come at the very least. And to complicate matters, the one Italian who had a rapport with Hitler—namely, Mussolini—had been removed from the equation by their own hand.
But the Italian duumvirate did have a few things to be grateful for. The coup had been carried off without a hitch, the Duce had been stashed away in a secret location, and most of the other leading Fascists were either in custody or keeping a low profile; indeed, dozens of them were too busy writing ingratiating letters to Badoglio to contemplate a possible insurrection.53
“The King struck one resolute blow at their leader,” Badoglio remembered, “and without any resistance or violence the whole Fascist structure collapsed. On 26 July one did not see a single person in Rome wearing the Fascist badge. Fascism fell, as was fitting, like a rotten pear.”54 Just as important, the change of government also seemed to have the blessing of the Italian people, many of whom had identified Mussolini and his corrupt henchmen as the cause of the nation’s ills.
But there was something almost unsettling about the success with which the king and Badoglio had achieved their immediate aims. Much like Hitler, they found it difficult to believe that the Fascist Party, with its 4 million members, would lay down without a fight.55 Badoglio, who had prudently instituted martial law shortly after the coup, worried constantly about an organized response to the fall of Fascism—either in the form of a Fascist counterstrike, a Nazi intervention, or some combination of both. These fears only deepened toward the end of July when the Italians learned that German army units (elements of Rommel’s Army Group B) were beginning to mass near Italy’s northern frontier.56 The tension got so thick that on July 28 the king made arrangements to leave Rome if necessary.
Hitler's Raid to Save Mussolini Page 8
