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Conference “La Guerre de sables / The Desert War”
Rome, October 5-6, 2012
“This soldier, who has gone mad”
Tobruk 1941 and the legend of Erwin Rommel as a brilliant general
Thomas Vogel
Militärgeschichtliches Forschungsamt, Potsdam
I
On June 21, 1942, the British forces in Tobruk surrendered to the German-Italian Panzer
Army. At his second attempt, its commander-in-chief, Colonel General Erwin Rommel,
succeeded in what he had failed the year before. The road to his ultimate objective, Cairo and
the Suez Canal, seemed to be clear. Rommel was at the height of his success. Hitler once and
for all raised his “favourite general”, only 51 years old, into the military Olympus and
promoted him to Field Marshal. Nazi-Propaganda Minister Goebbels celebrated him more
euphorically than ever before as the ideal of the modern general in the National Socialist
spirit. 1 Many of his soldiers had long been devoted to him because – a brave and modest man
– he shared the dangers and exertions of the front line with them. Even Italian soldiers, who
were not keen to fight for the Germans, regarded him as a role model for that reason. 2
Wartime enemies expressed their respect for Rommel in a more restrained manner. Under
domestic political pressure, Prime Minister Churchill had no option but to justify the British
defeats by stating that own forces were facing a “very daring and skilful opponent” and to
praise Rommel as a “great general”. 3 At the same time, the British army in Egypt got the
impression that it was dealing with a “chivalrous” opponent who simply did not fit the enemy
stereotype of the German Hun and Nazi barbarian. The legend of the “desert fox” who was
superior because of his ingenuity and omnipresence soon circulated in the British army, too.
Some people even thought that supernatural forces were at play. Although Rommel often
1
David Irving, Rommel. Eine Biographie, Hamburg 1978 (Transl. of The Trial of the Fox: The Life of Field-Marshal
Erwin Rommel, 1977), p. 240.
2
Ibidem, p. 134.
3
Ibidem, pp. 146, 176.
1
stood on the front line, nothing serious ever happened to him. He miraculously escaped a
British commando operation targeted at him. The British commander-in-chief even perceived
a danger for the morale of his force and admonished: “He is by no means a superman.” 4
But was Rommel really the “superman” everyone believed him for a time to be? 5 Above all,
was he the military genius the NS propaganda and, after the war, veterans on both sides made
him appear to be? I strongly believe that he was not, and I will provide proof of this here and
now, that he was no such hero. In doing so, I am far from breaking a taboo. Historical
research shattered this legend already in the 1970s. But it is difficult for those results to
prevail over the still widely accepted myth of his being a legendary general. 6 Even
groundbreaking and critical works are too respectful in the end. All too often, Rommel’s
undisputed charisma as a military leader and tactical virtuoso obstructs a sober view of his
achievements in the operational command of major units, that is his true ability as a
commander.
II
Thus, my focus is on Rommel as a commander. Looking at the key stages of his first Tobruk
campaign of 1941 as an example, I am going to highlight why, in my opinion, he was no
brilliant commander and not even a particularly good one. I base my view on the findings of
the pertinent research. 7 I take the massive criticism of Rommel within the Wehrmacht elite
just as seriously, although it doubtlessly reflected feelings of envy for the upstart who had no
general staff training. 8
4
Ibidem, p. 15.
Rommel’s head portrait even graced the cover of Time Magazine of July 13, 1942.
6
On this, see the revealing result of a non-representative survey in an internet blog which matches my
experience: „Was Erwin Rommel really a brilliant general or was he simply a propaganda tool?“
(http://answers.yhaoo.com/question/index?qid=20120511105902AAndbu8).
7
In particular I refer to the findings of Wolf Heckmann, Rommels Krieg in Afrika. “Wüstenfüchse” gegen
“Wüstenratten”, Bergisch Gladbach, Lübbe, 1976; Adalbert von Taysen, Tobruk 1941. Der Kampf in Nordafrika,
Freiburg, Rombach, 1976; David Irving, The Trail of the Fox: The Life of Field-Marshal Erwin Rommel, London,
Weidenfeld & Nicholson, 1977; Bernd Stegemann, Die italienisch-deutsche Kriegführung im Mittelmeer und in
Afrika, in: Das Deutsche Reich und der Zweite Weltkrieg, vol. 3, ed. Militärgeschichtliches Forschungsamt,
Stuttgart, Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1984, pp. 589-682; James J. Sadkovich, Of Myths and Men: Rommel and
the Italians in North Africa, in: The International History Review, vol. 13, No. 2 (May, 1991), pp. 284-313; David
Fraser, Knight’s Cross: A life of Field Marshall Erwin Rommel, London, HarperColllins, 1993; Martin Kitchen,
Rommel’s Desert War: Waging World War II in North Africa, 1941-1943, Cambridge University Press, 1999.
8
Exponents of this were Chief of the General Staff Col-Gen Franz Halder, F-M Gerd von Rundstedt and also the
Commander-in-Chief of the Army, F-M Walther v. Brauchitsch.
5
2
El Agheila on the western edge of Cyrenaica, the headquarters of the German Africa Corps,
on April 3, 1941: Rommel decides to recapture the entire Cyrenaica and cut off the retreat to
Egypt for the British forces. He therefore gives order to rapidly advance on Tobruk, which is
500 km away. In doing so, Rommel takes a high risk six weeks after the first German forces
have landed in Tripoli. Only half of his corps is assembled; it consists mainly of the 5th Light
Division. After the crushing defeat the Italians have suffered against the British army some
months ago, he actually cannot have any illusions about the combat value of the Italian units
subordinated to him. On the other hand, Rommel does not know about the considerable
weakness of the British due to logistic problems and troop withdrawals in favour of an
intervention in Greece. It is not until April 8 that he learns of this on good authority, when his
attack is already at full speed. 9 Thus, at first he has to face an opponent who is twice as strong
and experienced in desert warfare. In contrast, his own forces have absolutely no experience
and are inadequately equipped. Moreover, their supply situation is already extremely tense.
Nevertheless, he is encouraged by the weak resistance by the British outposts and by some
reports from air reconnaissance about British units withdrawing. 10
Rommel’s decision of April 3 was therefore very risky, if indeed not already beyond military
reason. In any event, he acted on his own authority since his mission in Libya was of a purely
defensive nature. His job was merely to prevent the Italians from suffering utter defeat, that is
the fall of the colony. He had been told this again only a few days before during his visit to
the Army High Command in Berlin. Furthermore, he had been instructed with Hitler’s
approval to wait for his second major unit, the 15th Panzer Division, which was scheduled to
arrive by mid-May. After that, he would be allowed to improve his initial position to a limited
extent. Only then would a decision be made about a major offensive on Tobruk. But he could
on no account expect to get any more reinforcements for that. The High Command exercised
this restraint because all available forces were concentrated on Operation Barbarossa against
the Soviet Union. If Rommel had been initiated into these plans, many of his illusions would
have been destroyed.
Rommel’s decision to attack Tobruk appears even more questionable because with it he
contradicted himself in a certain way. Two weeks earlier, he had made his offensive plans
9
Hans-Otto Behrendt, Rommels Kenntnis vom Feind im Afrikafeldzug. Ein Bericht über die
Feindnachrichtenarbeit, insbesondere die Funkaufklärung, Freiburg, Rombach, 1980; pp. 91.
10
Taysen, Tobruk 1941. Der Kampf in Nordafrika, p. 78.
3
dependent on considerable Italian and German reinforcements. 11 Meanwhile, he knew for sure
that he would not get them. He had just been informed that even the second division he had
been promised would not be moved up in time. The carelessness, if not ignorance becoming
evident in this regard also determined Rommel’s attitude to the supply situation, which had
been precarious even before the attack was launched. 12
All in all, Rommel’s first major operational decision on North African soil proved to be a risk
and could only be justified by subsequent success. Rommel’s private correspondence of those
days shows his decision of April 3 be based on this very reckoning. 13 Such thinking and
acting reveal the military gambler rather than a commander who takes a well-considered and
accountable risk. By the way, Rommel remained far from full success for he failed to achieve
a key objective: The bulk of the British army forces had escaped to Egypt; others were well
entrenched in Tobruk, where they blocked his further offensive.
III
April 10, 1941: His initial success has made Rommel extremely optimistic. Having barely
reached Tobruk, he already has his eye on the Suez Canal. 14 He is, however, remarkably illinformed about Tobruk, which is the main obstacle on the way toward that goal. This, first,
refers to the construction and strength of the deeply staggered, well-developed system of
positions and fortifications surrounding the town. It had once been built by his allies, the
Italians. Nevertheless, Rommel initially does not benefit from this. It is not before April 19/20
and much blood has been needlessly shed that he has obtained detailed maps of the
fortifications. 15 Secondly, Rommel is poorly informed about the forces occupying Tobruk as
well. In terms of strength and supplies, they are far superior to his own force, which sets up a
thin line of circumvallation around the fortress by April 12. Furthermore, Rommel
misinterprets the busy shipping traffic in the port of Tobruk as a proof that the fortress is
being evacuated. Rommel adheres to his decision to exploit the momentum of the ongoing
11
Ibidem, p. 67.
Stegemann, Die italienisch-deutsche Kriegführung im Mittelmeer und in Afrika, pp. 616-617.
13
Taysen, Tobruk 1941. Der Kampf in Nordafrika, p. 84.
14
Irving, Rommel. Eine Biographie, p. 77
15
It is unclear whether this is due to a failure on the part of Rommel or whether the Italian side was
responsible for this. See: Taysen, Tobruk 1941. Der Kampf in Nordafrika, pp. 99-100, 111; and Stegemann, Die
italienisch-deutsche Kriegführung im Mittelmeer und in Afrika, p. 622; Taysen, p. 99, assumes that Rommel at
first paid no attention to this question at all.
12
4
attack and conquer Tobruk without delay although his units arriving successively at Tobruk,
are exhausted physically and in terms of materiel, and although he lacks knowledge of the
fortifications. He accepts his troops to be at a considerable disadvantage while attacking since
the terrain does not provide much cover. To maintain the moment of surprise he also refrains
from ordering intense reconnaissance.
The failure of his first attempt on April 11 therefore comes as no surprise. Two improvised
combat groups are meant to breach the fortress ring in the south west and seize the town.
After the attack has started it turns out that one group is unable to participate in the action
because it is committed elsewhere. The other group, which has already been weakened in
skirmishes, foreseeably fails to achieve its objective and incurs heavy losses in the fierce fire
of the defenders when it suddenly comes across an insurmountable antitank trench. 16 Rommel
has thus lost the element of surprise and felt the strength of the defence of the fortress. This
does not prevent him from repeating the attack the very next day. The attack, however, is
stopped by a sandstorm and enemy artillery fire before it really gets started, and no major
losses are incurred. In contrast, the attack on April 14/15 ends in a minor disaster for what is
still the only German division. Under the cover of night, its Machine Gun Battalion 8
succeeds in penetrating the exterior fortification belt. But due to their superiority, the
defenders succeed in isolating and wearing down the bridgehead by the next morning. Almost
half of the troops including the battalion commander are killed in the fighting or taken
prisoner. After 14 days of offensive action, its operational strength is down to just a weak
infantry company. 17 The only tank regiment of the division suffers a similar fate. Its
supporting attack falters in the face of fierce fire from the enemy. In the end, it reported a total
loss of almost half of its 38 operational tanks that went into action – the authorized strength
being 161. 18 If the defenders had launched a decisive counterattack, the Africa Corps would
not have been able to stand up to it.
By rashly throwing forces into the battle in portions and failing to coordinate their action
properly, Rommel almost completely destroys his only German division in the first half of
April. However, the disaster does not prevent him from launching further attacks on the
following days. Out of pure necessity, Italian units are now increasingly employed. But they
16
Taysen, Tobruk 1941. Der Kampf in Nordafrika, pp. 102-103; Stegemann, Die italienisch-deutsche
Kriegführung im Mittelmeer und in Afrika, p. 622.
17
Taysen, Tobruk 1941. Der Kampf in Nordafrika, pp. 102-103
18
Ibidem, pp. 108, 110.
5
also fail amid heavy losses and even provoke minor breakout-attempts of the garrison. Only
then Rommel eventually realizes that his attacks on the heavily defended fortress are pointless
for the time being. He does not realize, however, that he has to blame himself for the failure
and the heavy losses. Instead, he unleashes his fury against the commander of the 5th Division,
whom he publicly humiliates and removes from his post. The commander of Panzer Regiment
5 suffers a similar fate. Later, Rommel attributes the failure to the poor training and armament
of his Italian forces. Irrespective of this, he ordered them attack positions that German troops
had not been able to destroy before.
Rommel does not truly realize the critical situation of his battle-weary, decimated and
widely dispersed troops until the British field army soon afterwards becomes active again
along the Egyptian border near Sollum, 100 km east of Tobruk, threatening the thin GermanItalian security cordon there. His reports alert Berlin. Chief of Army General Staff Franz
Halder feels confirmed in his reservations about Rommel and dispatches his deputy,
Lieutenant General Friedrich Paulus, to North Africa. He is commissioned to acquire a
realistic picture of the situation and make “this soldier who has gone mad” see reason – as
Halder put it. 19 In early May, another large-scale attack on Tobruk gets bogged down in the
exterior fortification belt, with battalion-size losses being incurred. Paulus now puts a veto on
further assaults and Rommel has to accept it. After being informed by Paulus, Halder notes:
“By exceeding his orders, Rommel has created a situation which has outstripped his supply
capability at this time. Rommel is not up to the job.” 20
In April at Tobruk, Rommel had revealed another side of himself which was hardly
reminiscent of a superior commander. 21 It showed great recklessness in dealing with
personnel and materiel, coupled with an alarming lack of military professionalism. Advancing
virtually blindfold and without imagination he had run stubbornly against a fortress he did not
know. It was not only the ordinary soldiers and officers who felt the consequences of his
impulsive aggressiveness: A division commander who had just arrived in North Africa was
killed in action due to a carelessly issued order. Against this background, Rommel’s wellknown motto “Sweat saves blood!” sounds highly cynical, because in reality his tactics
resulted in each of them. Eventually, even the commander-in-chief of the Army was forced to
intervene from Berlin because Rommel antagonized an increasing number of his commanders
19
Stegemann, Die italienisch-deutsche Kriegführung im Mittelmeer und in Afrika, p. 625.
Ibidem, p. 629.
21
Even the otherwise “tame” David Fraser, Knight’s Cross: A life of Field Marshall Erwin Rommel, p. 248,
considers the criticism that Rommel acted like a reckless gambler appropriate.
20
6
with his imprudence and self-righteousness. One of the most capable of them later said in
hindsight: “Nobody here understood these first attacks on Tobruk. […]. A lot of the more
impulsive commands issued by the Africa Corps we subaltern officers just cannot make head
or tail of.” 22
IV
Change of perspective: Rommel’s inability to capture Tobruk puts him in an awkward
position. He must maintain the circumvallation around the town while keeping a vigilant eye
on the Sollum front more than 100 km away. Although his corps is currently being reinforced
by a second German division, the 15th Panzer, he has legitimate concerns about a British
counteroffensive from Egypt. Therefore, news of the beginning of Operation Brevity on May
15 comes as no surprise to him. Soon, a grim struggle over the possession of the Halfaya Pass
rages, what the Germans call the First Tank Battle of Sollum. In the end, it is the local
commander of the small German-Italian battle group, Colonel Maximilian von Herff, who
wins the battle. In the meantime, Rommel feels tied to Tobruk, where he fears an enemy
breakout may happen. He displays skill in influencing the battle from there. Yet, he does not
give the impression of being very confident. His nervous situation reports arouse displeasure
in Berlin and confirm some of the prejudices against him. The commander-in-chief of the
Army once again feels compelled to write to him and advise him to be cautious.
A month later, in mid-June, another battle for the Halfaya Pass breaks out, but this time a
considerably larger one. The Second Tank Battle of Sollum is triggered by a major British
attack as part of Operation Battleaxe. Rommel again directs the battle from Tobruk, and again
quite skilfully. But once again, others decide the outcome of the battle in favour of the Axis,
namely a captain and a first lieutenant who fiercely defend German strongpoints in the desert
behind the Sollum front. It enables the Panzer divisions brought in to force the enemy to
withdraw after two days, amid heavy losses. Rommel’s hope of cutting off their withdrawal,
however, is not fulfilled. He is therefore dissatisfied with the “semi-victory” and blames the
two German division commanders for it. 23 In reality, he bears a considerable share of
responsibility since he refused to transfer the local general command to one of them despite
22
23
Irving, Rommel. Eine Biographie, p. 126.
Stegemann, Die italienisch-deutsche Kriegführung im Mittelmeer und in Afrika, p. 637.
7
poor communication links. This was essentially the reason for the coordination problems that
prevented the annihilation of the enemy.
The two victories near the Egyptian border were important for Rommel since they gave him
time to prepare carefully for the conquest of Tobruk. A closer look, however, puts his
contribution to the successes into perspective. Despite this, he was able to take the credit for
them thanks to the support of NS propaganda. Hitler rewarded him with the promotion to full
general (General der Panzertruppen) and upgrading his command to that of Panzergruppe
Afrika.
V
Four months later, November 18, 1941: Rommel returns to his headquarters at Tobruk. He has
celebrated his 50th birthday in Rome and spent a short holiday there, together with his wife.
Even before his departure, there have been increasing indications of an imminent new major
British offensive. Yet Rommel disregards the warnings from own ranks and Italian authorities
as well. He is completely focused on Tobruk. After thorough preparations, he is determined to
attack and finally conquer the stronghold on November 21. The enemy knows this and intends
to pre-empt him by striking first. On November 18, the very day of Rommel’s return to North
Africa, the newly formed British 8th Army launches Operation Crusader, with almost twice
the number of tanks the Panzer Army has. As late as the next day, however, Lieutenant
General Ludwig Crüwell, the new general commanding the Africa Corps, can convince his
commander-in-chief of this fact. It is his insistence that prompts Rommel to take action. 24 As
a result, a furious battle is developing between the motorized and armoured troops of both
sides between the Egyptian border and Tobruk that lasts for several days. Under Crüwell’s
command, the German and Italian forces on November 23 inflict an annihilating defeat on the
enemy spearhead, which has advanced well forward, preventing it from breaking through to
Tobruk. Due to their own heavy losses, however, the Axis forces win a Pyrrhic victory. 25
For the Panzergruppe Afrika, the question is now whether it will be able to stand up to
the enemy, who continues to retain Tobruk and has large supplies of materiel in Egypt.
Furthermore, the situation is confused. Crüwell therefore intends to first consolidate his
24
Ibidem, p. 664.
Taysen, Tobruk 1941. Der Kampf in Nordafrika, 250; Stegemann, Die italienisch-deutsche Kriegführung im
Mittelmeer und in Afrika, p. 669.
25
8
forces, being well aware of the fact that for the Germans more than for the British it is of vital
importance to recover and repair own combat vehicles being damaged in battle But then
Rommel appears on the scene in a way which has not only recently raised serious doubts
about his sense of reality and his suitability as a higher commander. Largely on an impulse, he
orders the battle-weary forces of the Africa Corps to pursue an enemy, who is apparently
defeated, but whose strength and positions he knows little about. Blind in this sense, but
obsessed with the intention to cut off the opponent’s retreat across the Egyptian border, he
places all available units directly under his command, takes himself the lead of the force
aboard his command vehicle and sets off to the starting line for the British offensive about
100 km away.
Rommel has estimated that his operation will take less than 24 hours to complete.
Within this time, he intends to corner and destroy the British army and return to Tobruk, in
addition to liberating any German units that have been overrun by the British offensive. In the
meantime, it is left up to the senior general staff officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Siegfried
Westphal, to master the Panzer Group from the headquarters south of Tobruk. As to adequate
supplies for this “dash to the wire”, as the operation is also called, Rommel relies on seizing
the British supply dumps near the Egyptian border, though he has only vague knowledge of
them.
The inevitable happens: the operation descends into chaos. The hasty departure causes
the units to get spread out over a vast distance and area. Rommel himself gets lost near the
Egyptian border and is lucky to escape being taken prisoner. Even worse, the British supply
dumps that were hoped to be found are in fact missed. For quite a while, command and
control of the dispersed units are lost completely because the communication means are
entirely inadequate. It also becomes apparent that Rommel could not succeed. For the British
army is not withdrawing, but continuing its offensive to relieve Tobruk despite heavy losses it
has suffered. Furthermore, a breakout by the garrison brings about the collapse of the weak
German-Italian circumvallation in the south east on November 26.
It is this extremely difficult situation at Tobruk, deep in his own rear, that prompts
Rommel to turn back finally. But it is Lieutenant-Colonel Westphal, who saves the situation
for the time being. Having no idea where Rommel is to be found and without radio contact to
him, he orders the expedition units back to Tobruk on his own authority. With much luck and
9
thanks to British mistakes in command 26, the remaining shreds of the Africa Corps are able to
make it through to the rear of the enemy’s spearheads near Tobruk. In accordance with a plan
devised by Crüwell, who simply ignores Rommel’s different orders, the corps makes a final
effort and forces the 8th Army to withdraw, patching up the circumvallation around Tobruk. In
contrast, all action during the next days ordered by Rommel to liberate encircled units in the
Egyptian border region fails, with causing heavy losses. The enemy is by no means defeated;
he has sufficient reserves and rallies to continue his offensive. In contrast, the combat power
of the Panzergruppe Afrika has reached an absolute low. As the army battle report of
December 4 reveals, both German Panzer divisions together have no more armour than a
weak tank battalion, the infantry units are reduced to two thirds or even half of their initial
strength. 27 Little is to be expected in the way of fresh personal and materiel, and fuel has
stopped coming through. The British successes against the supply of the Axis across the
Mediterranean Sea are painfully felt; supply convoys on land feel the excessive strain because
of the long distances that have to be covered. All in all, the Panzer Group is no longer a match
for a new British offensive. Rommel comes to realize this by December 7. Under the
compulsion of the circumstances he withdraws his forces to positions 60 km west of Tobruk.
But the pressure of the superior enemy soon forces him to completely abandon Cyrenaica. In
mid-January 1942, he is back where he set out from ten months earlier.
VI
Judging him by the targets he had set, Rommel must be said to have failed. He was neither
able to conquer Tobruk and to knock out the British field army definitely, nor did he achieve
his most ambitious aim, that of reaching the Suez Canal. In the end, he was thrown back to his
initial position. Rommel himself, however, had laid the foundation for his failure: by singlehandedly extending his mission without taking account of the complete shortage of resources.
His success was sometimes astounding, but it lasted only as long as the opponent was
surprised or weakened due to other circumstances. He attacked Tobruk blindly, incurring
heavy losses. For a time, he was able to withstand the growing superiority of the enemy on the
battlefield between Tobruk and the Egyptian border, benefitting greatly from mistakes made
26
Kitchen, Rommel’s Desert War: Waging World War II in North Africa, 1941-1943, pp. 167-168, places the
th
blame for this mismanagement on Lieutenant General Neil M. Ritchie, the new commander of the 8 Army
since 26 November.
27
For the exact numbers, see: Taysen, Tobruk 1941. Der Kampf in Nordafrika, pp. 314-315.
10
by the enemy. However, he owed his victories mainly to capable staff officers and
commanders who were able to make up for his own inadequacies as an operational leader
thanks to the German command and control structure.
Even at the time, knowledgeable contemporaries could well see through Rommel’s
spectacular successes. Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt, Rommel’s superior in 1940 and
1944, put it in a nutshell: For him, Rommel was “at best a good division commander, but no
more than that.” 28 In other words, Rundstedt saw the military talent of the “desert fox” strictly
confined to the tactical level of command. There is nothing else to be added.
28
Irving, Rommel. Eine Biographie, p. 16.
11
The Three Wars for the Mediterranean:
British Strategy and the Desert War, 1940-1943
Simon Ball
Between June 1940 and May 1945 Britain fought significant land, sea and air
campaigns in the Mediterranean theatre. Between June 1940 and May 1943 the
British fought a series of significant battles in order to move an army along the North
African littoral from Egypt to Tunisia.
The question of Britain’s goal in waging these battles remains a puzzle. After
the War British commentators, led by Churchill, tried to impose some rational
structure on the development of British strategy. Contemporary accounts do not tend
to validate the notion of rational development. In the post-war words of Sir Alan
Brooke, ‘we worked from day to day, a hand-to-mouth existence with a policy based
on opportunism. Every wind that blew swung us like a weathercock.’1
An analysis of British campaigns reveals that they were fighting three parallel
wars in the Mediterranean: apart from the war in the Mediterranean there were
overlapping strategies to fight a war through the Mediterranean and a war to escape
the Mediterranean.
The first point to make is that the British were not fighting for ‘the desert’.
There was nothing remotely strategically interesting about ‘the desert’. They were
fighting for a coast road, and a series of port settlements, and aerodromes. Coastal
Cyrenaica was not a desert: the irrigated coastal towns and the terraces of the Green
Mountain were fertile if delicate ecosystems. The road from Derna led into the Vale
1
Alex Danchev and Dan Todman, eds, Field Marshal Lord Alanbrooke: War Diaries, 1939-1945
(London, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2001). Brooke was commenting on the situation on 3 December
1941, a few days after he became Chief of the Imperial General Staff.
1
of Barce where barren moorlands had been made to give out flowers and fruit and all
the rich things of modern farming’. In 1934, when Libya had been created by decree,
there had been no roads linking Tripolitania and Cyrenaica, the main form of transport
was a weekly boat between Tripoli and Benghazi. Marshal Balbo built a one thousand
three hundred mile highway from the Tunisian border to the Egyptian frontier – the
‘Balbia’. Construction began in October 1935 and was completed in January 1937.2
Churchill speculated at the outset of the desert war, ‘it may be … that the desert itself
affords free movement to the enemy’s supplies. I wonder whether this is so, and if so,
why the Italians were at pains to construct this lengthy road.’3
British ambition was defined by how far they intended to go along the road.
When the British recaptured Sollum, ‘the most distinctive spot in the Western Desert’,
where immense six hundred foot high cliffs, falling from the desert plateau, clipped
the Mediterranean coast, in December 1940, the commander-in-chief, Middle East,
Sir Archibald Wavell, agreed with the commander-in-chief Mediterranean, Sir
Andrew Cunningham, and the AOC ME, Sir Arthur Longmore, that their target was
the Mediterranean ports, first Bardia and ultimately Tobruk.4 In the spring of 1941,
‘the Chiefs of Staff were of the opinion that we should make certain of our hold of the
Eastern Mediterranean ... to carry out this policy, we must first of all clear out
Cyrenaica, and secure Benghazi. This would deprive the Italians and the Germans of
all the first class aerodromes within striking distance of Alexandria.’5 Following the
fall of Crete in May 1941, Andrew Cunningham defined strategy as ‘to try and close
[the] southern flank.’ ‘If,’ he said, ‘the army can advance sufficiently to reach, say,
2
Steven Morewood, The British Defence of Egypt, 1935-1940: Conflict and Crisis in the Eastern
Mediterranean (London, 2005), pp. 124, 133.
3
Churchill to Ismay, 10 July 1940 printed in Churchill War Papers (New York, Norton, 1993
onwards), II, p. 499.
4
I. S. O. Playfair, The Mediterranean & Middle East, I (London, HMSO, amended edition, 1974), pp.
257-275; Victoria Schofield, Wavell: Soldier and Statesman (London, John Murray, 2006), pp. 145164.
5
Minutes of Defence Committee (Operations), 20 January 1941 printed in CWP, III, pp. 101-104.
2
Derna, a good deal will have been done … the whole object of thus clearing the
Southern flank is to provide a series of airfields’.6
Derna was less than 200 miles by ship from Egypt. Its position on the bulge of
the Libyan plateau, which pushed out into the Mediterranean, gave it its strategic
attraction: not only was it a short flight from the Sicilian Narrows but it was in range
of Greece and the Aegean. A key reason for the slow advance of the 8th Army in
November 1942, after El Alamein, was a belief in the pivotal importance of Derna.
‘My final objective’, Montgomery recorded in his ‘pursuit diary’, ‘was to establish the
RAF in the [Derna] triangle of aerodromes; from this area the RAF could dominate
the Mediterranean’.7
John North, one of the first historians of the desert war, noticed in 1944 that,
‘the war in the Mediterranean was … only superficially a struggle between land
armies for victory or defeat on the field of battle … land fighting as such … [was] no
more than incidental to a vast strategic picture in which land forces … were called
upon to carry to a decisive conclusion a series of campaigns which, in their deeper
aspect, were essentially sea and air operations.’8 The act of fighting in the desert, it
sometimes seemed, had a metaphysical rather than a strategic value. ‘Far more
important than the loss of ground is the idea that we cannot face the Germans and
their appearance is enough to drive us back many scores of miles,’ Churchill wrote in
April 1941. ‘Sooner or later we shall have to fight Huns.’9 Sir Henry Pownall told his
6
Michael Simpson, ed. The Cunningham Papers, Volume I: The Mediterranean Fleet, 1939-1942
(Aldershot, Ashgate, 1999), Cunningham to Pound, 28 May 1941.
7
Nigel Hamilton, Monty, II: Master of the Battlefield, 1942–44 (London, Sceptre, 1987), pp. 56–7.
8
John North, ‘Lessons of the North African Campaign’, Military Affairs, 8 (Fall 1944), pp. 161-169,
161.
9
Churchill to Eden, 3 April 1941 quoted in CWP, III, p. 445.
3
American opposite number in September 1941 that ‘we can’t beat Germany in the
Middle East ... but we can fight Germans there.’10
The second point to make is that strategy operated at two levels. The first level
of high-level policy makers did not tend to explain themselves in detail in public.
Nevertheless there was a ‘strategic public sphere’ in which politicians and journalists
tried to work out what Britain was fighting for. This public sphere persisted
throughout the post-war period, and shaped the memory of the Desert War. In 1945
John North, wrote of ‘the attempt to resolve [the] as yet unresolved question of grand
strategy’ in the Mediterranean. He also warned, in vain, that ‘today, after victory,
these are but arid topics’.11
Through the Mediterranean
The British described their Mediterranean as an ‘artery’.12 Armies and navies made
the passage to the East through the artery, raw materials, tin, rubber, tea and, above
all, oil, made their way West. On any given day in the mid-1930s the tonnage of
British shipping in the Mediterranean was second only to that found in the North
Atlantic. Seven million tons of commercial shipping called at Gibraltar every year.13
The Mediterranean was not, however, Britain’s only arterial route. Many of the same
destinations could be reached by sailing the Atlantic-Indian Ocean route around
Africa via the Cape of Good Hope. The Mediterranean’s chief attraction was speed. A
ship steaming from the Port of London to Bombay would take a full fortnight longer,
and travel nearly four-and-a-half thousand miles more, to reach its destination if it did
10
Brian Bond, ed., Chief of Staff: The Diaries of Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Pownall, II, (London,
Leo Cooper, 1974), 20 September 1941.
11
John North, ‘Two Armies’, Military Affairs, 9 (Fall 1945), pp. 270-274.
12
Elizabeth Monroe, The Mediterranean in Politics (Oxford, OUP, 1938), p. 11.
13
D. H. Cole, Imperial Military Geography: General Characteristics of the Empire in Relation to
Defence (London, Sifton Praed, 8th edition, April 1935), pp. 89-112, 291-292.
4
not pass through the Mediterranean. For the British, Mussolini charged, the
Mediterranean was no more than, ‘a short cut whereby the British empire reaches
more rapidly its outlying territories.’14
A hostile Italy made it hard to imagine ‘the artery’ as a centrepiece of strategy.
As early as 1925 the iconoclastic British military thinker Basil Liddell Hart had
written that, ‘when to the proved menace of submarine power is added the potential
effect of aircraft attack against shipping in the narrow seas, it is time the British
people awoke to the fact that, in the case of such a war, the Mediterranean would be
impassable, and that this important artery would have to be abandoned.’ The Suez
Canal was really of little use, since shipping would have to sail instead around the
Cape of Good Hope. Returning to the subject in the 1937 Liddell Hart was satisfied
that his predictions had proved accurate.15 In public navalists rejected new thinking on
Mediterranean strategy.16 Yet for all their protestations about the sanctity of their
battleships, the Admirals were, in reality, far from sanguine. Dudley Pound, the
wartime First Sea Lord, then commanding the Mediterranean Fleet, organised naval
and air manoeuvres to test the possibilities of moving slow and fast convoys through
the Mediterranean. His conclusions were not encouraging. The movement of a convoy
through the Mediterranean, if opposed by Italian submarines and aeroplanes, would
become a major fleet operation. As a result, ‘the Central and Eastern Mediterranean,
though seemingly one of the nearest of the foreign stations, becomes ... the most
distant of all’.17 In 1938 General ‘Tiny’ Ironside, subsequently Chief of the Imperial
General Staff, was sent to inspect British military preparations in the Mediterranean.
14
‘Italian Role in Europe; Mediterranean Interests; Duce and British Policy, The Times, 2 November
1936, 14.
15
Basil Liddell Hart, ‘The Strategic Future of the Mediterranean’, Yale Review, 26/2 (1937), pp. 232245.
16
Admiral Sir Herbert Richmond, ‘The Strategy of the Mediterranean’, Foreign Affairs, 14 (1935/36),
pp. 274-282.
17
Lawrence Pratt, East of Malta, West of Suez: Britain’s Mediterranean Crisis, 1936-1939
(Cambridge, 1975), p. 119.
5
He confided to his diary, ‘that it would be far too dangerous for our ships to think of
going into the Mediterranean until we have cleared the air properly’. Ironside
concluded that, ‘the Mediterranean was now much more vulnerable than the Navy
will ever admit’.18
The Royal Navy used a friendly defence correspondent, Hector Bywater, later
famous as the man who predicted Pearl Harbor, to put their doubts into the public
domain. Bywater made it his business to lay to rest some ‘myths’ about the
Mediterranean. ‘In my experience four people out of five are convinced that denial of
the Mediterranean route would lead to grave shortage of foodstuffs and raw materials
in Britain, if not to famine conditions. And yet that belief is unfounded.’ Few people
seemed to realise, ‘what an appalling liability the Mediterranean was to us during the
last war’. ‘It is,’ he concluded, ‘quite probable that a compromise policy would be
adopted, the effect of which would be that we should retain ... our strategic grip on the
Mediterranean route between Gibraltar and the Suez Canal by the conjoint use of
naval, military and air power, while declaring that route our of bounds for all noncombatant traffic.’ Bywater’s account proved an accurate description of the strategy
Britain adopted when it went to war with Italy in the summer of 1940.19 Within days
of becoming prime minister Churchill declared: ‘I regard the Mediterranean as
closed’.20
The ‘compromise policy’ narrowed the bounds of debate about the artery from
grand strategy to mainly operational concerns. It set up a persistent discord between
Churchill and his admirals as to whether military convoys could, or should, sail
through the Mediterranean. In July 1940 Churchill said that he was ‘going to insist
18
Roderick Macleod and Denis Kelly, eds, The Ironside Diaries, 1937-1940 (London, Constable,
1962), 26 June 1937 & 2 October 1938.
19
Hector Bywater, ‘The Changing Balance of Forces in the Mediterranean’, International Affairs, 16
(1937), pp. 361-387.
20
Churchill to Ismay, 29 May 1940 printed in CWP, II, p. 191.
6
that convoys should come through the Mediterranean’.21 The admirals, on the whole,
took a cautious line. The result was that between 1940 and 1942 each convoy sent
through the Mediterranean, beginning with HATS in August 1940, was the subject of
detailed and pressured debate. The convoys were infrequent, carefully planned, and
resource intensive. Their purpose was threefold, to transfer naval forces into the
eastern Mediterranean for offensive operations, mainly against Axis shipping,
reinforcing Middle East Command in Egypt, and latterly to re-supply Malta.
Sea power thus became the servant of land and air power, rather than vice
versa. This subordination was extraordinarily costly. In February 1942 the
Kriegsmarine were able to report to Hitler that, ‘the most significant factor at this
time is that not a single heavy British ship in the Mediterranean is fully seaworthy.
The Axis rules both the sea and the air in the Central Mediterranean … the
Mediterranean situation is definitely favourable at the moment … the British position
is at present weakest in the North-Africa-Suez area.’22 The British naval commanderin-chief in the Mediterranean, Andrew Cunningham, admitted in March 1942 that
although he had the largest command in the Royal Navy, ‘there is now no fleet to go
to sea in’.23 In his valedictory report Cunningham charged that Britain had lost sight
of why it was fighting in North Africa. ‘The strategic reason for our presence in
Gibraltar, Malta and the Middle East,’ he wrote in June 1942, ‘is in order that we may
have control of the Mediterranean Sea. At the moment that control has lapsed to an
alarming extent owing to our weakened sea power which is due in part to war losses
and weakness in the air and in part to the enemy success on land in capturing the
important air and sea bases which we need. ... Until our strategical direction is fully
21
Bernard Freyberg, Diary, 8 July 1940 printed in CWP, II, pp. 494-95.
