Hitler's Raid to Save Mussolini

by Greg Annussek

  Though large, the hotel was not much to look at; but to Mussolini it possessed a special distinction. It was “the highest prison in the world,” he remarked to one of his guards, not without a touch of pride, perhaps.31 Highest prison or not, the Duce was certainly its sole prisoner, all the guests having been evacuated while he sojourned at La Villetta.32 The only inhabitants of the Campo Imperatore now consisted of Mussolini, two hundred or so policemen and carabinieri, and members of the hotel staff.33

  For the Duce, who was lodged in a comfortable second-floor suite (No. 201), the succeeding days were ones of enforced leisure. 34 He passed the time listening to the radio—one of his new privileges—and playing card games such as Scopone with his captors, Gueli and Faiola.35 He was also allowed to take walks near the hotel.36 Occasionally, he caught sight of a shepherd tending his flock on one of the neighboring plateaus. “Sometimes the owners of the herds appeared on horseback and then vanished along the ridge of the mountain,” he wrote, “standing out against the skyline like figures from another age.”37

  For the most part, Mussolini had few complaints about life on the Gran Sasso, where he enjoyed improved accommodations and expanded freedoms. The Hotel Imperatore, after all, was certainly a far cry from the fishy décor at the House of the Ras on Ponza.

  Yet, at the same time, the dictator could not help but wonder whether he was being accorded the special treatment reserved for men facing the gallows.38 As it happened, there was some truth in this presentiment: Badoglio had given orders to the effect that the Nazis “must not take him alive.”39

  Hitler, of course, was determined to do just that. At the end of August, he made this clear in emotional fashion to Edda Ciano, who had recently arrived in Germany for a stopover of indefinite duration. Edda and her husband, Galeazzo Ciano, had been lured into Hitler’s clutches—or so she later claimed—with tantalizing promises of false passports, a getaway plane, and other goodies that have special appeal to couples on the lam.* In any event, when Edda showed up at the Wolf ’s Lair on August 31, the sight of the Duce’s favorite daughter was enough to make Hitler’s eyes well up with tears.40

  “Never fear,” a weepy Hitler told her when she inquired about her father. “He will be liberated. We still don’t know where he is being kept prisoner, but we will know very soon. And then, I promise you, I will do everything in my power to rescue him. You can be sure that I will bring him to you safe and sound.”41

  Hitler was right about one thing: The Nazis had no clue where Mussolini was at that moment. Hitler probably did not know that the near miss on Maddalena Island in late August had led to frayed nerves at Frascati, where an underlying tension between Skorzeny and General Student’s paratroopers was beginning to bubble over.

  “All was not the best in General Student’s staff,” Skorzeny later complained, referring to what he perceived as a noticeable lack of enthusiasm for Operation Oak. “Radl and I were astonished to learn that there were even defeatists in the general staff of an elite corps. Right after our arrival in Frascati a major asked us ironically whether we knew that the war was lost. And after the Santa Maddalena fiasco we noticed more often that they made not the least effort to really help us. They seemed to think we were crazy people who had our eye on some insane goal.”42 As fanatical SS men, he and his deputy, Radl, had little sympathy for what they perceived as doubting Thomases in the ranks of the war-weary Luftwaffe veterans.

  Skorzeny did not hesitate to bring his concerns to the attention of Student, who made an attempt to handle the situation diplomatically. “The people of whom you speak,” he told Skorzeny, “and who I know better than you, jumped at Narvik, Eben Emael, at Rotterdam and Crete. I am sure that they will continue to do their duty.”43 At which point Radl, “who wasn’t one to hold back” according to Skorzeny, chimed in: “Allow me to state, Herr General, that an officer cannot give his best in a war that he already considers to be lost. That is a sentiment that we don’t and will never understand.”44 If nothing else, the two gung ho commandos were proving why Hitler put so much faith in Himmler’s ultra-loyal legions.

