It was their neighbours in the Union of South Africa, however, who would eventually play by far the more important role and a key part in the campaign. Following on from the pre-war uncertainties about what level of involvement could be expected, Smuts had become prime minister in September 1939 in a highly controversial manner and throughout the war he faced an organised domestic opposition that in many cases openly sympathised with Nazi Germany’s objectives.85 The support he could offer, at least initially, was therefore limited and South Africa’s leader found himself obliged to maintain a consistently cautious line. To address the chronic lack of pre-war spending, a major programme of military reorganisation was begun but it would take some time for the Union’s military to be brought back up to strength. Despite this, within a few months Smuts offered to send a brigade to Kenya; this came as a surprise to those in Whitehall who were already wondering at this stage whether the few military steps that had been authorised for the colony’s security were actually necessary.86 A combination of these doubts and the absence of the spare equipment needed by the South African brigade to bring it up to effective fighting strength led to the offer being tactfully refused. There was also some hesitancy because, at this stage, troops from the Union were restricted to serving at home and only volunteers could be sent north. Planning for a possible future move was, however, welcomed, as was the proposed dispatch of several air squadrons to supplement the Rhodesian pilots and aircraft.
The officials in London who had rejected the offer to send troops failed to appreciate how badly this would be received. Bishop visited Pretoria in January 1940 and met with Smuts, who said he appreciated the reasons behind the decision but was still visibly disappointed.87 He also made it clear to the British visitor that no further offer would be made and he would have to be asked for help. This did not prevent it being announced the following month that South African forces would be available to assist in ‘the defence of British territories in Africa up to Equator including Tanganyika and Kenya’.88 And at the end of March a voluntary personal declaration, known as the ‘Red Oath’ because those who took it were issued with orange-scarlet tabs to be worn on the shoulder straps of their uniforms, was taken by nearly the whole of the defence forces. This confirmed they would serve ‘anywhere in Africa’, but many reportedly crossed out the words ‘in Africa’. Over the next few months those who had not taken the oath were removed from military service. Despite the lack of an agreement between the authorities in London and Pretoria, should one be reached, a potential additional reserve of manpower was now available.
Dickinson had meanwhile continued to grapple with the many challenges he faced although he was described by one British visitor who met him just before Christmas as being ‘very cheerful’ and leading ‘a very good family party’ in his headquarters.89 There were now dedicated military units of all types available to him with machine gun battalions, engineers, pioneers, signallers, motor transport, a recce squadron and even the aircraft from the Southern Rhodesia Air Force. Although the numbers remained small, there were also almost two fully trained infantry brigades available to defend this front and he hoped it might be possible not merely to halt any Italian offensive at the edge of the highlands but to launch a limited counter-attack.90 Whilst his troops were still short of equipment that could halt an advance by Italian armour, much work had been done by the railway workshops to improvise anti-tank mines, mortars and Bren guns, while also turning out water containers and motor ambulances that would, in some ways, be just as important for any eventual advance north. Indeed, Dickinson judged by January 1940 that the military situation he faced had now improved sufficiently for him to consider how he might eventually attack Italian territory.91
Although some Whitehall administrative involvement remained, on 3 February Wavell’s headquarters took operational control of East Africa, which meant that Dickinson could now be more effectively integrated within the wider regional preparations. The general in Nairobi responded by proposing that, in the event of war breaking out, he should split his forces in order to use them as three mobile columns to harass the Italians, one advancing from Moyale and the others to the east and west of Lake Rudolf. He also intended to use refugees who had crossed into Kenya following the initial Italian invasion four years earlier to capture Kalam in the south-west of Ethiopia while troops from the KAR advanced on Afmadu and Gelib heading on to Kismayu.92 Both the base at Garissa and the headquarters at Nanyuki, nearly 130 miles from Nairobi, had now been further strengthened and expanded to brigade-level standards. Improvements had been made at both locations to the road and rail links, along with the construction of dispersed shelters for the storage of additional ammunition and other supplies needed to sustain any advance. At Moyale and Wajir the garrisons had been enlarged to battalion strength although the newly arrived men were told that their role was to conduct a heroic final stand and fight to the last round if required. The defences to the west of Lake Rudolf were also reinforced, with troops being sent to guard the important passes at Nepau and the River Moroto.
