The President had every reason to be hopeful.
Operation Husky was the largest amphibious invasion ever attempted in war: three thousand Allied vessels, troop planes, and hundreds of gliders setting 160,000 soldiers ashore in Sicily in a single day from across the Mediterranean, departing from ports and airfields in Algeria, Tunisia, Malta, Libya, and Egypt in appalling weather (which caused almost half the gliders from Tunisia to land in the sea) to their rendezvous at dawn on July 10.
General Eisenhower had overruled his own planners and had accepted General Montgomery’s preference for a concentrated invasion of the southeastern corner of Sicily, stretching from Gela to the Gulf of Noto and Cassibile. This was just as well, since the German commander in chief, General Kesselring, sent the first of his two panzer divisions (with 160 tanks and 140 field guns) to the west of Sicily—leaving only a single panzer division in the east. However hard they fought, the men of the remaining Hermann Göring Panzer Division were unable to prevail against Allied troops debauching across twenty-six beaches there. Italian defenders, ill armed and ill motivated, for the most part crumpled under the weight and power of the Allied bombardment.
Despite the poor weather—with gale force 7 winds—the invasion thus proved brilliantly successful.
At the Pentagon in Washington there was an air of near jubilation, especially when the casualty rolls turned out to be less than a seventh of what had been estimated. Once again it was the President, in his capacity as U.S. commander in chief, who had made victory happen. Over the objections of his top generals and secretary of war in January, he’d insisted upon success in the Mediterranean in 1943, rather than sure defeat in France. How wise he’d been proven, all now agreed; only two German divisions in Sicily, instead of more than two dozen in France.
Many things went wrong in the landings, not simply owing to the high wind but also because of friendly fire: trigger-happy naval gunners shooting down dozens of Allied aircraft. Patton’s Seventh Army landing at Gela was initially touch-and-go, requiring naval artillery to beat off determined Axis counterattacks—Kesselring having instructed the Hermann Göring tanks and troops to move “at once and with all forces attack and destroy whatever opposes the division. The Führer has ordered all forces to be brought into operation immediately in order to prevent the enemy from establishing itself.”4
For the Germans, it proved a losing battle, as it had for Vichy defenders in Torch. For the Allies, however, the military lessons provided by Husky would not only be legion but gold—not least in terms of intelligence, deception measures, command experience, army air and naval cooperation, and cohesion. Launched in such overwhelming, concentrated Allied force, there was little the Germans could do to halt it. A U.S. general, Dwight D. Eisenhower, was the Allied supremo, with one American and one British army field commander serving under him. George Patton, who had commanded the invasion forces at Casablanca, now led the U.S. Seventh Army, with excellent U.S. corps and divisional commanders such as Omar Bradley, Geoffrey Keyes, Manton Eddy, and Terry Allen coming to the fore. Montgomery again commanded the British Eighth Army—this time with both veteran and untried troops, including a full Canadian corps determined to obliterate the “fiasco” of Dieppe. Inter-Allied coalition command was rehearsed in real time, as well as interservice cooperation—improving exponentially as the battle for Sicily progressed.
With the Allies achieving complete naval and air superiority over Axis forces in the Mediterranean, moreover, and Patton and Montgomery’s ground forces threatening to strike out from the beaches of Sicily, there arose a real prospect that the Italians—who for the most part were refusing to fight to defend their homeland—might overthrow Mussolini and submit to unconditional surrender without the Allies needing to invade Italy.
Hitler’s hand was forced, therefore. He would have to call off his latest offensive on the Eastern Front and deal with the Western Allies before they dealt with him.
34
The Führer Flies to Italy
ON JULY 13, three days after the Western Allies landed in Sicily, the Führer summoned his army commanders to his headquarters in East Prussia.
