We proceeded on this assumption, since our air force had now grown to the point where a bombardment of the kind contemplated could be readily carried out. Air Chief Marshal Tedder, General Spaatz, and the air forces became enthusiastic supporters of the project. In a period of six days and nights approximately 5000 tons of high explosives were dropped on the eastern portion of the island and in such a limited area that the concentrations achieved were greater than any we had previously attempted.15
In the actual outcome the capture of Pantelleria was so easy—the garrison surrendered on June 11, just as our troops were getting into their assault boats from the larger ships—that few people had any inkling of the doubts and fears that had to be overcome in launching the operation.16 Indeed, objection had been so pronounced that I resolved to make a personal reconnaissance immediately prior to the assault date in order to determine for myself that the defenses were sufficiently softened to assure success. This reconnaissance took the form of a naval and air bombardment of the island two days prior to the attack, conducted so as to appear to the defenders to be a real assault and to simulate as nearly as possible the actual operation contemplated for D-day and H-hour.17 Admiral Cunningham and I boarded a British cruiser at Bône one evening, and during that night steamed eastward at full speed to join the squadron assembly near Pantelleria. Cunningham told me that the whole area was mined except for a narrow channel we were following, which had been swept. This prompted me to ask, “Are there no floating mines about?” His answer was, “Oh yes, but at this speed the bow wave will throw them away from the ship. It would be just bad luck if we should strike one.”
The squadron of some half-dozen cruisers and ten destroyers began the bombardment about eleven in the morning, while the planes came over in wave after wave to drop their bombs on selected targets. Reaction was weak and sporadic. Although all our ships pressed in close to shore, and small, speedy craft ran up almost to the edge of the mole, the ships suffered no damage. Cunningham and I were confirmed in our belief that little opposition would be offered to the attack and that we could have taken the island then if we had been accompanied by troops.
The Prime Minister, who was then visiting with me in Africa, was very anxious to go along on this operation. I evaded direct reply but would never have agreed to his going, on the grounds that it involved needless risk for a man of his importance. But I had a difficult time indeed explaining to him afterward that Admiral Cunningham and I had always intended to participate. Two years later he reminded me that I had been very unfair to him on that occasion, especially as he had a personal financial stake in the enterprise.
A small wager between us had grown out of his estimate that there were no more than 3000 Italians on the island. He offered to pay me five centimes each for all we captured in excess of that number. We took 11,000, and though I had naturally forgotten the joking wager, he paid up promptly, figuring out the exchange himself and remarking that at that rate (a twentieth of a cent each) he’d buy all the prisoners we could get.
With Pantelleria captured we immediately moved strong air elements onto its airfield.18 In the meantime we further improved our air position by building a new field on the island of Gozo, just off Malta. On Malta itself was stationed every aircraft that its fields could possibly absorb.
In late May, a month before we were to attack Sicily, Prime Minister Churchill, with General Marshall and General Brooke, chief of the Imperial General Staff, came to my headquarters to discuss further the objectives of the Sicilian campaign, other than the mere capture of the island to assure free use of the Mediterranean sea route.19 There was something to be said for closing down large-scale activity in the Mediterranean, once we had Sicily in our grasp, and saving everything for the main operation in northwest Europe.
Against this there were weighty considerations. To cease heavy attacks would eliminate all threat to the Germans on the southern front and would allow the enemy great freedom of action. In Europe, Allied ground forces would be completely unengaged from the summer of 1943 to early summer of 1944. We badly wanted the fine airfields of southern Italy. Finally, we wanted to keep up the pressure in the belief that Italy would soon crack and quit. Such an outcome would denude the Balkans of Italian garrisons and so force Germany to extend her forces still further.
Both Alexander and Montgomery were called to the conference, in which Admiral Cunningham, Air Chief Marshal Tedder, General Spaatz, and my chief of staff, “Beedle” Smith, also participated.20 Mr. Churchill was at his eloquent best in painting a rosy picture of the opportunities that he foresaw opening up to us with the capture of Sicily. He insisted, in the conference discussions, that he had no intention of interfering with preparations for the cross-Channel attack in 1944, but he was concerned that I understand the desire of the two governments that the Allied forces should quickly exploit any opportunity arising out of the fall of Sicily. He was fearful that we would interpret our mission in such narrow fashion as to stop short with the capture of Sicily, regardless of circumstances.
Since a normal part of every battle is maximum exploitation of victory, I was personally in doubt as to just what the Prime Minister expected or desired. However, he did not propose in my hearing any campaign on a major scale, with the Balkans, or even northern Italy, as a minimum objective. He seemed honestly concerned in the quick capture of southern Italy but, so far as I knew, no more, at that moment.