  Exchanges such as these probably served to remind Student that he had entered a strange new realm during the summer of 1943—one that entailed a close working relationship with the SS. Instead of fighting the Allies on the front lines—or behind them—as he was accustomed to doing, Student was faced with the prospect of rescuing a fallen dictator and possibly kidnapping the government of an ostensible ally. These assignments were an unusual development in the long career of this seasoned fifty-three-year-old Luftwaffe officer.

  A native of Prussia, Student had commanded a fighter squadron during World War I before going on to become the primary architect of Germany’s airborne forces, pioneering what was then a brand-new form of warfare. He was considered a patriot but was not reputed to have the same unquestioning faith in the Nazi leadership so typical of Skorzeny and his brethren in the SS.

  On a superficial level, Student was not a particularly forceful personality, especially after being shot in the head by a sniper during Hitler’s triumphant offensive against the West in 1940. “From the point of view of outward appearance,” remembered General Heinz Trettner, one of Student’s most trusted subordinates, “it is impossible to say that General Student was ever an imposing figure, like a Kesselring or a von Richthofen. His high voice and—after his head wound in Holland—his hesitant manner of speech were a disadvantage to him in discussion with more accomplished speakers and his modest bearing could give the impression of mediocrity.”45

  But Student’s qualities as a commander—he was known for his boldness, creative imagination, and tenacity—were reflected in the daring operations undertaken by his paratroopers, comprised of carefully screened volunteers, who quickly earned a reputation as being among the best troops of the war. “It was Student who put airborne forces on the world’s military map,” wrote General Sir John Hackett, a onetime British paratrooper who fought against Student’s soldiers. “It is he who must be recognized as chiefly responsible for the outstanding performance of German airborne troops in the Second World War.”46

  They saw action just about everywhere. During Hitler’s glory days they helped to defeat Norway and Denmark, played a crucial role in the invasion of France, and chased the British out of Crete. Later, the paratroopers were employed as hard-fighting elite ground troops during increasingly grim, defensive battles in Africa, Russia, Sicily, Italy, France, Holland, and ultimately Germany.47 Student and his paratroopers would always be remembered for their legendary raid on the “impregnable” Belgian fort of Eben Emael. As shall be seen later, this feat would be in the forefront of Student’s mind when the Germans began planning their final attempt to rescue Mussolini.

  But the dictator had to be found first. Though the friction between Skorzeny and the paratroopers was destined to outlast the war, General Student and the SS continued to work together to locate the Duce after the Maddalena “fiasco.” According to Radl, there were plenty of rumors in the air.

  One “trustworthy” source placed Mussolini in a Roman hospital awaiting an operation; but Herbert Kappler, the police attaché at the embassy, discovered that this information was false.48 Eugen Dollmann also lent his assistance, dispelling a rumor suggesting that the Duce was being held in the Villa Savoia, which was the king’s personal residence and the same place where Mussolini was arrested on July 25.49 There were also vague hints that Badoglio had hidden his prisoner somewhere near Lake Trasimene in the Perugia region, north of Rome.50

  Then Kappler, who was participating in Operation Oak against his better judgment, stepped forward with the crucial breakthrough. His agents, who were monitoring Italian communications, had intercepted a terse and puzzling message on the wireless: “Security preparations around the Gran Sasso complete.”51 Gueli, one of the Duce’s captors, had apparently sent this message to his superiors.* It was this lead—along with some supporting intelligence— that ultimately allowed the Nazis to zero in on t
he mile-high ski resort known as the Hotel Imperatore.

  At first, Student did not attach much value to Kappler’s discovery. 52 In fact, at this stage the general was not even convinced that Mussolini was on the mainland.53 But events soon changed his mind. On September 4 or 5, Student and Skorzeny paid a visit to the Italian seaplane base at Vigna di Valle on Lake Bracciano to check up on a squadron of Luftwaffe aircraft.54 German seaplanes had been dispatched to the base in preparation for the Maddalena rescue operation.55

  While Student was there, he heard an unexpectedly interesting story from the squadron captain.56 A few days earlier at dawn, the officer told Student, there was an air raid. Everyone took cover and waited for the inevitable explosions, but none came.* The only thing that dropped out of the sky, as it were, was a Red Cross seaplane, which then made a landing on the lake. If that were not odd enough, he said, shortly after the appearance of the plane, an ambulance was seen leaving the base along with several other cars. There was a rumor floating around Vigna di Valle suggesting that the passenger of the ambulance was Il Duce.

