by Jeff Shaara
ROME—JULY 28, 1943
“I have met with King Victor Emmanuel. Fortunately, he and I have always had a cordial relationship. The king informs me that Pietro Badoglio is now the head of the government and has assumed command of all Italian armed forces.”
Hube said, “Can we trust him?”
Kesselring shrugged. “He is the king. He insists he is our ally still and will remain so, and that Badoglio will continue to cooperate with us.”
“Do you believe him?”
Kesselring smiled. “It matters little what I believe. It matters that we continue to do our jobs. I am quite certain that the Führer is devoting a great deal of energy to the reappraisal of our relationship with our ally. However, until I am notified otherwise, my role here has not changed. Neither has yours.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Kesselring said nothing for a long moment, Hube content to wait for whatever came next.
“You are a patient man, Hans. I have not enjoyed such luxury in the past.”
“I don’t know what you refer to, sir.”
“Never mind. I am being indiscreet. Tell me about your Italians.”
Hube seemed to energize, the subject turning to his own concerns. “I do not feel there has been any significant change. Since my arrival, I have been somewhat careful not to place any serious reliance upon General Guzzoni, and I have not considered the Italian army to be an asset to my planning. I have no plans to deploy them in any area requiring great skill or sacrifice. In any position where there is danger of a significant enemy assault, our own people have been used.”
Kesselring smiled again, thought, I have heard this sort of thing before. “What of the officers?”
Hube shook his head. “The Italian officers do not seem affected by the arrest of Mussolini, but of course, that may change. As you know, some of the senior commanders known to be especially loyal to Mussolini have been replaced. Those changes are the concern of General Guzzoni. They are of no consequence to me.”
Kesselring tapped his fingers on the desk, thought a moment. “I wish you to continue with your overall strategy of gradual withdrawal. But you should know that once we are out of Sicily, all of Italy might become a hostile area. No orders have come to me from Berlin, and I suspect it is because I am seen as a friend to the Italians. But already there is troop movement to the north, and I have received reports that our forces are strengthening the mountain passes along the Austrian border. Despite what the king tells me, I do not believe the Italian government is long for this war. It is in the air here, in every hushed conversation. The alliance between our country and Italy was made possible by the Führer’s friendship with Mussolini, and now that Mussolini is gone, I have seen indications from the Italian politicians that our troops are being seen more as an army of occupation. I am quite certain that the Führer will not allow Italy to slip away, but I fear they already have.” Kesselring paused. “I am far more concerned with preserving German troops and equipment than I am in holding on to Sicily.”
“Yes, sir, I have understood that from the beginning.”
“The Führer certainly understands that a war of attrition will eventually cost us more than anything we might gain. There is far more value to us in delaying any efforts the Allies might make toward occupying Italy. Any such move would likely drive the Italians out of this war and might possibly cause them to change their allegiances altogether. I have no doubt that it was always the enemy’s intention to use Sicily as a launching ground for an assault on the Italian mainland. Churchill speaks of it openly, and I do not believe he is clever enough to offer that as some sort of ruse. The catastrophe that occurred in Tunisia must not be repeated on Sicily. Your forces are needed for the next campaign, and I will not lose you to an Allied prison camp. To that end, you will employ a precise plan of withdrawal and maintain the port of Messina as your primary point of evacuation. It must be done carefully and with severe penalty to the enemy. The success of this evacuation will rely on your ability to make the enemy pay dearly for what he will believe are his successes. I am confident that Montgomery will oblige us, as he did in Africa. He is a methodical man, slow to take advantage of opportunity. That will be extremely helpful to you. I do not know this man Patton. He could be far more dangerous, and you must teach him to use caution as well.”
“Sir, there is risk that the evacuation itself could be disastrous. The Allied naval and air power—”
“There are advantages the enemy cannot counter, General. The straits are too narrow for warships to maneuver effectively. The crossings can be made at night and, with only two miles to span, can be accomplished quickly. I will order every available antiaircraft and flak battery transferred to the Messina area. We will employ them on both sides of the straits. Any Allied planes seeking to interrupt our plans will be met with a wall of fire such as they have never seen before.”
“Sir, do we intend to evacuate the Italian troops as well?”
Kesselring thought for a long moment. “Your priority is to preserve those troops who are best equipped and most willing to continue this fight.”
Hube stared at him, sharp eyes. “We will accomplish our mission, Field Marshal. And the enemy will pay with blood for every step he takes.”
O nly days after Mussolini’s ouster, German troops began to behave as the Italians feared they would, much more as an army of occupation than friendly forces protecting an ally. In the north, along the Alpine mountain passes, German troops were growing in number, troops that Kesselring knew might become an invasion force, ordered to drive south to grab vital supply arteries and key defensive positions all over Italy. To no one’s surprise, especially Kesselring’s, Erwin Rommel was ordered away from his post in Greece and placed at the head of the new German command, Army Group B, with his headquarters in Munich. Kesselring knew that Rommel was now looking over his shoulder and, with Hitler’s backing, might have ambitions to take command over the entire theater. But Kesselring still had Sicily in front of him and had to focus on his primary objective, to ensure that those German troops on Sicily would be able to fight again, a fight that Kesselring continued to believe would embrace the Italian mainland.