Despite facing what had seemed a hopeless position back in September, only eight months later the situation appeared to have turned around, with improvised but much-improved equipment and plans for conducting both defensive and offensive operations now in place. In many respects it was a remarkable achievement for Dickinson, who had been faced initially with a huge area to defend, defensive positions which could have been easily outflanked, and very few troops.93 What he did not know was that his likely opponent had, during this same period of tremendous British and Commonwealth activity, grown more convinced of the need to avoid conflict. In April 1940 Aosta went to Rome to try and convince Mussolini that Italian East Africa was still unready for war. He told the Italian leader that the French and British were ‘already equipped and ready for action’ and that the local population would ‘revolt as soon as they got an inkling of our difficulties’.94 The viceroy may have been exaggerating, but at least some of his concerns were genuine.95 The area he governed was geographically far from the Italian mainland, making it increasingly difficult to sustain the theoretically enormous armed forces under his command, an argument he had made throughout the time he had spent in charge in Addis Ababa. This was the weakness that Wavell had identified shortly after his arrival in Cairo and it was shared by the Chiefs of Staff in London. It had in fact become a widely held view, Britain’s High Commissioner in Pretoria being told by officials in Whitehall in late April that Italy’s fundamental difficulty remained how to maintain its military forces in Ethiopia and the other East African colonies without having command of the sea.96 As Aosta also seemed to grasp, this meant it was just a matter of time until these grew weaker whilst, at least in theory, the British and French position could only improve so long as the alliance between the two held firm.
With the German attack on France and the Low Countries under way, in May, Badoglio, now Chief of the General Staff and Italy’s senior military officer, called a meeting of his fellow Chiefs of Staff in Rome. This was to inform Admiral Domenico Cavagnari, the head of the navy, and General Francesco Pricolo, leading the air force, of the decision that had been taken about how the country would respond to Hitler’s aggression.97 Mussolini had decided it was now time to enter the war in order to secure a share of what he anticipated would be the spoils of the German victory. As one commentator has put it, Mussolini had no real military strategy, only a political one, and every decision he took was designed to ensure he enjoyed the most favourable terms when the war was won.98 However, Italy would intervene only at such time and in such places as he chose and, whilst he was prepared to order his forces to fight offensively at sea and in the air, on land he had decided they would fight only defensive campaigns.99 Although the Italians appeared to enjoy a significant advantage in manpower and equipment, the military position was actually increasingly fragile, certainly in Italian East Africa. Italian-held territory was encircled and effectively under siege, but this would only b
ecome apparent in the months that followed. While nobody at this time could know what would happen, there might already have been doubts about how the Italian military might perform.
In reality, in both London and Cairo the extent of their opponent’s weakness was still entirely unknown. Gaining reliable and accurate intelligence about the intentions of their soon-to-be enemies had proven a difficult task due to the restrictions on military activity during the preceding years. There were no agents in Italian territory who could be trusted, which meant that only the roughest of appreciations could be made of the potential threat.100 When reports were received in Nairobi that the Italians were reinforcing their side of the border at Moyale, it seemed the inevitable was coming.101 On 19 May it was reported that general mobilisation had been ordered across Italian East Africa, with considerable troop movements towards French and British Somaliland and in the direction of the Kenyan border.102 All leave was now reportedly cancelled and travel back to Italy was banned, except by special authority. In response, conscription was introduced in Uganda and Tanganyika and further restrictions were imposed on enemy aliens and other foreigners, but at least some of those reading the reports in Cairo concluded that these were not necessarily indications of a pending offensive.103 Yet, to the British and Commonwealth officers who had assembled in eastern Africa, the long-anticipated war at last appeared poised to begin.
CHAPTER 3
WAR COMES TO EAST AFRICA
THE MILITARISATION OF East Africa increased dramatically during May and June 1940 as British and Commonwealth forces continued to assemble in anticipation of war breaking out with Italy. The arrivals included the troops from West Africa who eventually reached Mombasa docks as the Italian Air Force flew over, forcing the Nigerians to hurriedly step ashore as the port’s recently arrived anti-aircraft guns opened fire against the attacking aircraft.1 Giffard thought he had managed to persuade the government in London to provide modern equipment for these units but the War Office had proved reluctant to divert funding, and only limited arms and equipment were made available prior to the outbreak of the war.2 Each battalion had brought with it light machine guns, grenades and mortars and not much else; up until April 1941, few of the officers had revolvers and for the most part, despite being told that the alternative was to carry a rifle, they chose to remain unarmed.3 Individually, however, the troops were well equipped with slouch hats and specially designed boots, and each man was armed with a .303 rifle, a bayonet and a machete.4 As fighting infantry units they had just about enough to be able to carry out the role they would be asked to play. With all the troops able to speak and understand what was termed ‘good English’, they absorbed the junior British officers who were waiting to meet them and fill the gaps that existed within their ranks, and headed north to the frontier.5 With their arrival, Dickinson was now commanding a force made up of contingents drawn from across the British Empire and he was as prepared as he might reasonably have hoped to be.