Report by the Commander-in-Chief, Navy to the Fuehrer, 13 February 1942, Fuehrer Conferences
on Naval Affairs, IV, 1942 (London, Admiralty, June 1947).
23
Michael Simpson, ed. The Cunningham Papers, Volume I: The Mediterranean Fleet, 1939-1942
(Aldershot, Ashgate, 1999), 15 March 1942.
22
7
alive to the implications of sea power we shall fail to achieve our objects. Within the
Mediterranean the problem is principally that of application of sea power and our
fighting ashore should be directed to assist in that application.’24
The Chief of the Imperial General Staff, Alan Brooke, believed that Churchill
did not understand the true import of what Cunningham was telling him: ‘the situation
as regards shipping [without Mediterranean route] is most disturbing and one that the
PM will not face,’ he wrote in February 1942, ‘and yet it is the one situation that will
affect our whole strategy during the coming year.’25 When he returned to the
Mediterranean in November 1942, as naval commander for the Torch landings in
Morocco and Algeria, however, Cunningham discomfited Brooke by pointing out that
the arterial Mediterranean strategy was different from ‘the Mediterranean strategy’.
He told the Combined Chiefs of Staff at Casablanca that he could command the
Mediterranean without the possession of Sicily. He openly doubted whether
possession of the island, ‘would add very greatly to the security of the sea route
through the Mediterranean.’ ‘If we were in Sicily,’ Cunningham observed, ‘he would
estimate the route as being 90% or more secure, without Sicily it would be 85%
secure once we held the whole of the North African coast.’26
In retrospect the ‘arterial strategy’ made the most sense of Britain’s North
African campaigns. The land campaigns in Libya and Tunisia were by this measure
the handmaidens of a naval strategy. Indeed that strategy could be portrayed as a
specifically British triumph. On Trinity Sunday, 20 June 1943, King George VI sailed
in triumph from Tripoli to Valletta. ‘I thought,’ Cunningham wrote, ‘a visit to Malta
24
Cunningham, ‘Memorandum on Command in the Middle East’, 10 June 1942, Cunningham Papers,
I.
25
26
Brooke, War Diary, 4 February 1942.
Brooke, War Diary, 18 January 1943.
8
would have a great effect all over the British Empire.’27 ‘The Mediterranean route to
the East,’ the British declared in June 1943, ‘was again open’. By this they meant that
‘super convoys’ of well over a hundred ships at a time could sail west through the
Sicilian Narrows, passing beyond Malta to points in the eastern Mediterranean. Due to
their size these super convoys had a relatively low proportion of escorts to merchant
ships. Their composition was thus in stark contrast to the ‘compromise policy’ in
which a few merchant ships were fought through the Mediterranean by a much larger
flotilla of warships. A ship sailing from Liverpool to Egypt now had its journey time
shortened by forty-five days as a result of cutting through the Mediterranean instead
of having to sail around South Africa. The ‘opening’ of the Mediterranean actually
increased ship casualties in the short term: there were now many more merchant ships
to sink.28 As a proportion of the whole, however, such losses were annoying rather
than serious.
By the summer of 1944 well over eight-hundred convoys, comprising twelvethousand ships, had passed through the Mediterranean.29 In his immediate retrospect
of the North African campaign John North argued that although the southern shipping
route via South Africa, ‘was never seriously imperilled by submarine or air attack, the
route itself represented an almost intolerable strain on Allied shipping … at a time
when U-boat warfare was still a prime factor in the outcome of the war in the west,
the clearing of the North African coastline, as a preliminary to the re-opening of the
Mediterranean route to Allied shipping, was a major strategic objective from the
transportation angle alone. … from that moment the Allied line of communication to
possible theatres of war in southern Europe was shortened, almost overnight, by some
27
Cunningham to Aunt Doodles, 24 June 1943, Michael Simpson, ed., The Cunningham Papers, II:
The Triumph of Allied Sea Power, 1942-1946 (Aldershot, Ashgate, 2006).
28
‘The Story of the North African Coastal Convoys’, AIR23/7511.
29
Mare Nostrum, 14 September 1944, AIR23/920; British, Allied and Neutral Merchant Ship Losses in
the Mediterranean and the Indian Ocean due to Enemy Action, AIR41/54.
9
eleven thousand miles.’30 He went on to acknowledge, however that a belief in the
primacy of the arterial strategy, ‘the safety of the Mediterranean route – the first
priority of the whole Allied strategy of the war’, posed difficult questions for British
conduct later in the war.31
Escaping the Mediterranean
In the ‘thirties Mussolini had predicted that the Mediterranean would become a
prison. The proper ‘historical objectives’ of empires were Asia, Africa and ‘the
Oceans’, not the Mediterranean itself. The Italian dictator was not the only
commentator to notice the confining nature of war in the Mediterranean. Admirals
Raeder and Doenitz, for instance, pointed out to Hitler that ships only entered the
Middle Sea: they never left.32 ‘I thought we should’, Churchill said of his own
brainchild, Anzio, ‘fling a wildcat ashore and all we got was an old stranded whale on
the beach.’33
As an existing global empire the British had historically been less concerned
about becoming trapped in the Mediterranean. As a result thinking about ‘the escape
from the Mediterranean’ was much less developed than the ‘arterial strategy’. In
March 1940 Winston Churchill, then still First Lord of the Admiralty, wrote that ‘the
question that stares us in the face is “How are we going to win the war?”’34
30
John North, ‘Lessons of the North African Campaign’, p. 161.
John North, ‘Two Armies’, pp. 270-274.
32
Report of the Commander-in-Chief, Navy to the Fuehrer, 20 April 1941; Conference of the
Commander-in-Chief, Navy with the Fuehrer at HQ Wolfsschanze in the afternoon of 25 July 1941;
Report by the Commander-in-Chief, Navy to the Fuehrer in Berlin, 12 December 1941, Fuehrer
Conferences on Naval Affairs, III, 1941 (London, Admiralty, October 1947); German U-Boats Detailed
for the Mediterranean and the Account of their Fate, September 1941 to September 1944, AIR41/54.
33
John Colville, The Fringes of Power: Downing Street Diaries, II, (London, 1987), 3 March 1944.
34
Churchill to Pound, 23 March 1940 printed in CWP, I, pp. 910-912.
31
10
In 1940 Churchill argued that the ‘supreme strategic operation’ should be an
escape from the Mediterranean. The argument about the form and direction of the
escape from the Mediterranean is what came to be known as ‘the Mediterranean
strategy’ in Michael Howard’s classic use of the phrase.35 That argument formed the
centrepiece of Anglo-American debates in the middle years of the war. By that time
Britain had a complex system of strategic decision-making: large staffs produced
endless papers on the subject. At root, however, British strategy rested on some
nebulous assumptions held over from the early years of the war. These assumptions
boiled down to two beliefs. First, that Britain’s enemies could indeed be ‘bottled up’
in the Mediterranean. ‘Should war be forced upon us by Italy in the Mediterranean,’
Churchill wrote to his naval commanders just before he became prime minister, ‘I do
not see why we are obliged to take immediate offensive action. By closing Gibraltar
and the Canal we inflict immense damage on Italy, and it is for her to come far from
her bases to retaliate or try to break this distant blockade.’36 Second, that some kind of
coup de main in the Mediterranean would provide a ‘quick fix’ that would unravel the
Axis.
The ‘quick fix’ had, in fact, been abandoned as a strategy before the outbreak
of the war. Mediterranean war planning reached a crescendo in the spring and early
summer of 1939. Then the bubble of expectations burst. In May 1939 Sir Roger
Backhouse, the most outspoken champion of the ‘quick fix’ died in office. His
successor as First Sea Lord, Dudley Pound, who would hold the post until his own
premature death in 1943, arrived at the Admiralty fresh from commanding the
Mediterranean Fleet. From his headquarters in Malta, Pound had regarded the stream
of scenarios for a ‘knock out’ blow against Italy that had flowed from London with
35
Michael Howard, The Mediterranean Strategy in the Second World War (London, 1968) & Michael
Howard, Grand Strategy, August 1942-September 1943 (London, HMSO, 1972).
36
Churchill to Pound & Phillips, 1 May 1940 printed in CWP, I, pp. 1181-82.
11
contempt. The Royal Navy performed a volte-face. ‘Britain,’ it now stated, ‘could not,
as hitherto contemplated … undertake offensive naval action’ in the Mediterranean.37
Although Pound killed off the specific war plans, the belief in the ‘quick fix’
proved too strong to shake for long. This belief was most publicly resuscitated in the
propaganda and political initiative of Churchill’s Christmas 1940, ‘Appeal to the
Italian People’. ‘One man and one man alone has ranged the Italian people in deadly
struggle against the British Empire,’ Churchill claimed, ‘to stand up to the battery of
the whole British Empire on sea, in the air, and in Africa’. As a result Italy had to
‘call in Attila over the Brenner Pass with his hordes of ravenous soldiery and his
gangs of Gestapo policemen to occupy, hold down.’ The response should be clear,
‘the Italian nation will once more take a hand in shaping its own fortunes; surely the
Italian army … [which] evidently has no heart for the job, should take some care of
the life and future of Italy.’38 The first stage of either ‘bottling up’ or the ‘quick fix’
would be the seizure of the ‘delectable prizes on the Libyan shore’.39
With regard to both ‘bottling up’ and the ‘quick fix’ it could be argued that
others’ assumptions about what the British could do were as important as actual
British plans.40 In January 1941 Hitler directed that ‘the situation in the Mediterranean
area, where England is employing superior forces against our allies, requires that
Germany should assist for reasons of strategy, politics and psychology’.41 In February
1941 Hitler decided to intervene in North Africa. His reasoning was based on the fear
of ‘bottling up’. The loss of Libya in itself was bearable, but it might cause Italy to
drop out of the war. Germany would then be hemmed into the south coast of France.
37
Reynolds Salerno, Vital Crossroads: Mediterranean Origins of the Second World War, 1935-1940
(Ithaca, 2002), p. 131.
38
‘Mr. Churchill Speaks to the Italian People’, The Times, 24 December 1940.
39
Churchill to Ismay (for COS), 6 January 1941 printed in CWP, III.
40
Directive 20, 20 December 1940 in Hugh Trevor-Roper (ed.), Hitler’s War Directives, 1939–1945
(Edinburgh, Birlinn, 2004).
41
Hitler Directive 22, 11 January 1941.
12
After the war Kesselring argued that Germany had played into Britain’s hands by
taking a half-hearted approach to the threat of being bottled up. The ‘main error,’ he
claimed, ‘lay in a total misunderstanding of the importance of the African and
Mediterranean theatre. I never understood the ideas of Hitler and the Wehrmacht
operations staff. Their fundamental mistake was completely to misjudge the
importance of the Mediterranean theatre. They would not or could not see that from
the end of 1941 the colonial war had taken on a different aspect, that Africa had
become a theatre in which decisions vital to Europe were maturing.’42
‘Bottling up’ could be a conservative strategy. In an argument with the senior
US army officer in the UK the Vice-Chief of the Imperial General Staff produced a
glum version of ‘bottling up’ in North Africa: Britain could ‘fight Germans there, add
to her difficulties, keep away from her material resources she needs and hold the same
for ourselves, and produce a “bloc” to impede her south-eastwards expansion. Surely
these are all worth doing? Wars are won by a combination of a number of conditions
... one can’t reject any one of them because in itself it is not sufficient to deliver a
knock-out blow.’43
Churchill argued, however, that ‘bottling up’ would require more than action
in North Africa: ‘the PM said that he was anxious to give the war a more active scope
in the Mediterranean. We were being attacked at Malta ... and we should not doubt
see the Germans arrive at Salonika. Greece might be ruined. We would find it
difficult, if not impossible, to parry these blows and therefore, we must take steps to
counter them by aggressive action at some point.’44 The Greek expedition had more to
do with politics than strategy. The permanent under-secretary at the Foreign Office
noted in February 1941 that ‘it must, in the end, be a failure … [but] better to have
42
Albert Kesselring, Memoirs (London, William Kimber, 1953), p. 157.
Pownall, Diary, 20 September 1941.
44
Minutes of Defence Committee (Operations), 20 January 1941 printed in CWP, III, pp. 101-104.
43
13
failed in a decent project than never to have tried at all.’45 Churchill cabled Eden that
it was ‘difficult … to believe that we have any power to avert fate of Greece ... [but]
loss of Greece and Balkans by no means a major catastrophe for us’. He calculated
that, ‘our ignominious ejection from Greece would do us [less harm] … than the fact
of submission of Balkans, which with our scanty forces alone we have never been
expected to prevent.’46
Contemporaries made even greater claims for counter-factual ‘bottling up’.
The Spectator argued in April 1941 that ‘the importance of [the Mediterranean] is
beyond exaggeration … it is the scene today of a strategy vast in its conceptions …
German pincers movement is notorious … in the Mediterranean area two such
movements, or attempted movements, are in progress, the one directed from the north
and south of that sea, with the remainder of the Balkans, Turkey, Syria, Palestine, Iraq
and Egypt as its destined prey, the other, geographically still more ambitious, aiming
at securing Spain, Morocco, Tunis, Algeria and Libya, as well as the eastern spoils,
and thus adding the whole of the Iberian peninsula, with the northern and much of the
western coast of Africa, to the projected booty … both more practical and more
attractive than the invasion of Britain. And imaginative though the conception may
be, let us not suppose for a moment that it is merely visionary. It can be, and may be,
realised unless we take prompt and vigorous measures to prevent that.’47 In 1946
Norman Angell claimed to have ‘put again and again to American anti-imperialists
the question: ‘Would not Germany and Japan have won their war against the West
45
David Dilks (ed.), The Diaries of Sir Alexander Cadogan 1938–45 (London, Cassell, 1971), 24
February 1941.
46
Churchill to Eden, 5 March 1941 printed in CWP, III, pp. 311-312.
47
‘The Mediterranean War’, The Spectator, 25 April 1941, pp. 440-441.
14
and its institutions if there had been no British Empire in 1940 – no Gibraltar, Malta, a
base in Egypt to prevent the junction of the totalitarian powers?’48
The actual importance of Egypt, as the stopper in the bottle remained a moot
point. Some commanders had doubts about either moral or physical bottling up. Sir
Arthur Longmore, the commander of the RAF in the Middle East, said ‘it really didn’t
matter whether we held Egypt or not. All we had to do was to fall South and let the
Mediterranean look after itself.’49 Military doubts about ‘bottling up’ culminated in a
confrontation between Churchill and Sir John Dill, the Chief of the Imperial General
Staff, which resulted in an irreparable breach between the two men. Dill told
Churchill that, ‘the loss of Egypt would be a calamity which I do not regard as likely
and one which we should not accept without a most desperate fight; but it would not
end the War. Churchill replied contemptuously that, ‘I gather you would be prepared
to face the loss of Egypt and the Nile Valley, together with the surrender or ruining of
the Army of half a million we have concentrated there ... I do not take that view’.50
In the great crisis of the summer of 1942 when Churchill himself went to
Cairo to replace Britain’s army commanders, there was a discussion between him and
Dill’s successor, Alan Brooke. ‘We discussed the relative importance of Egypt as
opposed to Abadan,’ Brooke recorded, ‘and all agreed that the latter’s importance was
paramount.’51 Churchill announced that a Persia-Iraq Command would be split off
from Middle East Command. The military commanders whom Churchill left behind
in Cairo, however, pointed out that the grand strategies discussed during the prime
minister’s visit were not necessarily relevant: the future lay not in great imagined
sweeps across the Caucasus in months to come but in what happened in North Africa
48
Sir Norman Angell, ‘America-Britain’, The Spectator, 20 September 1946, pp. 281-282.
Trefor Evans, ed., The Killearn Diaries, 1934-1946 (London, 1972), 14 April 1941.
50
Alex Danchev, ‘Dilly-Dally, or Having the Last Word: FM Sir John Dill and PM Winston
Churchill’, Journal of Contemporary History, 22 (1987), pp. 21-44.
51
Brooke, War Diary, 4 August 1942.
49
15
in days to come. ‘Jumbo’ Wilson, although appointed to head the Persia-Iraq
command, headed west rather than east, taking command of the force that would fight
on in Egypt if Rommel destroyed the field army at Alamein.52
The ambiguous strategy of ‘bottling up’ had to suffice whilst the battle for
North Africa was in the balance. The ‘quick fix’ returned as victory appeared more
likely. Brooke said to his staff officer, John Kennedy, before they set off for the
Casablanca conference that he was, ‘quite determined to go flat out in the
Mediterranean: if we can get near enough to bomb the Rumanian oil fields and cut the
Aegean and Turkish traffic there is a real probability that the Germans may collapse
within a year.’53 The main focus of the ‘quick fix’, however, remained Italy. There
was a consistency in British assumptions. When Brooke himself took office in
December 1941 he wrote ‘I am positive that our policy for the conduct of the war
should be to direct both our military and political efforts towards the early conquest of
North Africa. From there we shall be able to re-open the Mediterranean and to stage
offensive operations against Italy.’54 On first day of the Alamein offensive he
confirmed that, ‘just after taking on CIGS I had planned my policy for running the
war. I wanted to clear North Africa, open the Mediterranean, threaten Southern
Europe and at some later date liberate France’.55 On the final day of El Alamein he
wrote, ‘if we had failed again I should have little else to suggest beyond my relief by
someone with fresh and new ideas!’56 Actual experience in North Africa led some to
doubt the validity of the ‘quick fix’. Harold Macmillan, the British resident cabinet
minister sent to the Mediterranean in January 1943 observed, ‘the trouble is that no
52
Field-Marshal Lord Wilson of Libya, Eight Years Overseas, 1939-1947 (London, Hutchinson, 1948),
pp. 134-135.
53
Kennedy Diary, 8 December 1942 quoted in Nicholas Tamkin, ‘Britain’s Relations with Turkey
during the Second World War’, (Ph.D thesis, Cambridge University, 2006), 142.
54
Brooke, War Diary, 3 December 1942.
55
Brooke, War Diary, 23 October 1942.
56
Brooke, War Diary, 4 November 1942.
16
one really has any idea as to the future course of the war. ... and the experts cannot
give them any guidance. The better they are, the less willing I find them (I mean men
like Cunningham, Tedder and Alexander) to express a view. Certainly there is no sign
of any break in German morale on this front. They are fighting fiercely and
valiantly.’57 The ‘quick fix’ remained, however, at the heart of British strategy even
beyond the Italian ‘surrender’ of 8 September 1943.
Conclusion
The ambiguities of the parallel Mediterranean wars were apparent to contemporary
commentators. In 1952 the British geopolitical writer Gordon East, a champion of the
‘pivotal’ importance of the Mediterranean, returned to a subject that he had first
tackled in 1937. Then he had been sure that the Mediterranean ‘should be regarded in
its entirety . . . as part of the continent of Europe, with which its relationships,
physical and human, have been closest’.58 Fifteen years later he still maintained that
the Mediterranean had been vital to victory in Europe. ‘Allied sea power,’ East
argued, ‘taking advantage of the peninsular character of Europe, thus made
practicable the invasion of Italy … the “Mediterranean” school of strategists had
justified its views,’ he wrote in his post-war retrospect. ‘The grandiose strategy of the
enemy, which would have outflanked the Allied position in the Mediterranean by a
gigantic pincer movement directed toward the Middle East from the Caucasus and
from Libya, came to nothing,’ he observed. The British had thus fought a rational and
successful ‘war of escape’ that contrasted favourably ‘with the failure of the
57
Harold Macmillan, War Diaries: The War in the Mediterranean, 1943-1945 (London, 1984), 1 April
1943.
58
Gordon East, ‘The Mediterranean Problem’, Geographical Review, 28 (January 1938), pp. 83–101,
85.
17
Mediterranean strategists’ of the First World War, ‘the Easterners’. But, East
admitted, the war to escape the Mediterranean had, in fact, become a war for the
littoral, and had had entirely unpredicted consequences: ‘the revolutionary advent of
the state of Israel and the creation of an independent Libya in place of Italian North
Africa’.59
British strategy in the Desert, on the testimony of contemporary accounts, was
a strange beast. It rested on a series of counter-factuals. The Desert War made perfect
sense if Britain had been pursuing its arterial strategy. It is later campaigns that can be
challenged on that score. But from the beginning Britain was playing a bigger, if illdefined, game in North Africa. This game was more open to the accusation of being a
‘weathercock’.
59
Gordon East, ‘The Mediterranean: Pivot of Peace and War, Foreign Affairs, 31 (1952/1953), pp.
619–33, 621.
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30
The Desert War, 1940-1943
École française de Rome,
October 5-6, 2012
Assessing Fighting Power: The Case of the Italian Army
in North Africa, June 1940-May 1943
More than seventy years after the beginning of the North African campaign, the
importance of the Italian military participation on this theater of operation is still
neglected. The illusion that it was mainly a clash between Rommel and the British
forces persists.1 For many, the Italian poor performance against the British between June
1940 and February 1941 was all the evidence needed; Italian soldiers were badly
equipped, poorly led, not motivated, and “as is notorious, surrendered quite readily.”2
In one word, the Italian soldier was simply ineffective.3 The Italian collapse during
Operation Compass “created an indelible stereotype of military inefficiency.”4
The myths about Italian military ineffectiveness are reinforced by two factors.
The first is what Trani and Battistelli call the “limited familiarity with Italian military
records” of non-Italian historians.5 The same is true about the limited use by most nonItalian authors of the Italian army official history of the war; written in Italian and not
translated, the monographs of the Ufficio storico dello Stato maggiore dell’esercito
(Historical Branch of the Italian Army General Staff) are indispensable for those
In the English speaking world, a handful of scholars have thoroughly studied the Italian armed forces
during the Second World War. Thanks mainly to MacGregor Knox, Brian R. Sullivan and James J.
Sadkovich, others have been able to realize how important the Italian participation in the war was, and
especially in the North African campaign.
2 Niall Ferguson, “Prisoner Taking and Prisoner Killing in the Age of Total War: Towards a Political
Economy of Military Defeat”, War in History, 2004, 11(2), p. 170.
3 Mark Johnston, Fighting the Enemy: Australian soldiers and their adversaries in World War II, Cambridge,
Cambridge U.P., 2000, p. 12, p. 14.
4 Paddy Griffith, World War II Desert Tactics, Oxford, Osprey Publishing Limited, 2008, p. 17.
5 Silvia Trani, Pier Paolo Battistelli, “The Italian Military Records of the Second World War”, War in
History, 2010, 17(3), pp. 333-351.
1
1
interested in the Italian army between 1940 and 1945.6 A second is what we might call
the Rommel myth.7 Books on his life and his military skills are too numerous to be
listed. Unfortunately, few of them took into consideration Italian sources at all, and
many still trust the Rommel Papers as a reliable source on Italian military effectiveness.8
War time propaganda, Allied soldiers’ writings and shortcomings of official histories
completed these two factors.9
It took time for British and American scholars to adopt a more balanced view on
the Italian participation. David French exposes this “revisited” perspective:
However, it would be a mistake to explain away the setbacks the British suffered
solely by reference to superior German tactics and organization. Italian
formations also played an important role in Rommel’s successes in 1941-1942,
contributing more men than the Germans and roughly equal numbers of tanks.10
French reflects what Italian historians wrote for at least three decades. For the period
between March 1941 and May 1943, the Italians deployed an average of 150,000 men in
North Africa (support and combat troops).11 More important for the purpose of this
paper, the Italian forces improved. Paddy Griffith talks about the “renaissance of Italian
military competence.”12 Lucio Ceva proposes that in the first Italo-German offensive of
March 1941, the Italians “did not only fight with courage but also with ability”, while
Rochat underlines the overall buon comportamento (good performance) of the troops in
Only one important monograph has been translated in English, and not surprisingly, it is the book on
the battle(s) of El Alamein. See Mario Montanari, The Three Battles of El Alamein (June-November 1942),
Rome, Ufficio storico dello Stato maggiore dell’esercito (hereafter USSME), 2007.
7 Dennis Showalter, Hitler’s Panzers: The Lighting Attacks that Revolutionized Warfare, New York, Berkley
Caliber, 2009, pp. 148-149.
8 For a different point of view about Rommel and Italian military ineptitude, see James J. Sadkovich, «Of
Myth and Men : Rommel and the Italians in North Africa, 1940-1942 », The International History Review,
vol. XIII, no. 2, May 1991, pp. 284-313.
9 Johnston, Fighting the Enemy, p. 13.
10 David French, Raising Churchill’s Army: The British Army and the War against Germany 1919-1945, Oxford,
Oxford U.P., 2000, pp. 218-219. Unsurprisingly, French relies on the works of James J. Sadkovich and
Brian R. Sullivan.
11 Giorgio Rochat, Le guerre italiane 1935-1943 : Dall’impero d’Etiopia alla disfatta, Turin, Einaudi, 2005, p.
322.
12 Griffith, World War II Desert Tactics, p. 17.
6
2
North Africa.13 British intelligence confirmed, in August 1942, a “marked
improvement” of the Italian performance.14
It would be ludicrous to propose that German and Italian combat performances
were equal. Italians were no fools and they recognized that German units had, in
general, higher levels of fighting power. The soldier’s sense of superiority gained in the
early campaigns of the war, better and more abundant equipment, and superior
training made German units more effective than Italian ones.15 Moreover, a German
typical battalion also had more firepower than the Italian one.16 Siegfried Westphal
confirmed this view:
The Italian soldier was at a disadvantage compared with us as far as weapons,
equipment, and other imponderables were concerned. (…) The Army was
particularly at a disadvantage in respect of tanks, of anti-tank equipment,
artillery, and anti-aircraft defence. A considerable portion of the Army’s guns
was still composed of the booty collected on the collapse of Austria-Hungary in
the autumn of 1918. Their wireless posts were not in a position to transmit or
receive while on the move. (…) It was therefore incomparably more difficult for
our allies than for us. This has unfortunately not always been taken into account
when judging their achievements.17
He also affirmed: “At any rate, I am convinced that we would also have been unable to
achieve more success with such out-of-date and inadequate arms and equipment.”18 In
such a condition of sostanziale inferiorità (substantial inferiority), how was it possible for
the Italian troops to improve?19
Lucio Ceva, Storia delle forze armate in Italia, Turin, UTET, 1999, p. 304, Rochat, Le guerre italiane, p. 320,
p. 321, p. 350.
14 General Staff Intelligence, G.H.Q., Middle East Forces, Brief Notes on the Italian Army: August 1942,
London, Military Library Research Service Books, 2006, p. 5.
15 Archivio, Ufficio storico dello Stato maggiore dell’esercito (hereafter AUSSME), Comando Supremo, I
reparto-Ufficio Operazioni, Scacchiere Africa, I-3, 8, 4.
16 Giovanni Messe, La mia armata in Tunisia. Come finì la guerra in Africa, Milan, Mursia, 2004, p. 267.
17 Siegfried Westphal, “Notes on the Campaign in North Africa”, RUSI Journal, vol. CV, no. 617, February
1960, p. 72.
18 Westphal, “Notes on the Campaign in North Africa”, p. 72.
19 Giorgio Rochat, L’esercito italiano in pace e in guerra. Studi di storia militare, Milan, Istituti Editoriale di
Bibliofilia e Reprints, 1991, p. 241. See chapter XI, “Lo sforzo bellico 1940-1943: analisi di una sconfitta”,
pp. 241-261, and also Lucio Ceva, Africa settentrionale 1940-1943, negli studi e nella litteratura, Rome,
Bonacci, 1982, pp. 20-21, p. 23.
13
3
The aim of this paper is to analyze some elements that influenced the fighting
power of Italian troops. I believe that Italian units that were not destroyed in the first
British offensive and the remnants of the 10th Army recovered and improved.20 The
troops sent to Africa in 1941 and after experienced a “learning curve” according to the
circumstances and possibilities. As a result, Italian units became, despite different tasks,
an important factor in explaining the successes of the Axis. The intention is not to write
a narrative of Italian units’ performances, but rather to propose an understanding about
a complex phenomenon that is woefully neglected by non-Italian scholars.
Before going any further, the notion of fighting power must be briefly presented.
The expression became popular in a much debated work on the American and German
soldiers in World War II.21 The author defined it “as the sum total of mental qualities
that make armies fight”; it rests “on mental, intellectual, and organizational
foundations.”22 David French proposed, in his work on the British Army, that the
“combat capability of an army, that is its ability to generate and sustain fighting power,
is composed of three elements, the conceptual, the material, and the moral.”23
Both scholars emphasized the fact that fighting power is, in part, related to
morale and mental elements. During the campaign, and contrary to the belief, Italian
morale was not always low. The 10th Army defeat was not primarily due to a collapse of
morale: O’Connor won “because his army was better prepared than its opponent to
confront the peculiar conditions of the desert.”24 For Ceva, Italian inferiority was one of
methods and doctrines.25 In the spring of 1941, with the arrival of new divisions
(especially Ariete and Trento) and a concerted effort to train, things changed. Afterwards
and until the very end, Italian morale had always been determined by the ups and
downs of operations, by successes and reversals.
In this paper, I define fighting power as the capacity (“the ability to understand
or to do something”) to engage the enemy and to sustain combat. This minimalist
definition is based on three presuppositions. First, no military organization can provide
By February 12th, 1941, Montanari estimates the total number of Italians troops in western Libya to
80,000 men; this number includes the remnants of the 10 th Army, the 5th Army, other units and the freshly
arrived Ariete armored division. See Mario Montanari, Politica e strategia in cento anni di guerre italiane, Vol.
III, Il period fascista, Tome II, La seconda guerra mondiale, Rome, USSME, 2007, p. 303.
21 Martin van Creveld, Fighting Power: German and U.S. Army Performance, 1939-1945, Westport,
Greenwood Press, 1982.
22
van Creveld, Fighting Power, p. 3.
23
French, Raising Churchill’s Army, p. 11.
24
French, Raising Churchill’s Army, p. 212.
25 Ceva, Africa settentrionale, p. 19.
20
4
to all arms or units, within the duration of a war, the same capacity to engage the
enemy and to sustain combat. Second, to assess fighting power is to give a qualitative
judgment of a military unit in a specific situation; for instance, when a military unit is
barely capable to engage combat, and gives up fighting rapidly, it is an obvious case of
low fighting power. Third, fighting power manifests itself on the battlefield reality, but
its sources often take place in peacetime. Training for combat has never been a high
priority for the Italian army in peacetime; hence probabilities that setbacks caused by
poor training occurred in wartime were high. If weapons have anything to do with
fighting power, then Italian performance was depending, to an extent, on inadequate
prewar procurement programs as well as on low factories outputs.
The assessment of Italian fighting power is based here on three elements that are
closely related: weapons, training, and two specific battlefield contingencies. All
together, they provide a different insight about the Italians’ capacity to fight the British
forces for almost three years. True enough, other elements have played a decisive role
on the outcome of the North African campaign. For one, Mussolini’s decisions to invade
Greece and to send troops to fight against Soviet Union deprived the Italian forces in
Libya of thousands of vehicles and modern artillery. For Sadkovich and Ceva, there is
no doubt that this equipment could have made an impact on Italian fighting power.26
But there was obviously no room here to take into consideration all relevant factors.
Fighting power and weapons
Weapons are often seen as a large part of the explanation of the alleged low level of
Italian fighting power during the war.27 Needless to say, things are more complicated
than that. The following pages are not intended to examine each single weapon; that
26
James J. Sadkovich, “The Italo-Greek War in Context: Italian Priorities and Axis Diplomacy”, Journal of
Contemporary History, vol. 28, 1993, see tables 1 and 2, p. 441, and Lucio Ceva, “La campagna di Russia nel
quadro strategico della guerra fascista”, in his Guerra mondiale : Strategie e industria bellica 1939-1945,
Milan, FrancoAngeli, 2000, pp. 102-127.
27 On military procurement and industrial capacity, see Fortunato Minniti, “Il problema degli armamenti
nella preparazione militare italiana dal 1935 al 1943”, Storia contemporanea, IX, n. 1, February 1978, pp. 561, and a German perspective, Gerhard Schreiber, ”Political and Military Developments in the
Mediterranean Area, 1939-1940”, in Militärgeschichtliches Forschungsamt (Research Institute for Military
History) (ed.), Germany and the Second World War, Volume III, The Mediterranean, South-east Europe, and
North Africa 1939-1941, Oxford, Clarendon Press-Oxford, 1995, pp.62-98.
5
would be a lengthy undertaking.28 Nevertheless, the impression that the Italians were
always in a state of technical inferiority should be revisited.
The Italian soldier was equipped with the Mannlicher-Carcano rifle model 1891,
in either a 6,5mm calibre or an improved 7,35mm. The weapon had qualities and
weaknesses.29 The Carcano, although not as good as the British Lee Enfield Mark 3 or
Mark 4, didn’t impact much on fighting power. Very damaging was the lack of a
submachine gun for the infantry units. Strangely, the M.A.B. 38 was already available,
and according to Hoggs and Weeks, it was an excellent weapon.30 The fact that it had
never been produced in larger quantities and distributed to the infantry is
inexplicable.31 Instead, it was distributed to other formations, like the Polizia dell’Africa
Italiana (P. A. I.), paratroopers and carabinieri.32 Capable of a 500 rounds theoretical rate
of fire, it would have improved considerably the firepower of the infantry sections and
platoons.33 While other armies gradually provided their infantry with semi-automatic
or automatic weapons, the Italian did not.
Uneven quality characterized light and heavy machine guns, mortars and hand
grenades. The Breda 30 light machine gun didn’t meet the expectations and, although
not a bad weapon, was not a match for the British Bren. If the Fiat 35 heavy machine
gun gave a reasonable performance, its counterpart, the Breda 37 (and 38) was a very
good weapon appreciated by the troops, and easily matching the British machine
guns.34 Needless to say, both were not a match for the German MG 34 or MG 42. The
infantry used the 45mm Brixia and the 81mm mortars: the first one was easy to use,
light and appreciated by the troops but not very powerful; the second one was a fine
weapon, with a higher rate of fire than the Brixia (18 or more shots compared to 8-10)
and a range of 4,000 meters.35 In 1940, the infantry had three types of hand grenades for
offensive action with light explosive charges (usually between 150 and 200 grams) and
For a balanced overview, Mario Montanari, L’esercito italiano alla vigilia della 2a guerra mondiale, Rome,
USSME, 1993, pp. 240-261.
29 For different views about the characteristics of the Carcano, see Sullivan, “The Italian Soldier in Combat,
June 1940-September 1943”, p. 184, and Montanari, L’esercito italiano alla vigilia, pp. 240-241.
30 Ian V. Hoggs, John Weeks, Les armes légères du XXe siècle, Paris, Éditions De Vecchi, 1979, pp. 81-86.
31 Rochat, Le guerre italiane, p. 189.
32
Rochat, Le guerre italiane, p. 189. On the acquisition of the M.A.B. 38 by the P.A.I., see Piero Crociani, La
Polizia dell’Africa Italiana (1937-1945), Rome, Ufficio Storico della Polizia di Stato, pp. 56-57.
33
Giulio Benussi, Armi portabili, artiglierie e semoventi del regio esercito italiano, 1900-1943, Tratto da manuali
originali dell’epoca, Milan, Intergest, 1975, pp. 34-35.
34
Montanari, L’esercito italiano alla vigilia, p. 242.
35
Benussi, Armi portabili, artiglierie e semoventi del regio esercito italiano, pp. 57-59.
28
6
not a single one for defensive action, a non-sense according to Rochat.36 According to
Cappellano and Pignato, some units in North Africa, in the summer of 1940, used
improvised anti-tank grenades and other devices to compensate for the shortage of antitank guns.37 They became standard infantry weapons until the end of the campaign, as
the number of anti-tank guns was never sufficient. Their effectiveness against British
armour largely depended upon the circumstances and the training: clearly all men
didn’t have the “moral qualities” to use these weapons in an effective way.38
In 1940, two guns were used to support the infantry and provide an anti-tank
capacity. The first one was the 65/17 gun, a survivor of the Great War: more than 700
were still available in 1940. The weapon gave good results against enemy armour,
especially when mounted on a truck (often a captured Morris truck).39 Its counterpart
was the 47/32 gun, adopted in the second half of the 1930’s and seen among the best
weapons in its category in the late thirties.40 It was a much lighter weapon than the
65/17 (265kg against 570kg), precise and easy to use, although not design to be towed, a
serious disadvantage in North Africa. The weapon was used all through the war, and
despite its growing limited anti-tank capacity. By 1941, and even more in 1942 with the
arrival of American tanks, the 47/32 became less and less effective, hence putting the
Italian combatants in a state of inferiority and more and more dependent on divisional
artillery.41 Infantrymen had to use the gun at very close range (often less than 500
meters) in order to destroy enemy tanks.