He had changed his mind. Operation Citadel, his massive, long-awaited offensive on the Eastern Front, was doomed. Nervous lest the Western Allies stab him in the back just as the Wehrmacht attacked in Russia, he had already scaled back his objectives for the battle. Instead of seeking to push deeper into the Soviet Union, he had decided to destroy the Russian armies in situ, near the city of Kursk, where their forces formed a salient that could be pinched off by German armies thrusting north and south. In this way, the Soviet armies would be decimated—destroying any chance of a Russian offensive that year, and allowing Hitler to deal decisively with any Allied operation in the west or south.
To their consternation, Hitler now told his generals he was going to call off the Kursk offensive—the biggest tank onslaught yet of the war—in mid-battle. It had been raging for eight days and the Wehrmacht, according to Field Marshal Erich von Manstein, was now on the cusp of victory: ready to close its pincers and destroy Russian forces left in the salient. But as Hitler explained, “the Western Allies had landed in Sicily,” and “the situation there had taken an extremely serious turn,” Manstein recalled. “The Italians were not even attempting to fight, and the island was likely to be lost. Since the next step might well be a landing in the Balkans or Lower Italy [the heel], it was necessary to form new armies in Italy and the western Balkans. These forces must be found from the Eastern Front, so ‘Citadel’ would have to be discontinued.”1
Manstein felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. The Allied invasion of Sicily, in other words, would now save the Russians from the drubbing the Wehrmacht was poised to administer in the East—Manstein later cursing that “Hitler ruled that ‘Citadel’ was to be called off on account of the situation in the Mediterranean. And so,” the field marshal went on, “the last offensive in the east ended in fiasco.”2
Even more symbolic for the course of World War II, however, it caused Hitler to fly south, to Berchtesgaden, hopefully to meet with Mussolini in person there.
In the event, Mussolini refused to fly to Berchtesgaden. Ignoring the poor performance of the 230,000 Italian troops he’d stationed in Sicily to defend the island against Allied assault, the Duce blamed the Führer for the success of the U.S., Canadian, and British invasion. The Luftwaffe, he complained, had withheld the necessary planes and equipment with which to defend such a big island, and the responsibility, he claimed, was therefore Hitler’s.
Returning to the White House from Shangri-la, by contrast, the President was intensely proud of the Allied performance in Operation Husky. “The news from Sicily is pretty good. Thank Heaven,” the President’s cousin Daisy noted in her diary on July 143—the President confident Stalin would now see the merit of Allied strategy, which had clearly taken Hitler completely by surprise, and was threatening, overnight, to sever the German-Italian partnership in the Axis Pact.
From all he’d heard, Stalin was nothing if not astute. With Hitler now compelled to send major forces to southern Europe, rather than to the Eastern Front, indeed to move forces away from battle on the Russian front, Stalin would eventually recognize both the political and military ramifications, he was sure. On July 15 the President therefore cabled to congratulate Stalin on the stalwart Russian defense of Kursk—urging him, however, to respond “about that other matter which I still feel to be of great importance to you and me”: namely their meeting together to discuss the end of the war—and the postwar.
“The P. is awaiting word from Stalin as to when they can meet—I hate to have the P. take the risk, but he feels it essential for the future,” Daisy recorded in the privacy of her diary. “If it occurs now it will be in Alaska; if it occurs late in the Fall, it will be North Africa.” Stalin might “not feel able to leave Russia now,” she allowed; in fact she actually hoped so, as she considered “the risk of the trip” for the President, “is
very great.”4
There was no response from Stalin, however.
