An Englishman Abroad
Page 21
On 25 June 1950, at a time when Mallaby, at least officially, was a university student, the Mallaby couple recorded the BBC radio programme Now it Can Be Told, broadcasted three days later.1
Dick Mallaby, meanwhile, had been diagnosed with a testicular tumour. After an operation to remove it in Southampton on 13 March 1951, the doctors informed him that he was now sterile.
The path of Dick Mallaby’s journey through life now led him back to Italy. And Italy turned out to bring him good fortune once again, offering him the chance to execute a pair of seemingly impossible missions.
Despite what the doctors had told him, in fact the Mallaby family continued to expand and Christine gave birth on 19 June 1952 to Christopher John and on 1 December 1955 to Richard Arthur (known as ‘Vaky’), at Poggio Pinci and Verona, respectively. What Mallaby did for almost a decade after the end of the war remained shrouded in mystery and was unknown even to his children.
Mallaby senior, a wealthy landowner, who was able to support Dick and his family, noted down all his son’s job interviews in this period. Cecil’s diary also shows that he even attended the local ‘Festival dell’Unità’ (Festival of Unity) of the Partito Comunista Italiano (Italian Communist Party) in Asciano, calling it in his diary ‘nice and quiet, almost a society event’.
The first concrete information about Dick Mallaby’s activities dates from 1953, when he began working for NATO, initially at their offices in Florence. That same year, he was transferred to Naples, where he also joined the prestigious Circolo Canottieri sailing club. He remained in Naples until early 1955. That same year, he was finally transferred to NATO’s Allied Land Forces Southern Europe (LANDSOUTH) headquarters in Verona.
According to the local registry office records, on 14 May 1957, 32 years after his first registration, Dick Mallaby ceased to be a resident of the town of Asciano, being ‘cancelled due to emigration to England’.
Dick Mallaby and his family had actually moved to Verona. Mallaby’s NATO work was based in Via Carmelitani, where, as previously noted, Mallaby himself had been threatened with execution, and close to the current Corso Porta Nuova (formerly Corso Vittorio Emanuele), where, in February 1945, the SOE agent had been held prisoner by the Germans. Dick Mallaby and his family lived a pleasant, routine life over those years, based in their apartment in No. 12 Via Giberti and then No. 18. They spoke mainly Italian at home, although Dick and Christine preferred English for their quarrels. Their apartment was filled with all sorts of animals, including a Java macaque named Noel, who was a family member for 17 years, and a black poodle named Jet.
The family enjoyed frequent sailing trips on Lake Garda and summer holidays in Cornwall, Castiglione della Pescaia and, of course, Asciano. They would travel to Tuscany in huge American cars – purchased by Dick Mallaby second-hand from NATO’s American personnel – always avoiding the motorways.
Mallaby’s family recall Dick’s friendship with the former paratrooper and then actor and sculptor Nicola Morelli, whom in all likelihood he met during his time in Monopoli. Dick Mallaby’s British friends were rather peculiar individuals too, one of whom was Anthony Smith, a famous popular writer and fan of hot air balloons and sailing adventures.
The only recurrent acts of eccentricity by Dick in those years were his behaviour when watching boxing matches, during which it was wise to retire to a distance of several metres, as he enjoyed mimicking the encounters from beginning to end, and his entrance into the Tuscan heartland, which immediately made him highly talkative in thick Sienese vernacular.
