At the same time the Allies had begun (via the link with Rome) to issue military instructions to the Italian armed forces. The priorities were: the direction and management of the precious Italian naval fleet, which was to be handed over to the Allies; supporting Allied troops in gaining their foothold on the Italian peninsula; and protecting Italy’s infrastructure from German destruction.64 A rapid Italian military collapse was, however, about to take place .
On learning about the armistice, the Germans had immediately begun Operation Achse, attacking and disarming their former Italian allies on the peninsula, as well as in the Balkans and France, imprisoning thousands of them and taking military control of the part of Italy not yet occupied by the Allies. German forces, after initial confusion, began to seize key infrastructure facilities from the concentrations of Italian troops around Rome, sending waves of panic through the Italian political and military leadership based there. The panic was such that the head of government, Badoglio, and the Italian royal family fled Rome early on 9 September by car, heading for Pescara on the Adriatic. Luigi Marchesi later recalled:
On the morning of the 9th, around 5 a.m. while I was resting, I was woken because of an urgent call from His Excellency Ambrosio who was at the Ministry of War.
I went straight to him and found him putting some papers in order. He told me that the royal family had already left with Badoglio and that the Supreme Command and the Chiefs of Staff were to follow them.
I pointed out to His Excellency Ambrosio that it was not possible to leave Rome at such a serious time and I also reminded him that he had always declared that he would never abandon the capital, and that we had also prepared, of which he was aware, a secret location from which the Supreme Command could operate.
General Ambrosio told me that he had received orders from the King and that he lacked the courage to disobey the Sovereign.
My insistence was to no avail, because General Ambrosio replied that he would never discuss orders received from the King.
He ordered me to inform General Silvio Rossi and some other officers – myself included – of the order to leave for Pescara immediately, and to tell General [Vittorio] Palma to remain as the representative of the Supreme Command: he would then be given further orders by radio. I immediately hurried to get the secret radio with which I was in communication with the Anglo-Americans, and together with the General, accompanied by General Rossi and others, we took the plane to Pescara.65
Mallaby had now become even more important, not only for the Allies, but also for the Italians. When he was told to pack his belongings and the wireless set, Mallaby thought that meant a further change of location for security reasons.
But, to his surprise, Mallaby and his radio were hurriedly loaded onto a large military truck and driven to Centocelle airport, where several planes were lined up, ready for take-off. There, he and his escorts boarded a cargo plane, which was packed full of military commanders and staff fleeing from Rome. According to Mallaby’s private memoirs, nobody seemed to know the destination and the plane needed almost the entire length of the runway to become airborne (just as Benito Mussolini’s would do after he was sprung from his Gran Sasso prison a few days later, due to the extra weight of the accompanying SS commando Otto Skorzeny on board the light Storch aircraft).66
Mallaby thought they were heading southwards in the direction of Sicily or North Africa, but immediately after the take-off he realized that they were flying towards the east.
This same day, 9 September, in the afternoon, a third Allied landing on the Italian peninsula took place. Operation Slapstick saw the British 1st Airborne Division land on Italy’s ‘heel’ by sea, due to a lack of air transport. The operation was in response to the Italian offer made during the armistice negotiations to open the ports of Taranto and Brindisi to the Allies. Opposition was once again mostly light, save for some resistance by the 1st Fallschirmjäger Division, and both ports were quickly captured with all facilities in working order. The capture of Brindisi in particular would be particularly important for Italy’s fleeing leadership and Mallaby himself.
Meanwhile, the plane carrying Mallaby and his radio landed safely in Pescara and Mallaby immediately received the order to set up his radio in one of the airport rooms. The order was carried out by Mallaby, and to the amazement of the Italian soldiers present, it was revealed just how easy it was to contact Massingham using such a small device in contrast to what was reported, perhaps deliberately, by some Italian sources, and instrumentally by Roseberry in Lisbon.
Mallaby’s private memoirs and the declassified documents from this time offer clear historical evidence that it was only via the Monkey–Drizzle transmissions that the Allies were able, despite the considerable confusion, to gain information about and have contact with Italy’s political and military leaders. This information was also critical for passing on detailed instructions, notably regarding the movements of the Italian Royal Navy.
It is worth bearing in mind that, in contrast, this precious information, at such a crucial time, was to all intents and purposes almost unavailable to those who had remained in Rome and to the Italian military headquarters scattered across Europe.
The German reaction to the armistice began to be felt. On 9 September, the Italian fleet had been ordered to sail to Sardinia and then to Malta in order to surrender to the Allies. However, while in the area of the Strait of Bonifacio, its ships were attacked by Luftwaffe bombers. The battleship Roma was sunk with the loss of 1,393 lives, including Admiral Bergamini.
In a message dated the same day, the Allies considered it opportune to signal to the Italians that the attacks on the fleet had been carried out exclusively by the Germans. The message also guaranteed that when the convoys had reached an adequate distance from the coasts (‘our coasts’ in the original), they would be provided with air protection. In only a few hours, the Allies had come to consider the Italian peninsula as being a possession of theirs.