Italian gunners found themselves in a situation of technical inferiority in 1940.
Montanari notes that the army had a total of 7,970 field guns available, but only 246 of
them were built after 1930.42 As most First World War guns were not upgraded, Italians
were often outgunned in terms of range and explosive power. An attempt to produce
modern guns took place in the 1930’s and demonstrated the capacity of the industry to
manufacture very good weapons; unfortunately, due largely to bureaucratic
inefficiency and hesitations, these weapons were always produced in very small
Benussi, Armi portabili, artiglierie e semoventi del regio esercito italiano, pp. 57-59, Rochat, Le guerre italiane,
p. 189.
37 Filippo Cappellano, Nicola Pignato, Andare contro i carri armati. L’evoluzione della difesa controcarro
nell’esercito italiano dal 1918 al 1945, Udine, Gaspari editore, 2007, p. 283.
38 Cappellano, Pignato, Andare contro i carri armati, p. 301.
39 Cappellano, Pignato, Andare contro i carri armati, pp. 32-33.
40 Cappellano, Pignato, Andare contro i carri armati, p. 38, Montanari, L’esercito italiano alla vigilia, p. 244.
41 Cappellano, Pignato, Andare contro i carri armati, p. 38.
42 Montanari, L’esercito italiano alla vigilia, p. 252. See a complete list of all guns available in June 1940, pp.
253-254.
36
7
quantities.43 Additionally, heavy modern guns were sparingly deployed: according to
Ceva, only 26 of them ever reached the African theater of operations.44 In one word,
divisional, army corps and army artillery units relied on old guns, with shorter range
and less powerful ammunition than the enemy. Despite their sound professional
preparation and good reputation, Italian gunners were, sometimes, handicapped in
their ability to engage the enemy.45
For many, the issue of the armoured fighting vehicles was the most serious
weakness of the Italian army during the North African campaign.46 In June 1940, the
only tanks available in the inventory were the light CV33-35 (also named L/33, L/35)
and the medium M 11/39.47 In Libya, Italian forces had only 324 L tanks and 15
armoured fighting vehicles available.48 After the first encounters with British forces, all
the M 11/39 were sent to Libya. The M 11/39 was equipped with a 37mm gun mounted
in the hull and lacked radio set. Its limitations became obvious and it was decided in
December 1940 to stop its production. In October, the first new M 13/40 arrived in
North Africa, and by then, the Italian had 454 tanks. The M 13/40 had a 47mm gun in a
turret and four 8mm machine guns. The first units produced were delivered without
radios, and it took a long time before the Italian general staff rectified this serious
shortcoming.49 Upgraded versions came in 1941 and 1942: the M 14/41 was equipped
with a more powerful engine while the M 15/42 was powered by a gas engine instead
of diesel.50
The M 13/40 (and the upgraded versions) became the backbone of Italian
armoured units until the end of the campaign. Its main weaknesses have never been put
right; the vehicle was not sufficiently protected and was underpowered. Its 47mm gun
Rochat, Le guerre italiane, pp. 189-190. On the inability to produce in large quantities a powerful antitank weapon, in this case the 75/32, see Cappellano, Pignato, Andare contro i carri armati, pp. 152-154.
44 Lucio Ceva, “La campagna di Russia nel quadro strategico della guerra fascista”, p. 117.
45 National Archives (UK), WO 106/2753, North Africa Lessons Learned.
46 On this topic, see the works of Lucio Ceva, Andrea Curami, La meccanizzazione dell’esercito fino al 1943,
tomo I, Rome, USSME, 1994 and Nicola Pignato, Filippo Cappellano, Gli autoveicoli da combattimento
dell’esercito italiano, volume secondo (1940-1945), Rome, USSME, 2002. For a non-Italian brief overview,
Richard M. Ogorkiewicz, Armor: A History of Mechanized Forces, New York, Praeger, 1960, pp. 237-249.
47 On the derivatives and upgraded versions of the L 3 and their uses in North Africa, see Filippo
Cappellano, Pier Paolo Battistelli, Italian Light Tanks, 1919-1945, Oxford, Osprey Publishing, 2012, pp. 3441.
48 Mario Montanari, Le operazioni in Africa settentrionale, Vol. 1-Sidi El Barrani (Giugno 1940-Febbraio 1941),
2a edizione, Rome, USSME, 1990, p. 463.
49 Ceva, Curami, La meccanizzazione dell’esercito, p. 315.
50 On Italian medium tanks, see Pignato, Cappellano, Gli autoveicoli da combattimento dell’esercito italiano,
pp. 239-282.
43
8
was a decent weapon and it was able to engage British armour in 1941.51 Its mechanical
reliability is a different question: it took time for the Italians to adapt the tank to the
desert environment (oil/air filters, among other things), and to realize the need for tank
carriers, recovery vehicles and repair shops. In August 1942, British intelligence wrote
that the M 13/40 “has been found mechanically to be very reliable.”52 After Operation
Crusader, General Auchinlek wrote that “moreover there were numerous Italian tanks,
which had shown themselves to be better than we had believed.”53 In January 1942,
Auchinlek added: “The Italian M 13 tanks, which, as a result of the experiences of the
previous campaign, we had been inclined to dismiss as valueless, fought well and had
an appreciable effect on the battle.”54 These lines convey an important reality, which is
that the quality of a tank depends on its crew. Needless to say, Italian crews were for a
good part the explanation of the M 13 effectiveness. Unfortunately, the arrival in the
spring of 1942 of the American M 3 Grant equipped with 75mm main gun in a sponson
and a 37mm in a turret considerably reduced the chances of Italian crews.
From early 1942 until May 1943, the Italian army finally deployed a new
armoured vehicle in North Africa: the 75/18 self-propelled gun (semovente). Originally
designed as a piece of mobile artillery, it became an anti-tank firing platform. Far from
being without flaws, the semovente was an improvement.55 When used in conjunction
with the M 13 or M 14, it provided additional and mobile firepower that lessened the
vulnerability of the tanks. In early 1942, a group of semoventi was integrated in the 132nd
artillery regiment of the Ariete and took part, with successes, in the operations that
culminated in early July.56 Regrettably, delayed initial production and low outputs (60
vehicles produced in 1941, 162 in 1942) severely hindered the possibilities of the new
weapon.57
Among all the shortcomings that flawed the Italian army, one of the most
incomprehensible was the lack of a modern armoured reconnaissance car in June 1940.
Despite years of presence in Libya, the importance of exploration and reconnaissance
51
On the limitations of the M 13 compared to the Panzer III, see Mario Montanari, Le operazioni in Africa
settentrionale,Vol. II-Tobruk (Marzo 1941-Gennaio 1942), Rome, USSME, 1993, p. 275.
52 General Staff Intelligence, G.H.Q., Middle East Forces, Brief Notes on the Italian Army, p. 86.
53 Claude J. E. Auchinlek, “Operations in the Middle East from 1 st November 1941 to 15 August 1942”,
Supplement to The London Gazette, 13th January, 1948, no. 38177, p. 313.
54 Auchinlek, “Operations in the Middle East from 1 st November 1941 to 15 August 1942”, p. 314.
55 Ceva, Curami, La meccanizzazione dell’esercito, p. 432.
56 Comitato per la storia dell’atiglieria italiana (ed.), Storia della artiglieria italiana, Parte V (Dal 1920 al
1943), Vol. XV (L’evoluzione dei concetti d’impiego, del tiro, della tecnica e dei materiali), Rome, Biblioteca
d’artiglieria e genio, 1953, p. 522.
57 Ceva, Curami, La meccanizzazione dell’esercito, p. 433.
9
was underscored. Prewar hesitations produced the usual delays and prototypes came
only in 1939. As a result, while the British started incursions into Libyan territory right
after June 10t, 1940, the Italians lacked the means to do so.58 Mass production of the
Autoblindo 40 started only in February 1941 and it was in October 1941 that the first
vehicles entered service in Africa.59 At the end of May 1942, no more than 93 AB 40 and
AB 41 reached the theater of operations. As it was the case with the semovente, the AB
series was not without flaws, but overall, it was a good vehicle capable to provide the
army with a much needed intelligence gathering capability.60 The AB 41 20mm gun was
capable to destroy light armoured vehicles and its autonomy, 400 kilometres without
jerricans, was satisfying.61 Among all the patrol cars used in North Africa by all the
belligerents, it was certainly one of the best.
Such a short examination of the available Italian weapons in North Africa can’t
lead to a simple conclusion. Nevertheless, two proposals are possible. First, as of June
1940, the Italian infantry had one major weakness: the number of anti-tank weapons
was not sufficient and its armoured units, equipped with L 3 and M 11/39, were
outclassed by British vehicles. On the other hand, the absence of a real patrol armoured
car was undeniably a weakness. The artillery was not in a state of critical inferiority: its
reliance on old vintage guns did not paralyze the capacity of gunners to engage combat.
The situation deteriorated in late 1941 and in a more drastic way in 1942. Two major
points explained the situation: the very limited capacity of the army to produce
upgraded equipment or brand new models. For instance, the qualitative jumps of
British armoured, first from cruiser and “I” tanks to the American Grant, then to the
Sherman, was something the Italians never experienced. In the case of tanks, Italian
inferiority grew drastically. In the case of anti-tank weapons, the infantry started the
war with the 47/32 gun; in Tunisia in early 1943, it was still the main weapon available.
For a time, improvisation helped the Italians to compensate the lack of appropriate
weapons: they mounted a number of guns of different calibres on all types of trucks,
often captured ones, in order to increase mobility and firepower.62 They were
alternative that gave appreciable results, but they had their limits. No armies in North
Africa experienced such a technical stagnation.
Andrew, L. Hargreaves, « The Advent, Evolution, and Value of british Specialist Formations in the
Desert War, 1940-43 », Global War Studies, 7 (2), 2010, pp. 7-61.
59 Ceva, Curami, La meccanizzazione dell’esercito, p. 418, Pignato, Cappellano, Gli autoveicoli da
combattimento dell’esercito italiano, p. 127.
60 AUSSME, Missione in Africa Settentrionale del Colonnello Bizzi, marzo 1942, N-1157, 12.
61 Pignato, Cappellano, Gli autoveicoli da combattimento dell’esercito italiano, p. 133.
62 Ceva, Curami, La meccanizzazione dell’esercito, pp. 404-418.
58
10
Second, the inability of Comando Supremo and the industry to provide the
combatants with large stocks amplified the qualitative gap. Sometimes material
abundance can compensate for technical inferiority. As we have previously seen, the
lack of standard 47mm anti-tank guns forced the Italians to rely on close combat antitank tactics. As the same time, the industry was capable to manufacture an excellent
weapon, the dual purpose 90/53 gun, but unable to mass produce it. The same logic
applied to the semovente, the autoblindo, or the 75/46 anti-aircraft gun: it seems that in
the case of the Italian weapons, quality and quantity didn’t get along well. As a result,
the combatants in North Africa were often short of weapons, a shortage largely due to
Mussolini’s senseless campaigns against Greece and USSR.
To an extent, the capacity of the Italians to keep up fighting for almost three
years with such equipment was remarkable. As the campaign unfolded, Italian
equipment became more and more obsolete, a degradation that placed the combatants
in a state of growing technical inferiority.63
Fighting power and training
The North African campaign demonstrated that most Italian combatants entered the
war in June 1940 poorly trained; the consequences would be terrible.64 It took some time
for the British to realize that fact: “It is not true that the Italians lacked courage, William
‘Strafer’ Gott told Anthony Eden, but they were simply not properly trained for the
realities of desert warfare.”65 It is well known that prewar training was, for many
reasons, inadequate and insufficient.66 More dramatic, and despite official regulations,
low levels of physical and technical preparations continued to characterize the initial
training system until the armistice.67 If some Italian units had very good level of
training and preparation, the overall quality of the training remained poor.68 The Italian
military leadership acknowledged these shortcomings, but the situation was not easy to
National Archives and Research Administration (NARA), T 821, roll. 23, 964, Note sulle operazioni in
Africa dall’agosto 1942 al gennaio 1943.
64
Lucio Ceva, La condotta italiana della guerra: Cavallero e il Comando supremo 1941/1942, Milan, Feltrinelli,
1975, p. 64.
65 Andrew Roberts, The Storm of War: A New History of the Second World War, London, Penguin Books,
2010, p. 122.
66 Rochat, L’esercito italiano in pace e in guerra, pp. 256-257.
67
On prewar training, Ministero della Guerra, Comando del Corpo di Stato Maggiore, Manuale di
regolamenti per I corsi allievi ufficiali di complemento, Rome, Edizioni Le Forze Armate, 1940, pp. 789-791.
68 No doubt that units like the Folgore, the Monte Cervino or the Savoia were very good. See Rochat,
L’esercito italiano in pace e in guerra, p. 256.
63
11
remedy. The professional qualities of some officers helped to improve the situation.
Unfortunately, adaptations and improvisations had their limits.
The level of combat preparation of the troops stationed in Libya in June 1940
was low. Prewar mood was characterized by caution and wishful thinking. The
prospect of a two-front war in Libya led to a defensive strategy for which the Italian
and Libyan units were considered ready for. Additionally, the Italian leadership
believed that an eventual campaign would remain a sort of large scale colonial
operation.69 In 1939 and 1940, Balbo and, after his death, Graziani were mainly
preoccupied to get their order of battle to war establishment, and to ask Rome for more
material.70 Actually, neither they nor Badoglio had any professional competency to
prepare the Italian forces for armoured warfare in the desert.71 In September 1939, in a
“Memoria per il Duce”, the situation was judged satisfying, although the overall quality
of the order of battle could be raised by “better leadership, intense training and by
measures to improvement morale and discipline.”72 As a result, the 236,000 men of the
5th and 10th armies were not trained for mobile operations with armoured vehicles, antitank combat, and reconnaissance.73 Most divisions lacked transportation and had to
walk in most circumstances. Worse, preparation for the use of lorry-borne infantry units
against the British didn’t take place, and improvisation eventually replaced real
training.74 Many units were still underequipped, especially with anti-tank guns; only
1,477 guns of all types were available for operations.75 The few armoured forces
equipped with the L 3 had no specific training, quite the opposite according to Ceva
and Curami.76 When the first M 11/39 tanks reached Libya, the crews had a very “poor
knowledge” of how to use them.77
General Guidi, commander-in-chief of the 10th army before June 1940, didn’t share this view. See
AUSSME, Diario storico, Comando della 10a armata, N-306, 14th November, 1939.
70 AUSSME, Comando Supremo, Ufficio Operazioni Esercito, Scacchiere Africa, I-4, 9, 9.
71 Nicola Pignato, “Prime esperienze italiane di guerra corazzata in Africa Settentrionale”, in Fortunato
Minniti (ed.), Quaderno 1999. Società italiana di storia militare, Naples, Edizioni Scientifiche Italiane, 2003, p.
96.
72 AUSSME, Diario Storico, Ministero dell’Africa italiana, Memoria per il Duce, Preparazione militare e
colonizzazione in Libia, N-1337, 25 settembre, 1939.
73 Montanari, Le operazioni in Africa settentrionale, Vol. 1, p. 20.
74 AUSSME, Diario storico, Comando Supremo Africa settentrionale, settembre/ottobre 1940, “Relazione
Comando XXIII Corpo d’Armata, 8 ottobre 1940”, N-306.
75 Montanari, Le operazioni in Africa settentrionale, Vol. 1, pp. 20-21.
76 Before the war, general Pariani supposedly said to general Caracciolo “non fare troppo addestramento
(“do not train too much”), in Ceva, Curami, La meccanizzazione dell’esercito, p. 290.
77 Ceva, Curami, La meccanizzazione dell’esercito, p. 308.
69
12
Subsequently, the training of units was mainly determined the operational
tempo and the possibilities and limits of “training on the spot”. In many ways the
experience acquired on the battlefield reflected itself in the official training regulations
and memorandums issued in Rome; despite Comando Supremo’s understanding of the
situation and the efforts made by other uffici in Rome, the training of units in Italy
remained insufficient.78 The case of the Trieste motorized division was one example. In
the spring of 1941, while located in the Naples region and waiting to be transferred to
North Africa, the division did only “one series of training activities” before its
departure.79 It means that the officers and soldiers would have to do much of their
combat preparation once arrived in Libya. Needless to say, the training didn’t take
place in the most favourable conditions.
The lack of preparation for anti-tank actions and the inadequate tactics of
armoured formations appeared to be the critical deficiencies of Italian units. The
importance of the tanks on the battlefield was finally recognized by a new regulation
issued by the army chief of staff in late July 1941.80 The obstacles to improvement were
serious: in the case of the Ariete, the men still had to use the same M 13/40 tanks; in the
case of the infantry units, anti-tank tactics depended mostly on the 47/32 gun. If the
men of the Ariete arrived in Africa well motivated, it was not the case with the infantry
divisions (Brescia, Bologna, Pavia, Savona, and the remnants of Sabratha) already present
in North Africa. They had to overcome the sense of inferiority that seriously eroded the
infantry morale in the previous months. So, an entire process of reorganization and
training took place without any German involvement.81 The result was relatively good.
As British sources noted, it seemed that a sort of “genius for improvisation” was also at
work.82
Some aspects of the training performed in 1941 and after deserve our attention.
As men were still sent to Africa with incomplete combat preparation, expedients had to
be found. Two training centres were established in Libya, a first one for infantry,
artillery and sappers units, and a second one for tank crews.83 The objective was quite
Ceva, La condotta italiana della guerra: Cavallero, pp. 72-73, 151-152, 161-164.
Danilo Ciampini, “La fanteria motorizzata tra modello ed esperienze: la Trieste in Africa Settentrionale
1941-1942”, in Fortunato Minniti (ed.), Quaderno 1999. Società italiana di storia militare, Naples, Edizioni
Scientifiche Italiane, 2003, p. 163.
80 Cappellano, Pignato, Andare contro i carri armati, p. 123.
81 Lieutenant-colonel Filippo Cappellano, head of the archives of the Italian army historical branch, is
categorical: the Germans did not take part in the training of Italian units in North Africa.
82 National Archives (UK), WO 208/4551, Revised Notes on Italian Army, Part 1, 1943.
83
Cappellano, Pignato, Andare contro i carri armati, p. 184.
78
79
13
simple: to prepare the complementi (replacements) for the integration in the unit.
Moreover, the centres also gave men time to acclimatize to the conditions of desert
warfare. For instance, in the case of the Centro carristi (Tank training centre) at Villagio
Corradini near Homs, its personnel, in March 1942, consisted in 30 officers, 50 noncommissioned officers and 340 men. These specialists were to train “hundreds” of
pilots, gunners, machine-gunners, radio operators and drivers recently arrived from
Italy.84
It is difficult to figure out to what extent the Centro Carristi improved the fighting
power of the tank crews and how many men went through the facility, but no doubt
performances increased. During Operation Compass, technical shortcomings (absence
of radio sets) and poor tactics explained the destruction of the Maletti group (9
December 1940) and of the Italian tanks at Beda Fomm (7 February 1941), although two
weeks earlier, near Mechili, the Babini Brigade showed “a capacity to react and a sense
of initiative” in the encounter.85 At this time of the North African campaign, Italian
crews didn’t know much about the enemy, a reality that was gradually altered during
the course of operations in 1941 and 1942. In February 1942, notes of the use of tanks
and armoured patrol cars showed that the Italians learned a lot about their enemy and
its tactics.86 For instance, knowing that British tanks fired at a range of 1,500 metres, and
that contrary to regulations, in full movement, made a big difference for Italian crews;
the enemy fire was less effective than expected, and it allowed Italian tanks to fire at
less than 1,000 metres from the target, hence making the best use of the limited 47mm
gun of the M 13. In such a context, it is possible to believe that the Centro Carristi became
not only a training facility, but also a school for the transmission of practical knowledge.
Training “on the spot” (in the rear areas or close to the frontline) became also an
inescapable way for Italian units to overcome their technical shortcomings and improve
their fighting power. The operational tempo was the main criterion determining if
training was possible.87 Two examples are interesting. In late February and March 1941,
the Ariete armoured division did a series of exercises, especially dedicated to integrate
the combined action of tanks, artillery and infantrymen.88 Then the Ariete took part in
the first Rommel offensive again the British forces. It was only in July that the division
AUSSME, Comando Superiore Forze Armate Africa settentrionale, Stato Maggiore, Nuovo ordinamento del
“Centro Carristi”, F-9, 69, 4.
85
Ceva, Curami, La meccanizzazione dell’esercito, pp. 315-317.
86 AUSSME, Comando Superiore Forze Armate Africa settentrionale, Stato Maggiore, Notizie circa l’impeigo dei
carri e autoblinde in A. S., F-9, 69, 4.
87
Ciampini, “La fanteria motorizzata tra modello ed esperienze”, p. 163.
88
AUSSME, Diario Storico, Comando divisione corazzata “Ariete”, N-2, 390, 1, annex 14, annex 20, annex 66.
84
14
was able to rest and to reorganize. In August, training took place again with an
emphasis on recent operational experiences and the professional qualities of the men.89
Training “on the spot” also applied to infantry divisions. In the fall of 1941, as Comando
Supremo reaffirmed the importance of training and the rigorous selection of men for the
Potenziamento dell’Esercito (the strengthening of the army)90, the Pavia division went into
a series of brief but intense training activities.91 For instance, the men of the 27th infantry
regiment enhanced their fitness, their ability to move on the battlefield; training for antitank action either with the 65/17 gun or incendiary devices was also part of the
programme. As the Pavia would be part of the expected assault on Tobruk, there was a
desire to instil into the men the basic offensive tactics needed for such a specific
operation.92 The Pavia training programme was interrupted by the British offensive on
November 18, 1941. As part of the Italian XXI Army Corps, the Pavia, fought hard and
suffered seriously: at the end of December, it had lost 2, 983 men out of its initial
strength of 6, 383 of November 15th.93 At the beginning of 1942, the Pavia and other
infantry divisions were reorganized on the divisione fanteria A. S. 42 type, which was an
effort to provide them with more firepower, especially by increasing the number of
anti-tank weapons.94 After the re-conquest of Western Cyrenaica January and early
February 1942, the Pavia started a training programme based on the new divisional
establishment and focused on firing drills and on outpost defensive tactics.95
Efforts in training men and units focused essentially on two main elements. First,
efforts were done to improve infantry units’ firepower by teaching the proper use of
weapons. Officers noted that many soldiers did not know how to shot properly, to use
hand grenades and mortars. Many of the replacements, including complement officers,
had almost no knowledge of the use of some weapons. Hence, firing drills became
when possible, regular practices. Second, anti-tank training became a fundamental
priority for all arms as many Italian units previously proved their incapacity to oppose
tanks with methods and rigour. In the case of infantry units, it became a critical aspect
of their fighting power. A field manual entitled I mezzi corazzati nemici (Enemy
armoured vehicles) was eventually issued by the Comando Superiore Africa Settentrionale
in October 1941. The publication, as noted by Cappellano and Pignato, presented the
89
AUSSME, Diario Storico, Comando divisione corazzata “Ariete”, N-5, 904, annex 21.
AUSSME, Comando Supremo, I Reparto, I-4, 29, 1.
91 AUSSME, Diario Storico, Divisione Pavia, N-899, annex 347, 29 October 1941.
92 AUSSME, Diario Storico, Divisione Pavia, N-899, annex 33, 22 October 1941.
93 Montanari, Le operazioni in Africa settentrionale,Vol. II, p. 738.
94 Montanari, Le operazioni in Africa settentrionale,Vol. II, p. 739, p. 756.
95 AUSSME, Diario Storico, Divisione Pavia, N-913, annex 386, 1 February 1942.
90
15
weaknesses of enemy vehicles and the multiple ways to engage them, at short distances,
with infantry weapons.96 With time and practice, infantrymen learned that the 20mm
Solothurn was only useful against light armoured vehicles. They used in the most
efficient ways the 47mm anti-tank gun: at close range (often under 500 meters) and
against the vulnerable parts of the enemy vehicle. Improvisation also played its part:
already in the summer on 1940, as noted and encouraged by Balbo, some soldiers
engaged enemy armoured with improvised explosives devices, often incendiary bombs
and grenades.97 As we previously saw, a variety of improvised anti-tank grenades
became generalized in Africa, despite the fact that their effectiveness was limited.
It is difficult to assess the overall quality of the training that took place “on the
spot” in North Africa. Clearly, it became a necessary expedient and primary sources
attested that Italian generals took the issue very seriously.98 Even in the late stages on
the campaign in early 1943, General Messe used the training centres to upgrade the
combat preparation of replacements.99 The presence of seasoned veterans was, without
a doubt, a very decisive element contributing to the preparation of the newly arrived
complementi. The number of junior officers and non-commissioned officers capable to
train depended of the operational tempo and losses, as well as the availability of
weapons and ammunitions. For all Italian divisions (armoured, motorized and infantry
and artillery units) deployed in Libya and later Tunisia, to maintain fighting power was
always a challenge. Nevertheless, testimonies of combatants confirmed that training
became the key for operational effectiveness.100
Fighting power and contingencies
The capacity of the Italian combatant to engage the enemy and to sustain combat was
related to his ability to use properly and with a maximum of effectiveness the weapons
available. Nevertheless, two other elements affected his fighting power. They were the
products of the circumstances; they were not inevitable. A quick look at two
contingencies is therefore necessary.
96
Cappellano, Pignato, Andare contro i carri armati, p. 129.
AUSSME, Balbo to Comando Supremo, Bollettini operativi, III Trimestre 1940, N-1335.
98
AUSSME, Diario Storico, Divisione Pavia, N-913, annex 40, 27 February 1942.
99 Messe, La mia armata in Tunisia, pp. 225-226.
100 Lucio Ceva, “The North African Campaign 1940-43: A Reconsideration”, Journal of Strategic Studies,
March 1990, vol. 13, no. 1, pp. 98-99.
97
16
The first contingency was the role of surprise. It did play, against the Italians, a
fundamental role in the first eight months of the campaign. Right after the 10th June
1940, British forces initiated operations against the Italians in Libya, infiltrating rear
areas along the border. Although Balbo maintained that his soldiers responded with
vigour, they stayed on the defensive, incapable to regain initiative.101 Graziani’s limited
advance into Egyptian territory was followed by a reluctance to initiate intelligence
gathering operations. For two months, the Italian 10th army did almost nothing to
actively prepare for further operations. The rest is history: Operation Compass started
on December 9, 1940, and in less than two months, the myth of poor Italian fighting
power was born. The first days had been critical for the Italians; the loss of Sidi El
Barrani and the collapse of their defensive system created a negative mindset, one of the
inescapable defeat and the myth of the invincibility of the “Matilda”. In three days,
38,000 Italians were captured.102 Rommel’s comments were appropriate: “The British
successes were obviously having an almost paralysing effect on the Italians. They
withdrew to their strongholds at Bardia and Tobruk and waited to see what the enemy
would do next.”103 But the fall of both garrisons was not the result of superb British
preparation creating total surprise; it was simply the sign of Italian resignation, a
perfect example of low fighting power. At Beda Fomm, surprise in conjunction with
poor armoured tactics, played again in favour of the British in explaining Italian defeat.
But after the winter of 1941, surprise ceased to be a decisive factor influencing
negatively Italian fighting power.104
The second contingency is the impact of the German presence in North Africa.
British intelligence noted that the improvement of Italian units was “due almost
certainly to increasing German influence both in organisation and tactics.”105 General
Auchinlek assumed that “there was little doubt that the presence of German troops had
stiffened Italian morale, particularly that of their armoured troops.”106 Although these
assumptions seemed correct, it is difficult to prove them as primary sources have little
to offer. That German troops helped the Italians to overcome from their defeat and to
rebuild their self-esteem as combatants was highly probable.107 The successful offensive
AUSSME, Balbo al Ministero della Guerra, SIM, Bollettini operativi, III Trimestre 1940, N-1335. For the
British point of view, I. S. O. Playfair, The Mediterranean and the Middle East, Volume 1, The Early Successes
against Italy, Uckfield (East Sussex), The Naval and Military Press, 2004, p. 119.
102 Flavio Giovanni Conti, I prigionieri di guerra italiani 1940-1945, Bologne, Il Mulino, 1986, pp. 11-12.
103 Basil Liddell Hart (ed.), The Rommel Papers, New York, Da Capo Press, 1982, p. 93.
104 Ceva, Curami, La meccanizzazione dell’esercito, p. 449.
105 General Staff Intelligence, G.H.Q., Middle East Forces, Brief Notes on the Italian Army: August 1942, p. 5.
106 Auchinlek, “Operations in the Middle East from 1 st November 1941 to 15 August 1942”, p. 314.
107 Ceva, Africa settentrionale 1940-1943, p. 28
101
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of March 1941, in which the Ariete and the Brescia divisions were involved, despite all
their shortcomings in terms of training and equipment, acted as a profound morale
boost for Italian troops. The desire to fight was restored and Italian pride asked for
revenge.108
The German influence manifested itself in a more practical way. Already in the
spring and the summer of 1941, Germans shared information with their ally.
Cappellano and Pignato affirm that this cooperation took different forms that were
always very valuable for the Italians, especially for training. They now had access to
German after combat reports, analysis on enemy weapons and tactics, British field
manuals or documents found in the field and prisoner interrogations.109 For instance,
we can find in the army archives a British document (captured by the Germans and
translated in Italian) on the action and tactics of the 22nd armoured brigade that was
involved in Operation Crusader; or one of the XIII Corps on night time operations and
that was intended for the 1st armoured division and the 4th Indian division.110 This
information proved to be invaluable for adopting new training drills and tactics,
especially for anti-tank combat. As a result, Italian units had more confidence in their
weapons. The surprise and panic created by the “Matilda” did not survive long.
A final aspect of the ally influence on Italian fighting power deals with the wide
use of “tactical groups”. For Cappellano and Pignato, the systematic use of tactical
groups, learned from the Germans, was the main innovation of the war at the tactical
level.111 A tactical group was a combination of different types of units, usually a mix of
infantry, artillery, engineers, supported by patrol cars, tanks and anti-tank units. Field
records of units offer ample evidence of the use of tactical groups, which made the
cooperation with German units easier. The British sources also acknowledged the
practice “which has manifested itself in a bewildering number of ‘ad hoc’ formations,
designed to meet particular circumstances and bearing little relation to theoretical
establishment.”112 As early as April 1941, a British document acknowledged that Italians
had a disposition for adaptation: “The flexibility of organization, for which the Italian
army is notable, facilitates any necessary improvisations.”113 The use of tactical groups
On the morale of Italian troops in North Africa, see Bianca Ceva, Cinque anni di storia italiana 1940-1945,
da lettere e diari di caduti, Milan, Edizioni di Comunità, 1964, pp. 114-185.
109 Cappellano, Pignato, Andare contro i carri armati, p. 189.
110 Both in AUSSME, F-9, 69, 4.
111 Cappellano, Pignato, Andare contro i carri armati, p. 163.
112 National Archives (UK), WO 208/4551, Revised Notes on the Italian Army, Part 1, 1943.
113 National Archives (UK), WO 201/2792, Revised Notes on the Italian Army, chapter XVIII, April 1941.
108
18
often meant close cooperation with German units, hence certainly stimulating a spirit of
emulation.
Fighting power Italian style?
The Italian army fought for almost three years in North Africa where ultimately 26
divisions were destroyed.114 Despite a massive defeat during the first British offensive,
it became, within its limits, an effective fighting force. Its contribution to Axis military
successes was important, although “rarely recognized.”115 In the major encounters of
1941, 1942 and 1943, Italian soldiers fought well against the British forces. Italian losses,
especially men killed in action, were often at the same levels that German losses.116
When there was no other alternative, many became, like their German allies, prisoners
of war. By an irony of history, in Tunis in May 1943, more Germans went into captivity
than Italians.117
But for the Italian troops, the learning curve was abrupt. If some units were less
badly prepared than others, all had to adjust in order to become efficient on the
battlefield. The Ariete and the Trento did probably better and faster than others, but it
was easier for them. The transformation of the infantry divisions, so poorly equipped
and motorized, was noteworthy. For almost three years, the men fought roughly with
the same equipment, as very few new weapon systems ever reached Africa. “Italian
style” fighting power was then peculiar: men who were originally poorly trained for
desert warfare learned to use with a maximum of effectiveness weapons that were
becoming more and more obsolete. All this took place primarily because so many
infantrymen, tank crews, artillerymen, and engineers had the personal qualities to
remedy their initial professional shortcomings.118 While the enemy counted on vast
amounts of weapons and gradual technological superiority, Italian troops’ only hope
was to learn, adapt and improvised.
Ceva, Africa settentrionale 1940-1943, p. 9.
Rochat, Le guerre italiane, p. 350.
116 On losses suffered during Operation Crusader, see Bernd Stegemann, “The Italo-German Conduct of
the War in the Mediterranean and North Africa” in Militärgeschichtliches Forschungsamt (Research
Institute for Military History) (ed), Germany and the Second World War, Volume III, The Mediterranean,
South-east Europe, and North Africa 1939-1941, Oxford, Clarendon Press-Oxford, 1995, p. 751.
117 The Tunisian campaign cost the Italians 100,000 men according to Conti, while Montanari gives the
number of 90,000. See Conti, I prigionieri di guerra italiani 1940-1945, p. 20 and Mario Montanari, Le
operazioni in Africa settentrionale, Vol. IV-Enfidaville (Novembre 1942-Maggio 1943), p. 550.
118
Ceva, Curami, La meccanizzazione dell’esercito, p. 316.
114
115
19
Lucio Ceva
Italian Strategy and North Africa (1940-43)
The Military Aspects of Fascism and Italian Strategy
I could open this presentation by declaring it closed. This is because in 1940-43, a
genuine Fascist Italian strategy - good or bad - was never formulated. Instead nothing more than
a series of wildly ambitious but contradictory operations were initiated. How can this be
explained?
Certainly Mussolini did not lack foreign policy objectives, although these frequently
changed. The dictator laid these out at the Fascist Grand Council meeting of February 4, 1939:
“... expansion to the ocean, either to the Indian, uniting Ethiopia to Libya across Egypt and the
Sudan, or to the Atlantic, across French North Africa.”1 Some have called this statement the
Italian Mein Kampf.
In the Fascist dictatorship, as in many others, the same person was endowed with
supreme political and military leadership. Already a de facto reality from the beginning of
Mussolini’s government on October 31, 1922,2 this concentration of power was later formalized
by laws. These made the head of the government the supreme military authority, reserving for
him alone even the creation of grand strategy. In 1925, the position of Chief of the Joint General
Staff (Stato Maggiore Generale or Stamage) was established. This was an all-service position,
directly subordinate to Mussolini (in his capacity originally as prime minister, later as head of the
government and, finally, as Duce). This post was conferred on Marshal Pietro Badoglio.3
However, in 1927, the powers of the Chief of the Stamage were drastically reduced. In peace
time, beyond vague and unspecified authority to coordinate the three armed services, he was to
give the Duce technical advice, upon request. In war time, the functions of the head of the
Stamage would be as laid down by the government. The constitutional military command
prerogatives of the king - throughout the entire period, Vittorio Emanuele III - were effectively
eliminated. save on paper.
The origins of this system, based on the alliance among the Fascist regime, the Crown
and the miliary leadership, have been examined by Italian military historians for the past forty
years.4 There is little need to repeat their conclusions here. For our purposes, it is more useful to
1
In addition, Mussolini sought other territory from France: Nice, Corsica, Tunisia and Jibuti.
2
This fact was demonstrated by the Italian naval bombardment of Corfu in October 1923.
3
Badoglio held the post from May 4, 1925 to December 4, 1940. He was succeeded by General (later
Marshal) Ugo Cavallero until February 1943. General Vittorio Ambrosio next held the position until November 18,
1943.
4
Giorgio Rochat, L;esercito italiano da Vittorio Veneto a Mussolini (1919-1925), 2nd ed. (Bari & Rome:
Laterza, 2006); idem., Le guerre italiane 1935-1943 (Turin: Einaudi, 2005), pp. 145-62; Piero Pieri and Giorgio
Rochat, Badoglio (Turin: UTET, 1984), pp. 505-46; Renzo De Felice, Mussolini il duce.II (Turin: Einaudi, 1968), p.