Dick Mallaby, in obedience to the bond of confidentiality, despite his sunny and easy-going nature, maintained his absolute silence on what had taken place during the war. Communications in Morse code and parachute drops no longer interested him, and no one in his family remembers him commenting on the war itself, news stories, or national and international politics. Thus, nobody, apart from his wife Christine, some former colleagues in SOE and his father Cecil, was party to the details of Dick Mallaby’s extraordinary adventures during the war. Moreover, despite several minimal and inaccurate references to his role in articles and historical publications, Mallaby did not allow himself, or was not allowed, to be drawn in to correct them on what had actually taken place. Apart from the restrictions imposed by confidentiality, Mallaby’s employment with NATO, officially in the role of interpreter and translator, obviously forbade any media exposure, even if this did not preclude him from taking part in the occasional commemorative event.2
Dick and Christine Mallaby’s four children and their grandchildren went on to lead interesting lives. Vaky became a leading, well-respected Steadicam specialist. Elisabeth was one of the founders of the famous musical-cabaret group ‘I gatti del Vicolo Miracoli’ (‘The Miracle Alley Cats’). By a further twist of fate, Elisabeth married Filippo d’Acquarone, a television journalist and grandson of Arturo Toscanini, who is also directly descended from Pietro d’Acquarone, the Minister of the Royal Household, who was a travelling companion of Dick Mallaby aboard the Baionetta from Ortona to Brindisi on 10 September 1943. Christopher, known as Gocky (who passed away in 2011), devoted himself mainly to antiques; one of his daughters, Elettra, is an actress.
On 16 April 1972, Dick Mallaby lost his father Cecil, and around that time, he began to have heart problems, possibly due to the stress of his wartime service, as well as his enjoyment of tobacco products. At the end of the 1970s, what seemed to be his first heart attack revealed that he had already suffered a previous, hidden one. He began a period of treatment that mainly resulted in the appearance of a poster in Mallaby’s office on the dangers of heart disease, but did not induce him to abandon his harmful habits.
On 1 April 1981, at the end of a few hours of suffering and inadequate medical assistance, a third heart attack took the life of this nearly 62-year-old brave Englishman, who had spent only a few years of his life in Great Britain.3
Usually, death leads to some form of posthumous recognition, occasionally excessive, accompanied by the revelation of previously unrecounted facts and details.
After Dick Mallaby’s death, the BBC, probably in the wake of the first release of classified documents relating to SOE’s activities, became interested in him once again. However, a planned television documentary never saw the light of day, much to the annoyance of Mrs Christine Mallaby.
Previously, straight after the end of the war, Mallaby had been approached on numerous occasions to see if he was interested in publishing his wartime memoirs. Even his direct superior, Cecil Roseberry, had made known his intention to do this as early as 1945 (which was evidently then supressed). Dick Mallaby, fortunately for posterity, certainly harboured a desire to leave behind his testimony, as the papers set aside in his personal archive show.
Despite the fact that he never yielded to the temptation of revealing the truth of the events he had personally taken part in and the people he had encountered, the former special agent known as Olaf, Tito, Norris, Squarzina, Tucker, Tooker, Drucker, Wallaby, Dino Malerba, Bernardo Francini and Riccardo Riccio left a precious personal testimony for posterity.
In fact Mallaby had gathered documents and reconstructed his two missions; privately, he had begun almost immediately after the war to draft a memoir recounting his extraordinary experiences. Entitled ‘My experience of war and adventures’, this was first handwritten and then typed up in English. It was discovered by his wife after his death, and was carefully kept along with the other precious documents relating to the near 62 adventurous years of Dick Mallaby’s life.4
Mallaby’s private memoirs have played a fundamental role in the present work and have helped to clarify details and issues not documented in official papers, which have remained mysterious and inexplicable for 70 years.
Among the documents kindly supplied to me in their entirety by the Mallaby family, there is a black and white photo, taken at Faggeto Lario. It’s almost postcard-like, with a leafy tree branch framing the sky, illuminated by the sun hiding behind tw
o mountain chains that, from opposite sides, plunge into the south-western branch of Lake Como, where, in the foreground, a boat can be seen floating on its waters. Beneath the photo, in English, Dick Mallaby wrote: ‘This is roughly the place where I dropped into Lake Como.’
In the Mallaby archive there are other photos of the locations around Como where the initial phases of his two missions took place as well: a clear sign that the former SOE agent felt the need to revisit and record those places, having come through the bad times there.