In Pescara, Italy’s leaders did not issue any specific orders to the country’s troops, and Mallaby was asked only to reiterate to Massingham the now out of date, generic and slightly surreal Italian requests for general support.67
Castellano remained faithful to his position, either for consistency or for some hidden reason, assuming that the Italians only wanted to fight the Germans (as he had maintained to the Allies ever since his first meeting with them). In the early afternoon, via Drizzle message No. 23, he asked for indications on targets to be bombed and invited the Allies to impede the movements of Italy’s former ally, ignoring the fact that at that moment there was no way of confirming the request, nor of passing on orders for this to be done.68
Likewise, the Allies could not understand what had happened in Rome and what the Italian military leadership was doing, or more accurately was not doing; so much so that at 4.45pm, Drizzle had sent Monkey Eisenhower’s request for even basic information about the situation in Rome.
At the end of the afternoon, General Francesco Rossi, who had flown in from Sicily with Taylor and Gardiner and was out of step with the events, informed General Ambrosio that he had insisted to the Allies the urgent need to execute air and sea actions near to and north of Rome, calling for ‘the greatest information possible for the potential parachute division drop’.
The Italian insistence on the matter lasted for a few days, in spite of events. This is perhaps why Badoglio, at that time, announced that he would return to the capital imminently. The Italian position appeared to be based on a lack of realism, or may have been yet another demonstration of the persistent inability to view the events in progress and their dynamics with any form of accuracy.
The Allies, beginning to realize the seriousness of the situation, emphasized the importance of their sole remaining asset in message No. 53, which stressed to the Italians how it was ‘absolutely vital for future projects to keep the Monkey communications going’. The message also anxiously provided reserve communication codes and recommended that the
Italians make the most of the help Second Lieutenant Mallaby could offer.69
At this frantic and tense time, on the afternoon of 9 September an official but secret communication from London notified the resignation of Charles Hambro as head of SOE. His farewell message, after stating that ‘it is a great pride to me to think that I leave you at the moment when the capitulation of Italy, in which SOE played such a vital part, marks the first phase of the conquest of Germany, and the beginning of the end’, concluded with: ‘Good luck to you all, good hunting and thanks.’70
After sunset, Mallaby and his radio, along with the other members of the group from Rome, were subject to a further transfer. Before being forced to interrupt his transmissions by the intervention of a senior officer, Mallaby was able to inform Massingham that there would be a further relocation with the following message: ‘We transfer ourselves to to Taranto. We shall re-establish communications tomorrow, 10th September. Cordial salutations.’71
Mallaby and the rest of the convoy set off in the night heading southbound along the Abruzzo coast, crossing the paths of retreating German troops. They arrived at the port of Ortona, where a small crowd was waiting to board. Mallaby was told to stand by to board.
They were all waiting for the corvette Baionetta, a 728-ton warship that had sailed unharmed from Pola and was now approaching.
Baionetta stopped at 11.40pm in front of the port.
A short distance from him, to his amazement, Dick Mallaby recognized King Vittorio Emanuele III and his wife Queen Elena, Prince Umberto, the Chief of the General Staff heading the Supreme Command, General Vittorio Ambrosio, and a whole series of high-ranking officers from Rome. There were some 250 people in total. Marshal of Italy Pietro Badoglio had pre-boarded the ship in Pescara as a precaution, together with Admiral Raffaele de Courten, Chief of Staff and minister of the Italian Royal Navy.
In his private memoirs, Mallaby confirms – and this is backed up by the account of eyewitness Tommaso D’Antuono, recounted to me – that in order to leave Ortona port as soon as possible, Baionetta, which could not dock on account of the shallow water, did not even throw its anchor and boarding was carried out using small boats.
Although the pre-warned local Carabinieri had requested reinforcements and made everything ready for the ferry, confusion and great tension resulted even where it should not have done. Disorder soon broke out, with quarrels and heated discussions all around.72
In addition to the lateness of the hour, the absence of embarrassing witnesses was a result of Carabinieri Captain Migliorati, who as a precaution spread word around the vicinity of the imminent arrival at the port of a large contingent of German troops. This news also reached the ears of the departing boatload, greatly increasing the panic of many. Moreover, among those witnessing the boarding of the Baionetta were ‘some perplexed Germans’, who watched ‘dumbfounded the King’s embarkation from the harbour wall’.73
While the first elements of what Mallaby, in his private memoirs, sarcastically called ‘a distinct company, almost like a society gathering’ began to embark at 12.30am on the small boats that would ferry them to the Baionetta, the British agent was informed that their destination was probably Brindisi, chosen, he was told, because it was soon expected to be (and indeed would be) in Allied hands.74
Once he saw the boat close up, Mallaby realized that it would be impossible to get everyone on board, given the corvette’s limited capacity. Otello Griffoni reassured him, reminding him that he possessed the most important virtual boarding card: without Mallaby, it would be impossible for the Italian VIPs to continue transmitting and to maintain contact with the Allies.