In private conversation, however, Brooke told me that he would be glad to reconsider the cross-Channel project, even to the extent of eliminating that bold concept from accepted Allied strategy. He had commanded a corps during the short campaign on the Continent in 1940; both Alexander and Montgomery had served under him. Impulsive by nature, as became his Irish ancestry, he was highly intelligent and earnestly devoted to the single purpose of winning the war. When I first met him in November 1941 he seemed to me adroit rather than deep, and shrewd rather than wise. But gradually I came to realize that his mannerisms, which seemed strange to me, were merely accidental, that he was sincere and, though he lacked that ability so characteristic of General Marshall to weigh calmly the conflicting factors in a problem and so reach a rocklike decision, I soon found it easy to work with him. He did not hesitate to differ sharply and vehemently, but he did it forthrightly and honestly, and heated official discussion never affected the friendliness of his personal contacts or the unqualified character of his support. He must be classed as a brilliant soldier. So I listened carefully to the expression of his ideas at that moment.
He said that he favored a policy of applying our naval and air strength toward the blockading of Germany and the destruction of its industry but avoiding great land battles on the main fronts. He held the belief that in ground conflict in a large theater we would be at a great disadvantage and would suffer tremendous and useless losses. He wanted to open no larger front than one we could sustain in Italy. I do not know whether the Prime Minister agreed with the part of this opinion that favored the indefinite postponement of the cross-Channel invasion, but he did want to pour into Italy the maximum amount of Allied forces available in the Mediterranean.
Any suggestion or intimation of abandoning Overlord could always be guaranteed to bring Marshall and me charging into the breach with an uncompromising, emphatic refusal to consider such an idea for an instant. Not only did both of us still believe in, and frequently repeat, all the basic reasons for originally adopting the Overlord concept as our principal strategic effort in Europe, but we closely examined every proposal for committing troops elsewhere in the light of the eventual effect of weakening or strengthening prospects of success in Overlord. Both of us were willing to concede, and to strive for, the advantages that would flow from a successful invasion of southern Italy—but we resolutely refused to commit ourselves, or Allied troops, to an all-out campaign for winning the war through the Italian approach.
These and other reasons led to an agreement which, in effect, left exploitation of the Sicilian operat
ion to my judgment—but expected me to take advantage of any favorable opportunity to rush into Italy—and which emphasized the great value of the Foggia airfields.21 Since a major port was necessary to sustain us in Italy, the city of Naples was named as the other principal locality desired by the Allies.
At this conference long discussions were carried on regarding the desirability of bombing the marshaling yards near Rome. All agreed that the Eternal City should not be uselessly damaged—indeed, this was the policy we pursued with respect to all the relics of the ancient civilization of Italy—but it was common knowledge that the Germans were taking advantage of our restraint to use Rome as a principal link in their communication system. No final answer was then resolved but later we were authorized to bomb the yards, taking particular care to avoid damage to Rome and the Vatican City.22
The broad outline of the Sicilian campaign was announced to our press representatives one month before it took place.23 This unprecedented step was taken, paradoxically, to maintain secrecy.
I felt I had to stop speculation by war reporters as to the future intentions of the Allied Force. I knew the Germans were watching us intently and it is astonishing how expert a trained Intelligence staff becomes in piecing together odd scraps of seemingly unimportant information to construct a picture of enemy plans. At the moment northern Africa was a hive of preparation for the Sicilian invasion. At every possible spot along the beaches we were holding exercises; ports were being stacked with needed supplies, and harbors and inlets were receiving landing craft. It seemed certain that if reporters seeking items of interest for their papers and radio networks should continue to report upon activities throughout the theater, the enemy would soon be able to make rather accurate deductions as to the strength and timing of our attack, even if we should be successful in concealing its location.
During periods of combat inactivity reporters have a habit of filling up their stories with speculation, and since after some months of experience in a war theater any newsman acquires considerable skill in interpreting coming events, the danger was increased that soon the enemy would have our plans almost in detail. I do not believe that speculation by self-styled military analysts in the homelands, far removed from a theater of operations, is of any great benefit to the enemy. These long-distance conclusions are based upon the sketchiest of information and are usually amusing rather than terrifying, although they become dangerous as they edge closer to the truth and give statistical information to substantiate ideas. But in an active theater it is an entirely different matter, and because of an inborn hatred of unexplained censorship and, more than this, because of the confidence I had acquired in the integrity of newsmen in my theater, I decided to take them into my confidence.
The experiment was one which I would not particularly like to repeat, because such revelation does place a burden upon the man whose first responsibility is to conceal the secret. But by making it I immediately placed upon every reporter in the theater a feeling of the same responsibility that I and my associates bore. Success was complete. From that moment onward, until after the attack was launched, nothing speculative came out of the theater and no representative of the press attempted to send out anything that could possibly be of any value to the enemy. After the operation was completed many correspondents told me of the fear they felt that they might be guilty of even inadvertent revelation of the secret. During the period of preparation they even became reluctant to discuss the subject among themselves, and invented the most elaborate code names to refer to items of equipment and to details of the projected operation.