There is also the original and famous Monkey cryptographic code, via which, in August and September 1943, Mallaby conveyed the crucial communications that established the fate of Italy, but also that of the other nations at war and the many soldiers of the two coalitions. Evidently, for Mallaby this cipher plan was a secret souvenir to which he was more attached than the many others that passed through his hands.
The full details of everything that Dick Mallaby achieved remained unknown to all, even his family, until I had completed this book. Even his closest relatives were surprised when they read it.
Despite the unforgivable official lack of recognition of Mallaby in his home country, those who knew him personally and who risked their lives with him, when offered the opportunity, did not fail to recall and emphasize his courage and the importance of what he achieved – a valid recognition even for those who only knew of his deeds later, myself included.
Henry Boutigny, who shared many wartime experiences with Dick Mallaby as well as a love of the Tuscan countryside, and who managed to settle down just a short distance from Asciano, much as Mallaby would have liked to do, always referred to him as ‘a true hero’, both privately and officially.5
Furthermore, Boutigny and Richard Hewitt made a passionate presentation covering Mallaby’s missions and his style of operating at the important conference held in Bologna on 28–30 April 1987 entitled ‘No. 1 Special Force in the Italian Resistance’. The conference saw the participation of important SOE members, eyewitnesses, historians and subject experts, and a speech delivered by HRH The Prince of Wales.
On that occasion, Hewitt’s contribution was entitled, ‘Captain Dick Mallaby: A Tribute’, in which, before describing his two missions, he recalled the following memories of Mallaby:
It is nearly six years since Dick Mallaby died, and I believe no tribute has been paid to his memory nor any account of his remarkable service with SOE put on record. Dick was a close personal friend in North Africa (at Massingham), in Italy (at Maryland) and then in this country after the war.
With most of the events recorded, I am familiar from memory, but I am indebted for them in large measure to Christopher Woods who himself served behind the lines in Italy and who has worked subsequently as SOE Adviser at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, and so is in a position to verify the facts.
I believe you will recognise from my account of his two missions that Dick’s SOE career was unique. To have acted as an intermediary in the Italian surrender negotiations was the result of an extraordinary series of coincidences. To have brought off the ‘double’, as he very nearly did, of playing a similar role in the German surrender negotiations, would have been even more remarkable! In the event OSS chose to send in a Czech to act as W/T operator for General Wolff. I do not know whether anyone ever asked General Wolff after the event whether Mallaby had any influence on his decision to pursue surrender negotiations through OSS, but it is clear both from Dick’s account of his interview with Wolff and from Allen Dulles’ The Secret Surrender (New York, 1966), that the idea of entering into negotiations was in his mind at the time that Mallaby came into the hands of the SS, and Wolff’s interview with Mallaby took place two days before he received news of a line to OSS Switzerland. Mallaby gave his parole to Wolff to return, and the records make clear that he was specifically relieved of this undertaking in the talks in Switzerland between Dulles and Wolff. He was in the end deprived of an opportunity of playing a similar role in the German surrender to that which he played with the Italians in 1943.However, it may be noted that Mallaby’s meeting with Wolff took place two days before, according to Dulles’ account, news reached Wolff of the existence of a line to OSS in Switzerland.
These short accounts of Dick’s two missions demonstrate sufficiently aspects of his character which his easy-going nature did not always suggest to those who knew him only casually: his quiet but almost reckless courage, his initiative, his determination, his loyalty and his natural probity. He was most certainly one of those who, even by the exacting standard of SOE, served honourably and beyond the call of duty to the very end.6
Christine Mallaby did not attend the event.
In Asciano, many years on from the events, Dick Mallaby is associated with two distinct memories: the first is that of the daring little blond boy who used to ride his bike on the parapets of the bridges, which led to mothers warning their children ‘not to hang around with that English rascal’; the other is of his mysterious wartime activities, which, however, prevented the area from being bombed by the Allies ‘because he was the one who laid down the guidelines’.7
As for the second memory, it is possible that Mallaby was consulted and gave directions, but he certainly would never have boasted about this.