  Student could scarcely believe his ears: Mussolini had been transferred right under his nose! What he learned at Lake Bracciano was welcome news, of course, because it seemed to confirm that the Duce was on the mainland after all and that Kappler’s intercept was probably more important than he had initially believed.57 But Student could not help feeling that a golden opportunity had slipped through his fingers.

  If it were not for the secrecy surrounding Operation Oak, the German pilots at Bracciano, who knew nothing of the plot to free Mussolini, might have nabbed the dictator themselves or called for reinforcements: The deed would then have been done.58 Student had been “racking his brains” for weeks in the effort to find the Duce, he thought to himself, and every time he got close to his quarry, the Italians slipped him away in the nick of time.59 “Apparently, very strict secrecy can sometimes have its disadvantages,” Student later wrote. “In this case it was the reason why a unique chance was missed.”60

  According to Radl, Kappler’s Gran Sasso lead was also supported by a seemingly unrelated incident that came to their attention around this time: a car crash involving two Italian officers.61 A red flag apparently went up when the Germans learned the identity of the victims, at least one of whom was known to be guarding Mussolini.* When they attempted to get more details about the crash, they discovered that the Italians in question had been driving from Rome to L’Aquila, or vice versa—in retrospect, Radl could not remember which. L’Aquila, of course, was the regional capital of the Abruzzi. It was only about fifteen miles or so from the lower cable car station of the Hotel Imperatore.

  The ski resort now became the main focus of the search. In Student’s mind it was the only logical place on the Gran Sasso in which the Italians could possibly hide Mussolini. “The hotel was secluded,” he later wrote, “it was the only lodging far and wide in a jagged, romantic mountain landscape.”62 But the hotel’s isolated location—it was only accessible via cable car—made it difficult for the Nazis to investigate.

  Skorzeny obtained some information from a German living in Italy who had spent some time at the resort before the war. A travel agency brochure also provided a few details, including a photo of the hotel.63 But as the first week of September drew to a close, the Nazis were acutely aware that time was not working in their favor. “The feeling that the enormous tension [between the Axis powers] would break one way or the other one of these days was universal,” Student remembered.64

  At first, Student and Skorzeny could not think of a way to study the hotel without alarming the Duce’s captors and triggering another transfer of their prisoner. Then they hit upon an idea involving a German medical officer on Student’s staff named Leo Krutoff.* The doctor, who spoke fluent Italian and was apparently something of a charmer, was instructed to make a pilgrimage to the Gran Sasso to determine whether the Campo Imperatore could be used as a convalescent home for ailing German soldiers.65 Krutoff, who knew nothing of the real reasons behind this fishing expedition, was told to observe the layout of the building and make a note of other important details. He left by car for the hotel, which was located about seventy-five miles from Rome, on the morning of September 8.66 According to Radl, the Nazis had already sent at least one agent to do some snooping around the Gran Sasso before Krutoff received his mission.67

  On that same day, Skorzeny decided to conduct some aerial reconnaissance of the site in a special Heinkel 111 equipped with automatic cameras. Radl and Captain Gerhard Langguth, Student’s intelligence officer, also took part. To keep their real objective secret from the pilot, Skorzeny told him that they were intending to photograph a few ports in the Adriatic Sea (which borders Italy in the east). The pilot was instructed to fly to the target via Rimini, Ancona, and Pescara, and then make a return trip along the same route. This flight path would take them over the Abruzzi region and the Gran Sasso.

