by Mark Zuehlke
Alexander told Leese and Clark that the “attack will continue until seriously checked or until a pause is essential to regroup. At that stage all the enemy’s resources should have been drawn in, and we hope the enemy’s troops guarding the beachhead will have been drawn on and weakened. This will be the moment to strike from Anzio — under the full protection of the air. If this flank is successful and gets as far as Valmontone it may well be decisive and lead to the destruction of all the German forces between the bridgehead and the main battle front.”28 Such an eventuality would enable the encirclement and ultimate destruction or capture of the majority of the German Tenth Army and parts of the Fourteenth Army. This would be far more strategically beneficial than simply driving the Germans beyond Rome. An envelopment of Tenth Army alone could well eliminate Kesselring’s ability to effectively defend Italy.29
Such a strategic windfall would materialize only if the Eighth and Fifth armies broke through the Gustav Line with devastating and rapid force, sending the defending Tenth Army reeling as the Allies controlled the flow of battle. Quoting Lord Horatio Nelson, Alexander said, “Only numbers can annihilate.”30 That he had numerical superiority in men and arms was undisputed, but still he would go into battle with nowhere near his desired three-to-one ratio.
For the Gustav Line attack, Fifth Army had 170,000 troops organized into two corps, each fielding seven divisions equipped with 600 artillery guns and 300 tanks. Eighth Army had an authorized strength of 300,000 men, but there were critical shortages and the divisions were collectively about 21,000 men short.31 Many of the divisions, particularly those in X Corps that had born the brunt of the Third Battle of Cassino, were exhausted from months of unrelieved combat. Alexander estimated that he had twenty-eight divisions to Kesselring’s twenty-three. Berlin rated nineteen of these divisions with a total strength of 412,000 men, as being capable of mounting sustained defensive actions. This included the fourteen divisions currently holding the Gustav Line and the ring around the Anzio beachhead. Tenth Army had nine divisions on the Gustav Line, while Fourteenth Army had five divisions at Anzio.
Kesselring, for his part, was intensely gloomy about his manpower strength. That some of his divisions were seriously understrength was rammed home during a visit to the headquarters of the 29th Panzer Grenadier Division. Its commander, Generalmajor Walter Fries, was one of Kesselring’s best and not given to histrionics. Yet no sooner had Kesselring walked into his office than Fries launched into a “tirade spiced with recriminations of his intolerable situation. He complained that his depleted companies were faced by two Allied divisions that were frequently relieved; that an Allied division had almost double his strength, on the top of which they had twice the number of guns and a quite fantastic supply of ammunition in the ratio of ten to one.”
Jokingly, Kesselring told his Prussian comrade that he understood Prussians “never asked how strong the enemy was, but only where he was.” He praised Fries and his men while also cautioning him to have confidence in the wisdom of his superiors and that then “all would be well.”
Bravado aside, Kesselring knew Fries’s fears were valid. His divisions were understrength, outnumbered, and outgunned. He also knew that Alexander could not “be satisfied for much longer with the slow and costly way the Allied front was edging forward.”32
Kesselring discounted any offensive’s being launched on the Adriatic front. Instead, he later wrote, the “Garigliano with its mountain spurs beyond Cassino and the Anzio beachhead had to be envisaged as battle-fronts, supplemented perhaps by feint or diversionary landings north of Rome in the region of Civitavecchia and by airborne landings in the valley of Frosinone. I calculated that the American Fifth and British Eighth Armies would open the offensive by launching a broad and deep attack against the right wing of our Tenth Army across the Majo, Petrella, and Monte Cassino massif, with a connecting inward movement into the valley of the Liri.”