In the closing phase of his life, Dick Mallaby, according to his youngest son Vaky, was:
… an exceptional person, loved by all, and with a character that was splendid, selfless and uncomplicated. He was good company to be with, he had many friends and our house was a busy one; at Christmas it was brimming with people, and every year the number of people who came to visit us increased.
He never talked about the past and never boasted about anything, not even when people asked directly.
He had a special twinkle in his eyes, a light that perhaps belongs to those who have seen many things and who understand that simplicity, love and living in harmony with everyone are the fundamental things of life.
As a father he was a fundamental figure and a very important point of reference for all of us. He was a man belonging (unfortunately) to another time, who could make himself understood and gained respect with merely a simple look.
The body of Cecil Richard Dallimore-Mallaby was laid to rest in April 1981 in Poggio Pinci, in the town of Asciano, in a small country cemetery, at the foot of a wooded hill, stretching east to west and looking onto the beautiful Crete Senesi south of Siena, an area that has captivated three generations of Mallabys.
The community in Asciano felt it right to commemorate their quasi-fellow citizen Dick Mallaby. As a result, on 23 September 2016, in the presence of the military attaché to the British embassy in Italy, Colonel Lindsay MacDuff, and also myself, his children were honoured with the presentation of a gold medal.
The news was prominently reported by the British press and, in a very curious 21st-century way, subsequently bounced in the Italian media.8
Dick Mallaby, who had managed to turn two disasters into triumphs, had not even begun the most important mission of his life: retiring to his beloved Tuscany and dedicating himself to sailing and little else.
Christine, Mallaby’s wife, from the day of his death, constantly wore around her neck the Military Cross that her beloved Dick had so deservedly won.
bibliography
Primary sources
Archivio Centrale dello Stato, Rome, Italy
ACC microfilm, Public Safety, item: Cecil D. Mallaby, reel 166 C
Archivio dell’Ufficio Storico dello Stato Maggiore dell’Esercito, Rome, Italy
Diari Storici 2 G.M.: ‘Mancata difesa di Roma’, 2235, 3000, 3000 bis, b. 3000/III
The National Archives, London, UK
Government archives
Admiralty
Submarine Logs (ADM 173)
War History Cases and Papers, Second World War (ADM 199)
Naval Intelligence Division and Operational Intelligence Centre
Intelligence Reports and Paper (ADM 223)
Air M
inistry
Records of the Air Historical Branch (AIR 20)
Foreign Office
Political Departments: General Correspondence 1906–1966 (FO 371)
Ministry of Defence
Combined Operations: Records (DEFE 2)
Prime Minister’s Office
Correspondence and Papers, 1951–1964 (PREM 1)
Special Operations Executive
(HS 3)
(HS 6/775-776-779-780-809-869-870-871-872-873-874-889)
(HS 7/58-236-262-265)
(HS 8)
(HS 9)
(HS 15)
(WO 169-193-201-204-373)
National Archives and Records Administration, College Park, USA
Office of Stategic Services records: RG 226
Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library, Abilene, USA
Walter Bedell Smith collection: Capitulation of Italy – Messages
Other
My interview with Mrs Anna Maria Rusconi
My interview with Mrs Pia Teresa Mallaby
My interview with Mrs Christine Northcote-Marks Mallaby
Diary of Mary Beatrice Schofield and Cecil Mallaby, from the first volume: 19 April 1919–30 November 1920, onwards
Diary of Cecil Mallaby: 1 July 1942–31 December 1953
Interview with Don Giovanni Barbareschi by Vaky Mallaby, 27 November 2012
Mallaby family papers
Private memoirs of Dick Mallaby
Original transcript of the BBC radio programme Now it Can Be Told, aired on 25 June 1950, in the Mallaby family papers/author’s archive
Federal Bureau of Investigation, Washington, DC
Bureau files relating to Max Salvadori