Mouths fell open as I began the conference by telling the reporters that we would assault Sicily early in July, with the Seventh Army under General Patton attacking the southern beaches and the British Eighth Army under General Montgomery attacking the eastern beaches south of Syracuse. There was almost painful silence as I explained that General Alexander would be in command of both armies and that we were already conducting the preliminary air campaign to destroy the German air forces and to cut his sea and land communications as well as to soften his defenses. I told the press that we were conducting this air offensive in such a way as to lead the enemy to believe that we would attack the western end of the island. I informed them that we would use airborne troops in the operation on a much larger scale than had yet been attempted in warfare. The attack was carried out in exactly this fashion on the night of July 9.24
Because of the existence of splendid naval communications at Malta that place was chosen as our headquarters for the initial stages of the operation. Most of our air formations were crowded into the airfields of northeastern Tunisia, so the principal air headquarters had to remain in the vicinity of ancient Carthage. General Alexander, Admiral Cunningham, and I all went to Malta a day or so before the attack was scheduled, to be in position to take any action that might prove necessary.25 We were guests of Field Marshal Lord Gort, governor of the island.
Malta then presented a picture far different from the one of a few months earlier, when it was still the target for a hostile air force that had little effective opposition. Malta had taken a fearful beating but the spirit of the defenders had never been shaken. As Allied air and naval support approached them through the conquest of North Africa, they rose magnificently to the occasion. By the time we found need for Malta’s facilities its airfields were in excellent condition and its garrison was burning to get into the fight.
A story in connection with this preparation illustrates the amazement sometimes created by American organizations that have been indoctrinated in the mass production methods of the United States. This incident involved the construction of the airfield on the little island of Gozo, lying just off Malta. It was so ill favored in the matter of terrain that British field engineers, who depended to a great extent upon hand tools and light equipment, had given up any hope of producing a field there in time for use in the Sicilian campaign. Happily, just at the critical moment Air Marshal Park, in command of the air forces of the island, had as a visitor an American engineer who specialized in the construction of airfields.
Park told the engineer of this particular problem and after showing him the projected site asked for an estimate on the time it would take to construct an operational strip. The answer was a nonchalant “Ten days.” This struck Park—who is a human dynamo himself—as so preposterous that he thought himself the victim of a joke. However, upon noting the thoughtful way in which the engineer was considering the problem, he asked: “When can you start?”
“As soon as my equipment can get here, which should take several days.”
The upshot was that messages began to fly through the air, and thirteen days from the time the first American construction unit stepped on the island the first fighter plane was taking off from the strip.
To perform this seeming miracle the engineers had employed almost every type of modern earth-moving machinery to be found on any large construction job in the United States, equipment that British engineers envied but had never dreamed could be brought into such a remote part of an active theater of war. This story was told to me over and over again by British officers on the island whose admiration for the American engineers was scarcely short of awe. This fighter strip gave us an additional base from which to sustain our attack against Sicily.
The ship convoys bringing the troops to their allotted places had to come from ports stretched throughout the length of the Mediterranean. The timing and final maneuvering of the various naval columns had to be exactly performed in the narrow, mine-filled waters separating Sicily from the mainland and had to be done so as to keep the enemy in a state of confusion and indecision until the last moment. Admiral Cunningham, Admiral Hewitt, and all their subordinates performed the task faultlessly.
Everything was proceeding with seeming perfection until the actual day of the assault. Then the weather, which in that part of the Mediterranean is normally serene in summer, began to deteriorate so badly as to threaten our a
bility to land. Since the wind direction was generally from the west it was the southern beaches for which we were anxious. The eastern beaches would have the shelter of the island itself.
I spent some hours with Admiral Cunningham in his office, to which meteorological specialists brought frequent reports and forecasts. Naval personnel has a habit of referring to wind velocity in terms of “Force.” In would come a man and say, “Force IV, sir,” or “Force V, sir.” For me this had to be translated into miles per hour, but I had no difficulty, watching Cunningham’s face, in realizing that Force V was worse than Force IV. However, falling velocities were predicted for sundown and this cheered us, because if that tendency continued conditions by midnight should be satisfactory!
Some of us went outside for a short walk, but we watched the wind indicators fearfully, almost prayerfully, because the hour was fast approaching when it would be impossible to turn back assaulting forces from their intended landings. A message came from General Marshall: “Is the attack on or off?” My reaction was that I wish I knew! Evening approached with predictions indicating some slight improvement. We decided to proceed as planned, and I so radioed to General Marshall.26 My feeling was that, even if the forces on the southern coast should find it necessary to delay landing, those on the east would surely get ashore and we would have less confusion and disadvantage than would result from any attempt to stop the whole armada.
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