54; Lucio Ceva, La condotta itaiana della guerra. Cavallero e il Comando Supremo (Milan: Feltrinelli, 1975);
1
describe how the system functioned for those at its top. In decisions regarding only one of the
three armed services, Mussolini rarely intervened, especially from the late 1920s. As important
as such matters were (force structure, career paths, doctrine, choices of arms and equipment,
etc.), they were left to relatively junior generals and admirals. These flag rank officers almost
always held the positions of chief of staff and undersecretary (more rarely, minister) of their
service simultaneously. Mussolini generally replaced them every two or three years, just as he
did with cabinet ministers and senior Fascist Party leaders.
In their capacity as chiefs of staff of the army, navy and air force, the three service chiefs
could be coordinated by the Chief of the Joint General Staff. But as members of the government,
as well - whether as undersecretaries or ministers - the service chiefs were hierarchically superior
to the head of the Stato Maggiore Generale. Thus, they had direct and independent access to
Mussolini as head of the government. From the Duce, the service chiefs could receive direct
orders without the Stamage chief even being informed. Mussolini, master of the skill of divide et
impera, greatly appreciated this arrangement since it granted him enormous freedom of
maneuver. So much so, in fact, that it remained the administrative norm even in war time. Of
course, the three armed services general staffs could not neglect contingency and operational
planning. Such studies and proposals were delivered to the Duce. But these were communicated
only in the hope that they would be incorporated as elements of strategic planning; for a strategy
over which they had no control and, very often, of which they knew nothing.5
Such staff studies almost never circulated outside the confines of the individual armed
services. Only very rarely were they presented and discussed in the inter-service meetings over
which Badoglio presided. The studies were based on the major foreign policy decisions known to
all: for example, the alignment with Germany (the Rome-Berlin Axis of November 1936) and
the adherence to the Anti-Comintern Pact (December 1937). Between 1937 and 1938, one of the
most innovative army chiefs of staff, Gen. Alberto Pariani, proposed a general strategy for the
Axis in a coming war against France and Britain. Victory would be gained by the Germans
entering Paris and the Italians reaching the Suez Canal. This meant the Italians would remain on
the defensive along their Alpine frontiers and concentrate of the conquest of Egypt.6 Italo Balbo,
formerly air force minister and the hero of two squadron flights across the Atlantic, had been
exiled to Libya as governor as the price for his public acclaim. Balbo supported Pariani’s
strategic vision. Badoglio, however, who wished to avoid war altogether, insisted on only
defensive planning. The brief enthusiasm for a North African-based strategic plan was initially
blocked by Badoglio. ( After the Munich Conference, Mussolini had told the marshal that he
foresaw a long period of peace.) Then, the crisis of August - September 1939 swept away
support for an Italian invasion of Egypt altogether.
Mussolini and his foreign minister, Galeazzo Ciano, had hoped after the Munich
Conference that the Führer would initiate a new European crisis only after agreement with Italy.
idem., “L’alto comando delle Forze Armate durante il regime fascista (1925-1943)” in Teatri di Guerra. Comandi,
soldati e scrittori nei conflitti europei (Milan: FrancoAngeli, 2005), pp. 65-87.
5
Fortunato Minniti, Fino alla guerra. Strategie e conflitto nella politica di potenza di Mussolini 1923-1940
(Naples: ESI, 2000), pp. 16-29, 192-224.
6
Galeazzo Ciano, Diario 1937-1943, Renzo De Felice, ed. (Milan: Rizzoli, 1980), entry for Feb. 14, 1938.
2
Yet the aggressive Pact of Steel signed on May 22, 1939 contained no such guarantee. In any
case, the Nazi-Soviet Pact, the German attack on Poland and the subsequent declarations of war
by the French and British destroyed the illusion of any Italian veto over Hitler’s plans. Mussolini
was forced to declare non-belligerency and replace his military leadership. That began with the
dismissal of Pariani and rejection of his North African-oriented strategy. Balbo had wished to
pursue such planning. But the obstinate resistance of Badoglio and the indifference of Mussolini
ended such considerations.
Nonbelligerence, Intervention and “Parallel War”
Throughout the winter of 1939-40, Mussolini hesitated. In a letter of January 5, 1940, he
warned Hitler not to seek the overthrow of the Democracies “because the United States would
never tolerate their total defeat.”7 Mussolini’s most significant and costly military action
consisted of the fortification of Italy’s northern Alpine frontier (that is, the border with his ally
Germany!). This so-called “Alpine Wall of the Lictor” was personally directed by Mussolini
with the greatest urgency and worked on until May 1941 - eleven months after Italy’s entry into
World War II - at a cost of over 4 billion lire. (The army budget for fiscal year 1939-40 totaled
15.4 billion lire.)8 Some Italians joked by calling the project the “I Have No Faith Line” (linea
non-mi-fido), a pun on the German Siegfried Line (linea Sigfrido).
Nevertheless, after a conference with Hitler on March 18, 1940, the Duce conceived of a
“parallel war” alongside that of Germany. On March 31, he sent “Top Secret Memorandum no.
328" to the highest state officials. This gave notice of imminent intervention in the war, although
without specifying the date, and provided a remarkable war plan.
The plan premised: a) that Italy could not remain uninvolved in the hostilities; b)
however, it was in no condition to sustain a long war; c) Italian intervention would have to
“determine the outcome” of the conflict. These premises required congruent war plans. On land,
a completely defensive posture in the Alps, Libya and the Dodecanese Islands, except for
secondary operations from the isolated territory of Italian East Africa and possible operations in
the Balkans, such as an attack on Yugoslavia - although only in the event of its internal collapse.
At sea, an all-out offensive posture in the Mediterranean and even beyond.9
How premises b) and, above all, c) accord with a completely defensive posture creates a
contradiction that no interpretation of Mussolini’s thought has yet resolved. In regard to the rest,
all-out but separate naval offensive operations would no longer be considered after a well argued
memorandum of April 14, 1940 from the navy chief of staff, Adm. Domenico Cavagnari.10
7
Ministero degli Affari Esteri, Documenti Diplomatici Italiani [henceforth DDI], 9th series, vol. III, no. 33,
p. 21 ; Alberto Pirelli, Taccuini 1922/1943 (Bologna: il Mulino, 1984), p. 248; Documents on German Foreign
Policy [henceforth DGFP], series D, vol. VIII, no. 504, p. 607.
8
Lucio Ceva, Le forze armate (Turin: UTET, 1981), p. 223.
9
DDI, ibid., no. 669.
10
La marina italiana nella secondo guerra mondiale, vol. XXI, Giuseppe Fioravanzo, L’organizzazione
della marine durante il conflitto, tomo I, efficienza all’apertura delle ostilità (Rome: Ufficio storico della marina
militare, 1972), pp. 351-52.
3
On May 29, 1940 well aware of Italian military unpreparedness - but considering
Germany already the victor in the war - explained the urgency of Italy’s entry into the war “... if
we delay two weeks or a month, we will not improve out situation, while we could give
Germany the impression of showing up at events when the risk is minimal... This could prove
very detrimental at the time of a peace settlement.”11
According to what Badoglio wrote later, the Duce also said: “... in September everything
will be settled and I need a few thousand dead to seat myself at the peace table as a
belligerent.”12
History contains examples of wars which can be defined as “profiting from the success of
others.” However, there have been few in which the profiteer has remained on the defensive,
without even trying to concentrate resources (large or small) on an objective, even one of little
importance but of political significance. In this case, Mussolini formalized his military preeminence even in regard to the king, forcing the sovereign to sign a “delegation of command of
operational forces on all fronts.” This gave the Duce legal authority to freely order all military
units and he chose to conciseley sign his orders: “Benito Mussolini, Duce of Fascism, First
Marshal of the Empire, Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces.”
Mussolini declared war on June 10. Italian defeats followed immediately, both in the
Ligurian Sea on June 14 and in the French Alps from June 21 to 24. The benefits of the French
surrender to Germany were extended, however undeserved, to Italy, as well. While waiting for
British capitulation (or for the occupation of the island by the Germans) the idea of an offensive
against Egypt was dusted off. On July 11, Mussolini issued a written order: “... only a single land
frontier remains on which we can take action: Cirenaica. The Governor General of Libya has
received precise directives from me regarding the actions he is to take. There only remains to
send him by all means the material he has requested...”13
In this proposal and in some projects suggested by Badoglio and by the Viceroy of
Ethiopia (Amedeo, Duke of Aosta) we find, while belatedly, at least a shadow of strategic
thinking. Both men advocated a pincer movement on Egypt; in the duke’s case with one prong
advancing from Kassala in the Sudan, which his forces had occupied on July 4.14 Such a
convergence, however, would not have enjoyed a high probability of success. What we know
today about the decisions taken by the Churchill government in July-August 1940 to reinforce
Cavagnari argued that insufficient reconnaissance aviation, bases outside the Mediterranean and escort
ships would lead to catastrophic Italian losses in a conflict with both the British and French.
11
DDI, 9th series, vol. IV, no. 642, p. 496.
12
Pietro Badoglio, L’Italia nella seconda guerra mondiale (Milan: Mondadori, 1946), p. 37.
13
Mario Montanari, Le operazioni in Africa Settentrionale, 2d ed., 4 vols. (Rome: Ufficio storico, Stato
maggiore dell’esercito [hereafter USSME], 1990-93), vol. I, Sidi el Barrani (Giugno 1940-Febbraio 1941), p. 490.
Balbo had died after his aircraft was mistakenly shot down by Italian anti-aircraft fire on June 28. He had
been replaced by army chief of staff, Marshal Rodolfo Graziani.
14
Emilio Faldella, L’Italia nella seconda guerra mondiale. Revisione di giudizi (Bologna: Cappelli, 1959),
pp. 361-64.
4
and defend Egypt and the Sudan, indicates the operations would have failed, at least so long as
they had been undertaken entirely by Italians. However, at least they contained a bit of good
sense.15
Nonetheless such an element of good sense only began to be realized. That involved the
shipment to Libya of the only Italian medium tanks available, seventy-four M11s and M13s, as
well as some of the vehicles Graziani had requested. But even this action immediately collided
with other completely contradictory directives and operations.
These included: 1) The decision on July 3 to invade Yugoslavia and Greece on September
20. This operation would have involved the bulk of the Italian army attacking from the Po Valley
and Albania. This foolhardy plan was partially scaled back only by the imposition of a German
veto on August 17.16
2) The deployments of an air corps of about 200 aircraft - one-sixth of the total in service
- to Belgian airfields recently occupied by the Germans and of about one-fourth of the Italian
submarine fleet via the Straits of Gibraltar to German bases in the Bordeaux region. The first was
a contribution to the aerial blitz on Great Britain; the second involved Italian participation in the
Battle of the Atlantic.
3) The order of the Duce in early October, one encouraged by Badoglio, to demobilize
600,000 soldiers, those of age twenty-four to thirty, from the fifty divisions stationed in Italy.
Rather than demobilizing only a select number of divisions, this resulted in disorganizing every
unit of the Italian army in the peninsula on the very eve of the attack on Greece. When later
required to reinforce Albania against Greek invasion, the divisions effected would be
reconstituted with untrained recruits. That was to avoid the political embarrassment of recalling
those who had been so recently dismissed from active duty.
4) The attack on Greece, launched on October 28, followed swiftly by repulse and a deep
withdrawal into Albania. From this defeat a huge defensive operation resulted. These were
directed in person by Gen. Ugo Cavallero. He had replaced the disgraced Badoglio as head of
Stamage on December 6. Cavallero established a headquarters in Albania to direct operations
there until the end of the campaign in May 1941. The fighting would eventually draw in about
half the Italian army (mostly composed of the divisions reconstituted with untrained conscripts)
and half the Italian air force (including the air corps hastily withdrawn from Belgium). This
holding operation would last until April 1941when Greece would be invaded by German forces
deployed from Hungary, Romania and Bulgaria.17
15
The Memoirs of General Lord Ismay (New York: Viking, 1960), pp. 193-97.
16
DDI, 9th series, vol. V, no. 431; DGFP, series D, vol. X, no. 357. In July 1940 Hitler had refused
Mussolini’s offer of ten Italian divisions for the landings in Britain. The Italian threats against Greece, suspended in
mid-August, were resumed in October.
17
Mario Montanari, La campagna di Grecia (Rome: USSME, 1980); Lucio Ceva, “Italia e Grecia 19401941. Una guerra a parte” in Ceva, Guerra mondiale. Strategie e industria bellica (Milan: Angeli, 2000).
5
The Italian offensive against Egypt, from September 13 to 16, 1940, consisted of a
virtually uncontested march to Sidi Barrani , fifty miles from the frontier. It was not resumed,
while Mussolini rejected a German offer of help in the form of armored forces on several
occasions. Meanwhile a British convoy had circumnavigated Africa from mid-August to early
October carrying 100 new medium and heavy tanks, nearly one-quarter of those previously
available for the defense of Great Britain. These formed the spearhead of a British counter attack
begun on December 9. This offensive halted in February 1941only after a 500-mile advance to
the edge of Tripolitania, having routed and captured almost 150,000 men of the Italian Tenth
Army. Churchill had decided to send part of these victorious British forces to the aid of Greece.
These disasters on land - to which were soon added the complete loss of Italian East
Africa - were accompanied by serious naval defeats. On November 12, Royal Navy torpedo
bombers - using techniques developed in small raids on Italian ports over the summer - attacked
the base at Taranto and put half the Italian battle fleet out of action for six months. On February
9, 1941, British battleships carried out an uncontested bombardment of the Genoa dockyards. On
March 28, the Royal Navy engaged the Regia Marina in the waters off Cape Matapan, sinking
three of its heavy cruisers, two of its destroyers and seriously damaging its only operational new
battleship.
The “parallel war’ had already been lost in December 1940. Such can certainly be dated
from the meeting of Hitler and Mussolini on January 19-20, 1941, which signaled German
strategic predominance in the Mediterranean.18 From then on one can no longer speak of an
Italian strategy, except in the narrowest sense. Thereafter, Italian operations must be described as
the “subordinate war.”
Before leaving this subject and without intruding into the topics of other presenters, I will
comment on the consequences of Italian actions on the strategy of the Third Reich. Throughout
the summer of 1940, Mussolini proudly and repeatedly refused German offers of armored forces
for Libya. These rejections were fully supported by Badoglio. The idea for these offers had
already been raised by Gen. Alfred Jodl in the context of his Wehrmacht high command
memorandum of June 30, 1940, seconded by some in the German Army high command,
especially by the chief of staff, Gen. Fritz Halder. Hitler warmly supported the concept, having
already decided to end the world conflict by the annihilation of the Soviet Union, scheduled for
1941.19
Hitler did not accept in its entirety the plan put forward by Adm. Erich Raeder. But he did
agree that an Atlantic-Mediterranean-Middle East bastion should be erected, above all to serve as
a barrier against American intervention. It could be constructed in the six-to-eight months
18
DDI, 9th series, vol. VI, nos. 470-73; DGFP, series D, vol. X, no. 357.
19
Andreas Hillgruber, Hitlers Strategie: Politik und Kriegsführung, 1940-41, 2d ed. (Munich: Bernard &
Graefe, 1982); Militärgeschtliches Forscungsamt, Germany and the Second World War, 9 vols. to date (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1990 - ), Gerhard Schreiber, “Political and Military Developments in the Mediterranean Area,
1939-40,” pp. 180-245, in vol. III, Schreiber, Bernd Stegemann, Detlef Vogel, The Mediterranean, South-east
Europe and North Africa; Norman J. W. Goda, Tomorrow the World. Hitler, Northwest Africa and the Path toward
America (College Station: Texas A&M, 1998); Charles B. Burdick, Germany’s Military Strategy and Spain in
World War Two (Syracuse: Syracuse University, 1968).
6
between the autumn of 1940 and the spring of 1941 when it would be impossible to carry out
operations in Russia. Further contributing to the Führer’s decision was the dilatory attitude of the
Duce when the two met at the Brenner pass on October 4, 1940,20 as was the evasive but finally
negative attitude of Franco at Hendaye on October 23.21 This made it evident to the Germans that
they should delay major operations during the winter and use the time to remedy the Balkan and
African disasters perpetrated by Mussolini. Successful operations in those theaters would lead to
domination of the Mediterranean from Suez to Gibraltar with outposts on the Atlantic coast
securing a zone all the way to the Canaries and with a window on Asia beyond the Canal. This
corresponded to the Raeder plan. The admiral continued to oppose Barbarossa, despite Hitler’s
decision in favor of the operation.22 But the Führer believed that while Barbarossa was
necessary, it would be useful to launch it from the improved posture accruing from the German
rescue operations in the Balkans and North Africa.
The Subordinate War, 1941-43
As mentioned, we Italians so designate the longer phase of the conflict fought by our
soldiers. It involved a greater effort than that of the previous phase but followed completely
along the track laid down by German strategy. This is not the place to recount the well known
events that ensued. Instead, I will allude to those pieces of Italian Fascist strategic thinking
which became mixed into the increasingly muddy waters of Hitlerian strategy.
Above all, Mussolini maintained one vestige of his “parallel war.” It was no longer
conceivable to speak of purely national successes. However, to the greatest extent possible, his
forces could be involved in those gained by the Germans. (With uncritical imagination, for quite
some time the Duce imagined that such victories would continue.) This strategy required the
Italian military to be present everywhere the Germans operated.
The day Barbarossa began, Mussolini virtually extorted German agreement to send a
three-division Italian expeditionary corps (Corpo di spedizione italiano in Russia - CSIR) to the
new front. The corps would be equipped with 5500 motor vehicles. While insufficient for the
needs of the CSIR, that number of vehicles surpassed what was required at that time by Italian
forces in North Africa.
This leaves aside the question of whether it would have been possible to transport
successfully a significant portion of those trucks to Libya. In the summer and fall of 1941, supply
ships for Gen. Erwin Rommel’s Italian-German army were under serious threat. The Italians had
obtained the German Enigma cipher machine to communicate with their North African convoys.
But at that very time the British had learned how to decrypt such signals from the supposedly
ultra-secure machine. Such success would not have been anywhere as easy if those
20
DGFP, series D, vol. X, no. 149.
21
Ibid., no. 220.
22
Keith W. Bird, Erich Raeder, Admiral of the Third Reich (Annapolis: Naval Institute, 2006), pp. 156-68.
7
communications had continued in Italian naval ciphers or even if such orders had been delivered
to Italian ports by motorcyclists.23
Then, in December 1941, six Italian frogmen riding on piloted torpedoes penetrated
Alexandria harbor. They sank the last two Royal Navy battleships in the Mediterranean. Within
weeks, the Japanese rampage in the Pacific and Indian Oceans diverted other British naval units
outside the Middle Sea. Winter weather on the Eastern Front shut down German air operations
there, allowing deployment of Luftflotte II to Italy, along with Marshal Albert Kesselring in a
dual capacity as air fleet commander and Commander-in-Chief of German Forces South. In
May-June 1941and again in November, Rommel had repulsed two British offensive operations:
Brevity and Battleaxe. Then, in January-February 1942 he stopped the third and largest,
Crusader. These events significantly brightened Axis prospects in the waters of Mediterranean
and the Libyan desert.
At the same time, two developments in North Africa changed matters significantly, both
regarding the Italian forces. From the middle of 1941 onward, the Italians learned to imitate
German tactical procedures. While they continued to possess only modest arms and equipment,
Italian combat performance improved markedly, as demonstrated at Gazala, at el Alamein and,
finally, in Tunisia.24 Furthermore, throughout the first half of 1942, Rommel’s battlefield
successes were greatly aided by an Italian intelligence coup: the Italian acquisition of the secret
military cipher of Col. Frank Bonner Fellers, the American liaison to the British Eighth Army
stationed in Cairo. Both these Italian contributions to Axis victories have been too often ignored
or obscured in English-language historical writing.25
The Mediterranean provided a secondary front for the Germans, at least until their
expected triumph over the Soviet Union. But eventually a practical Italian-German strategic plan
for the theater emerged. This was largely the initiative of local commanders, especially
Cavallero, Kesselring and Rommel. It involved the conquest of Malta, thus solving the problem
of the maritime supply line to the Axis forces in Libya, followed by an all-out offensive by
23
F.H. Hinsley et al., British Intelligence in the Second World War. Its Influence on Strategy and Operations,
6 vols. in 7 parts (London: HMSO, 1979-90), vol. 2, pp. 277-340.
24
Claude J.E. Auckinleck, “Operation in the Middle East from 1st November 1941 to 15th August 1942,”
London Gazette Supplement, Jan. 13, 1948, p. 314; H.R.L.G. Alexander, “The African Campaign fro El Alamein to
Tunis from 10th August 1942 to 13th May 1943,” ivi., Feb. 5, 1948, pp. 843, 851, 879; Michael Carver, Tobruk
(London: Batsford, 1964), pp. 108-09, 255-56; Ronald Lewin, The Life and Death of the Africa Corps (London:
Batsford, 1977), pp. 81, 87, 119, 137, 158, 163-64, 174; Brian R. Sullivan, “The Italian Soldier in Combat, June
1940-September 1943: Myths, Realities and Explanations,” in Paul Addison & Angus Calder, eds., Time to Kill. The
Soldier’s Experience of War in the West 1939-1945 (London: Pimlico, 1997); Montanari, Le operazioni in Africa
Settentrionale, passim; Lucio Ceva, “The North African Campaign 1940-1943. A Reconsideration,” The Journal of
Strategic Studies, vol. 1, 1990; David French, Raising Churchill’s Army (Oxford: Oxford University, 2000), pp.
219-20; MacGregor Knox, Hitler’s Italian Allies (Cambridge & New York: Cambridge University, 2000), pp. 116,
144-45, 151-54.
25
Faldella, L’Italia nella seconda guerra mondiale, pp. 404-08; Lucio Ceva, “I servizi segreti italiani nella
seconda guerra mondiale,” Il Risorgimento, vols. 1-2, 1978; idem., “L’ ‘intelligence’ britannico nella seconda
guerra mondiale e la sua influenza sulla strategia e sulle operazioni,” Storia contemporanea, vol. 1, 1982.
8
Rommel’s forces to reach the Suez Canal. In their discussions on April 29-30, 1942, Mussolini
expressed approval and Hitler did not oppose the idea.26
The Italian prepared considerable forces for the assault on Malta, including a division of
paratroops. But carrying out the operation absolutely depended on German participation in the
form of more paratroops, gliders, transport aircraft and sufficient fuel. However, the essence of
the plan lay in Rommel’s drive to the Canal, a goal fully backed by Mussolini. The German
general’s extraordinary success in the taking of Tobruk brought him promotion to field marshal
and delivered a huge trove of fuel, supplies and equipment to his forces. At the same time, this
unexpected victory, decided on the immediate pursuit of the Commonwealth forces into Egypt.
The Malta operation was cancelled and Italian-German army advanced to el Alamein. After a
stalemate of several months, the final battle of el Alamein, the British-American Torch landings
and the Soviet double envelopment of the German Sixth Army at Stalingrad all took place in the
space of a few days. Even in the eyes of the stupidest observer, any chance for Axis victory in
the European war had disappeared.
Yet even in the summer of 1942, Mussolini had already introduced a significant element
in the coming Axis defeat. It arose from his insistence that Italian forces had to be present
everywhere the Germans were engaged in major fighting. Following on Hitler’s acceptance of
his offer in December 1941, the Duce more than tripled Italian participation in the Russian
campaign. To the three divisions of the CSIR, he added another seven divisions to form the
Italian Eighth Army, also known as the Armata Italiana in Russia (ARMIR) formally established
on May 1, 1942. The ten-division army contained 15,000 trucks and other motor vehicles and
1,130 tractors. That compared to the maximum of 7,000 trucks ever available at one time to
Italian forces in North Africa.
Most Italian artillery in World War II was of World War I vintage or even older. Only a
few hundred modern pieces had been produced from the mid-1930s onward. But of those
precious guns and howitzers, over 200 were provided to the Eighth Army. The comparison with
modern Italian cannon in North Africa in 1942 is startling. Twelve 210mm howitzers in Russia,
none in Egypt; sixty 149mm guns in Russia, twelve 149 mm guns in Egypt; One hundred eight
75mm howitzers in Russia, none in Egypt; thirty-six 75mm anti aircraft/anti tank guns in Russia,
none in Egypt.27
Furthermore, the modern artillery pieces provided to the ARMIR were assembled and
shipped off to the Eastern Front in the period April-June 1942. At that time, the intense Axis air
attacks on Malta were at their peak and the Italian-German naval forces in the central
26
DDI, 9th series, vol. VIII, no. 495.
27
Michael Carver, Dilemmas of the Desert War (London: Batsford, 1986), p. 52 ; idem., Tobruk, p. 31 reveal
the import of medium and heavy artillery in the desert war in early and mid1942. While British forces in North
Africa enjoyed a superiority in light artillery, until the autumn of 1942, their Axis opponents possessed more
medium and heavy artillery. Besides the twelve modern Italian 149mm guns (plus fourteen old 152mm guns),
Rommel commanded a German artillery regiment equipped with nine 210mm guns and thirty-eight 150mm
howitzers. Obviously, adding sixty 149mm guns and twelve 210mm howitzers to Axis North African forces in 1942,
instead of to the ARMIR, would have given Rommel very significant reinforcement.
9
Mediterranean enjoyed temporary maritime supremacy. That passing situation would have
allowed for particularly secure transport of Italian artillery to Libya.
The modest superiority of arms that allowed the British to win the first and decisive First
Battle of el Alamein adds further significance to these figures. Gen. Claude Auckinleck’s forces
did not possess hundreds more tanks and cannon than their Axis opponents. The British
advantage varied from a few dozen to even less at the critical places and times of the battle. The
slim margin of victory in that crucial British victory reveals Mussolini’s folly. His insistence that
his forces must fight on every front cost the Axis forces in North Africa very dearly indeed.
This is not to argue that with a few dozen artillery more pieces and one or two thousand
more trucks Rommel would have surely conquered Egypt. But such reinforcements would
certainly have improved his chances for success. It is also true that if Rommel’s army had
reached the Canal and even pushed beyond, the Axis would still have lost the war. The balance
had already tipped by mid-1942. Nonetheless, this historical case certainly illustrates the
strategic dictum that concentration is preferable to dispersion.
Conclusion
The defective Italian strategy during the “parallel war” in 1940 proceeded from the
military plane to contaminate the wider political sphere. Neither a monarchy nor a military class
that, for any reason, surrenders their proper functions deserve any sympathy. In the Italian case,
they could not truthfully blame the incompetence and the incapacity of the tyrant whom they had
so long tolerated and even revered for their own failings. At the beginning of his rule, Mussolini
seduced and accommodated the king and his generals and admirals. Nonetheless, the
responsibility for the disappointments and defeats the Duce later delivered rests on the Italian
monarchy and military leadership. Fascist propaganda fooled the Italian people into admiring the
leaders of their armed forces. But those high ranking officers consistently lacked the necessary
courage and sense of duty to make their professional opinions clear.
One example stands out in particular. Badoglio himself recommended the October 1940
demobilization of nearly half the army in Italy. (On the relevant memorandum from Gen. Mario
Roatta, the army deputy chief of staff, Badoglio wrote “the sowing requires manpower.”)28 It
seemed a cunning if underhanded way to restrain Mussolini, while avoiding a confrontation over
the issue. With a large fraction of Mussolini’s army given extended leave, Badoglio assumed the
Duce would drop the constantly changing aggressive proposals the dictator had raised over the
summer. The result, however, proved otherwise. Despite the demobilization, Mussolini
unexpectedly revived the plan to invade Greece - with the well-known consequences.
Nevertheless, one cannot justly ascribe every Italian military failing to the dictator alone.
Throughout the twenty-year life of the Fascist regime, the armed forces leadership devoted itself
to many other activities, while neglecting serious military studies. The Duce would not have
objected to such activities. They would not have proved very costly. Instead, the generals and
admirals devoted much time to exalting Mussolini’s genius, to celebrations and displays of
28
Archivio Centrale dello Stato, Carte Graziani, busta 42, “lettere Roatta” folder, Roatta to Graziani, Oct. 5,
1940.
10
supposed Italian military power, to solidifying their lucrative ties to the armaments industry and
to public glorification of the 1918 triumph over Austria- Hungary. Their pride in their hard-won
victory in the Great War was justified. But few if any Italian generals thought of inquiring into
the tactical and operational methods that had brought the Germans so close to defeating the
Allies. The battles at Riga, Caporetto, Piccardy, Cambrai, Chemin des Dames and other German
military successes contained many valuable lessons, including those that led to the formulation
of Blitzkrieg.29
Furthermore, following the example set by the king, the members of the Italian army high
command always demonstrated a remarkable ability to separate their own military
responsibilities from those of Mussolini. Along those lines, by flattering the Duce’s limitless
vanity, the generals encouraged his assumption of even technical military responsibilities. This
granted the high command the freedom to intervene as champions of the pre-Fascist order in case
of military disaster. Of course, this is what happened on July 25, 1943.30 Perhaps such far
sighted passivity involved even the deliberate renunciation of the opportunity to propose plans
for the desert war. That would have left such matters to the whims of the Duce. Beyond that,
however, such questions lie in the realm of hypotheses, not history.
During the “subaltern war” Italian military performance improved not only tactically but
even strategically. However, the latter took place only in the context of Cavallero’s great
improvement of the armed forces general staff. After his return from Albania in May 1941,
Cavallero had reorganized and greatly expanded Badoglio’s bare bones Stamage into what
became known as the Comando Supremo. In turn, that transformation facilitated much better
Italian collaboration with the Germans, an improvement also aided by Kesselring’s interpersonal
skills, charming personality and keen awareness of Italian sensitivities.31
However, such improvement on the strategic level collided with the power that Mussolini
still retained. As noted, he did serious damage to the outcome of the African campaign with his
dispersion of arms and equipment to Russia. Also serious was the Italian support given to
German leaders such as Rommel and Kesselring. The possessed great military ability but they
were still the prisoners of Hitler’s military strategy with which they often disagreed. So long as
the Russians resisted the German invasion, Hitler considered German effort in North African and
the Mediterranean had only one aim: to prevent the collapse of Italy. Only once, writing to
Mussolini on June 23, 1942, just before the capture of Tobruk, did the Führer seem to place
victory in the desert within the large strategic picture”
29
Lucio Ceva, “Ripensare Guadalajara” in idem., Spagna 1936-1939. Politica e guerra civile (Milan: Angeli,
2010).
30
Quirino Armellini, Diario di guerra. Nove mesi al Comando Supremo (Milan: Garzanti, 1946), p. 2; Ceva,
La condotta italiana, pp. 121-22.
31
Ceva, La condotta italiana, pp. 26-37; Kenneth Macksey. Kesselring: The Making of the Luftwaffe (New
York: McKay, 1978), pp. 102-03.
11
“... Egypt can be... torn from the English grasp. But the consequences of a similar blow
will be of global significance! Our offensive, which will open a pathway with the conquest of
Sebastopol, will contribute to the collapse of the entire eastern portion of the British empire.” 32
So, Hitler seemed to foresee victory in huge pincer movement with one arm slicing
through the Caucasus and the Middle East and the other cutting across Egypt into Palestine. But
in the very next sentence, he added significant advice to the Duce “in that historic hour.”
“... You should order the prosecution of operations until the complete annihilation of
British forces which your high command and Marshal Rommel believe they can accomplish
militarily with their forces.”33 [emphasis added.]
Note “with their forces” but nothing more. In other words, none of the many arms which
flowed into Tunisia starting in December 1942 of which only a part could have resolved the
situation in Egypt six moths earlier.34
Therefore, leaving aside many bitter arguments - such as the question of Malta or Tobruk,
Hitler’s order to Rommel of November 3, 1942 to fight to the death at el Alamein - a
Mediterranean-African strategy never occupied the pinnacle of Hitler’s thinking.
One will never know if Raeder’s strategic proposal in late 1940 - carefully studied but
rejected by Hillgruber - or the similar ideas of Kurt Assmann would have changed the outcome
of events.35 Empires of immense extent and long duration like those of the Roman or the British
(but not the Thousand-Year Reich envisioned by the Braunau customs inspector’s son) do not
arise from carefully preconceived plans. They are the product of slow and often accidental
stratification. In contrast, the dream-like edifices erected by Alexander and Napoleon proved
ephemeral.
German military ability lay at the operational level, in victories during single campaigns,
not at the strategic level, that indispensable for wars between coalitions. Bismarck’s admirers
rightly appreciate his ability to involve his country only in conflicts determined, quite precisely,
by operations. He understood that was the supreme measure of his army’s excellence.
32
DDI, 9th series, vol. VIII, no. 645, p. 706.
33
Ibid.
34
B.H. Liddell Hart, ed., The Rommel Papers (London: Collins, 1953), pp. 241, 513.
35
Jak P. Mallmann Showell, ed. Fuehrer Conferences on Naval Affairs 1939-1945 (London: Chatham,
1990), pp. 141-63; Kurt Assmann, Deutsche Schicksalsjahre: historische Bilder aus dem zweiten Weltkrieg und
seiner Vorgeschichte (Wiesbaden: Brockhaus, 1950); Hillgruber, Hitlers Strategie; Lucio Ceva, “La strategia
militare di Hitler, il Mediterraneo e il pensiero ipotetico,” Storia contemporanea, vol. 6, 1987.
12
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On October 3, 1941, the Secretary of the Navy, Frank Knox, told the British
Ambassador to Washington, Lord Halifax, that what he wanted to see happen,” as
Halifax reported to Prime Minister Churchill the next day, “was for the
Americans to send 150,000 men to Casablanca and join hands through an
assenting Weygand with us in North Africa. The President, according to him, was
much interested in this idea. I should suppose we are some way off that yet but
the fact that they should be thinking about it at all is interesting.”3 A week later,
on October 10, 1941, the President had personally confided the plan to the British
Ambassador, over lunch at his desk at the White House,4 telling Halifax he’d
“told Stimson and Marshall to make a study of the proposal to send an American
Expeditionary Force to West Africa. This had greatly excited [War Secretary]
Stimson and [U.S. Army Chief of Staff, General] Marshall, who thought he was
‘going off the deep end’ and embarking on a dispersal of effort that they thought
unwise,” Halifax signaled to Churchill in London the next day. “He had explained
to them, however, that he did not contemplate anything immediate, but none the
less wanted the question studied.” The titular Vichy leader, Maréchal Petain,
“might die,” and his understudy, General Weygand, “might feel himself released
from his personal pledge of loyalty” to Pétain and to Hitler, “and things might
move. I don’t suppose that all this is to be taken very seriously at present, but it is
"
a pointer,” the wise Ambassador to Washington added.5 The long-term, in other
words, might well become the short-term. To check out Stimson’s view of all this
Halifax had even gone to see the Secretary of War at the Munitions Building that
evening. “Stimson told me that he was inclined to hold the President off schemes
that would dissipate United States effort, the possibilities of which were severely
limited,” Halifax reported to Churchill. For his part, Stimson far preferred the idea
of sending American troops to Britain, to face a possible invasion if, as Stimson
suspected, the Russians were defeated in Operation Barbarossa, or sued for
peace.6
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“The Joint Board is convinced,” the Victory report made clear, “the first major
objective of the United States and its associates ought to be the complete military defeat
of Germany. If Germany were defeated, her entire European system would collapse, and
it is probable Japan could be forced to give up much of her territorial gains.”