In his directive simply entitled Defence, Kesselring set out clearly how the defensive battle should be fought. He was convinced the Gustav Line could be held as long as Monte Majo in the Aurunci Mountains on the right and Monte Cassino on the left were held. With 1st Parachute Division on Monte Cassino, Kesselring was convinced this pivot point would hold. Monte Majo he left thinly occupied, as he saw no real threat of an attack there. The situation at Anzio, he believed, was excellent. Only if the point where the lines of the Tenth and Fourteenth armies met were breached did the Allies in the beachhead stand any chance of breaking out. “All in all,” Kesselring concluded, “I could await coming events calmly, as we had done all we could in every field to meet the major offensive expected.”33
Alexander had been apprised of an intelligence intercept by Ultra — the code-breaking operation that was reading much of German signals traffic — that the Germans knew the attack was coming and that his armies also faced some of Germany’s top divisions. An April report sent from Italy to Berlin graded the divisions on a four-tier scale that ranged from a high rating of “capable of offensive action” to a low of “fit for static defence only.” The 1st Parachute Division and 29th Panzer Grenadiers were top rated. Eight other divisions earned second ratings, eight a third rating that deemed them capable of mounting mobile defences, and only four were bottom-ranked.34
No similar rating had been made of Alexander’s divisions, but he had a number of fresh ones and even a new corps that had almost no battle experience. Clark’s Fifth Army had just received the American 85th and 88th divisions, made up of raw recruits with little training. Eighth Army had an equally unknown commodity in the form of I Canadian Corps, which was to play a major role in its plan for Operation Diadem. Once the Gustav Line was breached, the two divisions of I Canadian Corps would lead the drive up Highway 6.35 Yet only one of the two divisions in I Canadian Corps had previous experience in major offensive operations. That division — 1st Canadian Infantry Division — would lead for only the first phase of the advance, driving forward to close on and break through the Hitler Line. Once the Hitler Line was severed, the advance would fall to the largely untested 5th Canadian Armoured Division. Whether the Canadian troops or their commanders were sufficiently trained and competent to carry off their starring role was very much unknown to either Alexander or Leese. Certainly its performance to date had done little to instill confidence in either the abilities of its soldiers or that of its seemingly ever-changing and bickering leadership.
2
THE UNWANTED CANADIANS
Even as the Allies had marched across Sicily in July 1943, Canada’s Minister of National Defence Colonel James Layton Ralston had proposed that the nation play a greater role in the Mediterranean. A World War I veteran, Ralston had personally argued his case during a meeting with First Canadian Army commander Lieutenant General Andrew McNaughton in London on August 5, 1943. Fielding a Canadian corps in Italy, he said, would provide battlefield training to an essential nucleus of corps level officers. It would also increase the number of soldiers of all ranks with combat experience preparatory to the northern European invasion. Equally important, it would raise the morale of the divisions languishing in Britain and civilian morale at home because both would see an army that was fighting rather than just endlessly waiting and training.
McNaughton’s response was chilly. He had objected to sending any Canadians to the Mediterranean and believed that sending even more would jeopardize the nation’s ability to field its own army-sized force in the main European invasion. Still, if Ottawa endorsed the idea, and as long as the Combined Chiefs of Staff assured Canada that the divisions serving in Italy would be transferred back to England before the invasion began, McNaughton told Ralston he could implement the plan. During the meeting, however, it had become obvious that Ralston did not see the return of the divisions to Britain as essential. Sensing that his dream of having all Canadian soldiers overseas serving in one unified army was dying at Ralston’s hand, McNaughton said, “If the Canadian Government decided upon dispersion, then it
would be wise to put someone in control who believed in it.”1
Ralston next raised the matter with British Prime Minister Winston Churchill just before the Quadrant conference of western leaders opened on August 11 at Quebec City’s Château Frontenac. Gaining Churchill’s support prior to this meeting was essential because the intent of the conference was to finalize planning for the invasion of northern Europe. If the Canadian divisions in Britain were detailed to specific roles in the invasion, it might prove impossible for Ralston to have I Canadian Corps and an additional division reassigned to service in Italy. Churchill was sympathetic and promised to ensure that the Combined Chiefs of Staff duly considered the request. When the meeting wrapped up on August 24, however, Churchill advised Ralston that he should not count on approval. To maintain Operation Overlord’s required divisional strength, it would be necessary to exchange any division sent to Italy with one withdrawn from that theatre. If another Canadian division were deployed to Italy, then a matching British division must be repatriated. The implication was clear. Any Canadian division sent to Italy would not be returned for the invasion. Yet Ralston urged Churchill to press on with Canada’s request, effectively endorsing the very dispersion of Canadian strength that McNaughton had warned Ralston against at the beginning of the month.