  Soon after takeoff, they experimented with the cameras, which were located in the belly of the Heinkel, only to discover that they were frosted over and did not function. Fortunately, they had brought along a portable camera as a backup, but using it to take pictures of the ground below was no easy matter. Taking another postwar swipe at the paratroopers, Skorzeny and Radl later claimed that Langguth was singularly unhelpful in this regard. “Scarcely had we boarded the aircraft,” Skorzeny recalled, “when he told us that the automatic cameras weren’t working and that there was no time to repair them. Radl and I looked at each other in amazement. Langguth casually showed us how to use a heavy hand-held camera, on which the film also had to be advanced by means of a hand crank. He had no intention of doing it himself.”68

  Using the camera required some improvised gymnastics. To get a clear shot at a suitable angle, the Germans had to dangle outside the plane through an open hatch as they soared over the hotel, or so the story goes. Skorzeny went first, sticking his upper body through the opening and holding the camera with both hands.* Radl held his legs to prevent him from falling out. At this point, the Heinkel was flying at about 230 miles per hour and its altitude was 16,400 feet.69 The temperature of the air outside the plane, according to Skorzeny, was about 18 degrees Fahrenheit.70

  “I could never have believed that the air was so cold, the wind so biting,” remembered Skorzeny. “I passed my chest through the opening while Radl held my legs. . . . Gray and brown rocks, immense bare cliffs, a few névés, and then we passed over our objective, the hotel, a massive building even when viewed from this height. I took the first photo, then, holding the fairly heavy camera in my left hand, I turned the crank which advances the roll of film. Only at this precise juncture did I realize that in these last few instants my hands had grown numb.”71 During the return trip, Radl switched places with Skorzeny and took several more photos.

  The two SS men were anxious to hear what Dr. Krutoff had managed to find out. But when they returned to Rome, a few surprises awaited them. By the end of day, in fact, Adolf Hitler’s mission to find and free Mussolini had suddenly come to a screeching halt—seemingly for good.

  * * *

  *In the evening of the same day, Castellano was handed the so-called Long Terms of the armistice, which explained the political, economic, and financial dimensions of the surrender. By signing the Short Terms, the Italians had automatically agreed to accept the Long Terms, sight unseen. These terms would be modified in Italy’s favor depending on how actively the Italians assisted the Allies in the fight against the Germans during the remainder of the war.

  *By way of comparison, the highest peak in the American Rocky Mountains, Mount Elbert in Colorado, is roughly 14,500 feet.

  *The Nazis had no evil designs on Edda, of course. It was her husband Galeazzo whom Hitler and his cronies detested.

  *According to some reports, the Germans were aware that Gueli was one of the men responsible for Mussolini’s security. See Foley, 50.

  *According to Student, the Italians used an air raid siren
several times during the summer of 1943 while transferring Mussolini from one place to another. The aim, of course, was to clear the area of potential witnesses.

  *Saverio Polito, Mussolini’s senior jailer at Maddalena, had been injured in a car accident around August 20. However, it is not clear whether this is the crash to which Radl is referring. Polito was actually driving from Perugia to Rome at the time, so it seems unlikely that knowledge of this accident would have provided the Germans with any clues regarding the Gran Sasso. See Patricelli, 43.

  *It is not clear which of them came up with the idea. After the war, Student and Skorzeny each claimed it as his own.

  *Student claimed that Langguth took the reconnaissance photos and that Skorzeny was merely an “especially interested passenger” on this flight. Student, 417.

  THE DOUBLE CROSS

  The Fuehrer anticipated Italian treason as something absolutely certain. He was really the only one who firmly counted on it. And yet, when it actually happened, it upset him pretty badly.1

  —Goebbels’ Diary, September 10, 1943

  IN THE EARLY AFTERNOON OF SEPTEMBER 8, SKORZENY AND RADL were winging their way back towards Pratica di Mare airfield near Rome. As they glanced in the direction of Frascati, they were shocked to see large black clouds of smoke billowing up on the horizon. Sometime around noon, the small town of more than 10,000 people had been severely damaged during an Allied air attack, which delivered almost four hundred tons of plummeting explosives.2 Thousands of Frascati’s residents, most of them elderly or women and children, lay dead or injured among the smoldering ruins.3