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the report for the President did not consider “the overthrow of the Nazi regime by
action of the people of Germany” was likely – or certainly not “until Germany is
on the point of military defeat.” Even if a new regime were to be established in
Germany, “it is not at all certain that such a regime would agree to peace terms
acceptable to the United States.” Since Hitler’s Germany “can not be defeated by
the European Powers now fighting against her,” and “if our European enemies are
to be defeated, it will be necessary for the United States to enter the war and to
?
employ a part of its armed forces offensively in the Eastern Atlantic and in
Europe or Africa.”7
“Germany First” was thus the long-range primary strategic goal of the Victory Plan: an
outline plan under which American armies would have to go on the offensive, aiming
first at Rome and Berlin, then at Tokyo. But in the short term French North West Africa
offered a crucial first step or base, as the President had insisted. In setting out the “major
strategic objectives” in the ultimate defeat of Germany, the importance of North-West
Africa as an American goal was thus deliberately stressed. As I’ve written,
Not only would an American occupation of North-West Africa - with or without
Vichy French help - deny German access to the Atlantic Islands, and thus a
stepping stone to South America, but it would provide the U.S. with “a potential
base for a future land offensive,” the Victory Plan asserted. “In French North and
West Africa, French troops exist which are potential enemies of Germany,
provided they are re-equipped and satisfactory political conditions are established
by the United States. Because the British Commonwealth has but few troops
available and because of the unfriendly relations between the British and
Weygand [Vichy] regime, it seems clear that a large proportion of the troops of
the Associated Powers employed in this region must be United States troops.”8 9
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Roosevelt had told Mackenzie King he thought the British were falling apart - “that they
had the worst case of jitters in Britain that he thought they had ever had,” as Mackenzie
King recorded in his diary. “That they were terribly concerned and fearful of the whole
situation” in India and the Indian Ocean read.”10 In that context, hoping the British would
be effective, or even willing partners in a cross-Channel invasion was naïve; no such
invasion should be attempted, Mackenzie King argued forcefully, until the Allies could
apply preponderant force – for a failed cross-Channel assault would make Britain itself
vulnerable to attack, not Berlin. There had been “no dissent” from the Council members –
the Australian representative supporting McKenzie King, and speaking “very
emphatically about the necessity of avoiding the possibility of a second Dunquerque, and
how disastrous anything of the kind would be. He said he wished to support very strongly
what I had said.” The New Zealand representative had spoken “in an equal strain, saying
that while everyone believed in a second front, and the need for offensive action, up to
the present there had been no one who could say how it could be done.”11
After April 15, matters for Britain and its empire only grew worse – especially in
the Mediterranean. Not only did Malta become more and more beleaguered, but
!
Rommel’s offensive against the British Eighth Army in Libya led to the next great British
capitulation in the field: the abject surrender of Tobruk, without a fight.
At Singapore more than 100,000 men had surrendered on February 15, 1942, to a
vastly smaller force; at Tobruk on June 21, 1942, some 33,000 British imperial troops
surrendered to General Rommel, together with ample food, ammunition, supplies – and a
new port from which to fuel Rommel’s drive towards Egypt, Alexandria, Cairo and the
Suez Canal; possibly even a southern pincer that would help secure the oil wells
Germany desperately needed for its program of conquest and annihilation….
When Churchill, who was visiting Washington as the news of Tobruk’s surrender
came through, he not only shook with shame at the latest demonstration of British
incompetence, even cowardice, but privately declared he would never, in any
circumstances, undertake an operation as suicidal as a cross-Channel invasion that year.
Mackenzie King agreed.
The President took note. His War Department did not.
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to declare that he was “much troubled by charges which had
appeared in some of the papers that he and Churchill were running the war plans of the
war without regard to the advice of their military advisers.”20
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“he put it up before [Navy Secretary] Knox and myself apparently to silence us,” Stimson
recorded in his diary that night 1 &he must know that we are all against him on Gymnast,”
he sighed, “and yet that now that is going to be the first thing probably which is done, and
we are all very blue about it.”21 So upset was Stimson, in fact, that on his return to the
War Department he asked Marshall point blank to consider this possibility: namely that if
he, Marshall, “was President or Dictator” of America, “whether he would go on with
Gymnast and he told me frankly no.”22
Marshall as President or Dictator? Such language, exchanged between the
country’s most senior military officials, was sailing close to sedition – as even Marshall
8
began to recognize the following day, August 10, 1942, when the War Secretary showed
him precisely what he had in mind: yet another letter of objection to the President. “I am
now credibly informed that, in the light of these studies and of the rapidly unrolling world
situation now before us, both the Chief of Staff and the General Staff believe that this
operation should not be undertaken,” Stimson had written. “I believe it to be now their
opinion that under present conditions the Torch undertaking would not only involve
serious danger of our troops meeting an initial defeat, but that it could not be carried out
without emasculating any air attack this autumn on Germany from the British Isles and
would postpone the operation known as Roundup [the invasion and conquest of France]
until 1944. Furthermore, being an essentially defensive operation by the Allied Force, it
[Torch] would not in any material way assist Russia.”
General Marshall looked at the ageing Secretary with disbelief – and compassion.
It was clear Stimson was having a form of breakdown – in his diary he referred to his
“bogey fits” – and that the “mutiny” of the War Department had gotten completely out of
hand. The President was the nation’s Commander in Chief – not Marshall, or Stimson.
He had allowed Marshall enough rope to hang himself – ordering Marshall to fly to
England in July and see for himself that the British were not going to fight, and that a
1942, or even 1943, cross-Channel invasion would be suicidal. Finally, on July 30,
Marshall’s own crazed alternative – a switch of American military priority to the Pacific,
which he, General “Hap” Arnold, and Admiral King had recommended to the President
in perhaps the worst-argued military paper ever proffered to a serving '
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26
mock-invasion had been “liquidated.” Sepp Dietrich, commanding the Führer’s SS Life
Guard motorized division would surely be swearing, the Führer chuckled, that he hadn’t
even had the chance, given its quick extinction, “to enter the fray.”27
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personal representative at the meeting, Averell Harriman, showed the President on his
return to America, appeared “suddenly to grasp the strategic advantages of ‘Torch.’ He
saw four outstanding advantages:
(1) It would take the enemy in the rear.
(2) It would make the Germans and the French fight each other.
(3) It would put Italy out of action.
(4) It would keep the Spaniards neutral.”28
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Admiral Leahy - the new military Chief of Staff to the President whom Roosevelt had
specifically appointed in July to help stiffen the sinews of the War Department - in an
ucompromising cable sent to Robert Murphy from the White House on November 2, “is
that the operation will be carried out as now planned and that you will do your utmost to
secure the understanding and cooperation of the French officials with whom you are now
in contact.”30
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Eric Jennings, University of Toronto
African Free French troops at Koufra and in the Fezzan
From the outset, the first Free French desert victories of 1941-1942 should be
placed in their proper context. Jean-François Muracciole has shown how both the
number of forces involved on the Free French side, as well as their casualty rate, were
considerably lower than what the Fighting French would experience in France and Italy
between 1943 and 1945. Similarly, Martin Thomas and Anthony Clayton have remarked
upon the modest scale of these first Free French forces, adding that the significance of the
early campaigns that interest us here rests primarily in their propaganda value. Finally,
Jean-Christophe Notin has astutely remarked that Kufra has drawn greater attention than
the first bona fide Free French military success at Kub Kub, because contrary to the
latter, the former involved a solo Free French effort, under Free French command, and
departing from Free French soil.1 Politics have weighed heavily on this memory, in other
words.
Beyond the question of scale, in my opinion the first Free French military effort in
Africa is genuinely significant for several reasons. It offered the movement victories
over the Axis (and not simply against Vichy troops as the tragically divisive civil war in
Gabon had), and hence conferred the movement a key stamp of legitimacy. Free
France’s high commissioner to Africa, Edgard de Larminat stated as much in a speech he
gave at Brazzaville on April 5, 1941: “We proved… to the world that France was not
vanquished, for we have armed forces that are fighting and are indeed capable of
achieving victories.”2 When it was pronounced this assertion rested essentially on the
triumph at Kufra; others would follow. What seems certain is that without Kufra, the
Fezzan, and Bir-Hakeim, General de Gaulle would have been in a far weaker bargaining
position during his Algiers negotiations with Giraud. Without these military
accomplishments, would the US and Great Britain have consented to equip two Fighting
French divisions in the summer of 1943? This is in essentially what the great Free
Frenchman Maurice Schuman recognized in 1988: “Without the Kufra oath, there would
have been no Leclerc division and the future Marshal Leclerc would not have carved the
name Kufra into history, had he not departed from Brazzaville, the capital of Free
France.”3
The Free French had little chance to regroup after the rallying of Equatorial
Africa and Cameroun to their side in August 1940. At Duala, on October 21, 1940, less
than two months after Chad joined de Gaulle, and at the very time when Gabon was
entering into dissidence against de Gaulle’s dissidence, the General drafted a “note
relating to our military action plan.” It was intended for General de Larminat and then
Colonel Leclerc. In this note, the leader of the Free French articulated three priorities:
“1) to take part, directly in operations against the enemy… 2) to hold the territories that
have rallied to the Free French. 3) To utilize every opportunity to trigger the rallying of
other French territories in Africa.” 4 The General seems to have been vacillating between
protecting his African assets, acquiring new ones, and passing on to the offensive (a
!
#
challenge, for AEF and Cameroun brought with them a mere 16,500 troops; over the next
three years, the Free French would raise another 17,000 fighting men from these regions).
The document went on to recommend the following plan of attack: “direct action against
the enemy shall be undertaken as soon as possible: in Italian territory in Libya in the
areas of Kufra and Mourzouk. These actions are to be undertaken against Italian
positions in close liaison with air forces and specialized troops in Chad.”5
In addition to the obvious motivation of wishing to attack an enemy that had
declared war on France on June 10, 1940, while France was already agonizing, and to
boost moral after the debacle of 1940, another Free French consideration emerges from
the French colonial archives. This was a time of French internal tensions. Vichy
reached Chad by radio (having tested a new powerful radio broadcasting post in Niger in
October 1940), and did not hesitate to pillory the Gaullists; Vichy even considered
infiltrating printed propaganda into Chad by way of African notables and infiltrated
African soldiers. Against this backdrop, on November 11, 1940, Free French leader Félix
Eboué reported an encounter between Vichy and Gaullist emissaries near the Chad-Niger
border, which had suddenly become an international frontier, indeed the only land point
at which Free and Vichy French could enter into contact. Eboué’s men reported an initial
impression that “Vichy wants to bring us back to reason by means of force.” As for the
project of attacking Libya, raised by the Gaullist emissary, his Vichy interlocutor,
Lieutenant Michaud, responded: “in [Vichy] Niger, the idea of attacking Libya from
Chad is considered to be folly, given the means at our disposal… [However] the
undertaking could bring to [the Free French] about half of the forces in Niger.” 6 In other
words, here was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone: returning into the world
war by opening a Saharan front, while at the same time rallying Vichytes who had
remained skeptical to say the least as long as Free France was fighting Vichy forces,
rather than Axis ones. In April 1941, such hope still lingered, at least in British circles.
The British captain de Paula reported that several posts in Vichy territory, including the
one at Madama in Northeastern Niger, were ready to provide valuable information to
Free French forces entering Libyan territory. Another Vichy post seemed ready to join
the struggle outright, according to this same report.!$ The enduring hope of swinging
supporters of Pétain to the Free French cause was not absurd in and of itself, but it clearly
failed to take into account the cumulative impact of Dunkirk, Mers-el-Kébir, Dakar and
Gabon-- in other words the depth of the Vichy-Free French chasm. It also failed to
consider the widespread and deep fidelity that many colonials continued to feel towards
Marshal Pétain.
Kufra has become legendary as an improbable feat achieved by Colonel Leclerc’s
men. Crossing the Sahara desert, from South to North, with very limited supplies and
weapons, then taking a powerful Italian fortress-- indeed a symbol of Mussolini’s
expansionism-- was, according to many an impossible task, even though early projects
for such a raid had already been formulated in 1939. In fact, the attackers themselves
seemed not to have liked their odds, as can be deduced from a telegram from General de
Larminat to London on January 18, 1941, announcing that “our limited means, the enemy
forces, as well as the difficult terrain do not permit us to hope to take Kufra, unless
extraordinarily favorable circumstances develop.” Yet Kufra fell, and marked the first
victory by troops under Free French command, departing from Free French soil. After
!
%
the victory, Leclerc famously uttered the Koufra “oath” of which several variants seem to
exist, since it was not transcribed at the time. What seems clear is that he vowed, with
his men-- from Bangui, Yaoundé and Douala-- not to put down their arms until
Strasbourg had been liberated.
The expedition presented innumerable challenges. Leclerc’s troops had to cross
1,000 km of desert between their point of departure at Faya-Largeau in Chad to reach the
oasis fortress. They soon found out that the Italians had blocked the best source of water
en route-- the Puy Sara. Timing was also crucial: Free French captain Ginard remarked
that “in Chad, war is seasonal, much like hunting in Europe.” The expedition needed to
beat the rainy season. The story of the Kufra raid is fairly well known, having been
recounted by many of its participants.&!!What has been less well established is the
campaign’s multiple colonial dimensions, and the African participation in it. Black
troops made up the bulk of the Free French forces sent to Kufra. According to a report
signed by Leclerc in person, the expedition included 295 African troops-- not counting
drivers-- and 101 European troops, as well as six civilians. Out of the four who perished
on the Free French side, three were African. Out of the 22 wounded, 10 were. The
African proportion of combatants in the ensuing Fezzan campaign of 1942-1943 would
be more spectacular still: 2,700 Africans for 550 Europeans.'
And yet, among the surrender terms of the Tag Fort at Kufra on March 1 1941,
clause number three stipulates: “Upon signature, a French unit composed strictly of
Europeans will take possession of the fort.”"( Leclerc’s report specifies that: “the Italian
officers insisted that only Europeans initially occupy the fort, excluding the Senegalese
(sic.).”"" In other words, those surrendering had allegedly insisted upon the clause. How
can one explain this demand and Leclerc’s willingness to accept it? According to
governor Pierre Olivier Lapie, and US photographer George Rodger (the latter arrived at
Kufra the day after the Italian surrender), it was Leclerc who summarily dictated the
surrender terms to the Italians, who in turn accepted them wholesale"#) This version has
oft been repeated since.13 For his part, Jean-Noël Vincent suggests that the Italians might
have suggested the clause “no doubt for fear of looting and resentment from the native
troops.”!"* This seems to be pure conjecture. It seems far more likely that the colonial
power relation precluded Africans taking the reputedly invincible fort. Consequently, the
surrender terms seem to constitute an avowal that African forces taking the Tag Fort
would have been tantamount to a dishonor. This in fact is precisely what one former Free
Frenchman, Charles Béné, concludes. He describes the surrender terms as having been
“honest and humane,” “devoid of humiliating conditions.”!"+!All of this said, Leclerc’s
position of inferiority at Kufra (in terms of air support, firepower, and numbers), and the
virtual miracle of the Italian surrender, not to mention the extreme fatigue of his troops
having crossed the Sahara, may have led Leclerc to deem this kind of accommodation a
small dishonor to pay for the first Free French victory. Still, it comes in stunning contrast
to Jean Moulin’s willingness to die rather than sign a document incriminating black
French troops in 1940.
!
*
Kufra revealed both the weakness of the Italian defense, and the extreme fragility
of Leclerc’s supply line, weaponry, and equipment. In March 1941, Leclerc analyzed the
apparel and arms of his African soldiers as follows: “the natural slowness of the tirailleur
is only aggravated by equipment and arms that are out of touch with modern combat:
ammunition belt, 86 gun, shoulder bag, bayonet remove all flexibility from the tirailleur.”
Furthermore, he contended: “the problem of shoes has also presented itself. After a few
days of combat on rocky ground, most of the African troops and even some of the
Europeans had bloodied feet.”!",! Footgear clearly presented a special problem.
According to a long-held colonial tradition, African soldiers and police forces in French
Equatorial Africa were barefoot on maneuvers and outside of combat situations, unlike
European troops.!"$! This explains a photograph taken by Life Magazine’s George
Rodger, showing barefoot African troops training at Bouar in 1941. What is more, in the
desert campaign, even when one had shoes they often did hold up for long. Hassoldt
Davis, a US volunteer in the Free French ranks, evokes the fact that during the Fezzan
campaign of 1942 “heat was so intense that helmets and shoes shriveled until they were
unusable.”!"&!
!
More generally, Kufra highlighted problems that the Free French then promptly
took to their allies. This is in substance what the High Commissioner to Free French
Africa expressed to General de Gaulle on March 19, 1941, specifying that Leclerc had
especially lacked anti-aircraft equipment."' Indeed, during the expedition itself, on
February 28, 1941 to be precise, the Spears mission demanded aircraft from the British
air ministry in order to repatriate the wounded at Kufra, adding : “scarcity of transport
planes is tragic.” Fortuitously, the Kufra expedition resolved a few shortages in and of
itself. The Free French column returned to Chad loaded with enemy materiel: an ice
making machine that would be greeted with wild cheers in Chad, but more usefully four
20mm guns, three 12,7 machine guns, 18 heavy machine guns and 32 Fiat 35 machine
guns, not to mention over a million rounds for machine guns and light weaponry
(according to George Rodger), as well as fourteen vehicles.#( !With the exception of the
ice making machine, all of this loot would be used during the 1942 Fezzan campaign.!#"
All of this booty was brought back to Chad by the same African chauffeurs who had
taken the troops to Kufra in the first place.
African drivers played a crucial role during the entire Free French Saharan war.
The archives reveal them to have served as a veritable umbilical cord during the Kufra
and Fezzan campaigns. Yet the Free French suffered from a shortage of trucks as well.
Indeed, in 1941, one hundred and fifty of them were requisitioned in Oubangui-Chari, a
colony that desperately needed them for the cotton harvest. With limited resources, this
kind of measure exacerbated preexisting tensions between civilian and military
authorities. In 1943, the archives reveal new efforts by the army to commandeer 400
trucks in Oubangui-Chari and in Chad, this time to bring the BM 12 and 13 to North
Africa.!##! We also should not lose sight of the navigators who ferried supplies up the
Oubangui river, or the columns of thousands of camels that placed petrol canisters at
regular intervals on the path to Koufra.#% For the truckers, conditions were sometimes
infernal. On March 15, 1941, for instance, ill-adapted tires and overloaded trucks led to a
“catastrophe” en route to the Sahara.!#* At Kufra, Chevrolet trucks are rigged with
machine-guns, while some thirty Ford trucks and twenty-five Bedfords brought water,
!
+
munitions, fuel and food, all essential in a desert mission. The ask proved all the more
challenging because the tires on the Fords were ill-equipped for the desert: too thin, they
led their crews to get stuck. Around Kufra, sheet metal was slipped under the wheels
whenever a vehicle became ensnared by the desert sand.#+
The many archives I consulted hold scant information about the truckers
themselves. One witness states that among the truckers at Kufra “Cameroun was well
represented. Some drivers as well as workers, were wounded, one of them twice.”
Charles Béné observes that these Camerounians were “requisitioned” as civilians, at the
point of entry of the trucks in Africa, which is to say Douala. He adds that many of them
were Catholics.!#, After the Kufra raid and the Fezzan campaign, in April 1942, Leclerc
requested a 30,000 franc allocation to “reward the Camerounian drivers and soldiers
wounded during the last military operations.”!#$!
!
The Free French victory at Kufra is sometimes described as having been more
symbolic than useful. It is true that the impact on morale was immediate. A report on
Northern Chad in 1941 reads: “the taking of Kufra by the French has produced an
excellent impression on the natives: it showed them our strength and greatly enhanced
our prestige that had been somewhat shaken by Italian bluster that had been relayed by
Toubou people, crossing the border.”#& Within Free French ranks as well, the effect was
striking. On March 11, 1941, a George, probably George Rodger, reported to the Spears
mission that among Free French forces in Chad the “success” of Kufra “has certainly
helped to sweeten the bad taste in the mouth after Dakar.”#' It is in fact difficult to
overstate the importance of Free France defeating an axis power so soon after France’s
complete defeat. Little wonder that Free French postage stamps in Equatorial Africa
featured a phoenix rising from the ashes.
This said, Kufra also possessed real strategic importance. Free France now had
gained a foothold on the other side of the Sahara, and had demonstrated an ability to
penetrate Italian Libya from the South. The de Gaulle mouvement now occupied enemy
territory, albeit a territory that held longstanding ties with northern Chad. Indeed,
Chadian interests, especially those of Libyans who had taken refuge from Mussolini in
northern Chad, now grafted themselves onto Free French ones. Finally, Free France,
which was so frequently defensive vis à vis purported Vichy, US, or British colonial
ambitions, now reinvented itself as an occupier, over the long haul.
Before even setting off for Kufra, Leclerc issued specific instructions governing
relations with the population of the Kufra oasis. Firstly “indigenous civilians are to be
spared as much as possible.” Secondly, “native soldiers will be released immediately,
and charged with forming a fifth column.” Leclerc was able to utilize elements of the
sizeable Cyrenian and Fezzanese population that had taken refuge in Chad after
Mussolini’s conquest of the Libyan Sahara. Prior to 1940, this population, estimated at
roughly 2,000 individuals in all of AEF (though concentrated in Chad), had been banned
from living within a 300km radius of the Libyan border. Their knowledge of both sides
of the borders seemed then to be at once an asset and a liability. Yet the Free French now
recruited easily in these circles because the refugees were clearly intent on revenge
against Mussolini’s Italy. As early as November 1940, when the very first Free French
!
,
raid on Mourzouk was being planned, captain Jacques Massu asked that Toubous and
Fezzanese refugees in Chad be recruited to serve as informants. Members of these
different exiled communities even handed Leclerc a letter of introduction to the
population of Kufra%(. Once he arrived there, in one of the oasis’s villages, Leclerc read
the text to a village chief, who remained somewhat perplexed by the Frenchman’s accent- Leclerc having learned some Arabic in Morocco during the Rif campaign. Theatrics
aside, Leclerc sought not so much to be treated as a liberator in Libya, but to tap into
whatever source might help him capture the Italian position. On February 23, 1941, in
the midst of the siege of the Tag Fort, Leclerc requested quite specific and surprising
supplies from Brazzaville: “Very important from a political standpoint, send us a great
deal of tea and sugar for the natives.” The “natives” are those of the oasis, and not
French colonial troops, as is evidenced in a following telegram from 27 February, adding
“in view of distributing it to the natives of Kufra, Colonel Leclerc requests sugar and
tea.”!%"
Initially, the scale of success at Kufra-- taking the fortress when initial hope had
been to destroy a few aircraft-- placed Free France in an awkward position. In a telegram
to London, Larminat, Eboué and doctor Adolphe Sicé agreed (for once) to state: “it
would be best to keep the question of Kufra’s attribution in the shadow, and to avoid at
all cost to awaken British colonial distrust over our ambitions at the time when we most
need British support. Kufra is a pile of rocks without interest to us.” They added, with
no less clarity: “Kufra is practically inaccessible from French Africa. The proof is that
we need to ask the British to evacuate our small detachment at Kufra via Egypt. Tying
Kufra to Chad would be as unviable as linking the Southern Algerian oases to
Timbuktu.” Finally, according to Larminat, Leclerc had allegedly pledged to hand Kufra
to the British if by some feat he managed to take it. Conversely, he contended, the
Fezzan could well interest Free France over the longue durée.%# On March 14, de Gaulle
responded by telegram that “now is not the time to make commitments about Kufra when
we do not yet know the British position about the Fezzan, should it come up one day.”
He also made clear that the decision was his, not his representatives’ in Africa:
“agreements of this sort are general matter that need to be referred to me.”!%% Thus,
Gaullist authority, and sovereignty over Kufra and the Fezzan were all being tightly
linked in March 1941, rather prematurely writing Italy out of the equation already, even
before the Free French invested an conquered the Fezzan, which they would do in 19421943.
Kufra’s status remained unresolved. Then its inhabitants took the initiative,
“requesting” for example “a French school” as early as March 1941. They were actors in
this small-scale diplomatic tug of war. Whereupon Emir Idris Senoussi, (the future
Libyan king who would one day be toppled by a certain Ghaddafi) in exile since the
Italian conquest of Kufra, contacted de Gaulle to formulate requests, including the
restoration of traditions, the restitution of powers and properties to the Senoussis. In
short, he sought to erase the Italian colonial presence, while gaining autonomy, and a new
impetus for his Muslim brotherhood. The Senoussis had once harassed French forces on
the Chad’s confines. The irony certainly did not escape General de Gaulle who
remained suspicious of their future intentions. Indeed, Idriss Senoussi’s nationalist
ambitions were well known. Yet, his brother Mohammed El Abid was one of the many
!
$
Libyans to have fled the fascist invasion, and had found refuge in Chad prior to 1940. He
now served as a go-between for Free France in its negotiations over southern Libya.!%*
In spite of this temporary rapprochement, many problems remained. They hinged
on the fundamental rupture that Leclerc’s forces had just undertaken, breaking Kufra
from Libya and the Mediterranean coast. No sooner had Kufra fallen than local
merchants asked the Free French what would become of their animals that had remained
north of the desert. Captain Fernand Barboteu, temporarily in charge of the Kufra
military territory, attempted in vain to compensate for this lost trade by stimulating links
with Chad.%+ Between imperatives of legitimacy and the everyday headache of managing
occupied territories, doubts began to grow among the Free French ranks. In April 1941,
Larminat and Eboué agreed that it was “premature” to remove the label of “enemy
national” from the inhabitants of Kufra, even though doing so would have released frozen
Kufra funds and other assets.!%,!
!
The Free French debate over whether or not to extend the occupation of Kufra
was sensitive enough for two reports to be devoted to the topic, one in London, one in
Brazzaville. Each reviewed the international treaties that might be used to justify French
control over Koufra and its environs (the agreements of 1899, in the wake of Fashoda, as
well as those of 1919 and 1925). The reports converged to conclude that Kufra lay well
beyond both French and British claims.%$ The idea of Free France colonizing Southern
Libya was not ruled out, by any stretch. On March 23, 1941, de Gaulle ordered that a
Free French detachment be maintained at all times at Kufra. The General further
demanded that “France’s colours fly above the fort.” On April 3, 1941, de Gaulle finally
accepted that British Colonel Ralph Bagnold serve as commander of the Kufra area, so
long as a French liaison officer be posted with him. Yet, Free France was so short of men
at the time that in June 1941, de Gaulle began to complain to General Wavell of the
amount of time that British troops were taking to relieve French ones at Kufra. Indeed,
350 Free French men were still occupying the position, while de Gaulle wanted only a
“symbolic unit” there. He needed those forces elsewhere. More than ever, Free France
was caught between its expansionist ambitions, its expression of sovereignty, its desire to
wage war, and the difficult reality of depending so greatly upon Great Britain.
Kufra offered a foreshadowing of the colonial project that Free France embarked
upon in the Fezzan. In February 1942, the Gaullist movement launched its first intrusion
into the Fezzan, followed by a second and far more successful wave between September
1942 and January 1943. Here too the task proved arduous: the Tibesti massif rose some
3,000 meters above sea level and created a natural border between Free French Chad and
Mussolini’s Fezzan. Mirroring Leclerc’s instructions for Kufra, in the Fezzan, lieutenantcolonel Louis Dio explained to his compatriots that “the natives of the Fezzan are our
future subjects, and we will rely upon them for supplies.” Consequently, he instructed:
“natives of the Frezzan are to be respected, both their property and their persons.” Lastly,
Free French forces should “repeat at every opportunity to the natives that we are waging
war on the Italians and the Italians alone.”!%&
The conquest of the Fezzan triggered much more serious diplomatic repercussions
for the Free French, as both Jean-Louis Crémieux-Brihlac and Saul Kelly have shown.
!
&
As early as November 1942, the British openly worried about Free French ambitions in
the Fezzan. On November 30, Richard Casey, the British minister in charge of Middle
Eastern affairs, evoked possible Free French aspirations over the area. There followed a
vigorous debate between de Gaulle and the British, over a British scheme to have Leclerc
accompanied by UK officers. On the British side, in December 1942, strong reservations
were expressed about the possibility that the French franc might become the Fezzan’s
currency.!%'!!Leclerc rebuffed schemes to impose the Pound Sterling over the area, and de
Gaulle issued a terse statement to the Foreign Office proclaiming that: “the Fezzan will
be France’s part for the battle of Africa.”!*( De Gaulle won this set, in large part thanks
to Anthony Eden. The latter persuaded the War Office that the Fezzan was not worth a
quarrel with General de Gaulle, and that tying the Fezzan to Chad struck him as equally
logical as linking it to Libya. Eden also contended that the Fezzan’s populations were
largely Touareg and not Arab, thereby he thought, enhancing de Gaulle’s case. In the
event, the speed with which the Fezzan fell in late 1942 left little option to British
planners, short of pulling the carpet out from under de Gaulle’s movement. However,
even the Fezzan’s eventual borders would prove to cause friction between Free French
and British colonial authorities.!*"!
!
Free France had now launched its own colonial adventure, outside of the
boundaries of the slabs of empire that fell to it in 1940, and indeed outside of the
boundaries of France’s prewar empire. In January 1943, Pierre Lami, the right hand man
of Colonel Raymond Delange in the Fezzan, set about elaborating legislation for the
“military territory of Fezzan,” along with a native policy for good measure. He observed
in a postcard to Governor General Félix Eboué: “It’s as if it were our turn to play the role
of occupier, before landing in Europe.”!*# Leclerc made no mistake either, telegraphing
Eboué on January 9, 1943 that “our occupation regime begins today.” In October 1943,
Charles de Gaulle distinguished between the nature of the battles his movement had
waged up until then: “In Eritrea, in Ethiopia, in Libya, Free France fought. In the Fezzan,
it conquered.” In his memoirs, de Gaulle proved candid about his Libyan ambitions: “the
conquest of the Fezzan” he wrote “would place into our hands a chip over the future
destiny of Libya.”*%
In February 1943, specifically designed Free French bills and stamps were
introduced into the Fezzan. Initially, General Leclerc had attempted to introduce French
Equatorial African currency in the Fezzan. No doubt he thereby intended to mark the
doubly colonial nature of the campaign: the Fezzan, occupied by troops from French
Equatorial Africa, was to adopt the currency of that colony. Only the shortage of small
bills in AEF seems to have prevented the scheme from being carried out. The
compromise involved utilizing West African bills with a “Fezzan” surcharge. It
backfired, and recalcitrant caravan traders had to be forced to use this new currency for
their inter-colonial commerce. A telegram from March 1943 reveals the extent of the
problem: “The surcharged Fezzan bills are avoided in all neighboring territories and even
by allied armies.” Two months later, the situation remained unchanged, with trade
between Chad and Fezzan having become virtually “impossible” as a result-- precisely
the reverse of what some Free French were trying to achieve by tethering their holdings
in Libya to Chad.**!
!
'
In this conquered land, the Free French did not hesitate to contrast their colonial
policy with that of Fascist Italy. A Free French report from 1943 evoked “the end of a
cruel domination of peace-loving people, who will finally, after having reunited with
their traditional chiefs, resume a normal life.”*+ For as they had at Kufra, the Free French
brought in their coat-tails a number of Fezzanese expatriates who had sought asylum in
Chad. Other sources evoked Italian colonial abuses, holding them responsible, in fact
for the departure of some 35,000 Fezzanese for neighboring Chad and Sudan between
1925 and 1940.!*,! In this sense, the conquest of the Fezzan constituted a fresh new
episode in a far older series of trans-Saharan migrations, many of them due in large part
to the evolution of the local geopolitical order.
By following the Free French from their tenuous grip on Equatorial Africa and
Cameroun in August 1940 through to their conquest of the Fezzan in late 1942 I hope to
have established the multiple colonial dimensions of this remarkable trajectory. Free
French troops hailed largely from Sub-Saharan Africa. Their makeshift, yet startlingly
successful military effort built upon earlier intercolonial rivalries, and transcolonial trade
routes. Free France developed and carried out its own colonial project, while exhuming
earlier treaties that had partitioned the continent during the scramble for Africa. This was
indeed a way of testing Free France’s occupying abilities, a kind of dress rehearsal for the
European campaign of 1943-1944. However, that next stage of the war would be
conducted with far fewer troops from AEF and Cameroun. As I am showing in my
current manuscript, in July 1943 most of these original Free French African forces were
purged, in favor of far more recent recruits in North African territories that had been
outside of Free French control until 1943. The primacy of membership in the Free
French would likewise provide fodder for future recriminations.
As for the Fezzan, in 1945, Free French General François Ingold asked his nation
to guard its wartime gains. And indeed, the Fezzan would remain in French hands until
Libyan independence in 1951, with oil and strategic stakes now trumping wartime
jockeying. Libya, and the Koufra oath periodically resurface in the French collective
imagination, as with a recent documentary on Bernard Henry Lévy’s involvement in the
Libyan revolution, dubbed the “oath of Bengazhi.”
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
1
Jean-François Muracciole, Les Français libres : l’autre résistance, Paris, 2009, p. 273 ;
Anthony Clayton, Histoire de l’armée française en Afrique, 1830-1962, Paris, 1994, p.
!
"(
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
173. Martin Thomas, The French Empire at War, Manchester, 2007, p. 85. JeanChristophe Notin, Leclerc, Paris, 2005, p. 165-6.
2
CHETOM, 18H 138.
3
Maurice Schuman, preface to Ackermann Athanassiades, France libre, capitale
Brazzaville, Paris, 1989, p. 8.
4
AML, Leclerc 5A, note relative au plan d’action militaire, personnelle et confidentielle
à l’attention du général de Larminat et du Colonel Leclerc, signée Charles de Gaulle.
5
Ibid.
6
Catherine Akpo-Vaché, L’AOF et la seconde guerre mondiale, Paris, 1996, p. 39. On
the new, powerful radio émissions post at Zinder, see ANOM GGAEF, 6B 710, Fort
Lamy le 27 octobre 1940. The discussion between Vichy and Free French emissaries is
drawn from: ANOM GGAEF 5D 290, Eboué, Fort-Lamy le 11 novembre 1940,
télégramme 751.
7
PRO WO 178, d. 5, No 20 Military Mission, War diary, April 29, 1941.
8
Raymond Dronne, Leclerc et le Serment de Koufra, Paris, 1965. P. O. Lapie, Mes
tournées au Tchad, Alger, 1945. and the testimony of Roger Ceccaldi in Actes du
colloque international le général Leclerc et l’Afrique française libre, Paris, 1987, p. 423442. François Ingold, L’Epopée Leclerc au Sahara, Paris, Berger-Levrault, 1945.
Général Vézinet, Le Général Leclerc de Hauteclocque Maréchal de France, Paris, 1974.
9
CHETOM, 15H 156, Opération de Koufra, effectifs des troupes françaises. JeanFrançois Muracciole’s figures are very close to my own. Muracciole, op. cit., p. 273.
For the Fezzan figures, see Jean-Louis Crémieux-Brilhac, La France libre, Paris, 2001, p.
641.
10
SHD 11P 21, Conditions de reddition, Koufra, 1er mars 1941.
11
CHETOM, 15H 156, Opération de Koufra, p. 9, rapport signé Leclerc.
12
Lapie, op. cit., p. 248 ; George Rodger, Voyage au désert, Paris, La Colombe, 1956, p.
54-55.
13
See for instance Notin, op. cit., p. 162.
14
Jean-Noël Vincent, Les forces françaises libres en Afrique, 1940-1943, Vincennes,
1983, p. 270.
15
Charles Béné, Carnets de route d’un ‘Rat du Désert’ Alsacien de la France libre, vol.
1, Raon-L’Etape, 1991, p. 220.
16
SHD 12 P 259, Rapport concernant l’activité des forces françaises libres du Tchad de
janvier et février 1941.
17
Phyllis M. Martin, « Contesting clothes in colonial Brazzaville » Journal of African
History, 35, 1994, p. 408.
18
Hassoldt Davis, Feu d’Afrique, Paris, 1945, p. 85.
19
ANF, 3AG1 169, Haut-Commissaire à France libre, 19 mars 1941.
20
See Vincent, op. cit., p. 270 for the general figures; Rodger, p. 56 pour the figure on
ammunition. For the ice making machine see Ingold, op. cit., p. 55. Hassoldt Davis
remarks upon how the Free French of Faya-Largeau enjoyed the ice-maker. Davis, op.
cit., p. 86.
21
AML, Leclerc 15, chemise 6, and Davis, op. cit., p. 91.
22
ANOM GGAEF 6B 710, Bangui, le 8 décembre 1941 and ANOM Cab. 63, Alger le 8
janvier 1943.
!
""
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
23
See Béné, op. cit. p. 179.
AML, Leclerc 6B Largeau à Armées Lamy, 15 mars 1941.
25
CHETOM, 15H 156, Opération de Koufra, effectifs des troupes françaises. Béné, p.
212.
26
SHD 12 P 259, l’Affaire de Koufra. Béné, p. 246, 248 et 252.
27
ANC GGAEF 84, Leclerc au Haut-Commissaire, 18 avril 1942, (Tel 974).
28
ANOM GGAEF 4(4) D51, Borkou- Tibesti, 1941, rapport sur la situation politique.
29
PRO WO 178, d. 5, « George » from Fort-Lamy, le 11 mars 1941.
30
Jacques Frémeaux, La Sahara et la France, Paris, 2010, p. 162-3. AML, Leclerc 6A,
Massu le 13 novembre 1940. Béné, op. cit., p. 186.
31
Colonel de Guillebon, « les débuts au Sahara » Tropiques, February 1948. AML,
Leclerc 6B, Colonel Leclerc pour Le Nuz, Koufra le 23 février 1941, and in the same
folder, Largeau, 27 février 1941.