38. PATTON
PALERMO, SICILY
JULY 31, 1943
T he jeep carried them past heaps of white rubble, the remains of an old church, a sight Patton was accustomed to now. He could tell that Eisenhower was absorbing the scene, seemed visibly upset by the destruction of such an ancient place.
“I suppose it was necessary.”
Patton stared ahead, past the helmet of the driver, tasted the dust from the scout car that rode out in front of them, said nothing, thought, I had nothing to do with this. Blame the air force.
They rode out onto a hill, a point of high ground overlooking the harbor. Patton knew the spot, had driven up here more than once, enjoyed watching the engineers at work on the waterfront, the men who had cleared so much wreckage, opening the deep passageways for the supply ships, the port already up and functioning. The driver slowed the jeep, and Patton tapped his shoulder.
“Here. This is good.”
The jeep stopped, the scout car in front turning abruptly, sliding to a halt. Behind them more jeeps gathered, one truck with a large machine gun. They were men of the Fifteenth Regiment, the unit that Eisenhower himself had once commanded. As word of Eisenhower’s visit had filtered through the senior commanders, the men of the Fifteenth had requested they be allowed to provide an escort, a salute to their former commander, what Eisenhower described as an honor guard. Patton thought the escort was ridiculous, a holiday for soldiers who had better things to do. There is nothing in this city that requires so much security, he thought. But he could not object, knew better than to protest any show Eisenhower wanted to make.
Patton was up and out of the jeep, stepped to the edge of the rocky escarpment, his hands at his sides, resting on the butts of his pistols. He waited for Eisenhower, coming up beside him now, and Patton sai
d nothing, knew the view would inspire a reaction.
“Marvelous, George. Truly marvelous. I heard the place was a royal mess.”
“The engineers. Credit where it’s due.”
He could hear Eisenhower’s breathing, strange silence, thought, he wants to tell me something. It has to be bad news. I’ve seen this before, Ike fighting for the right way to say something.
After a long pause Eisenhower said, “I’ve heard you intend to relieve Terry Allen. You certain about that?”
“Yep. The First has done everything we’ve asked of it, but every road has an end. Allen has pretty clearly overdone himself. He’s been in the middle of this war since Oran, and he’s earned a break. We need some fresh energy at the top.”
“Teddy too?”
“Teddy too.”
Teddy Roosevelt, Jr., was President Theodore Roosevelt’s son, had served the Big Red One as Allen’s second-in-command. During the weeks leading up to the invasion of Sicily, the First Division had become something of a disciplinary problem, the generals not living up to Patton’s expectations of how a combat division should be managed. Just prior to their embarkation for Sicily there had been a complete breakdown of authority, the division engaging in a binge of looting and destruction in Algiers that neither Allen nor Roosevelt had seemed able or willing to prevent. Once in Sicily, the men of the Big Red One had performed reasonably well against the enemy, but had never seemed to recapture the powerful spirit of their best days in North Africa.
Patton expected an argument, knew that Teddy Roosevelt had powerful friends in Washington.
“It’s your decision, George. Do what’s best. I’ll clear it with Marshall.”
Patton said nothing, thought, well, that’s a surprise. Ike’s letting me run my own show.
After a moment, Eisenhower said, “Monty’s already planning for the next operation. I know he has his hands full right now, but he has to look ahead. We all do. We’re going into Italy as soon as the landing craft can be assembled, and that includes those craft assigned to you.”
“I only have a couple dozen. The navy’s been pretty damned stingy with those things.”
“Make do with what you can get, George. Everybody’s stretched pretty thin as it is. You still intend on launching those amphibious operations?”
“Damned right. If we come in on the beaches behind the Kraut lines, it should make the infantry’s job a hell of a lot easier. Any confusion we can cause the enemy, the better off we are. Or don’t you agree?”
“It’s your operation, George.”
“It would be a hell of a lot better if I had fifty or sixty landing craft.”
Eisenhower said nothing, and Patton knew he had made his point. No need to upset the navy, he thought. Cunningham can’t be bothered with any details that would only help the Americans.
Eisenhower said, “The landings around Naples will be Wayne’s operation, you know. The Fifth Army has been training for that for a while now. Monty expects to hit the enemy directly across from Messina, push straight up the toe of the boot. With Wayne pinching in from the north, any German forces in southern Italy will be cut off. We might just roll up Italy like a rug.”
Patton took a long breath, said nothing. He had expected Clark to get some sort of plum command, thought, of course, once we chew our way through the Krauts here, Wayne will get to roll up Italy. Clark’s gotta be doing a dance in Casablanca. He’s been sitting on his ass for too long, chomping at the bit. But Monty? He can’t drive those soldiers into another campaign so soon. Not without a break.