On August 31, Churchill cabled the Chiefs of Staff in London following a meeting that day with the Canadian War Committee in Ottawa. “A strong desire was expressed that a second Canadian Division should be dispatched to the Mediterranean area as soon as possible,” Churchill wrote. He ended the cable saying, “Pray let me know as soon as possible what can be done.”2
The Chiefs of Staff responded on September 14 by telling McNaughton that there was insufficient shipping available to move an entire division and a corps element to Italy while meeting commitments for bringing U.S. divisions from America to Britain for the invasion. Churchill supported this conclusion with a September 19 cable to Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King, in which he concluded that sending a Canadian division to Italy would disturb plans for the invasion without fulfilling any valid military goal. King responded on September 30 by sending the Canadian High Commissioner in London, Vincent Massey, to ask Churchill if the decision might not be reconsidered. Churchill reluctantly agreed to have another try at persuading the Chiefs of Staff to support the idea.
Churchill’s intervention worked. On October 7, the Chiefs of Staff advised McNaughton that deployment of a Canadian corps could be facilitated through a straight exchange of British divisions and corps sections in Italy for those of the Canadians. If the Canadians wished, Britain would repatriate XXX Corps headquarters and all corps troops along with the 7th Armoured Division in exchange for the 5th Canadian Armoured Division and headquarters and support troops of I Canadian Corps, commanded by Lieutenant General Henry Duncan Graham Crerar. But there was a caveat. Because of restricted shipping availability, the Canadians must leave behind their heavy equipment, such as tanks, armoured cars, artillery, trucks, and Jeeps. The returning British would do the same so that the equipment could simply be traded. Urged on by Ralston, the Canadian War Committee endorsed the proposal on October 12.
The decision finally made, plans for what was dubbed Operation Timberwolf rapidly proceeded. General Alexander, Deputy Supreme Commander Mediterranean, was immediately informed that he would receive a new division and a corps headquarters unit under which all the Canadians in Italy could be grouped. Alexander was dumbfounded. He fired a cable back to London saying: “The proposed move of the Canadian Armoured Division has come as a complete surprise to me. We already have as much armour in the Mediterranean as we can usefully employ in Italy. I should have preferred another Canadian Infantry Division. I shall be grateful if I can be consulted in future before matters of such importance are agreed upon. These decisions upset my order of battle which in turn affect my plans for battle.”
Despite Alexander’s resistance, sailing schedules were soon in place to move 25,000 Canadian troops on October 25, another 10,000 in November, 4,000 in December, and such numbers as might be required in January to create a “balanced Corps.” This corps would be composed of 1st Canadian Infantry Division, 5th Canadian Armoured Division, 1st Canadian Armoured Brigade, an Army Group Royal Artillery, and supporting hospital and rear-echelon units. The 5th Division would leave behind all its major equipment, the troops carrying only their personal arms in accordance with the agreement reached between the Canadian government and the Chiefs of Staff.3
As the Canadian soldiers in England prepared to board ships bound for Italy, Crerar and an advance headquarters composed of about thirty officers and non-commissioned officers flew into Algiers on October 24. Fifty-five-year-old Crerar, who went by the first name of Harry, was a graduate of Royal Military College and had served as an artillery officer in World War I. He ended that war as a lieutenant colonel in charge of Canadian Corps’ counter-battery operations. In 1940, he had been appointed Chief of the Canadian General Staff and in December 1941 was given command of I Canadian Corps in Britain. Crerar enthusiastically supported bringing that unit to Italy and knew he had to move quickly to have things ready for its imminent arrival.4 Like Ralston, Crerar was a fire-breather, intent on getting Canadian troops into the thick of battle at every possible opportunity.