At Hyde Park the following Monday, July 19, Daisy noted the President “looked preoccupied & a little worried.” He had “on his mind his possible meeting with Stalin in Alaska—Stalin has set no date & has [still] not committed himself.” The President had, however, finally informed Churchill of his invitation to Stalin—but had not extended the invite to include the Prime Minister. “The P. said W.S.C. wanted to go to the meeting, but F.D.R. won’t let him,” Daisy noted, surprised, but accepting the President’s logic. The stakes, in terms of postwar peace and international security, were too high to take the risk of Churchill embarrassing him by his opposition to a cross-Channel assault. “He wants to talk, man to man, with Stalin, & try to establish a constructive relationship. He says that the meeting may result in a complete stalemate, or that Stalin may refuse to work along with the United Nations, or, as he hopes, that Stalin will be willing to work with the U.N.,” but it was, surely, worth trying. “How much F.D.R. has on his shoulders! It is always more & more, with the passing months, instead of less & less, as he deserves,” she mused—and, she added sagely, as “he gets older.”5
Hitler rushed two more German divisions to Sicily to stiffen the Axis line, as well as warning his panzer reserve group on the Eastern Front to prepare to head south to Italy. He knew, however, it was hopeless to imagine he could hold on to Sicily itself, given the weight of the Allied assault and the flight of his supposed Italian partners. With Patton racing forces northeast to Palermo, and Bradley and Montgomery pushing the German panzer, paratroop, and infantry defenders back toward Mount Etna, the war seemed to many observers, on all sides, to be, if not won, then winnable in the near future: Sicily the keystone to a possible collapse of the Axis Pact, and even German solicitations for peace . . .
For his part, Hitler agonized over what to do about Mussolini—knowing he would have to breathe fire into the Duce’s soul if he was to stop an Italian surrender that would expose his entire southern European flank to Allied invasion. Yet to his chagrin, waiting at the Berghof—the holiday home in the Bavarian Alps he’d bought with the royalties earned from Mein Kampf—he simply could not persuade Mussolini to come meet him in Germany.
Every day the situation had become more menacing—for both men. Even Hitler’s most loyal supporter, Dr. Goebbels, was forced to acknowledge that, thanks to the Western Allies, Operation Citadel in the East had failed. The Allied forces invading Sicily were simply too massive. “The English and the Americans are expanding their bridgehead on a scale that’s really stunning,” the Reich minister had already noted in his diary on July 17.6 “The question keeps coming up, how on earth we will be able to deal with war on two fronts, which we’re slipping into. It has always been Germany’s misfortune, past and present,” he mused.7 In the circumstances, it would be “almost a miracle were we able to hang on to Sicily.”8
All Goebbels could think of now was to drive a wedge between the Russians—who were still demanding a Second Front that very year—and the Western Allies. “We haven’t really any other alternative than to try to ease the situation through political means,” he reflected.9 Ignoring the millions of Jews and others the Nazi SS had “liquidated”—with more being “exterminated” every day—he wondered how, in view of the evidence of the massacre of Poles at Katyn, the Western Allies could imagine they could seriously do business with Russian barbarians. Could Katyn be the wedge issue?10
Political possibilities aside, the Führer had meantime to hold together his military alliance, Goebbels recognized: the Third Reich, the Empire of Italy, and their satellites and puppet regimes, from Norway, Hungary, and Romania to Bulgaria. It was an Axis military coalition that suddenly appeared in grave jeopardy—the once-triumphant Axis forces rocked on their heels both in Russia and the Mediterranean. “What’s undeniable is that we find ourselves in a really critical situation,” Goebbels admitted in his diary. “In previous summers,” he reflected—thinking of 1940, 1941, and 1942—“that was never the case.” Now, however, it was different. “For the first time since the beginning of the war we’ve not only nothing to show for our summer offensive but we’re forced to fight tooth and nail to defend ourselves—something that is casting a dark shadow over world opinion in the neutral countries.”11
If the mountain would not come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must to the mountain go, Hitler was forced to accept. “The Führer has flown to Italy,” Goebbels thus noted on July 19, on hearing the news from his liaison officer. “It’s good the Führer is going to have it out with the Duce,” the Reich minister added, having learned the meeting would take place north of Venice, “for Mussolini is the heart and soul of Italian resistance, and it’s always been noticeable that after he’s only been a couple of hours with the Führer, Italian politics and its war effort get a whole new infusion of blood.”12
Flown to Treviso airport, the Führer was then taken by train to Feltre, and from there by limousine to the chosen meeting spot: Villa Gaggia. There the two fascist leaders finally conferred.