“Do you think Monty will be ready for another large-scale operation so soon, Ike? His people are getting pretty beat-up.”
“So are yours. We have to punch hard while the enemy is vulnerable. Everyone’s behind this, especially Churchill. But obviously we can’t make any moves until things are secure here. I have high expectations for you, George. Everyone does. We need to have this situation wrapped up quickly.”
Patton swallowed the word everyone. Does that include the British?
“We’ll get it done, Ike. Everything’s in place. We have a hell of a one-two punch out there. The Forty-fifth is pushing on the coast, the First is inland. Bradley is ready to put the Third in behind the Forty-fifth. I’m sure Middleton’s boys will need a break, and the Third can take over for them. The Ninth is preparing to ship over through the port here, to add manpower to the First. If we need to, we can pull the First out of line altogether, led Eddy’s boys have a crack. The Krauts can’t stand up to that much strength. We’re giving them hell, Ike. And we’re not going to stop until we’re standing in the middle of Messina.”
“Excellent, George. This will make a name for us, this campaign. The president is hanging on every report, Marshall too. But it’s more than official. There were too many people on both sides of the Atlantic who thought we were a paper tiger. The damned BBC acts like we don’t even exist, keeps feeding the British people all sorts of nonsense about Monty. I’m really sick of that.”
Patton was surprised, looked at Eisenhower, saw anger on the man’s face.
Eisenhower said, “Nothing I can do about it, that’s the problem. Churchill is a huge thorn, you know. He keeps making announcements to parliament, to his newspapers, gives out all sorts of details about the victories we’re winning here. He’s feeding the press the names of towns we’ve supposedly captured, places that are still held by the enemy. Sure, we’ll capture them sooner or later. But he can’t wait for facts. He loves the limelight, being the bearer of good news. The Brits need that, I suppose. Those people have suffered as much in this war as they did in the last one. But, dammit, I wish they’d rein it in a bit.”
“I know one thing we can do about it, Ike. We take those towns, we grab the Kraut prisoners, we stick a few American flags in front of those BBC idiots, and they might have a tough time claiming that the British are winning every damned fight.”
“Careful, George. The BBC is my problem. But you’re right on one count. Get the job done quickly. Show everyone, not just the BBC, that our boys are doing their part. This is an Allied front, one army. I still won’t tolerate any kind of bickering nationalism out here, and I’ll do everything to keep it out of the papers back home. But in the end, it’s up to you to drive this train. I’d like to see your name in the paper as much as Monty’s.”
Patton smiled, had not felt much affection for Eisenhower in a long time, realized now, Ike’s walking a tightrope, serving too many masters. The best way to put my name in the paper is to put our boys in downtown Messina before anyone else. Even the BBC can’t ignore that.
F rom Bradley’s left flank on the north coast to Montgomery’s position to the east, the attacks pushed forward against German positions that fought back with more tenacity than even Patton expected. Despite the difficulty of the rough ground, the men of the First and Forty-fifth divisions shoved hard against their enemy, driving across deep valleys and rugged hills, confronting shattered roadways and blown bridges. In the east, Montgomery struggled as well, still faced German forces clinging tightly to the rugged defenses around Mount Etna. Casualties mounted on both sides, but Bradley’s forces continued their push, and one by one, the coastal villages, Cefalù and San Stefano, Brolo and Falcone, fell into American hands. Inland, across some of the most difficult terrain the Americans had yet seen, the stubborn resistance of the German defenders finally gave way, and the mountain towns of Nicosia and Troina fell into Bradley’s hands. To the east, after a long week of difficult fights, the German defenses near Catania began to withdraw, Montgomery finally pushing up on both flanks of the great mountain barrier. As the Germans withdrew, their front lines began to contract, the soldiers protecting a front that grew more narrow with every backward step. Despite the horrific bloodying inflicted by every Allied assault, General Hube was accomplishing exactly what Kesselring had hoped. With less ground to defend, the Germans began maneuvering troops out of their front-line position, shifting them to the evacuation
points around Messina.
Many of the Italian regiments continued to fall apart, mass surrenders that poured refugees into the American lines. But not all the Italians were happy to lay down their rifles. As the Germans executed their carefully controlled withdrawal, many Italians went with them, still willing to fight to hold back the Allied advance. Veteran Italian commanders were well aware that if they delayed, if they kept their people out on the front lines, that what had happened in North Africa might happen in Sicily as well. More than once Rommel had made only token efforts to rescue the slow-moving Italian infantry. This time, the Italians who still had the spirit for a fight had no plans to be left behind, to be sacrificed only so the Germans could make good a rapid escape. As the German lines contracted, the Italian commanders were pulling their people in a rapid retreat into Messina. On August 3, the first Italians to reach the straits made good their crossing onto the mainland. The great evacuation had begun.