32
ANF, 3AG1 169, Larminat à Londres, 2 mars 1941.
33
ANOM, GGAEF, 5D 291 télégramme 352, expédié le 14 mars 1941, reçu le 17.
34
ANOM GGAEF 2Y 14, Mohammad Idriss As Senoussi au général de Gaulle, 5 avril
1941. On the family ties see Frémeaux, op. cit., p. 163.
35
AML, Leclerc 6B Koufra, 14 mars 1941, Renseignements sommaires sur la situation
politique et administrative. Ingold, op. cit., p. 108.
36
ANOM GGAEF 2Y 14, de Larminat à Eboué, 26 avril 1941 and ANOM GGAEF 3B
1092, Eboué à de Larminat, 24 avril 1941.
37
ANOM GGAEF 2Y 14, note au sujet de la note sur Koufra, direction des affaires
politiques du GGAEF, 14 avril 1941. Note sur Koufra, accompagnée d’une lettre du
général de Gaulle au général de Larminat, 5 mars 1941.
38
AML, Leclerc 5A, conduite à tenir vis à vis de la population indigène civile du Fezzan.
39
Saul Kelly, « Ce fruit savoureux du désert : Britain, France and the Fezzan, 1941-1956
The Maghreb Review 26 : 1, (2001), p. 3- 4.
40
Cited by Crémieux-Brilhac, op. cit., p. 647.
41
Kelly, op. cit., p. 7 et 10-12.
42
FCDG, Fonds Eboué, F22, 18, Pierre Lami à Félix Eboué, 13 janvier 1943.
43
Leclerc cited by Ingold, op. cit., p. 208. Charles de Gaulle, preface to Ingold’s book,
op. cit. p. x. Charles de Gaulle, Mémoires de Guerre, Vol. 1, p. 250.
44
For Leclerc : ANC GGAEF 82, TO chiffré Brazzaville pour le Commissaire national
aux Finances, Londres, le 12 janvier 1943. On the caravans: ANOM GGAEF 6B 723,
télégramme reçu de Lamy, expédié le 9 avril 1943. On neibhboring territories, see
télégramme N 425 reçu de Lamy, in the same file. On the persistent difficulties in using
the bills in 1943, see in this same file the telgram from Sebha, May 24, 1943.
45
FCDG, Fonds Eboué, F22, 18, note sur le Fezzan et sa conquête par les forces du
général Leclerc.
46
Jacques Lorraine, preface to Paul Moynet, L’épopée du Fezzan, Alger, 1944, p. 9.
24
1
Hastily Thrown Together: the French Army of Africa in Tunisia (1942-1943)
Julie Le Gac, Ecole Normale Supérieure de Cachan
Rome, 5 October 2012
How short France found her sword to be at the moment the Allies launched their attack upon
Europe! Never had our country, on so crucial an occasion, been reduced to resources relatively
so limited. … Its rebirth was all the more remarkable as it had taken its start in an abyss of
submission.1
Charles de Gaulle.
By the time the Allies landed in North Africa in November 1942 the French Army had been
reduced to a fraction of its former strength. French participation in the Tunisian campaign
thus constituted the first act in the rebirth evoked by General de Gaulle: a perilous and painful
first act, certainly, but one that ultimately resulted in victory. Even if French participation in
the Tunisian Campaign was not crucial to the Allied victory in military terms, it had an
undeniable symbolic importance, galvanising French efforts and reviving hopes in the
possibility of a victory against the Axis. In the process, however, an ‘abyss of submission’
was demanded of the troops involved. This paper examines the vicissitudes of mobilisation in
North Africa in terms of men, equipment and morale. It analyses the sequence of decisions
which led to the engagement of a French army, drastically underprepared and underequipped,
on the Tunisian front, and highlights the human cost of this campaign for French national
restoration, a sacrifice which only served to reinforce the symbolism of the victory.
1
Charles de Gaulle, Mémoires de guerre, vol. II: L’Unité 1942 – 1944, Paris, Pocket, 2004 (First edition Paris
Plon 1956), p. 289.
2
A chaotic mobilisation
The Army of Africa, which had been such a considerable asset when it numbered 400,000
men in 1939, was subject to tight restrictions.2 The armistice signed at Rethondes on 22 June
1940 limited the French army to just 100,000 men, a figure which included both metropolitan
and colonial forces. The Italian armistice commission in Turin, meanwhile, sought to restrict
the Army of Africa to 30,000 men, all stationed to the west of Bizerte. The attempted landings
by British and Gaullist forces in Dakar in September 1940 played into the hands of the Vichy
regime which, in the name of protecting French colonies, was forever exceeding these quotas.
Henceforth the Axis authorised an army of 100,000 men to be stationed in North Africa:
40,000 in Algeria, 45,000 in Morocco and 15,000 in Tunisia. The Army of Africa was further
restricted insofar as the distribution of ranks was limited to 4% officers and 16% noncommissioned officers, in an attempt to avoid the formation of an army of cadres.
Nevertheless, these numbers were supplemented by a further 60,000 soldiers who were
officially designated as auxiliaries or as members of work units. In April 1941, following
demands by the Vichy regime, these numbers were increased to 127,000 soldiers and 16,000
goumiers, to which a further 20,000 goumiers can be added who were camouflaged either as
Moroccan police forces or as members of the chantiers de jeunesse, youth camps in which
Colonel Van Hecke conducted clandestine military training, albeit with antiquated weaponry.3
On 14 November 1942 Admiral Darlan, French High Commissioner in Africa and
commander of French forces in Africa, declared a state of general alert on the basis of plans
established for the ‘defence of the Empire against any foe’ during the period of the armistice.
First of all, reservists were called up. In Constantine, because of the small size of the
European population, this applied to seven school year groups. Only the classes of 1938 and
1939 were affected in Oran, where the individual draft was favoured, while the classes of
1936 to 1939 were called up in Algiers. Owing to the small size of the French population in
Tunisia, fourteen year groups were affected from the outset.4 On 14 November 1942 General
Darlan ordered the militarisation of the youth camps in North Africa, which were transferred
to his direct command. The regional commissioner for youth in North Africa received the
order to call up all young people who had completed their service in the camps since June
2
Christine Lévisse-Touzé, L’Afrique du Nord dans la guerre, Paris, Albin Michel, 1998, p. 58.
Alphonse Van Hecke, Les chantiers de jeunesse au secours de la France, Paris, Nouvelles éditions latines,
1970.
4
General Barré, ‘Rapport sur les opérations d’alerte générale en Tunisie’, 1 December 1942, Service Historique
de la Défense [SHD] Département de l’Armée de Terre [DAT] 5P51.
3
3
1940.5 The first measures of mobilisation thus rested essentially on plans and institutions
created by the Vichy regime.
This rapid mobilisation proved be to somewhat chaotic. A lack of available
transportation hindered the circulation of reservists attempting to join their units, and these
units had neither sufficient means to accommodate the new arrivals nor the armaments
necessary to train them. Within a day of the general alert being ordered, General Noguès,
Superior Commander of the Moroccan forces warned Darlan that ‘the brutal application of
these measures is impossible: we have neither the materiel nor the clothing required’.6 The
civilian authorities in Morocco and Algeria criticised the economic disruption caused by
mobilisation, particularly in the agricultural sector. The situation in Tunisia was even more
chaotic. Out of a total of 13,000 men under the Superior Command of the Tunisian troops
(CSTT), 3,012 men under the command of Vice-Admiral Derrien were captured without any
resistance in the camp of Bizerte. Mobilisation was also greatly disrupted by the invasion of
the territory by Axis forces: with only one exception, in Kef, all assembly points for the
formation of new reservist units were abandoned; all files kept by the Headquarters of the
CSTT concerning mobilisation measures had to be burned before the CSTT left Tunis; all
communications with the central administration of the Tunisian army, the only body left in
Tunis that was capable of carrying out the mobilisation of indigenous reservists, were cut; and
all means of publicity such as printing presses, newspaper offices and radio stations fell into
enemy hands. ‘Under these conditions’, General Barré confessed on 1 December 1942, ‘the
general alert received on 15 November could only be executed to a very small degree’.7
Despite these difficulties, the leadership in Algiers was able to engage 37,830 men on
the Tunisian front after 20 November 1942. These numbers rose rapidly: 58,286 men were
fighting in Tunisia by 15 January 1943 and 68,817 by 30 April 1943. The officers were
largely reservists and the proportion of indigenous troops was high: just over 50% of the total
forces and almost 60% of the troops.8 In relation to the overall Allied war effort, however,
these forces remained limited: on 1 December 1942 the Americans had 146,000 engaged in
combat, the British more than 106,000. By 30 April 1943, on the eve of the decisive attack,
the American forces had risen to 395,000 and British forces to 265,000.9
5
Order number 4M of Admiral Darlan, 14 November 1942, Archives Nationales de l’Outre-Mer [ANOM]
Gouvernement Général de l’Algérie [GGA] 2R92.
6
Telegram from Noguès to Darlan, 14 November 1942, SHD DAT 5P51.
7
General Barré, ‘Rapport sur les opérations d’alerte générale en Tunisie’, 1 December 1942, SHD DAT 5P51.
8
Monthly reports, SHD DAT 10P241.
9
George F. Howe, Northwest Africa: Seizing the Initiative in the West, Washington, Office of the Chief of
Military History, 1957, p. 670.
4
Alongside problems of materiel, the French command was confronted by two problems
in terms of morale. First it had to overcome the trauma of the defeat of 1940, which was still
strongly present in the minds of officers and recruits alike. Above all, the spectacle of the
French rout had dented the prestige of the colonial power among the indigenous troops. The
unsuccessful resistance to the Allied landings in November 1942 was perceived as another
French defeat. Giraud called, as a result, for ‘a moral recovery’. It was necessary, he argued,
‘to make everyone understand that the war has started again and it is no longer a question of
continuing the petty habits of garrison life. The sooner the cadres are persuaded of this, the
sooner the Army will rediscover its passion. [We must] Demand impeccable appearance and
dress. The France of tomorrow will be a reflection of its army. We need to put an end to the
sloppiness and disorder that characterised the mobilisation of 1939. That only led us to the
catastrophe of 1940. The mobilisation of 1942 must lead us to victory’, he declared on 30
November 1942.10
It was equally important to ease the political strife caused by the three days of antiAllied resistance from 8 to 11 November 1942, which went far beyond the ‘honourable stand’
(‘baroud d’honneur’) described by General Juin.11 In terms of human costs, the French Army
suffered 1,345 deaths (347 in Algeria and 999 in Morocco) and 1,997 wounded, while the
Americans counted 479 dead and 720 injured.12 In terms of morale, above all, these few days
provoked a serious crisis of conscience among the cadres of the Army of Africa. Bound by
their oath of loyalty to Marshall Pétain, the officers were divided between those who
continued to advocate the neutrality defended by the Vichy regime and those who rallied to
the Allied cause, by now identified with confidence as the future victors. The malaise
struggled to dissipate and the high command only exacerbated the problem by insisting on
military values like bravery and obedience to the detriment of political sense and of the real
scope of its actions. French officers who demonstrated bravery during the days following the
Allied landings thus received military honours. General Koeltz, who in his role as commander
of the 19th corps of the army of Algeria initially ordered resistance against the AngloAmerican invasion, received important responsibilities during the Tunisian campaign (first at
the head of the 19th army corps, then taking command of the whole of French troops).
Conversely he punished his subordinate, General de Monsabert, who was implicated in the
10
Directive générale n° 3, by General Giraud, 30 November 1942, SHD DAT 11P46.
Alphonse Juin, Mémoires. Alger, Tunis, Rome, Paris, Arthème Fayard, 1959, p. 81.
12
Christine Lévisse-Touzé, L’Afrique du Nord dans la guerre 1939-1945… op. cit., p. 259.
11
5
secret preparation of the Allied landing, by depriving him of his command of a division in
Tunisia.
Getting by with very little
French troops engaged from November 1942 on the Tunisian front were seriously underresourced. In accordance with the conditions of the armistice they did not have any heavy
artillery, or anti-tank and anti-aircraft weapons. Admittedly, the French had managed to keep
some weapons away from the inspections of the armistice commissions but their quantity was
limited and they were, in general, obsolete. Admittedly Eisenhower, Commander in Chief of
the Allied forces in North Africa, promised the rearmament of French troops to General
Giraud on 23 October 1942.13 By ratifying the Anfa Accords Roosevelt had accepted, despite
the reservations of his entourage, to prioritise the rearming of three armoured divisions and
eight motorised divisions (as well as the corresponding service units) with the most modern
equipment.14 However, these engagements barely concerned the Tunisian campaign. The
constraints on Allied shipping and American commitments to Great Britain and the Soviet
Union limited their scope for action.15 Moreover, the first shipments of equipment did not
arrive until the Tunisian campaign was already well underway.16
As obsolete French equipment rapidly proved insufficient or unusable, the task force
commanded by General Juin became desperate for Allied support. The problem was solved on
a local level: in December 1942 Eisenhower authorised the Commanding General of the
Eastern Task Force to loan equipment to French units under his command and sent a request
to the Commanding General of the Western Task Force to loan any surplus equipment,
including automatic rifles and submachine guns, to French units in Tunisia. He also requested
that the US Fifth Army, then stationed in French Morocco, assist in equipping and training
French forces located within its zone.17 The French, meanwhile, continued to submit direct
requests to British Ordnance for items of equipment. General Anderson offered twenty trucks
13
Telegram from George C. Marshall to General Dwight D. Eisenhower, 17 October 1942, CM OUT 5682, cited
by Marcel Vigneras, Rearming the French, United States Army in World War II, Honolulu, University Press of
the Pacific, 2003, p. 1 (1st ed. 1957).
14
Anfa Memorandum, 24 January 1943, SHD DAT 7P235.
15
See David Reynolds, Warren F. Kimball Aleksandr O. Chubarian eds., Allies at War. The Soviet, American,
and British Experience 1939-1945, New York, Saint Martin Press, 1994.
16
Memorandum of the armament commissioner on the state of French rearmament, 15 September 1943, SHD
DAT 7P235.
17
Marcel Vigneras, Rearming the French, p. 28.
6
to Juin for Christmas.18 On 15 May, however, AFHQ reminded all those concerned of the
established policy and pointed out in addition that the British had no rearmament
commitments to the French. In the same way the Allied quickly made up for French supply
problems. In March 1943 ‘the 1st Infantry Division of the U.S. Army consent[ed] to feed the
Grosjean detachment whose provisions have run out and to give it the necessary gasoline
because it [was] impossible to provide this detachment with fresh supplies owing to
insufficient all-terrain automobile transport’.19 This trickle of supplies placed the French army
in a position of dependence on its Allies and in a permanent state of precariousness.
Despite Allied efforts, shortages remained the norm. For lack of sufficient automobiles,
advanced units on the South-East Algerian front were supplied by convoys of requisitioned
camels.20 In March 1943, the French medical services were unable to obtain supplies of either
aspirin or quinine.21 Lieutenant-colonel Castei, director of medical services for the French
task force, observed that the shoes of many soldiers were ‘completely unusable’. These
problems were also exacerbated by French organisational shortcomings which had a tendency
to exasperate the American authorities: much to the irritation of the Americans, for example,
equipment delivered to French authorities in Algiers would not reach the front line in Tunisia
until one month later.22
The poverty of the French army during the Tunisian campaign was also the result of a
deliberate choice made by the authorities in Algiers, which privileged the reconstruction of a
modern French army over the medium term to the detriment of on-going military operations
at the time. Ironically, it was General Juin, the future commander of the French Expeditionary
Corps in Italy, who pointed out the dangers of neglecting the Tunisian front: ‘I know that this
measure will seem inopportune to those who, not having exterior operations in perspective,
imagine that it will be possible in all tranquillity to constitute an expeditionary force in the
rear. It is an established fact today that the second front has been opened in Tunisia and that it
threatens to last. … It is necessary to start from the principle that only the battle in Tunisia
counts at the moment, [and] that this battle …, whether we like it or not, will absorb, at least
by rotation, the majority of what French Africa has at its disposal. To attempt to spare our
available resources would be to risk losing everything. Our modern units organised in the
18
Alphonse Juin, Mémoires. Alger, Tunis, Rome, Paris, Arthème Fayard, 1959, p. 136.
Journal des Marches et Opérations du front sud-est algérien, 18 March 1943, SHD DAT 10P251
20
J.M.O. du front sud-est algérien, 7 March 1943, SHD DAT 10P251.
21
Letter from the médecin colonel of medical services for the French task force to the director of French medical
services, 16 March 1943, SHD DAT 11P5.
22
Marcel Vigneras, Rearming the French, p. 65.
19
7
interior will very quickly have to engage [in combat] and, besides, that would be the best way
of breaking them in’.23
Similarly General Koeltz expressed his concerns to major General Prioux: ‘I do not
know at what point the Grand Army of North Africa will be formed, but I fear greatly that we
will be completely worn down before it can intervene. We risk, as a result, being at the mercy
of a violent German offensive, even a localised one, because we have no reserves whatsoever,
nor infantry, nor artillery’, he wrote on 17 January 1943.24
The decision of the leadership in Algiers, rumours of which spread rapidly, could not
have had a worse effect on the troops of the Tunisian Front, whose strength and morale were
in a state of rapid decline. French troops, the Commander of the South-East Algerian Front
General Welvert reported, had ‘the impression of being sacrificed pointlessly’.25 The relative
opulence and modernity of the equipment of American and British units made the lesser status
of the French army all the more visible. ‘Contact with units that were richly endowed with
material and means of transport did not fail to give rise to bitter comparisons’ Welvert
added.26 The great poverty of the French army meant, moreover, that it was put to a severe
test when it entered into combat.
Difficult Beginnings
Badly prepared and poorly equipped, French troops underwent a difficult baptism of fire. The
lack of automobile transport meant units were subjected to exhausting marches. Such was the
case of the Constantine March Division, forced in February to beat a hasty retreat on foot
from Sbeitla to Bou Chekba and from Gafsa to Dernaia. ‘The haste with which these
withdrawals were decided’, General Welvert lamented, ‘did not fail to leave everyone
involved with a painful impression of defeat’.27 Having only poor quality clothes and shoes,
the French troops suffered more than the other Allies from the wet winter of 1942-1943. In
particular, Senegalese troops suffered from numerous cases of trench foot.28
Mobilised at short notice, French troops were generally insufficiently prepared.
Conscripts and volunteers were of poor quality and did not have the time to receive more than
23
Letter from General Juin to General Giraud, 17 January 1943, SHD 10P236.
Letter from General Koeltz to General Prioux, 17 January 1943, in Louis Koeltz, Une campagne que nous
avons gagnée. Tunisie 1942-1943, Paris, Hachette, 1959, p. 119.
25
Report on the morale of the division de marche de Constantine by General Welvert, 26 February 1943, SHD
DAT 11P46.
26
Ibid.
27
Ibid.
28
Journal de marches et opérations, division de marche de Constantine, 24 December 1942, SHD 11P46.
24
8
the most rudimentary training. In the Corps franc d’Afrique, created on 25 November 1942 to
welcome the outcasts from Vichy’s Army of Africa (including Jews and Spanish
Republicans), General de Monsabert obtained authorisation on 10 December 1942 to
intervene personally in order to eliminate unsuitable recruits.29 In fact, he observed at the start
of January 1943 that of 4,500 men who made up the Corps franc d’Afrique, ‘more than three
quarters [were] not trained’.30 The reservists were certainly the most familiar with military
profession but were often in poor physical condition because of the war-related food
shortages.31 Above all, officers and men alike misunderstood the practice of modern war.
When the Germans were using many mines and booby traps in the vast sparsely populated
areas of North Africa, French units did not have enough specialists and were unfamiliar with
recent technological developments. A British officer, specialist in the functioning of mines
and booby traps provided special training to the French officers.32 Under-resourced, French
units struggled to hold off enemy infantry and tank assaults and suffered bitterly under
artillery and air attack. Thus in Ousseltia, in January 1943, the 3rd foreign infantry regiment
was completely decimated by a German attack, losing 25 of 78 officers and being reduced to
900 men.33
To avoid a massacre the strategic room for manoeuvre of the French was reduced. On 2
December 1942, General Koeltz invited his men to wage ‘an active guerrilla war’, and to use
surprise attacks and ambushes ‘to harass the enemy, kill a few of their men, take prisoners,
capture equipment’.34 Lacking the means, the French could not take on a large-scale
offensive. In February, learning the lesson of enormous losses which French troops suffered at
the hands of enemy artillery and aviation, General Koeltz thus suggested to French units that
they ‘dig in’ and create narrow, straight trenches.35 Through these the French command
demonstrated its capacity for adaptation to actual combat conditions. But it was also an
admission of weakness: with the resources it had at the time it was reduced to fighting war
using a poor-man’s strategy.
Moreover, the technological superiority of the enemy provoked panic in the French
ranks. ‘Machine-gunning by nose-diving, siren-fitted aircraft sowed disarray in a group of
goums at Saunier, of whom only around 40 men remained at 10 o’clock, the others having
29
J.M.O. du Corps Franc d’Afrique, 8 December 1942, SHD DAT 11P257.
J.M.O. du Corps Franc d’Afrique, entry of 12 January 1943, SHD DAT 11P257.
31
Annie Rey-Goldzeiguer, Aux origines de la guerre d’Algérie 1940-1945. De Mers-el-Kébir aux massacres du
Nord-Constantinois, Paris, La Découverte, 2006, p. 25 sq.
32
Memento of General Koeltz, 9 January 1943, SHD 10P244.
33
J.M.O. du front sud est algérien, entrée du 20 février 1943, SHD DAT 10P252.
34
General Order by General Koeltz, 2 December 1942, SHD DAT 10P244.
35
Memento of General Koeltz on defense processes for infantry units, 3 February 1943, SHD DAT 10P244.
30
9
repaired to le Djebel’, reported the commander of the Constantine March Division.36 In the
Byzantine ruins of Ksar Lemsa, similarly, a company charged with defending access to the
track to the Mausoleum at Hir El Abriche suddenly abandoned this position to take cover in
the mountains as a result of its ‘dread of tanks’, observed General Koeltz on 8 February
1943.37 As a result, some soldiers were tempted to escape from their duties. General Welvert
was troubled by the fact that five of the thirty four injury cases between 14 and 31 December
1942 were caused by suspicious ‘firearms accidents’.38 Numerous cases of desertion were
equally cause for concern.39
Put to the Test
In Tunisia the cadres of the French army learnt the inherent constraints of any coalition war,
constraints that were further reinforced by the inferior position of the French. Cooperation
with Allied troops was not always easy. The vagaries of supply tested French collaboration
with the British and Americans to the limits, while communications were hindered not only
by linguistic obstacles but also by the lack of radio communications between various
command posts and the dearth of all-terrain vehicles to send officers to work with the Allies.40
As a result, the French were not informed of preparations to occupy Gafsa: ‘it was
impossible’ bewailed Colonel Daunay in March 1943 ‘for the group command to know not
only the time but even the date of the operation beforehand’.41 While this episode above all
highlights technical problems, the negligence involved also suggests a degree of indifference
on the part of the Allied command when it came to keeping the French informed.
Discouraged by the defeat of 1940 and by the hesitancy of the French command during
the landings of 8 November 1942, the Allies had legitimate doubts with regard to the military
competence and resolve of the French. ‘At first’, General Anderson confessed after the war,
‘the senior officers in the Army were hesitant and afraid to commit themselves, the junior
officers were mainly in favour of aiding the Allies, the men would obey orders; amongst the
people, the Arabs were indifferent or inclined to be hostile, the French were in our favour but
apathetic, the civil authorities were antagonistic as a whole. The resulting impression on my
36
Journal de marches et opérations, entrée du 30 décembre 1942, SHD 11P46.
Memento of General Koeltz, 8 February 1943, SHD 10P244.
38
Note de Service by General Welvert, undated, SHD 11P46.
39
Note de service by General Welvert, 25 December 1942, SHD 11P46.
40
Rapport du colonel Daunay commandant le front nord du sud est algérien au sujet de l’opération du 17 mars
1943 (occupation de Gafsa), SHD 10P252.
41
Ibid.
37
10
mind was not one of much confidence as to the safety of my small isolated force should I
suffer a setback’.42 However, it was not long, Anderson continued, before the French and the
Allies were growing ‘closer and better every day’.43 Despite this recovered confidence, the
poverty of the French restricted its participation in the Allied victory. In this respect, the
verdict of General Anderson remained harsh: ‘even to the end, French units were not capable
of offensive action against German troops, and could only operate safely in the mountainous
sectors of the front’.44
The French were thus restricted to tasks of a secondary nature. They had to cover the
Allied flanks and assure the security of Allied lines in French-dominated territories. In the
latter case, there was much at stake: the distrust of indigenous populations was high,
particularly in the south-east Algerian front, in the Aurès mountains where the local
population had a reputation for defying French authority, or in Tunisia where German troops
had generally been welcomed with enthusiasm.
The Tunisian campaign proved to be the testing ground for loyalty to France and French
determination to fight. The restoration of French prestige also rested on the example set by
soldiers, a fact of which French officers were immediately conscious. In November 1942
Welvert reminded his troops of ‘the necessity of observing in all circumstances the most
refined forms of dress and discipline. It is important to show our allies that the French Army
of Africa is loyal to its glorious traditions of courage and military elegance. No sloppy dress
can be tolerated, signs of respect must be strictly observed, fatigues and detachments will
move around in an ordered fashion, marching in step in inhabited areas; billets and bivouacs
will be kept in the most painstaking cleanliness’.45
The French army took up the challenge of combat in Tunisia, but did so at a heavy cost.
By the end of January, ‘the French had seriously overstrained themselves and were insistently
demanding relief of their tired troops’, General Anderson observed, ‘though at the same time
General Giraud strongly urged that it was essential to preserve under French command a
definite sector of the front’.46 It was important that the sacrifices that had been made up to that
point be recompensed by victories. Nevertheless such a choice exposed French troops to even
heavier losses. In total, the French army lost more than 16,000 men between 20 November
1942 and 13 May 1943, of whom more than 2,000 were killed. In the same period the
42
General Anderson, ‘Operations in North West Africa from 8th November 1942 to 13th May 1943’,
Supplement to the London Gazette, 5 November 1946, p. 5449-5464, here p. 5451.
43
Ibid., p. 5452.
44
Ibid., p. 5452.
45
Note de service by General Welvert, 30 November 1942, SHD DAT 11P46.
46
General Anderson, « Operations in North West… », art. Cit.,, p. 5457.
11
Americans lost just over 18,000 men and the British almost 36,000 (two-thirds of whom came
from the 1st Army alone).47 In relative terms, these bloody combats thus took a particularly
high toll on the French Army.
During the Tunisian campaign French troops both won great victories, such as that of
Medjez-el-Bab in November 1942, and suffered severe set-backs, such as at Ousseltia on 20
January and at Sbeitla on 31 January 1943. At the cost of heavy losses they above all acquired
experience, learning from their failures and gaining confidence and pride from their victories.
From the outset French commanders presented French participation in the Tunisian campaign
as a supreme act of devotion, even as a sacrificial mission. General Juin commended the
‘really superhuman’ effort accomplished by the French forces in the Tunisian Dorsale while,
in April 1943, General Koeltz praised what he saw as the ‘prodigious effort’ of his troops. 48
In the eyes of these generals, the victories in Tunisia retrospectively justified the choices they
had made: loyalty to Marshall Pétain from 1940 to 1942 and compliance with the conditions
of the armistice had, they claimed, allowed the Army of Africa, a precious military asset, to
be safeguarded. In so doing they justified the attentisme of the Army of Africa by the
effectiveness of its return to combat. The sacrifices made by these troops, moreover, were
presented as irrefutable evidence of their resistance spirit and even used to confer a certain
degree of nobility upon the Army of Africa.
As such, the victories in Tunisia played a central role in the legitimation of the Army
of Africa and the self-justification of its leaders, particularly when faced with Gaullist
criticism. In a memoir written in response to criticism of his hesitation in joining the Allied
war effort in November 1942, General Juin used precisely the argument of effectiveness to
defend his actions: ‘it would be a deceit from which our country would suffer cruelly if the
work of Liberation were to be attributed to a single party or to a single clan. The spirit of
resistance developed in all soils and in all milieus. If certain wills, moved by a stronger or
more impatient national instinct, declared themselves immediately and began to resist openly
from the exterior, others, more silent but also more careful not to compromise the fate of the
47
Losses on the Tunisian Front from 20 November 1942 to 15 May 1943, SHD DAT 10P241. For updated
French figures and the Allied losses, see George F. Howe, Northwest Africa: Seizing the Initiative in the West…
op. cit., p. 675.
48
General order n° 36, by General Juin, SHD DAT 10P236, General order of General Koeltz, 22 April 1943,
SHD DAT 10P244.
12
country irremediably while under the threat of the enemy dagger, strove on French soil to
rebuild the armed forces and to safeguard certain positions that proved indispensable when
combat was resumed’.49
The amalgamation of the Army of Africa and the Free French forces constituted a
serious obstacle on the road to French national recovery at a time when the Free French,
having participated in the Allied victory in North Africa as part of Montgomery’s 8th Army,
preferred to parade with the British during the victory celebrations in Tunis on 20 May 1943
and provoked tensions by attracting many soldiers from Giraud’s army into their own ranks.
This challenge had to be faced, however, before all the French forces fighting alongside the
Allies could come together to incarnate the army of France.
49
Mémoire du général Juin sur les événements qui ont déterminé en novembre 1942 la rentrée de la France
africaine dans la guerre de libération, 1943, SHD DAT 1K238 carton 4*.
Did the Third Reich harbour Colonial Intentions in North Africa?1
When, in 1881, Jules Ferry began to show an interest in Tunisia, “the key to the Algerian
house”, the German chancellor Bismarck did not attempt to intervene. He was anxious to temper
desires for revenge and instead sought to encourage “the French cockerel to wear down its claws in
the sands of the Sahara”.2 There having been a certain amount of German business interest in
Morocco since the end of the 1860s, in 1882 the explorer G.
began to write about the
possibility of its conquest. In 1887, the pan-Germanists and the members of the Deutsche
Kolonialgesellschaft3 deemed possible the sending of colonists to the Western part of the country.
Recognising the presence of minable riches in Morocco4, a preliminary commercial treaty was signed
in 1890. However, the gung-ho politics of Wilhelm II in the aftermath of the Moroccan crises of 1905
and 1911 were not to succeed; and with the ensuing formation of the French Protectorate of Morocco,
the Maghreb became the private stamping ground of France.
If the project of a German Mittelafrika had been one of the reasons for going to war in 1914,
it was only business men and industrialists like Thyssen who took back up the old pan-Germanic idea
of German Western Morocco. During the War, the Mannesmann brothers, through their intermediary
networks in Morocco5, had begun to actively develop anti-French propaganda, and similar efforts
were also taken on the Western Front where Arab-speaking German officers were attempting to
dissuade Islamic colonial soldiers from fighting for the Allies. From their bases in Spanish Morocco,
the Germans began to send arms to the dissident Moroccan nationalists; the Chief Tuareg in Southern
1
This article is, in large part, taken from my research carried out in view of my es-Lettres PhD thesis; Chantal
METZGER, L’Empire colonial français dans la stratégie du Troisième Reich (1936-1945), vol. 2, Bruxelles, New
York, Peter Lang, 2002, book 1 - 752 pp ; book 2 – 371 pp. The recent studies of Karsten LINNE, Deutschland
jenseits des Aequators? Die NS-Kolonialplanungen für Afrika, Berlin, Ch. Links Verlag, 2008, 216 pp. confirm
my researches.
2
Moritz Busch, Bismarck und sein Werk, Beiträge zur inneren Geschichte der letzten Jahre bis 1896. Nach
Tagebuchblättern von Moritz Busch, Leipzig, S. Hirzel Verlag, 1898, p. 79. Bismarck had been personally
hostile towards colonisation, but he resolved to accept it and from 1884 he dubbed his country as a Colonial
Empire.
3
The Colonial League (Kolonialverein) was founded in 1882 by prince Hermann zu Hohenlohe-Langenburg,
the banker Guido Henkel von Donnersmark, the Saarland industrialist Freiherr von Stumm-Halberg and the
explorers G. Rohlfs and Schliemann; The Society for German Colonisation (Gesellschaft für deutsche
Kolonisation) was founded, in 1884, by the explorer Carls Peters. These two organisations were to fuse in 1887
to form the German Colonial Society (Deutsche Kolonialgesellschaft).
4
The principal source of wealth was phosphate in the Casablanca region, but the country also possessed mineral
stores of molybdenum, copper, iron, antimony, cobalt and magnesium. The state thesis of Raymond Poidevin,
although dated, contains useful information on the economic and financial relations between France and
Germany in the period of 1898 to 1914; Les relations économiques et financières entre la France et l'Allemagne
de 1898 à 1914, Paris, A. Colin, 1969, 928 pp. Max and Reinhard Mannesmann, who were firmly established in
Morocco at the beginning of the 20th Century, were the owners of a factory producing non-welded steel tubes,
the head office of which was in Düsseldorf.
5
Vincennes (Paris), Service historique de la Défense, Armée de Terre, 7 N 2122, Capitaine Huot, chief of
Information Centre in Tangiers, Note about German actions in Morocco (February to April 1915).
‘Mannesmann officials were everywhere in Morocco’. See the article by Abdil Bicer, « La propagande
antifrançaise au Maroc en 1915 » in the Journal historique des armées, n°235, 2004.
Algeria and the Sultan of Agadez. The culmination of these efforts could perhaps be said to have been
in 1916, when the Comittee for North African Independence was founded in Berlin.
The loss of its colonies in Versailles, and the humiliation that went with it, served to bring
back German interest in the colonial question. Under the auspices of their revisionist politics, the
governments of the Weimar Republic called passionately for the retrocession of their “stolen”
territories. North Africa however had never been a territory of theirs. Businessmen with a commercial
interest in the region, supported by successive governments and seeking a reprise of commercial
relations with North Africa to compensate the loss of other colonies, looked to find industrial workers
and to form a reservoir of natural and energy resources in the region. Several questions arise
therefore: were the goals of these businessmen, who were attempting to return to the African
continent in the aftermath of the First World War, anything other than commercial? Politicians,
qualified by Hitler in Mein Kampf as Wilhelminischen Allerweltspolitiker6, and the armed forces, in
particular the Navy, had long-since deplored the loss of this symbol of German sovereignty. Were
their actions a response to a truly political objective? What was Hitler’s view; was he a supporter of
these colonial lobbyists? Was the sending of German troops to North Africa in February 1941 a
response to the turning of the War or a previously-conceived plan of conquest?
The Colonial Leagues, created at the end of the 19th Century, had not disappeared in 1919 and
looked to maintain the favour, insofar as the population is concerned, of the memory of the lost
colonies. In 1936 Hitler decided to merge these numerous organisations into one powerful pressure
group. At the head of this newly renovated Reichskolonialbund, he placed one of his most loyal men,
General Ritter von Epp, who was already presiding over the Kolonialpolitisches Amt within the
NSDAP.7 Hitler encouraged this lobby to make the German people aware of the colonial question,
and in particular to form groups of specialists and civil servants ready to work in the future colonies
of Mittelafrika. In taking these measures, Hitler was able to transform the Colonial Leagues into a
manageable political instrument, serving both his domestic and external policies.
This also satisfied the Wilhelmian conservatives around him and attracted the favour of
businessmen interested in overseas markets, notably the various chambers of commerce and industry
in German cities such as those of the hanseatic towns of Hamburg and Bremen, and high-level
Weimar civil servants such as Trendelenburg8, one of the negotiators of the Franco-German Treaty of
Commerce of 1927. Certain people close to the party and the government, such as Kurt Weigelt, one
of the directors of the Deutsche Bank and economic advisor to the Kolonialpolitisches Amt der
6
This expression can be translated as ‘wilhelmian imperialists’
The office of colonial politics of the National Socialist Party.
8
Ernst Trendelenburg (1882-1945) performed, from 1st April 1923 until the 30th May 1932, the functions of the
Secretary of State in the Reich Ministry of Economics. In 1932-1933 he represented Germany on the League of
Nations and was under-secretary general to the League of Nations until Germany’s withdrawal. From 1934 until
1945 he presided over the administration council of Vereinigten Industrie Unternehmungen AG and the
Reichsgruppeindustrie.