Despite a two-hour monologue by the Führer there was no infusion of blood or confidence, however; midway through the meeting the Duce was told the Allies were bombing Rome.
The summit proved so disappointing the two dictators decided neither to issue a communiqué nor make the meeting public. Confiding to his diary the inevitable, bitter conclusion behind the false bonhomie, Goebbels recognized that “we will have to move into Italy.”13
“We” meant the Wehrmacht. And with this decision the war took a new, yet more ruthless and destructive turn.
Mussolini’s protestations of loyalty to the Axis Pact, Hitler knew, were sincere, but they were not backed by the Italian people—especially the aristocracy, royal family, and upper middle class. Flying back to his Wolf’s Lair headquarters, the Führer ordered Field Marshal Rommel to prepare something akin to Operation Anton, the previous November, when German and Italian troops had secretly readied themselves to occupy the remaining Vichy-administered area of metropolitan France. German troops would now be ordered to occupy the country of their own war partner, Italy, by force; it would, cynically, be called Operation Axis.
It was not a moment too soon, from Hitler’s perspective. Days later, on July 25, the Italian Grand Council of Fascism convened its first meeting to take place since the early days of the war, in the Palazzo Venezia, in Rome. By a vote of 19 to 7, the members affirmed asking the king to save Italy from destruction, in view of the critical situation in Sicily and the bombing of the Rome rail yards, which President Roosevelt had personally authorized on the very day Hitler met with Mussolini.
Goebbels had assumed the American bombing might stiffen Italian resolve to defend their mother country, as it had in Germany. Instead, however, it caused the Rome police to arrest Mussolini as he left the palace—bundling him into an ambulance and taking him to a destination unknown. Marshal Pietro Badoglio, former chief of the Italian General Staff who had resigned in 1940 after disagreeing with Mussolini’s war strategy, was tasked with heading a new government—“our grimmest enemy,” as Hitler referred to Badoglio14: knowing Badoglio would, inevitably, terminate the Axis Pact.
It was war in the Mediterranean, then, not in Russia, that had seized the world’s headlines and seemed suddenly to bring the global struggle against predatory fascism to a climax. Hitler fired off instructions for the arrest, if possible, of the new Italian government and the members of the royal family, before they could pursue surrender to the United Nations. They were too wily, however, and German forces in Italy still too thin on the ground to effect such a move.
So anxious did the Führer become that he now decided the Mediterranean must take priority over the Eastern Front. He therefore gave final orders to transfer to Italy his top SS armored divisions from Russia—telling Field Marshal von Kluge, who protested at the removal of the Wehrmacht’s vital striking reserve, “We are not master here of our own decisions.”15
The Western Allies were—or seemed to be.
35
Countercrisis
AS HITLER CONFRONTED the crisis caused by the overwhelming Allied invasion of Sicily and the imminent defection of Italy from the Axis Pact, there arose a countercrisis or dilemma for the Allies—their biggest, in many ways, since Pearl Harbor.
This would be one of the great ironies of history: that at a moment when victory seemed to many to be within reach that year, the prosecution of the war by the Allies lurched and wobbled—with recriminations, accusations, and blame that have continued among war historians and writers to this day.1
The President had pressed Stalin again and again for a one-on-one meeting—determined to assure him, in person, that the United States, as the dominant partner in the Western Alliance, was committed to opening a Second Front at the earliest possible time.
“Referring to the Second Front,” former ambassador Davies had told Stalin as the President’s personal emissary on May 20, “no-one, I told him, had been more disappointed when, after consideration of all the risks and logistics involved in a cross-channel operation, and also the hazards as affecting the world battleground—the Pacific as well as the Atlantic and the Mediterranean—that for the sake of an assured victory, he [the President] had to agree to postponement of the Second Front cross-channel operation. No one, I said, was more firm in the belief that the quickest and most direct way to defeat Hitler was by a cross-channel invasion, when it could be done after every available means had been exhausted to prevent disaster and assure success.”2
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