As Canada’s Chief of General Staff, he had led the charge in convincing King to accede to Britain’s request that men be sent to bolster the weak Imperial defences of Hong Kong, despite the fact that Britain had no intention of reinforcing the garrison itself. The subsequent loss of the entire force of 1,975 men of the Royal Rifles of Canada and the Winnipeg Grenadiers when Hong Kong’s governor surrendered to the Japanese on Christmas Day, 1941, had failed to dampen his martial ardour. Next he had lobbied successfully for the use of Canadian troops in the Dieppe raid and subsequently defended the operation as costly but worthwhile because of the lessons the Allies had learned. After Dieppe, Crerar continued to work tirelessly to undermine McNaughton’s efforts to keep all the Canadians together. Crerar joined Ralston at every opportunity in advocating the need for Canada to commit troops to fighting on some front in order to cement the nation’s Imperial ties and maintain political support at home for the war effort.5
Pausing only a few days in Algiers, Crerar moved his corps headquarters advance staff to Sicily, intent on getting the corps operational as quickly as was humanly and logistically possible. There was no time to lose, for on the evening of October 27, a twenty-five–ship convoy had sailed from Britain jammed with the majority of 5th Canadian Armoured Division and the rest of Crerar’s corps staff. The convoy was scheduled to arrive in Naples and other Mediterranean ports on November 8.
Awaiting the arrival of 5 CAD was also its new commander, Major General Guy Simonds, a forty-year-old who had led 1st Canadian Infantry Division across Sicily and up the toe of Italy in the first weeks of September. Hospitalized since then by a serious bout of jaundice, he had just returned to command when McNaughton decided Simonds should take over the soon-to-arrive armoured division, so he could gain experience commanding a combined tank and infantry division. Simonds had a good reputation with McNaughton. As well, he was a protege of General Bernard Law Montgomery, who, in late 1943, still commanded Eighth Army. Simonds had also served under Eighth Army corps commander Lieutenant General Sir Oliver Leese and earned that man’s respect. About the Canadians in the Sicily campaign, Leese wrote, “They have been very well commanded by Simonds, who is young and forceful.” Montgomery added that “he will be a 1st Class DIV. Commander in due course.”6
Before taking over 1 CID, Simonds had served as Brigadier General Staff under Crerar in Britain. He blamed Crerar for allowing the remounting of the Dieppe raid after its initial cancellation. The entire fiasco could have been prevented, he believed, if Crerar had exerted his authority as the senior Canadian commander and objected to Canadian units being committed to a badly planned operation. Simonds also despised the way in which Crerar worked to
undercut McNaughton at every turn. The result was that Simonds not only did not like Crerar; he also deeply distrusted him.7
When Crerar arrived in Italy, Simonds was still attempting to interpret what he thought must be an underlying explanation for his lateral transfer to command another division. Furthermore, he had only been informed of his nemesis’s arrival by a signal from McNaughton mere days before Crerar landed in Algiers. At first blush, he believed the transfer was tantamount to a demotion, but when he took that complaint to Montgomery, his mentor assured him that leading an armoured division was a requisite step for attaining corps command. This, Montgomery said, was McNaughton’s purpose. That mollified Simonds somewhat, until he learned that 5 CAD would march to war with the heavy equipment left behind by the departing British 7th Armoured Division.8
Simonds was furious. The equipment of the renowned Desert Rats dated back to the North African campaign. Most of the tanks, artillery, trucks, and Jeeps being left behind for the Canadians were so dilapidated as to be almost beyond repair. Serious shortages of all types of heavy armaments and transport in the Mediterranean theatre meant there was scant chance that the newly arrived division could beg, borrow, or steal equipment from other sources.9
It was, therefore, an agitated Simonds who icily received Crerar in his command caravan at the Canadian base in Campobasso on October 30. Within minutes of the older officer’s arrival, the two men exchanged harsh words. Crerar was shocked by Simonds’s outspoken, nearly insubordinate manner. He also was little impressed by Simonds’s acquired British mannerisms and his informal dress, which included wearing a tanker’s black beret identical to Montgomery’s trademark beret. For his part, Simonds thought Crerar was completely puffed up with his own sense of self-importance. As for Crerar’s formal conception of how corps command should be organized and administered, Simonds believed it hopelessly out of step with the way Eighth Army operated in the field. Eighth Army and the Canadians who served in it were little given to paperwork. Even attack orders were generally delivered orally, with no written record created. Much of the reason for this stemmed from the army’s polyglot of nations gathered into one large formation. Montgomery had found that confusion was limited by less paperwork. Now here was Crerar in Simonds’s caravan, which he kept scanning with a covetous eye because of its clever design, obvious comforts, and organization, spouting the virtues of vast amounts of written reports and orders that must be maintained on a daily basis and duly filed to corps headquarters. The meeting ended badly.