7
NSDAP and Hjalmar Schacht, future Economy Minister and business affairs representative,
considered that the possession of an overseas Empire would allow Germany to retake its place in the
world economy. The country would find therefore a solution to its lack of natural resources, its errant
workforce and especially its past grandeur. Throughout the whole interwar period, German
businessmen had been the victims of discrimination. The French had rejected all of their offers of
economic collaboration in North Africa, fearing their return to strength and particularly the
competition this would bring. Hitler, it seemed, could therefore succeed where successive Weimar
governments had failed. This point of view was shared by some high-ranking officials in the armed
forces, particularly those in the Navy, nostalgic for the past grandeur of the Reich. General Franz
Xaver Ritter von Epp9, former soldier in south-western Africa, represented simultaneously the Army
and the Wilhelmian imperialists.
The topics conveyed by the Leagues, those in business and Wilhelmian imperialists were
put back on the agenda by political heads of the Third Reich such as H. Schacht (Finance
Minister), Joachim von Ribbentrop (Foreign Affairs Minister) and most of all Hermann Goering,
head of the 4 Year Plan, who was the son of a former Governor-General of South West Africa10,
as well as an officer and a celebrated pilot of the Great War and also the brother of a great
industrialist11. His principal concern – supplying the Reich with primary materials – was similar
to the concerns of the Wilhelmian imperialists. According him, “if they do not want to suffocate
at home, Germans need colonial territories”12. By proposing a secure and hegemonic settlement
within Europe, completed by the possession of colonies in Africa, in order to reinforce the power
of Germany, Ribbentrop established a platform on which “economic” and liberal imperialists
such as Schacht and the Nazis could meet.
But the point of view put forward by these traditionalist elites did not match Hitler’s
objectives, expressed, on several occasions, in his writings. The colonial question figured as a
third point in the party’s programme, but through the subject of the retrocession of its lost
colonies. Hitler deemed the Wilhelmian arguments outdated. William II had failed in trying to
carry out simultaneously a colonial and continental policy, and he did not want to commit the
same mistake. According to him, it would be necessary to “finally put an end to the pre-War
9
General Franz Xaver Ritter von Epp (1868-1946) had taken part in the repression of the Hottentots and
Herero’s in South-Western Africa, where he had been stationed until 1906. From 1925 he had presided over the
Kolonialkriegerbund and he became a member of the National-Socialist Party in 1928, being elected to deputy
of the Reichstag in the same year. In 1933, Hitler named him Reichsstatthalter of Bavaria and in 1934 he took
over the direction of the Kolonialpolitisches Amt der NSDAP.
10
Heinrich Ernst Goering was the Imperial Commissioner of the Deutsch Südwest Afrika from May 1885 to
August August 1890.
11
Paris, MF, B 31474, report by André François-Poncet to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs about the activities of
Goering, 8 July 1936.
12
Paris, Académie des Sciences d’outre-mer (ASOM), file 311, report by General Buhrer, “Germany’s colonial
demands in 1938.”
colonial and commercial policy in order to bring about a territorial policy for the future”13, a
future located on the European continent. To be in England’s good graces and to ensure it would
at least remain neutral, he was willing to give up any claim to colonies, to naval power and even
to rivalling British industry. Unlike his entourage, he regarded Africa as a diversion and not as an
alternative to the conquest of the vital space in Eastern Europe. The acquisition of colonies is
desirable but not indispensable and the claims – if any – only concern territories formerly ruled
by Germany or which belong to colonial powers weaker than France or Great Britain such as
Belgium or Portugal, and he believes that this returning is not a pressing matter. Therefore, North
Africa is not concerned.
He would nonetheless go on to look for a way to resolve certain pending issues, notably
the resumption of business relations with the Maghreb. For foreign policy purposes, he charged
high ranking intelligence officers, the department of business, the Home Office and the Ministry
of Information with gathering political knowledge about the region.
Since the end of the Great War, German businessmen had wanted to renew business
relations with countries in the Maghreb for, as a result of article 141 of the Treaty of Versailles,
Germany had had to give up all its claims and rights – even over the status of the “open door”
established in Algeciras. The entry of Germany into the LON in 1926 barely changed the
situation and following its withdrawal, in 1933, transactions would only take place indirectly:
German businesses were obliged to use the names of Czechoslovakian or Swiss firms to disguise
themselves! This degradation was linked to the policy of Imperial Preference and the fear held by
French leaders of seeing in the Maghreb the return of businesses which, like the Mannesmann’s,
before 1914, could easily rival them, especially in the protectorates of Morocco and Tunisia. An
exchange of letters between Paris and Berlin, on 11 March 1935, would permit representatives
from German companies or maritime transport to obtain an entry visa and the right to reside for
up to year maximum in Morocco and Tangier. But this return of the Germans would have to take
place in successive steps, in order not to harm France’s authority or rattle the political situation in
Morocco. With worsening relations between France and Germany due to the re-establishment of
military service, to the re-militarisation of the Rhineland and to the intervention in Spain from
military bases in Spanish Morocco, actual transactions were unable to resume. German
businessmen complained about this discrimination on several occasions to the German Consul in
Tetouan, Dr Brosch, who was also their representative in the French areas of Morocco. They
wanted to return there before German Jewish emigrants got there and took this potential market
13
Hitler, Mein Kampf, 1930 edition, p. 741-742.
away from them14! In November 193815, count von Welczeck, the German ambassador in Paris,
asked Georges Bonnet to open up a consulate in the French zone and to allow free access to
Tangier16. The French ambassador in Berlin, Robert Coulondre, supported this request17. This
concession, a logical consequence of the Bonnet – Ribbentrop agreements of 6 December 1938
would go on to have both political and economic significance. The change in the international
situation would prevent these plans from succeeding. These German businessmen and
industrialists clearly only wanted to renew the contacts that they had before the First World War
– they had no colonial interests.
Even so, German counter-intelligence services were embedded in Tangier and Spanish
Morocco, notably in the forts of Ceuta, Tetouan and Melilla in order to monitor all of the
Maghreb. Still without the necessary means in 1939 of verifying the assertions of their
honourable correspondents (Vertrauen Leute) – disguised as representatives from German trading
and maritime transport companies – the information obtained were often open to doubt. On the
other hand, the trips made by key German figures create, in France, real anxiety and lead to the
resurgence of the myth of the fifth column. Kronprinz Wilhelm’s visit to Morocco in 1935,
almost thirty years after that of his father Wilhelm II, revived old memories. German travellers
such ambassador von Welczeck would also pass through the country18. The visit carried out on
1st January to 15th February 1939 by an officer of the l’Oberkommando der Wehrmacht (OKW),
Captain von Xylander, to Algeria and Northern Tunisia with the authorization of the Second
Bureau of the French General Staff, was of another nature. Upon his return, the Captain wrote a
report, for the OKW, about coastal fortifications. He thought that only Morocco, which had not
been visited, might be open to propaganda. This would be actively pursued through propaganda
14
Berlin, Pol. Archiv of A.A.,Deutsche Botschaft in Madrid, Die Tangerzone, Bd 2, letter addressed by firms A.
Renschhausen & Co, H. Wilmer, R. Rahlke, O. Wilmer, J. Bernhardt, A. Giese, Hermann Paege, H. Hoffmann,
E. Fratz, J.A.K. Meyer and A. Langenheim to Dr Brosch, German consul in Tétouan, on 26 February 1935.
Renschhausen & Co, company of Casablanca, only German company settled in the French zone, represented
several German firms. In 1936, it sent its agents in the Spanish zone in order to substitute Jewish wholesalers,
who then had a near business monopoly on the trade of tea and who dealt with the importers of Casablanca, with
smaller native ones. But such examples were scarce. Generally speaking, German businesses remained loyal to
their Jewish clientele, who they deemed very efficient.
15
Berlin, Pol. Archiv of the A.A., Staatssekretär Frankreich, Bd 1, Aufzeichnung über die Diskriminierung
Deutschlands in Französisch-Marokko und der Tangerzone, 23 novembre 1938, signed von Rintelen.
16
La Courneuve, Ministry of Foreign Affairs (now MAE), Morocco 1917-1940, n° 636 A, letter sent by M.
Avonde Froment, plenipotentiary ministry, in charge of the French General Council in Tangiers, to his
Excellency minister of Foreign Affairs, Tangiers, 2 December 1938.
17
Paris, Archives of the ministry of the Economy and Finance (now MF), F B 31 517, memorandum sent by
Coulondre to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, 14th of January 1939. It was an aide-memoire containing the
wishes and proposals of the German government with the aim of developing business relations between France
and Germany, as they had been formulated during conversations between the French and Germans in Paris, on
the 6-7 of December 1938.
18
Nantes, MAE, French Embassy in Madrid, Series C, no. 306, report by the Embassy of France in Madrid, for
the European Service, 1st May 1935.
brochures, the press and through airwaves. It would have three themes: the age-long friendship
which binds Germans and Arabs; the fact that Germans – dispossessed of their colonies –
presented themselves as being champions of the emancipation of colonised populations; and the
shared hate of Jews19.
During the phoney war, this propaganda continued in order to create trouble amongst
Muslim populations20, and General Noguès would intervene on several occasions in order to
counter it. In addition to the themes developed by broadcasts from the German station Radio
Zeesen and Italian Radio-Bari, there were calls to revolt against the yoke of colonial powers.
They intended on causing upheavals on the battle front and trouble within the Maghreb itself.
Would Hitler contemplate a double offensive, on the continent and overseas? Everything
suggests that he was proceeding in stages and the first step, the achievement of a continental
empire, seemed to him the most essential. During the phoney war and immediately after the
armistice, in the euphoria of initial victories, plans were elaborated within ministries. They all
emphasize the economic interest to the Third Reich held by Africa, but only demand one
Mittelafrika at the time of the final signature on the peace treaty. The most ambitious of these
plans, Kriegsmarine, is the only one to demand bases in Morocco – at the very least in
Casablanca. The plan of the business world remains in tune with the traditional interests of this
powerful lobby, and that of the Auswärtiges Amt is both more realistic and reasonable. Hitler left
the improvement of his wild plans to his services, but stuck to his programme which did not
envisage any overseas conquest.
His statements, in particular his speech from 24 February 1940, demonstrate clearly that
the sole action conceivable to him is the retrocession of former colonies, the aim of which is
avenging his country’s honour. With regards to North Africa, it was necessary to bear in mind
Italy’s plans in Tunisia and Algeria and Spain’s plans in Morocco. Leaving some bits of his
empire to the French was not completely out of the question.
Would the progression of the war make him change his mind? The answer, in my opinion,
is negative. General Karl-Heinrich von Stülpnagel, chairman of the German Armistice
Commission, relayed to General Huntziger – three weeks after the armistice – a note containing
19
This subject was tackled several times in C. Metzger, L’Empire colonial français dans la stratégie du
Troisième Reich, op. cit., p. 180-195 et p. 217-226.
20
Martin Cüppers and Klaus-Michaël Mallmann, Halbmond und Hakenkreuz. Das Dritte Reich, die Araber und
Palästina, Darmstadt: WGB, 2006; 287 p.; version française : Croissant fertile et croix gammée, Paris, éd.
Verdier, 2009, 352 p.et C. Metzger, ibid. p. 421-434 et p.587-600.
new demands21. Hitler was demanding eight air bases for the Luftwaffe in Morocco; the use of the
Casablanca-Tunis rail link, from one end to the other; guardhouses; radio and weather stations;
and the right for the Wehrmacht to use all of France’s Mediterranean ports. The German and
Italian governments thus meant to take advantage of this chance – the British attack on Mers elKebir – and other rare concessions made to France at this time in order to revise their relationship
with the Vichy government, not only with regard to the terms of the armistice but also general
policy. Extremely impressed by this genuine ultimatum, Marshal Pétain confided, on the same
day, to Henri du Moulin de Labarthète:
“The Germans already regret having left North Africa out of the armistice. They feel that
they have made a mistake. But we will never give in”22. The Marshal, just like Weygand,
supports firmness. At the end of the ministers’ Cabinet meeting, he notifies Hitler, via letter, his
refusal23. If the Germans were to set foot in North Africa, France would lose all prestige and
authority in front of the natives. This letter was never found in the German archives, which were
seized after the war. There remains only a record and two copies. The Führer, though, learned of
this flat-refusal from the French, and did not insist anymore. This lack of reaction proves that, in
line with his usual behaviour, he was sending out a trial balloon. Incidentally, he stated, on 22
October 1940, to Laval that “if France were to endure a sacrifice in North Africa, it would be
compensated”24, and this might be the case if Italy and Spain were to recover certain territories
when the peace treaty would be signed. Would this lead towards, as Serrano Suñer put it, a
“Monroe Doctrine” project for the “Euro-African bloc”?25 Perhaps, but there was no real
urgency. As Professor Karl Haushofer puts it in his opercula on the continental bloc, the
“colonies would only be a backup for the Reich’s economy… it was better not to make grandiose
plans, if they did not want to be disappointed”. The construction of a “large space stretching from
Vlissingen to Vladivostok, to which North Africa, Turkey and China would be attached”26
21
Akten zur Deutschen Auswärtigen Politik (1918-1945), Baden-Baden, 1950- (now ADAP), series D (19371941), vol. X, n° 169, p. 177, note by Welck, Vertreter des Auswärtigen Amts bei der Deutschen
Waffenstillstandskommission, an das Auswärtiges Amt (A.A.), 15 July 1940. The German version of this note
is not featured in the ADAP, but in the documents of Délégation française auprès de la Commission d’armistice.
Recueil de documents publiés par le gouvernement français, Paris, Costes, 1947-1959, t. 1, p. 463-464.
22
Délégation française auprès de la Commission allemande d'armistice. Op. cit., t. I, 1947, p. 462; extracted
from the book by H. du Moulin de Labarthète, Le temps des illusions, Souvenirs (juillet 1940-avril 1942),
Genève, Le Cheval ailé, 1946, p. 206.
23
François Charles-Roux, Cinq mois tragiques aux Affaires étrangères (21 mai-4 novembre 1940), Paris, Plon,
1949, p. 172-173.
24
Jean-Baptiste Duroselle, L'abîme, 1939-1945, Paris, Imprimerie nationale, 1982, p. 268.
25
ADAP, Series D, t. IX, p. 142 and after, doc. 97, report by Gesandter Schmidt from 24 September 1940.
26
Karl Haushofer, Der Kontinentalblock, Mitteleuropa, Eurasien, Japan, München, Eher, 1945, 54 p.
Regarding this subject, look at the article by Michel Korinman, Pourquoi la géopolitique fut-elle allemande, in
Relations internationales, n°109, spring 2002, p. 25-47. K. Haushofer is one of the most well-known German
geo-political scientists; his theories were appropriated and often distorted by Hitler and the Nazis.
seemed feasible – but only for future generations. It would be they, not his generation, who would
exploit the African continent.
But did Hitler really envisage occupying of certain territories bordering the Atlantic, such
as Morocco or the ports of French West Africa? Plans of this nature can be found in German
archives. Are these simple working theories, concrete plans of pre-emptive action, or even for the
definitive occupation of these territories? The action, led by the intelligence services in the
Maghreb, an area whose geo-strategic interest is well-established, seems to enter within the
framework of the first suggestion. It is moreover countered by the French counter-espionage
service and not very efficient in light of rivalry that exists between the two services27. Hitler
imposes his political line on his general staff. He refuses to get involved other than orally in these
Arab countries and to arm Arab nationalists in the Maghreb. He does not follow up the demands
of major Arab-Muslim leaders such as Chekib Arslan or the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, Amine el
Husseini28. The Mediterranean coast represents for him only a secondary goal. He does not want
to damage the interests of his ally, Italy, which considers North Africa as its theatre of operations;
nor does he want to worsen the position of the Vichy government in the few territories of its
Empire which have remained under its sovereignty. Hitler aligns his policy with that of
Mussolini, who prefers not help nationalists in order to avoid any form of revolt in his future
colonial Empire in North Africa.
The intervention of German forces on the South-eastern front is, in fact, due to the
inability of the Italians to dominate the shore so the Mediterranean – it has nothing to do with a
pre-established plan. On 11 December 1940, when Hitler decides to adjourn plan “Felix”, Franco
having refused to allow the passage of his troops through his country, he orders the Luftwaffe to
intervene in the central Mediterranean, with Libya29 as their target, where the Italian front of
Marshal Graziani has just been crushed by General Wawell’s British forces. In February 1941,
following discussions between military staff in Rome and Berlin, the first Afrika Korps units led
27
C. Metzger, L’Empire colonial français dans la stratégie du Troisième Reich, op. cit. , p. 416 et suiv.
Hitler, given his alliance with Mussolini, refuses to release a statement promising support to the Arab
countries – mostly Middle Eastern countries – who are fighting for independence and deeply disappoints the
Great Mufti who had met in Berlin on 28th November 1941.
29
François Burgat, André Laronde, La Libye, Paris, Presses universitaires de France, 2003. With the Treaty of
Ouchy of 17th October 1912, the Ottoman Empire gives up its sovereignty over its former Regency of Tripoli;
these territories conquered by Italy are now Libya, after the name of the ancient African province of the Roman
Empire. Rodolfo Graziani is appointed in June 1940 Governor of Libya. His offensive, ordered by Mussolini
against the British troops of Wawell, is a failure which turns into a disaster for the Italians during the Allied
counter-offensive. In February 1941 the British occupy Benghazi; Erwin Rommel’s Afrika Korps then arrives to
support the Italians and the battle continues until 1943, when Bernard Montgomery’s counter-offensive leads to
the occupation of Tripoli. The French free forces, as far they are concerned, take control of Fezzan and
Ghadmes in the south-west of the country.
28
by General Rommel30 land in Tripoli. The arrival of Rommel, plus that of the German monitoring
committee in Morocco and also that of the liaison detachments who had been sent to Morocco
and Tunisia31 to make up for the faltering ally coincides with preparations in Germany which aim
to make a ministry for colonies under the leadership of F. Xaver von Epp. In view of the
simultaneity of these events, enthusiasts of colonisation and members of the future ministry for
colonies believed that they have finally won Hitler round to their cause.
This was not the case, although admittedly Hitler did give some compensation to the army
and to the Wilhelmian imperialists. The navy, which wanted strategic placements on the African
Atlantic coast, was probably at the origin of the note dated 15 July 1940. As for the OKW, it
needed resources from North Africa for its war efforts. Goering himself subscribed to the theory
of an Africa that would work in the interests of a new Europe dominated by Germany.
As early as 23 September 1940 an economic mission, presided over by the consul general
Schellert, arrived in Casablanca. Schellert himself was welcomed that very day by Noguès, who
was for the resumption of business relations between Morocco and Germany. A month later, a
new economic delegation arrived in Morocco led by a diplomat from the Auswärtiges Amt,
Theodor Auer. He had been chosen by Dr Hemmen32, Theodor Auer and Ernst Klaube, a former
consul who was well-known in the region and who had maintained good relations with the French
colonizers. This team settled in Casablanca. Having initially refused to grant Auer the statute of a
consul general, the French authorities eventually bowed down and, in November 1941, he
obtained the title of Consul General. Thus, the presence of this mission in Morocco enables the
Auswärtiges Amt services and those of the four year plan to interfere in Morocco’s state of affairs.
Auer was charged with investigating potential ways in which German companies could be set up
in Morocco; old companies such as the Mannesmann could come back33, with making an
inventory of the country’s riches and with obtaining for the Reich equal trading rights34. However
Auer – like Schellert – clashed with Noguès, who was hostile to any real economic cooperation35.
The German consul general in Algeria, Pfeiffer, suggested sending over in 1942 German products
30
Benoît Lemay, Rommel, Paris, Perrin, 2009, 511 p.
Hitler bypassed the agreements reached on 28th June 1940 in Wiesbaden between Karl-Heinrich Stülpnagel,
German president of the Armistice Commission and General Mario Roatta, delegate of the Commando Supremo
and assistant of Marshal Badoglio. They specify that Italy will be in complete charge of the running of North
Africa.
32
Hans-Heinrich Hemmen, an expert in economic matters, presides over the special commission of economic
affairs; he was imposed by H. Goering
33
The Mannesmann – Mannesmann-Marokko Verwertungsgesellschaft was founded in March 1942 in order to
defend the rights of German industrialists over the former concessions of Morocco. Himmler considers returning
to the Mannesmann brothers the possessions they used to own.
34
Paris, SHAT, 2P 12, Q 159-02/5, unsigned report about the German plans of domination over Morocco",
Rabat, 17th March 1941.
35
Berlin, Pol. Archiv from A.A.,Inland IIg/335, Der Chef der Sicherheitspolizei und des SD an das Auswärtiges
Amt, Berlin, 19th May 1941 (Geheim).
31
in order to consolidate his country’s position, but equally failed. Algeria was only allowed to
provide iron from Ouenza. The D-Day landing would prevent all future commerce.
During an important meeting held at the Auswärtiges Amt on 15 March 194236 the Sabath
Legationsrat evoked France’s resistance to German industrialists and businessmen entering the
North African market, whilst the economic and political influence of the United States was
growing. The presence of men such as Generals Weygand or Noguès and the anti-German
propaganda undoubtedly played a part, but it seems as though the main reason for the Germans’
failure is to be found in the Murphy-Weygand Agreement that was signed in Algiers on 26
February 1941. North Africa needed to import certain products from the United States, and the
presence of Germans in great numbers, be it for economic reasons, might have brought about a
stoppage in shipments from the US. Hemmen was aware of the political aims of this FrancoAmerican exchange - spying and propaganda - but he deemed these shipments to be
indispensable for reasons related to both military motives and war-time economy. Banning them
would have risked plunging these territories into political dissidence. In order to avoid all
political and social trouble, which would be difficult to suppress since the occupation of North
Africa was not the order of the day, the Auswärtiges and Seekriegsleitung would enable the
pursuit of maritime shuttles between the ports of America and Casablanca37.
Hitler believed that Africa, an extension of Europe, had to work in the interest of his new
Europe. His conception of Eurafrica was simple and corresponded to that of his contemporaries.
He charged Goering and Hans-Heinrich with extracting from this continent, albeit with
circumspection, all that was necessary for the German war effort. The Germans were, in truth, not
masters of the sea and in permanent fear of France’s African territories joining forces to fight
alongside the Allies. Hemmen’s interests, therefore, lay in products that had been traded in before
the war: phosphates from Morocco and Tunisia, wood and nonferrous metals. In fact, as confided
by Colonel Uberschär to a French liaison officer, it was not the Reich’s intention to “conquer
Morocco, but simply to benefit from its fruits and products”38, which would go on to be the case
as the German economy effectively benefited from it between 1941 and 194239.
36
Berlin, P.A.A.A., Pol. Abt. Militär, GR² Abwehr Afrika, Vermerk Sabath über eine Besprechung im
Auswärtigen Amt am 15.4. 1942.
37
Fribourg/Brisgau, Bundesarchiv, Militärarchiv, RW 19, Wi III, 10, conversation between Hemmen and
Hünermann, Paris, 30th April 1941.
38
La Courneuve, MAE, Guerre 1939-1945, Vichy Y 282, European division/political and economic office,
service note from 1st September 1942 regarding a letter by François Piétri dated 8 April 1942.
39
C. Metzger, L’Empire colonial français dans la stratégie du Troisième Reich, op. cit. p. 477-491 and
« Collaboration ou exploitation ? L’Empire colonial français au service de l’Economie de guerre du Troisième
Reich », in Relations internationales, n° 107, Autumn 2001, p. 401-418. It deals with fuel and lorries destined
for the Afrika Korps.
In addition to requisitioning and purchasing, negotiations between the victors and the
defeated began. In November 1940, negotiations between the head of Société de l’Ouenza,
Chabert, and the managing director of Rhein-Ruhr-Werke, Wenzel, started with a view to
working mines together. Chabert wanted to sell Wenzel 11,706 shares (the company having 63,
333 in total), with an eye to drawing the interest of German steelworks in the iron mines of
Ouenza40. This proposition was fully in tune with Germany’s share buying policy in French
businesses; but in buying shares from bank Bauer Marchal – owner of 15,332 shares – the French
government would abort the deal. A trans-Saharan railroad project would also fail because the
Ministry of Economics and Finance (Reichswirtschaftsministerium) rejected the industrialist Otto
Wolff’s request; a venture of this kind would be too expensive and use up vast quantities iron
which would be better used for the German war effort. Moreover, noted the Auswärtiges Amt, its
interests were extremely limited insofar as the countries in sub-Saharan Africa had fallen into
political unrest.
On 4 November 1942, the Allies penetrated the Italian-German machine in El-Amanein,
with Rommel retreating in the face of them. Four days later, the Allies landed on the North
African coast. This was one of the turning points of the war. By the end of November 1942,
significant numbers of German military strength were in Tunisia, but the presence of allies now
made it difficult for them to have any contact with neighbouring countries or access to any
strategic primary materials. Over in Tunisia, advisor Rudolf Rahn41, a diplomat who had already
acted as ‘trustee in bankruptcy’ in Syria on June – July 1941 was looking to avoid any acts of
violence and maintain order. Troops from the Axis were living on meagre resources from the
country and employed inhabitants, voluntary or requisitioned, for defence tasks. It was a situation
of real military occupation and the economic exploitation of an under-developed country. The
liberation of nationalist leaders, notably that of Habib Bourguiba, and especially the active
propaganda42 spread throughout local populations all constituted a part of Hitler’s military
campaign. Above all, it was important to prevent those of fighting age from joining the enemy
and joining the Allied Forces. None of the documents consulted, French or German, mention any
40
Berlin, Pol. Archiv des Auswärtiges Amt (PAAA)., Ha Po. Wiehl, Frankreich, 24, Treuhandverwaltung für
das Deutsch-Niederländische Finanzabkommen, Berlin, 25 November 1940. This noted was relayed to the
ministry director, Wiehl, to Hemmen and to Krupp von Bohlen.
41
Rudolf Rahn (1900 – 1975) began his career as a secretary in the League of Nations; he joined the
l’Auswärtiges Amt in 1927 and worked as counsellor in the embassies of Ankara (1931-1934), Lisbon (1937 –
1939) and Paris (1940 – 1943). He was in charge of the North African section in Parisian embassy, and spent
time in Tunis from November 1942 to May 1943; he was then sent to Fasano in the Republic of Salo and
represented his government for the fascist Republic until the end of the war. He was arrested on 15th May 1945
and committed to a mental asylum from 1945 to 1947; after his liberation he became a businessman and a
writer.
42
This Propaganda had little effect on : only a few hundred natives committed to the Deutsch-Arabische
Lehrabteilung and the German High Commandment never reached the recruitment of 7 000 volunteers for the
African Falange (see C. Metzger, L’Empire colonial français…op. cit., p. 611-683).
takeover by Germany other than this military occupation. The authorities remained in place, be it
the Resident-General, Amiral Esteva, or the Bey of Tunis, Mohammed el Moncef. Tunisia,
thought, was a vast entrenched camp. It was the evolution of the war, the defeat of the Italians
which forced Hitler to become interested, on a strategic level, in the continent of Africa. Him and
him only was in charge of Germany’s policies. On 13 January, with German troops in North
Africa, Hitler – who from November 1942 onwards had cut the budgets of the KPA and RKB –
decided to suspend until the end of the war all colonial plans. Epp’s Ministry of Colonies - which
had no colonies - disappeared as a result43!
In May 1943, the defeat in Tunisia took on a meaning that is psychological, symbolic and
overall political following that of Stalingrad. For the Navy and the entire German military, the
loss of this territory is serious. Hitler had only just realised in March the importance of this
foothold. On the eve of the departure of the German troops, Admiral Doenitz declares to Adelchi
Ricciardi, an advisor from the Italian embassy in Berlin: “as long as one single soldier from the
Axis Forces shall fight in North Africa, we shall not give up on him”44. It was, therefore, German
soldiers and not North Africa that the Admiral was interested in. For Hitler, the Tunisian
campaign was only a failure on a secondary territory. He was not affected by having to abandon
entirely North Africa or by the fact that the Mediterranean had returned to being England’s. He
still had the Fortress Europe.
Withdrawal from Tunisia represented a complete breaking-off of relations between
German Europe and North Africa. Up until May 1943, in spite of the Allies’ landing and various
battles, products which were indispensable to the Reich’s wartime economy had, in passing via
Italy, been able to reach Germany. After this defeat, only a few agents remained in place in
Tunisia, Spanish Morocco or Tangiers. They gathered intelligence on the opening of the second
front and monitored the straits of Gibraltar.
In May 1944, following the closure of the Consulate General in Tangiers, there was a
noticeable development Germany’s policy towards Arabs. The German’s intelligence services,
who had sought refuge in Tétouan and Ceuta, envisaged supplying arms to nationalists who had
been demanding them since 1937. But it was too late – their promises could not be kept. Hitler
had never been in favour of an alliance and did not want to either to owe his country’s victory, be
it partially, to people who, according to his racial theories, were deemed to be “inferior”.
43
Koblenz, Bundesarchiv, Slg Schumacher, 211, quoted by Klaus Hildebrand, Vom Reich zum Weltreich, Hitler,
NSDAP und Koloniale Frage, 1919-1945, München, Fink Verlag, 1969, p. 941, letter sent by the Reichsleiter
der Partei Kanzlei der NSDAP, Bormann to Ritter von Epp, 26th January 1943. In this letter, Bormann gives
Epp the order to put an end to all activities of the KPA and the RKB as of 15th February 1943.
44
M. Salewski, Die deutsche Seekriegsleitung, 1935-1945, 3 Bde, Frankfurt, Bernard & Graefe, Bd. 2 : 19421945, 1975, IX, Der Fall Tunis, p. 267, FS Doenitz an Riccardi, 1. SKl, Ib 1375/43 gKdos Chefs, 8th May 1943.
At the end of the war, Hitler regretted this policy and accused “the geniuses of the
Wilhelmtrasse, the diplomats of classical style, military officers from the old regime and county
squires”45 of having encouraged him to play “the French card against people who were suffering
the yoke of France”46. He also considered Mussolini responsible for this failure because he had
prevented him “from carrying out a revolutionary policy” in North Africa! According to him, the
presence of Italy alongside the Germany had: “…created unease amongst our Muslim friends,
because they saw us as accomplices, willing or unwilling, of their oppressors”47.
Hitler, therefore, acknowledged a tactical error. Did he really think that he should have
emancipated the people of North Africa? This is open to doubt. He did, though, manage the
external policy of his country according to a programme established in advance. The conquest of
a colonial empire was not part of his immediate priorities and so he was not responsive to
requests from supporters of colonisation. He might have planned as a subsequent step, following
negotiations or in the case of complete victory over the Allied Powers, the addition of a colonial
empire to his new Europe. Like most Germans, though, he situated it in Mittelafrika. He also
probably shared the opinion of Auer, who had declared to Commander Vignol in 1942 that
“Morocco and all of the rest of North Africa must become, for the well-being of everyone, the
California of Europe”48.
Chantal Metzger
Professor of Contemporary History
Université de Lorraine – Nancy2
45
Martin Bormann, Le testament politique de Hitler, op. cit., p. 90, note of 14th February 1945, HQ of the
Führer.
46
Ibid
47
Ibid. Hitler thought that Mussolini, hated and despised in the Arab world, also made a fool of himself by
styling himself as the “Sword of Islam”.
48
La Courneuve, MAE, Guerre 1939-1945, Vichy Y 282, European division/political and economic office,
service note from 1st September 1942 regarding a letter by François Piétri dated 8 April 1942.
Rome, 5-6 octobre 2012
La guerre des sables
Romain H. Rainero
(Université de Milan)
LA PHASE FINALE DE LA CAMPAGNE DE TUNISIE
VERS LA REDDITION DU CAP BON
( 13 MAI 1943)
La phase finale de la campagne de Tunisie, qui se situe après le total abandon du
territoire de la Libye, ne peut pas être examinée, seulement du point de vue strictement
militaire et tactique, car la situation générale doit tenir, en bonne évidence, tous les
autres aspects qui en conditionnèrent le déroulement. C’est, en effet, à partir de
l’analyse des conditions politiques dans lesquelles, les deux forces armées de l’Axe
finirent par se trouver que l’on peut saisir la complexité de la situation tunisienne
durant les cinq premiers mois de l’année 1943. Il s’agit d’une situation, qui, si elle
devint de plus en plus tragique sur le plan militaire, fut aussi un vrai imbroglio politique
qui doit être aussi rappelé pour ses conséquences, même sur le plan des relations entre
les deux autorités militaires de l’Axe, les Italiens et les Allemands.
Il est évident que la situation générale de la Tunisie était dans un état d’une
gravité absolue, et même si notre regard veut s’intéresser, en première instance, aux
situations militaires du moment, celles-ci ne pouvaient ne pas tenir compte des
conditions dans lesquelles les populations se trouvaient à devoir vivre. Dans une
enclave de très modestes dimensions, les Français, les Italiens et les Arabes devaient
cohabiter avec les armées occupantes, avec les bombardements des Alliés et avec les
conditions d’une survie alimentaire qui n’était pas sans difficulté. Et, en plus, chaque
composante de cette humanité si variée vivait une idéologie en totale contradiction
l’une avec l’autre, ce qui rend toute analyse difficile à décrire, dans sa complexité, une
réalité compliquée, voire impossible à connaitre à fond.
1
Un coup d’oeil sur la situation géographique des combats suffit à souligner la
gravité de la situation stratégique des forces italo-allemandes. Le début de l’année 1943
annonce la fin imminente de toute initiative italo-allemande: désormais le problème ne
consiste plus à considérer possible une victoire, mais, au contraire, à retarder, voire
arrêter, le continuel recul d’un front qui, n’est pas réellement celui des combats, mais,
qui est seulement le résultat des problèmes logistiques de la marche en avant des forces
ennemies. En effet, les différentes lignes du front marquent une progression sans arrêt
des divisions anglaises qui, depuis el Alamein, ne font que liquider, les uns après les
autres, les fronts de la résistance italo-allemandes. Le 2 janvier 1943, la fin de
l’aventure libyenne est marquée, pour les forces de l’Axe, par la décision d’abandonner
Tripoli et de se retirer sur une ligne ‘tunisienne’, considérée plus défendable que
Rommel impose. Pour les Italiens, il s’agissait d’une décision qui signifiait que la
Tripolitaine, après la Cyrénaïque et le Fezzan, était définitivement perdues, et cela avec
des conséquences dramatiques pour l’opinion publique italienne. Pour un général
important comme le chef de l’Etat Major de l’Armée, Vittorio Ambrosio, il s’agissait
surtout du dernier acte de la position de Rommel, qui, après el Alamein, nourrissait
l’idée fixe de s’en aller, au plus vite, de la Libye. Les commentaires que le maréchal
Enrico Bastico adresse au chef d’Etat Major Général, mar. Ugo Cavallero, en décembre
1942, à propos de Rommel, étaient clairs. Selon lui, « Rommel, après avoir abandonné
el Alamein, n’a plus combattu... ». La ligne de résistance aurait due se situer, selon lui,
sur un front Garian-Tarhuna, à rejoindre en quatre-six semaines1. Donc un propos de
continuel recul des forces italo-allemandes, sans un plan organique de bataille, ce qui
fait remonter l’origine de l’ultime enclave de Tunisie à la défaite de el Alamein.
Les aspects techniques de la confrontation militaire entre les deux ennemis sont
naturellement importants et nous pouvons en avoir un écho valable, soit en comparant
le nombre des combattants, soit en mettant en évidence l’écrasante supériorité des
moyens à disposition des forces armées anglaises. Sur le plan général, la situation des
forces armées de l’Axe et de celles des anglo-américains en présence sur le front de la
ligne du Mareth, et de la frontière occidentale de la Tunisie en janvier 1943, montre la
supériorité absolue des armées alliées, soit par leur nombre, soit par leur armement, à
terre et dams les airs Selon une analyse d’origine allemande, nous trouvons dans le
tableau suivant, le nombre de ces moyens, au début de l’année 1943 :
1
Journal de Ugo Cavallero, cité par Mario Montanari, Le operazioni in Africa settentrionale, tome IV,
(6 septembre 1942-4 février 1943) Rome, USSME, 1993, p. 151.
2
chars d’assaut
93 italo-allemands2 contre 650 anglais
blindés
33
contre 200 anglais
artillerie de campagne 170
contre 360 anglais
moyens anti-char
177
contre 200 anglais
avions
150
contre 4/500 anglais
Et, si ces chiffres (qui varient selon les documents consultés) ont trait seulement à la
partie anglaise, sur le front de l’est, il faut ajouter, au nombre des moyens militaires des
ennemis de l’Axe, l’apport très important, sur le front de l’ouest, des armées
américaines et aussi, en partie, de celui des militaires des unités françaises désormais
toutes passées au camp gaulliste. En outre, si, pour le camp italo-allemand,
l’augmentation des effectifs apparaît très faible dans cette dernière période de la guerre
nord africaine, les effectifs des anglais et des américains continuaient à augmenter
grâce à l’apport des renforts qui arrivaient surtout des Etats Unis, par voie maritime,
presque sans perte malgré les activités des marines italienne et allemande, en activité en
Atlantique, surtout à partir de la base de BETASOM de Bordeaux et de celle de Brest.