Admiral de Courten, who was in his element and committed to carrying out his duties, objected to the boarding of Marchesi and Mallaby’s group, unaware of their crucial role. It required the personal intervention of Supreme Commander General Ambrosio to resolve the situation, ordering Mallaby’s embarkation, since ‘by now he was part of the Supreme Command’s nucleus’.75
In fact, a very rare and unknown official document from the Supreme Command listing 20 of the personnel ‘transferred to Pescara’ includes ‘Sgt. Maj. GUAZZINI’. An accompanying footnote states: ‘This is an English officer of the I.S. (Lt. Mallaby).’
Finally, a few minutes after 1.00am on 10 September 1943, the Baionetta departed. This time, there was no full moon. On board, apart from the crew, there were exactly 57 passengers, just one of whom was a British national. Only a few days previously, Dick Mallaby had been ready to face the firing squad; now his role as a key player – maybe the most strategic, certainly the most active – had been emphatically confirmed.76
Otello Griffoni, like many others, was not given a place on the Baionetta and made his own way to his native region of Le Marche in central Italy, reaching Ancona that same evening. There, he went into hiding until late 1944, when he rejoined the Supreme Command. He never saw Dick Mallaby again.
In common with Griffoni, the others left behind on the harbour walls, fearing the arrival of the Germans, fled the port in all directions. They either had no knowledge of, or lacked the patience and courage to wait for the corvette Scimitarra, which was on its way to board them.
Mallaby was asked to contact Massingham immediately, but, on the point of collapse after days without adequate rest, refused – most likely not in obedience of instructions received, but by his own decision. His long-awaited rest was initially on deck towards the bow and then near the ship’s funnel; the latter guaranteed a comfortable warmth and protection from damp sea air, which was particularly intense at night.
Mallaby slept for a long time, because in his private memoirs he noted that he was awoken by the cries of alarm caused by the sighting of a German plane that had started circling above the Baionetta. It was 1.10pm. He also noted that the order was given to take shelter below deck and that those manning the guns on the Baionetta, who were ready to fire, did not engage the plane, allowing it to fly off.77
The Italian historian Ruggero Zangrandi, who also referred to the appearance of a British submarine (which is confirmed by another historian, Agostino Degli Espinosa), draws evidence from this episode to support his theory (not backed up by the available evidence) of a specific agreement between the Italian and German political and military leaderships. According to this view, the undisturbed flight of Italy’s political and military leaders from Rome was granted in exchange for Italy’s lack of opposition to German forces in securing control of the capital.78 However, this seems unlikely. Kesselring and his staff were occupied with events at Salerno and in Rome and probably understood that it was much more profitable to have a leaderless Italian army, rather than an army and a nation fired up by the capture and imprisonment of their king, queen, crown prince, head of government and other prominent figures. Thus, at most, it could have been a case of tacit agreement, but more likely it was a good example of fast and clever tactics by Kesselring.79
During the final stages of the Baionetta’s journey, Mallaby attempted to resume transmissions. He did not succeed, due to his less than optimal position.
At the time, Massingham was transmitting messages from Eisenhower, who had no idea what had happened and what was happening. His communications reiterated the request for updates ‘at appropriate moments’ regarding the situation in Rome.80 But the only operational link between Eisenhower and the Italians was hundreds of kilometres away, and could offer little in terms of updates over what was happening in the capital.
Admiral de Courten had ordered ‘a most rigorous wireless telegraphic silence, so that the presence at sea of the precious vessel, which lacked any form of escort, either naval or aerial, was not discovered’. Thus the communication blackout was total for many hours, also because there was fear that some of the transmissions received from Rome were false ones sent by the Germans. At 6.30am, the light cruiser Scipione had appeared near Vieste and began to escort the Baionetta, and this indirectly ended the radio silence, because the Baionetta began to use optic
al communications to link with the Scipione.
Finally, after completing the standard port checks, the Baionetta, preceded by the Scipione, entered Brindisi harbor, cautiously and without notifying the port authorities of its precious cargo. Then it stopped.
It was 2.40pm on 10 September 1943.
The journey was over.
In the capital, a few hours earlier, the surrender of Italian troops to the Germans had been accepted and signed.
Italy had surrendered twice in the space of a few days: first to the enemy, then to its former ally.
It was a bit much for any nation.
Regarding the final destination of Brindisi, it should be noted, and is often ignored, that Baionetta’s arrival there was unplanned. The appearance of the German reconnaissance aircraft during the voyage led to the belief that it might result in air raids over the area. Thus, the corvette decided to head for land and the nearest port.81
According to some recent reconstructions of events, entry into the port of Brindisi was also the work of SOE and of Mallaby.
On the morning of 10 September 1943 – a fact overlooked in Italian commentaries – one of the British Army’s least orthodox units had arrived in Brindisi, confirming that the city was free of both German and Allied forces. This was Popski’s Private Army, officially entitled No. 1 Demolition Squadron, which consisted of fighting patrols in well-equipped jeeps with large-calibre machine guns mounted on them, led by Major Vladimir Peniakoff, known as Popski.
Popski and his men had landed in Apulia and were immediately tasked with a sensitive mission: the formal acceptance of the surrender of the Brindisi stronghold by its military commanders, and notification of this to the British HQ in Taranto. Once this had been obtained, the green light for the Baionetta’s entry to the port would have been communicated by radio from one of Popski’s jeeps and then transmitted back to Mallaby.
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