For the British general, organising and managing this alliance would be complicated, and trouble could easily lie ahead. At least some of his troops were still subject to orders from their respective colonial governments, which meant there were ‘considerable, but varying limitations on the use that might be made of them’, most notably the South Africans who were also now arriving in eastern Africa in large part down to Wavell’s direct intervention.6 In mid-March 1940 Wavell travelled to Cape Town for a first meeting with Smuts and, with any confusion about where the troops would be able to serve having been removed, found his host still keen to help. The senior British commander in the Middle East and Africa seized upon this and secured the deployment of a brigade.7 Wavell was also thinking further ahead and hoped that a limited commitment at this stage might lead to the promise later of more troops to serve beyond the equator as part of operations in the Western Desert.8 Less than a year later he was complaining about these formations which expected ‘to be put into battle straight away and become restive if compelled to wait for equipment or to train for long periods’, but for now they were very much appreciated.9 This was especially true as it became clear that substantial reinforcements would have to be sent to Egypt, where a major invasion from Libya seemed possible.10 Confirmation followed shortly afterwards that the South Africans would join the forces in East Africa, but they would not start to arrive until the end of June.11 The German invasion of Holland in May further increased support in the dominion for ‘full participation in the war’12 and even extended to the many Dutch-speaking members of the community. According to Brooke-Popham, now leading a mission to train pilots and aircrew to fight in the Battle of Britain and beyond, even they believed that, ‘in spite of all their sins, the British are preferable to the Germans’.13
It would take some time for these additional troops to arrive but those Dickinson did have under his command were as well prepared as they could be when William Joyce, or Lord Haw-Haw as he was already known in Britain, broadcast from Berlin the confirmation of what had long been anticipated. As he informed his listeners, ‘the world will once again hear the tramp of the dauntless Roman Legions. The flashing eagles have been raised aloft to restore to Italy her historic position in the world.’14 The leadership in Rome had declared war on Britain and France on 10 June 1940 and, certainly at the outset, there seemed to be a strong belief that the prospects for immediate success were good. On the day of the announce-ment at least three Italian divisions could almost have walked into British Somaliland from Ethiopia, with only a garrison consisting of one KAR battalion, the Somaliland Camel Corps and a few irregular troops to halt them.15 Despite the rhetoric of the German propaganda, however, there was little real enthusiasm within the Italian military for such a bold move. As one writer has since confirmed, the official strategy almost entirely remained containing the enemy for as long as possible and assuming that Britain would sue for peace following its inevitable defeat in Egypt.16 If East Africa was lost during this period it was assumed that Italy would be able to recover this territory and much more. Certainly, when in July Gian Galeazzo Ciano – 2nd Count of Cortellazzo and Buccari, Foreign Minister of Fascist Italy and Mussolini’s son-in-law – presented plans to Hitler for how the Middle East would be reorganised following an Axis victory, Egypt, the Sudan and British Somaliland were all highlighted as passing into Italian hands.17 All Mussolini believed he needed was ‘a few thousand dead to justify my presence at the peace table’, and so, ignoring the advice of his senior officers, and reassuring them that it would last three months at the most, he declared war.18
Whilst he might not have anticipated the dramatic nature of France’s military and political collapse, Wavell had considered the impact a belligerent Italy would have on his command. As it now became a reality, it made the direction he had received from London not to take any precautionary action all the more frustrating.19 He later wrote that a more robust approach ‘during the period of waiting instead of our weak-kneed and apologetic attempts at appeasement would certainly not have increased the danger of war and might perhaps have lessened it’.20 As it was, his preparations were hampered and this appeared to exacerbate the danger that he and his forces now faced as the wartime balance of power was instantly and immeasurably changed, and the failings of pre-war British planning were brought into sharp perspective. Even before the armistice was signed near Compiègne on 22 June 1940, Italy’s already strong position in East Africa seemed to be potentially overwhelming. Shortly before the declaration of war, the Italian garrison had a recorded strength of 91,203 military personnel and police and 199,973 colonial troops.21 Whilst British and Commonwealth numbers later peaked at 254,000, in July 1940 they were a fraction of that figure – in total, just 47,000 men in East Africa, the Sudan and British Somaliland.22
Before the war, British military planners had anticipated the huge disparity but accepted it as unavoidable, and assumed that they would at least have an advantage at sea. The collapse of the Anglo-French alliance meant that, having previous
ly outmatched the Italians in every naval category, this was no longer the case. The Royal Navy could now call on just a single aircraft carrier, HMS Eagle, five battleships, nine cruisers, twenty-nine destroyers and twelve submarines to protect the whole Mediterranean and Red Sea area.23 On the day Italy declared war, and though the bulk of the Regia Marina Italiana remained close to its home waters, the Italian Red Sea Flotilla based principally at Massawa still had seven destroyers, a squadron of five torpedo boats and eight submarines. This meant that the routing of every resupply convoy had to be considered carefully, balancing risk of attack against the operational urgency of delivering additional manpower, ammunition and vehicles. Some convoys had no choice but to continue to force their way through the Mediterranean, and the protection Admiral Cunningham was able to offer to these was vital but costly.24 The better alternative was the far safer, but significantly longer, 13,000 miles from Britain around the Cape of Good Hope, which took between one and two months more travelling time. It was the same case, of course, for Allied vessels making the 6,000-mile journey from Australia and traversing the 2,000 miles from Bombay. With their destination Port Sudan or Mombasa, the ships and the convoys they formed were still exposed to a potential threat from the Italians. More significantly, neutral American ships were now forbidden to transit all of these newly declared combat zones, increasing the strain on the British maritime fleet.25
The First Victory Page 7