Les conclusions de la rencontre entre Mussolini et le commandant suprême du secteur
sud (Oberbefebhlsaber Sued - OBS), mar. Albert Kesselring du 12 avril 1943,
confirment les pires prévisions sur l’évolution du conflit. Le Duce insiste en effet qu’il
est nécessaire de transporter, au plus vite, « 1° des hommes; 2° des éléments de
l’artillerie; 3° des munitions; 4° de l’essence en quantité plus modeste qu’auparavant ».
Pour l’histoire de ces requêtes, il faut dire qu’en absence des moyens de transport
nécessaires, tout ce discours n’eut aucune réalisation concrète3.
A part ces considérations militaires, un élément constant qui a trait aux forces
armées de l’Axe doit être reconnu dans l’absence de toute coordination valable dans les
décisions des hauts commandements des Italiens et des Allemands, surtout dans cette
dernière phase. Les contradictions profondes entre les deux ‘alliés’, ne sont pas nées à
Tunis, donc aucune nouveauté, mais leur déroulement tunisien fut la confirmation
finale d’une crise faite de divergences et de polémiques que la direction des opérations
et les choix de la politique à réaliser avaient déjà mis en pleine évidence. En vain, le 2
janvier 1943, il y avait eu, à Rome, une rencontre entre les plus hautes autorités
italiennes et allemandes, afin d’établir une politique commune en Tunisie. Pour l’Italie
le directeur général du Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, Leonardo Vitetti, et le Chef
du SIM (Service Secret Militaire Italien), Cesare Amè; pour l’Allemagne, un
2
Dont 36 allemands, les seuls capables de se mesurer avec les Sherman et les Grant ennemis.
Le texte est in Mario Montanari, Le operazioni in Africa settentrionale, vol. IV: Enfidaville (novembre
1942-maggio 1943), Rome, USSME, 1993, p.731.
3
3
responsable de l’Ambassade allemande à Rome, prince Bismarck et le Chef de la
Délégation diplomatique allemande à Tunis, Moelhausen. La réunion n’obtint aucun
effet pratique, car les deux délégations n’apportèrent que des bonnes intentions, mais
les différentes positions ne subirent pas de changement. Sur le plan militaire comme sur
celui politique, la rivalité des deux pays de l’Axe se révéla, encore une fois profonde et
insurmontable, même dans le moment suprême de la crise.
La rivalité sur le plan stratégique entre les deux Etats Majors, italien et allemand,
s’était manifestée dès le début des opérations du DAK (Deutsches Afrika Korps) en
Libye, mais ce fut la défaite de El Alamein qui la mit en polémique ouverte, car les
choix de la stratégie de la campagne n’avaient pas trouvés un accord entre les chefs
militaires des deux ‘Alliés’ qui, en réalité, ne l’étaient guère. La décision solitaire de
Rommel, qui avait abandonné El Alamein (4 novembre 1942), sans même attendre
l’autorisation de l’OKW, et imposé son point de vue aux chefs militaires allemands, et
aussi aux Italiens, semblait surtout le produit d’un état de profonde crise psychologique
du légendaire commandant allemand. Le témoignage du général Giuseppe Mancinelli,
officier de liaison du commandement allemand avec l’ACIT (Armata Corazzata ItaloTedesca), nous semble important pour mieux comprendre l’état d’âme de Rommel qui
lui apparut, au lendemain de la bataille, « un homme en proie à des pensées absurdes,
un homme fatigué et démoralisé »4. Et, à partir de là, les crises se multiplièrent, sur la
valeur militaire de Rommel et surtout sur l’isolement des chefs militaires allemands qui
lui obéissaient. En effet, les autorités militaires italiennes n’avaient suivi qu’avec
circonspection la tactique du continuel repli en Libye, qui obéissait, peut être, à des
strictes critères militaires, mais qui n’étaient pas partagés, aussi sur le plan sentimental,
par le Haut Commandement italien. Rome aurait voulu, en s’opposant à ces décisions,
tenir compte surtout sur les aspects patriotiques que tout abandon de la colonie et
spécialement de Tripoli, suscitait dans l’opinion publique italienne. A cet égard, on
parla même d’une résistance suprême de la ville en la défendant, maison après maison,
dans une espèce de Stalingrad africain que Mussolini cite dans la rencontre déjà
rappelée du 12 avril 1943 : « Il FAUT résister...A Stalingrad 22 quartiers de la ville
étaient entre nos mains et seulement 2 manquaient pour une occupation définitive. Les
Russes n’ont pas cédé et nous avons subi un renversement de la situation...Il FAUT
résister... ». Mais il s’agissait surtout d’un discours sans la moindre logique et donc,
sans aucune suite pratique. Et ce discours fut facilement refusé par la décision de
4
Giuseppe Mancinelli, Dal fronte in Africa Settentrionale (1942-1943), Milan, Rizzoli, 1970, p. 212.
4
Rommel de le tenir en aucun compte, et donc d’abandonner Tripoli aux avant-gardes
anglaises sans penser à Stalingrad.
Nous ne voulons point suivre, crise après crise, ces polémiques des chefs
militaires italiens et allemands, mais nous ne devons pas oublier son énorme
importance, car elles s’accroissaient aussi par maintes réflexions politiques. En effet la
liquidation du Commandant en Chef de l’Etat Major italien, le général Ugo Cavallero,
le 30 janvier 1943, et la nomination à ce poste du général Vittorio Ambrosio, doivent
être lus dans cette optique de crise. Cavallero était accusé de n’avoir jamais su
s’opposer aux décisions des généraux allemands, et surtout de Rommel, et Mussolini ne
manqua pas de le dire au roi. Ce premier élément doit être rappelé car il démontre que
la situation, au plus haut niveau des hiérarchies militaires italiennes, à propos de la
Tunisie, au début de l’année 1943, se présentait très mal, voire même d’une manière
tragique. Les réactions du mar. Kessekring, à l’arrivée du gén. Ambrosio furent toutes
négatives. Dans ses Mémoires, il écrivit, en effet : «...Ce changement porta comme
conséquence à un changement total de mes relations avec le commandement
italien...J’avais le suspect, dès alors, comme l’on a reconnu aujourd’hui, que l’on
commençait à discuter dans les cercles italiens de la possibilité d’un futur éloignement
de l’Italie de l’Allemagne »5
Il n’est pas le cas de remémorer dans tous les détails les éléments de la crise entre
Rommel et les généraux italiens; pour en avoir un aperçu significatif, il suffit de
rappeler l’animosité de l’un de ces généraux, Messe envers le commandant allemand
qui se manifesta, presque dans tous les chapitres de son livre de mémoire. Cette criserivalité avec Rommel eut, pour le commandement italien, au moins trois aspects
spécifiques: les erreurs de sa conception stratégiques, son refus d’appliquer loyalement
les ordres des autorités militaires italiennes et enfin sa désinvolture totale à propos du
retrait du front libyen vers la Tunisie. Pour Rommel, l’impératif est strictement
militaire et il ne tenait en aucun compte les résistances que manifestaient les Italiens
dans la bataille de Libye à propos du sort de Tripoli et pour celui de la Tunisie, qui
étaient deux éléments auxquels l’Italie tenait, au contraire, en grande considération. Et
dans l’analyse de ce continuel recul, bien des éléments stratégiques nous paraissent
avoir été délaissés par Rommel, en dépit des observations des généraux italiens. La
crise était tellement profonde que même le départ ‘définitif’ de Rommel, le 10 mars
5
A. Kesselring, Memorie, Milan, Garzanti, 1954, p. 165.
5
1943, ne marqua pas une nouvelle étape dans les relations militaires des deux Alliés,
qui restèrent sur des positions très différentes.
Sur le plan des chiffres, il est très difficile d’établir la dimension exacte des
militaires italiens et allemands engagés dans cette dernière phase tunisienne. Le
désordre stratégique des forces de l’Axe impliquait une absence significative des
données chiffrées de ces éléments; car certainement ces derniers combats étaient plus
importants sur le plan concret que sur le plan des archives à conserver. Même l’auteur
des volumes officiels de l’Etat Major italien, sur la guerre en Afrique du Nord, Mario
Montanari, n’a pas manqué d’observer qu’à cet égard et « sur l’ensemble des troupes de
l’Axe, on ne dispose pas de données exactes»6. On peut toutefois considérer comme
valable un nombre pour l’armée italienne entre 130 et 150.000 militaires. Mais les listes
des prisonniers italiens tombés entre les mains de alliés nous donnent d’autres chiffres,
soit 113.500 ou, selon d’autres sources, 89.442 italiens et 47.017 de nationalités
différentes. Les militaires italiens arrivés en Tunisie e n provenance du Sahara, c’est à
dire, les ‘rescapés’ après la conquête de Koufra par la colonne Leclerc, étaient très peu
nombreux, soit 54 officiers et 408 carabiniers; quant aux indigènes leur nombre était de
311 militaires7. Le nombre des effectifs allemands dans cette dernière période peut être
situé entre 200 et 230.000 militaires. Le nombre des prisonniers allemands situait entre
100 et 160.000. Il s’agissait des militaires de la DAK, survécus aux combats précédents
et repliés en Tunisie; ces combattants, aviateurs ou militaires des chars ou de
l’infanterie se trouvèrent tous engagés dans des conditions souvent pénibles que
l’absence de coordination et donc de désordre des haut commandements allemands et
italiens accentuaient ultérieurement.
Les sources dont nous disposons à propos des pertes en hommes, des deux
ensembles militaires nous confirment que les derniers combats ne furent pas de simples
échauffourées, mais de vraies batailles en désordre, extrêmement meurtrières.
Rappelons-en les éléments qui témoignent cet acharnement de part et d’autre, dans les
mois de décembre 1942 jusqu’au 13 mai 1943. Noua avons pour cette période : 34.100
morts ou blessé, pour les militaires italiens ; et 57.200 morts ou blessés pour les
allemands. Quant aux Alliés (USA, britanniques et France Libre), nous comptons
35.238 morts ou disparus (source britannique) ou 31.653 morts ou disparus (source
6
7
Mario Montanari, op. cit.
Raffaele Castriotta, Relazione sulla riorganizzazione dell’Arma, 15 mars 1943, in ASST.CCRR, 63.8.
6
Usa)8. Ces données chiffrées sont de grande importance car elles confirment que meme
dans les derniers mois de la guerre en Afrique du Nord, les affrontements furent de
grande envergure et non pas, comme souvent on a répété, des simples combats sans
grande vigueur. Pour les militaires français les morts furent entre 8 et 9.000 et ce
chiffre indique bien une participation réelle et non point symbolique aux derniers
combats.
Il faut dans cette phase tunisienne de la guerre, souligner qu’il est de toute
évidence que ce n’est pas un ensemble harmonique de troupes de l’Axe qui occupe la
majeure partie du territoire. Ceux qui commandent, ce sont les autorités militaires et
politiques allemandes. Les Italiens discutent, s’opposent, mais ne paraissent guère avoir
gain de cause. Les preuves de cette situation de fait sont nombreuses. Dès le 16
décembre 1942, c’est avec les autorités militaires allemandes que le commandant de la
base navale de Bizerte, l’amiral Derrien, conclut un accord de collaboration, couvert
par le général Esteva, qui met la base à la disposition des forces armées allemandes. Les
autorités militaires italiennes ne l’apprennent qu’après la conclusion de l’accord. Leurs
réactions sont de forte irritation, mais en échange il demande aux allemands, en qualité
de réparations, la cession de certaines fournitures militaires qui étaient stocké dans les
dépôts du port militaire français. Et cette requête de réparation est seulement l’avntgout de la crise successive sur les arrogances allemandes à propos de la vieille question
de la cession aux armées de l’Axe du matériel militaire qui avait été attribué à l’Armée
de l’Armistice après sa dissolution.
Il s’agit d’un autre élément qui doit être considéré comme très significatif, à
propos des aspects de crise entre les deux ‘alliés’ de l’Axe, et qui se situe au niveau de
l’application du fameux chapitre X de la convention d’armistice française avec l’Italie,
sur le matériel militaire des forces militaires française. La question se posa surtout
après le 11 novembre 1942 avec la dissolution des forces armées de Vichy et
l’occupation militaire des Italiens et des Allemands des territoires encore sous la
souveraineté du gouvernement de Pétain. La crise naquit du fait que, le 30 décembre
1942, le Haut Commandement allemand en Tunisie avait ordonné, au col. Guiot,
l’officier français auprès des autorités militaires allemandes, que tout le matériel
militaire français présent dans les dépôts de la dissoute armée française dans la Tunisie
devait être livré aux seules autorités militaires allemandes. Cette décision allemande,
qui n’avait pas été concordée avec les autorités militaires italiennes, poussa ces
8
I. S. O. Playfair, The Mediterranean and Middle East, Londres, H. M. S. O.., vol. IV. 1966, p. 460. G.
Howe, The Mediterran Theater of Operations, Washington, O. M. H. G. A., 1970, p. 675.
7
dernières à protester auprès de la CIAF pour qu’elle le fasse auprès de la CAA. Selon
les thèses italiennes, il s’agissait d’une décision illégitime, car, ce matériel, selon les
accords de l’armistice et les accords successifs, devait être consigné à l’Italie et à ses
autorités militaires en Tunisie. La question fut portée à l’attention de la réunion de
Munich des deux Commissions d’Armistice avec la France. Cette réunion qui se tint du
29 avril au 3 mai 1943, donc à la veille de la reddition du Cap Bon et de la fin des
hostilités en Afrique du Nord, ne marqua pas, malgré les espoirs italiens d’une
meilleure coordination entre Rome et Berlin, l’affirmation d’une vision unitaire des
questions qui s’agitaient au coeur des ultimes opérations militaires en Tunisie, mais,
bien au contraire, un durcissement allemand et un vrai fossé idéologique avec les thèses
italiennes. Une analyse de ces discussions nous porte à considérer cette réunion d’une
importance capitale, pour les relations entre italiens et allemands et même pour la
question de Tunisie, car, sur tous les 7 arguments à l’ordre du jour, la différence entre
les deux Commissions, et donc entre Rome et Berlin, resta profonde et l’accord ne se fit
point. Rappelons les paragraphes de l’ordre du jour:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
Situation en France.
Coopération entre les deux Commissions d’Armistice
Reconstitution des forces armées françaises.
Contrôle des militaires congédiés et des organisations paramilitaires.
Matériel français.
Contrôle de la Méditerranée.
Questions mineures (8).
Sur l’ensemble des questions, les deux Commissions ne réussirent pas à
trouver un accord quelconque, et dans leurs discours, à la fin des réunions, le
président allemand, gén.Vogl, et le président italien, gén. Vacca Maggiolini, tout
en exaltant la solidarité entre les deux alliés, ne purent cacher leurs profondes
différences. Pour Vogl, les questions que la conférence n’avait pas réussi à
résoudre, devaient passer au niveau politique le plus élevé pour arriver à l’accord
que les deux Commissions n’avaient pas trouvé. Pour Vacca Maggiolini, le long
discours final soulignait, avec vigueur, les thèses italiennes et leurs profondes
différences avec les positions allemandes; et il le terminait par une série de
questions restées sans réponses. Tous les points à l’ordre du jour provoquèrent une
double vision, mais c’est surtout sur le point n. 5 que la rupture fut évidente. Il
s’agissait du sort que le matériel militaire français en Tunisie et de sa livraison qui
devait avoir, à la lumière des exigences des forces armées des deux ‘alliés’un
importance énorme dans le moment suprême de la guerre en Tunisie, surtout à
8
cause des difficultés de ravitaillement par voie maritime qui était devenu
extrêmement incertain.
Sur le sort du matériel militaire, il y avait même une communication
officielle de la part du Délégués militaire italien auprès du gouvernement de
Vichy, gén. Carlo Avarna di Gualtieri, en date 15 janvier 1943, à l’am. Platon
Secrétaire d’Etat auprès du Chef du Gouvernement de Vichy, communication qui
annonçait la livraison du matériel militaire de la dissoute Armée de l’Armistice,
aux autorités militaires italiennes dans les régions qui avaient été occupées l’11
novembre 1942, et donc dans la Provence et dans la Tunisie. Mais la décision
allemande avait précédée la communication italienne, et, si pour la Provence cette
livraison pourra se faire, pour la Tunisie, le précédent allemand y faisait obstacle.
La question apparut immédiatement d’une gravité évidente, car il
s’agissait d’un important lot de moyens militaires. Selon les documents de la
protestation du gen. Vacca Maggiolini, du 17 janvier 1943, adressée à l’am.
Duplat, il s’agissait de:
Fusils
6.000
Fusils mitrailleurs
400
Mitrailleuses Hotchkiss
100
Mortiers de 60
10
Mortiers de 81
6
Cannons de 75
13
Cannons de 90
4
Cannons de 25
6
Cannons de 105/L
1
Cartouches de 7,5, 7,7, 8, 13,2
6.939.500
Obus de 37, 25, 75, 80
43.500
Obus de mortier de 60, 81
15.000
Eléments de coup de 120, 80, 75/925
16.635
Chars d’assaut F. T.
20
Chars d’assaut D. 1
29
Dans la protestation italienne, le montant en monnaie de ce matériel était
indiqué à 20.274.485 de lires italiennes. La question fut évoquée au sein des
discussions de la dernière réunion avant la reddition à Munich (29 avril-3 mai 1943),
mais la délégation italienne, après avoir dénoncé le ‘fait accompli’ de la décision
allemande, se limita à demander une ‘compensation quelconque’ en faveur de l’Italie,
car même si la décision était illégitime, il était évident, affirmait le document italien,
qu’il était intérêt de l’Axe de l’entériner, car « il s’agissait d’un effort de guerre d’un
9
Arturo Vacca Maggiolini, Materiale bellico dell’esercito transitorio in Tunisia, 17 janvier 1943,
USSME-CIAF, Alleg. 1,Racc. 42, fasc. 2.
9
allié qui l’employait pour l’ennemi commun ». La crise finale était imminente et ainsi
la rupture fut évitée, car, ni Vogl, ni les autres autorités allemandes de Tunisie se
déclarèrent disposés à négocier sur le problème des compensations à l’Italie. Le tout fut
renvoyé en haut lieu, c’est à dire, que l’on oublia le problème. Et les documents
conclusifs de Munich, évitèrent d’en parler. De la question des ‘compensations
quelconques’, le président Vacca Maggiolini parla à nouveau au Chef de l’Etat Major
italien, en date 7 mai 1943, mais le ton de la requête était moins fort qu’auparavant; de
toute évidence, les questions militaires en Tunisie dépassaient en gravité toutes les
autres, et donc aussi à la crise évidente des autorités militaires des deux ‘alliés’ dans
cette ultime phase, que la décision allemande du 30 décembre 1942, avait fait présager.
Les questions de Bizerte et des livraisons d’armes aux autorités allemandes
s’ajoutaient ainsi sur le plan militaire, aux crises qui étaient désormais quotidiennes sur
le plan politique entre les deux alliés de l’Axe. La désinvolture allemande à propos du
sort de la Tunisie après la victoire des puissances de l’Axe, c’est à dire la promesse
d’une ‘vraie’ indépendance faite en maintes occasions à des représentants tunisiens,
était en contradiction patente avec les plans de l’Italie qui ne démordait pas quant à ses
revendications. Et encore, en date 16 mars 1943, le ministre plénipotentiaire, Leonardo
Vitetti, en recevant, à Rome, le chef de la diplomatie allemande à Tunis, Rudoph Rahn,
lui répéta (en vain !) que tout accord avec la France et surtout avec les Tunisiens, devait
tenir compte des « droits italiens sur la Tunisie ». Les archives italiennes de la période
finale du conflit en Afrique du Nord sont riches en citations de ce genre, avec une
grande quantité de projets et de contre projets sur l’avenir de la Tunisie. L’évidence de
la crise à la veille de porter à la défaite totale de l’Italie ne semblait pas être
appréhendée dans sa juste urgence!
Sur un autre plan, celui de la ‘politique arabe’ à réaliser en Tunisie, la crise de
l’intimité entre les deux alliés de l’Axe devait se manifester aussi dans une initiative
des autorités militaires et politiques allemandes qui consista dans la création d’une
unité militaire arabe qui avait pris le nom de « Unité de Libération ». En effet, cette
unité militaire arabe fut créée, sans que Rome ait été mis au courant par Berlin, et cela
fut à l’origine de nouvelles discussions, même si sa création qui avait été basée en
Grèce, à Cap Sounion, semblait être un élément qui n’avait rien à voir avec la Tunisie
que Rome revendiquait. Mais évidemment les échos de cette volonté allemande de
‘libérer les Arabes’, sans en avoir informé le gouvernement fasciste suscitèrent des
réactions italiennes qui soulignaient la totale absence de collaboration entre les deux
10
pays de l’Axe sur un argument important de la politique commune. Seulement bien
après sa constitution, le gouvernement italien connut l’existence de cette unité arabe, le
16 septembre 1942, dans une rencontre secrète des deux responsables des services
secrets italien et allemand, le gén. Amé et l’am. Canaris. De toute évidence, les deux
services n’avaient guère de politique harmonique et l’absence de toute collaboration
devait se manifester surtout dans la dernière phase de la guerre. L’initiative allemande
avait, entre temps, susciter une initiative analogue de la part des Italiens, qui créèrent
des ‘bataillons’ au service de l’Armée Royale10. Ainsi naquirent quatre bataillons : un
bataillon I, soit indien, un bataillon M, au dépendance du Grand Mufti de Jérusalem, un
bataillon A, soit arabe et un bataillon T, soit tunisien. La confusion, soit sur le
recrutement, soit sur l’emploi de ces bataillons fut totale. L’unique élément déclaré était
la volonté italienne de ‘libérer’ les Indiens de la présence anglaise, de ‘libérer’ les
Palestiniens de la présence juive, de ‘libérer’ les Arabes du Moyen Orient de toutes les
présences coloniales française ou anglaise. Quant au bataillon T, il ne s’agissait, non
pas d’Arabes à libérer, mais d’Italiens de Tunisie à armer pour défendre leurs propres
revendications. L’ensemble de la situation sur le plan stratégique apparaît désormais
tout à fait négatif pour l’Axe, quant à l’issue des combats, mais malgré ce cadre
évident, il y a à rappeler que même les situations politiques, trouvent dans la période de
la veille de la fin des combats, une vivacité sans égal. Et tout cet ensemble se mêle à la
crise militaire qu’en vain des tardives initiatives veulent conjurer. Les éléments de cette
situation sont les hommes qui vivent en Tunisie, c’est à dire les indigènes, les vrais
‘Tunisiens’, puis les ‘tunisini’ qui sont les Italiens de Tunisie, les Français de Vichy et
les Français gaullistes qui opèrent dans un milieu très difficile à cerner.
Les répercussions militaires de cette situation ‘civile’ sont nombreuses, et les
autorités militaires italiennes et allemandes sont toutes deux à leur origine
contradictoires. L’histoire des bataillons indigènes est très valable pour mieux
comprendre la situation militaire générale. Après une rapide préparation, les militaires
de ces bataillons (sauf pour les hommes du bataillon I qui se refusèrent de partir pour
l’Afrique du Nord) furent transportés en Tunisie où ils furent amenés au front à la fin
de janvier 1943. De même, l’unité arabe allemande fut portée au flanc de la
Wehrmacht, dès les premiers jours de février 1943. Et dans l’emploi sur les lieux de la
10
L’évolution de la question des bataillons arabes allemands et italiens se trouve in Romain H.
Rainero, I reparti arabi e indiani dell’esercito italiano nella seconda guerra mondiale (Le Frecce
Rosse), Rome, Ufficio Storico della Stato Maggiore dell’Esercito, 2007.
11
bataille, toutes ces unités eurent à subir les conséquences de la crise militaire des deux
alliés qui les jetèrent dans la lutte contre les anglo-franco-américains dans un désordre
total. Et dans cette situation, les volontaires que les Italiens réussirent à engager parmi
la
colonie italienne de Tunisie, environ 4.000 hommes, se trouvèrent dans un
semblable désordre.
Mais le grand problème se situait sur le plan de l’élément non militaire qui se
trouvait dans cette enclave tunisienne. Et pour mieux comprendre cette évolution que
nous avons déjà rappelée, l’on peut affirmer que, parmi les civils qui se trouvaient dans
cette enclave, la situation des italiens fut la plus grave. En effet, du coté des
responsables italiens, les silences, les erreurs et les hésitations ponctuèrent plusieurs de
leurs décisions. D’une manière plutôt curieuse, les autorités militaires italiennes ne
s’intéressèrent presque pas des civils italiens, résidants ou réfugiés. Et nous trouvons
une confirmation de cette position dans les Mémoires du dernier commandant italien, le
mar. Giovanni Messe, dans lesquelles on ne trouve presque rien sur la population
locale, soit arabe, soit française et surtout soit italienne11. Selon ce récit, il semble que
toutes ces présences de civils, n’existaient pas; le discours tourne seulement autour de
la stratégie, des batailles et des décisions militaires à prendre. Messe était arrivé tard,
presque à la veille de la fin des combats, le 1° février 1943, et il ne s’occupa jamais du
sort des civils réfugiés ou résidants. Pour lui, ces problèmes ne le touchaient pas, car il
renvoyait tout aux responsables de la Résidence française, aux autorités tunisiennes et
pour les Italiens au Consulat Général. Bien au contraire, et de toute évidence, la
situation de la population italienne présente dans cette enclave tunisienne, posait des
graves problèmes, car outre les ‘Italiens de Tunisie’ (que, d’une manière curieuse, les
documents italiens citent comme les ‘Tunisini’), il y avait plusieurs milliers de réfugiés
de Libye, surtout en provenance de Tripoli, des réfugiés en quête d’une survivance et
d’un futur. Et pour ce futur, le consul général, Giacomo Silimbani, en poste à Tunis
depuis janvier 1937, répétait, sans cesse, sa foi dans la victoire finale, avec
« l’inévitable annexion » de la Tunisie dans l’orbite de l’Italie fasciste. Dans cet esprit
il réussit à faire de nouveau apparaître, à partir de février 1943, le quotidien fasciste
« L’Unione » que les autorités françaises avaient supprimé dès le début de la guerre.
C’était un signal fort sur la volonté italienne de reprendre la question tunisienne en
main, avec les arguments de toujours, soit le ‘droit’ de l’Italie à se valoir de la présence
de sa propre communauté pour s’en attribuer la souveraineté. Mais la réalité tunisienne
11
Giovanni Messe, Come finì la guerra in Africa. La ‘Prima Armata’ italiana in Tunisia , Milan,
Rizzoli, 1946
12
était bien différente et dans un télégramme ‘secret’ Silimbani ne manqua point de
réalisme avec les autorités romaines, en affirmant:
“...La Colonie italienne n’ignore pas la gravité du moment, et bien
que peu informée, elle sait bien que l’on combat à peu de kilomètres de
la ville, où l’on entend très bien le canon. Malgré notre action de
propagande et de contrôle dans une situation semblable sur une colonie
réduite (soit 60 ou 70 mille italiens), le nombre des italiens qui se
mettent à l’aide des troupes est nombreux...environ 500 comme
chauffeur, mécanicien, guide...L’engagement volontaire a dépassé, en 5
jours les 1.300 unités...1.000 autres sont déjà sous les drapeaux...1.300
sont les ouvriers volontaires...
Le Comité d’Assistance du Consulat et le Parti, ont organisés
une action de secours et d’asile en faveur de plusieurs centaines de
réfugiés, surtout femmes et enfants, en provenance de Bizerte ou
d’autres localités au coeur des opérations militaires. Un appel a été
lancé à nos nationaux pour accueillir les familles de nos réfugiés... »12.
Mais devant cette situation, ce même consul, celui qui aurait du représenter, et
défendre la communauté italienne en détresse, choisit ce tragique moment pour éviter
de faire face à ces problèmes pour s’enfuir, quelques jours plus tard, le 17 novembre
1942, à Rome, avec plusieurs fonctionnaires du consulat. Et au ministre Ciano qui
l’interrogeait, à son arrivée à Rome, sur cette fuite, Silimbani affirmait qu’il s’agissait
d’un choix qui dérivait de la crise en cours, une crise sans espoir: « La situation à Tunis
est intenable, avec les Américains qui avancent sans difficulté et avec la ville qui est
déjà aux mains des gaullistes qui se mettrons à s’insurger dès qu’apparaîtra le drapeau
américain... ». La réaction de Ciano fut la surprise, car le même jour il avait reçu du
Chef de l’Etat Major, Ugo Cavallero, des nouvelles qui étaient bien loin du cadre
apocalyptique de la situation en Tunisie que Silimbani lui avait illustrée (selon ce
dernier ‘la situation en Tunisie était en train de s’améliorer’). Désorienté, Ciano devait
écrire dans son Journal, en date 18 novembre 1942: « Ou Silimbani est devenu fou, ou
Cavallero ment, comme d’habitude ? »13. Mais cette question resta sans réponse. Un
nouveau Consul Général fut nommé dans la personne d’Enrico Bombieri qui avait déjà
occupé ce poste de juillet 1929 au 12 novembre 1936, qui était un fasciste ‘à outrance’,
et que Ciano et Mussolini considéraient à la hauteur pour résoudre le problème. Et pour
confirmer cette confiance, Bombieri arriva à Tunis avec le titre de ministre
plénipotentiaire, ce qui lui permettait de traiter avec un rang égal avec le délégué
diplomatique allemand en poste à Tunis, Rudolph Rahn. Le fait est que la principale
question à résoudre restait l’harmonisation de la politique italienne avec celle que les
12
13
Télégramme du consul Silimbani, sans date, mais novembre 1942, p. 2. ibid..
Galeazzo Ciano, Diario, vol. 2 (1941-1943), Milan, Rizzoli, 1946, p. 219.
13
autorités allemandes présentes à Tunis, continuaient à affirmer. Et cette politique
allemande était contradictoire envers tous les interlocuteurs. Avec les Italiens, Berlin
avait mis en sourdine les revendications fascistes sur la Tunisie en s’y opposant; avec
les Tunisiens, les Allemands jouaient sur l’équivoque d’une ‘libération’ de tout joug
colonialiste en échange d’une contribution immédiate à la guerre et, enfin, avec les
Français, c’était la politique de Otto Abetz, d’amitié avec Vichy que les Allemands
paraissaient vouloir réaliser.
Nous avons déjà évoquer les crises des Allemands avec les chefs militaires et
diplomatiques italiennes, mais ce manque d’harmonie régnait aussi parmi les Arabes du
Néo-Destour d’Habib Bourguiba qui oscillaient entre l’amitié avec l’Axe et un certain
sourire avec les anglo-américains. Pour l’Italie, les solutions étaient multiples et
opposées, et elles allaient du passage de la Tunisie à la colonie, à une cohabitation avec
les Français, ou, enfin, à une espèce de Commonwealth italien en Méditerranée. Quant
aux Allemands, les thèses ‘françaises’ d’une sauvegarde absolue du protectorat français
défendues par Vichy, étaient soutenues et cette politique de Berlin porta à la formation
d’une unité militaire ‘française’ fidèle à Vichy, la ‘Phalange Africaine’ le 18 mars
1943. Ces militaires prêtèrent serment à Pétain, évoquèrent le ‘bouclier de l’Empire’ et
déclarèrent d’être une légion antibolchevique et de vouloir lutter pour la cause d’Hitler.
Dans cet esprit, un ‘Délégué à Tunis du Ministre de l’Information’ de Vichy, Marion,
Georges Guilbaud, se présenta à Tunis et fonda, le 3 décembre 1942, l’unique journal
français, Tunis-Journal, en pleine rupture avec l’autre journal de Tunis, l’italien
L’Unione. Sa politique, d’obéissance à Vichy et d’amitié avec Berlin, politique que la
plupart des Français montrait de ne pas apprécier, était claire grâce aux multiples
articles de ce journal et aux émissions d’un nouveau poste de radio, avec un message
très clair:
« Actuellement nous collaborons avec l’Allemagne. Cette
collaboration permettra à la France d’avoir une place honorable dans
l’Europe nouvelle et de conserver, au moins en partie, son Empire. En
ce qui concerne la Tunisie, nous espérons aussi conserver notre
protectorat après la guerre ...Voilà pourquoi l’Allemagne n’a pas
intérêt à ce que l’Italie occupe la Tunisie...Voilà pourquoi collaborant
avec les Français, les Tunisiens aideraient l’Allemagne à partager les
forces du monde et éviteraient de se mettre sous le joug du
colonialisme italien, universellement connu pour ses méthodes
médiévales... » 14.
____________________
14
Juliette Bessis, La Méditerranée fasciste, Paris, Karthala, 1981, p. 332.
14
Désormais, la fin des combats était proche. Le désordre, les querelles, les
ambitions et les rivalités entre toutes les forces politiques en présence devaient prendre
fin avec la fin de la guerre d’Afrique et la reddition du Cap Bon du 13 mai 1943. Un
autre chapitre politique était en train de s’ouvrir dans lequel toutes les contradictions
précédentes furent confirmées et porta à une phase chaotique que seulement avec les
accords de Carthage sur l’indépendance de la Tunisie, en 1955, eurent l’avantage de
liquider.
15
(Rome Conference paper, 30 Aug. 2012)
NORTH AFRICA IN ANGLO-AMERICAN
STRATEGY AND DIPLOMACY, 1940-3
David Reynolds
(Cambridge University)
‘There is only one thing worse than fighting with allies,’ Winston Churchill liked to say,
‘and that is fighting without them.’1 The Anglo-American alliance in North Africa
exemplifies Churchill’s dictum. Great Britain and the United States, still learning the
business of total war in 1942, were much more effective in tandem than separately. Had
Germany and Japan combined to the same degree in that fateful year after Pearl Harbor,
when the Axis was in the ascendant, the outcome of the Second World War might have
been very different. But Anglo-American co-operation came at a price: in strategy,
operations and diplomacy almost every decision was a compromise. And their
contortions over North Africa played a significant part in damaging relations with the
third member of the Allied ‘Big Three’ – the Soviet Union.
This paper will focus on the origins and consequences of the TORCH landings
in French North Africa in November 1942, exploring the compromises entailed first in
grand strategy (clearing the Mediterranean versus invading France), then in the
operational concept (the location and form of the landings) and thirdly in the diplomatic
implications, especially with regard to France. Finally, I shall look at the consequences
of the North African campaign for relations with Stalin and the Soviet Union.
2
TORCH as a strategic compromise
TORCH was essentially a political decision, pushed through by Churchill and Roosevelt
against the preferences of the British and American military staffs. The US Army
wanted to concentrate on crossing the Channel, the British on winning their war in
Egypt and Libya. Both military staffs were pushed into French North Africa by their
political leaders.
In December 1941, when the United States entered the war, the British Chiefs
of Staff, conscious of the country’s limited resources, advocated a cautious policy of
‘closing and tightening the ring around Germany’ through bombing, blockade, aid to the
Russians and support of resistance movements in occupied Europe. They doubted the
possibility of mounting any invasion of the continent in 1942 but were more optimistic
about 1943, though leaving it open whether the assault would come in the
Mediterranean or across the Channel. Britain’s immediate priority was finishing off the
campaign to save Egypt and conquer Libya (for strategic and military reasons discussed
in Simon Ball’s paper). However, in December 1941 Churchill urged that ‘now is the
moment’ to ‘win over French North Africa’ to pre-empt a German takeover there as the
British advanced westward from Libya. This might be achieved with the ‘connivance’
of the Vichy authorities but intervention by the Germans had to be anticipated. ‘The
North-West African theatre is one most favourable for Anglo-American operations,’
Churchill argued, ‘our approaches being direct and convenient across the Atlantic’. On
his instructions planning for this possible operation, codenamed GYMNAST, had been
in gestation since October 1941.2
In Washington the US Joint Chiefs of Staff were at odds. The Navy wanted to
concentrate on the war against Japan, then rampaging across Southeast Asia. Army
3
planners watched with alarm as forces were packaged out around the Pacific in defiance
of the agreed strategic principle that Germany was the top priority. ‘We’ve got to go to
Europe and fight’, noted Gen. Dwight Eisenhower, then head of the War Department’s
Operations Division, ‘and we’ve got to quit wasting resources all over the world – and
still worse – wasting time.’ So in April 1942 Gen. George Marshall, the US Army
Chief of Staff, travelled to London to secure agreement in principle on a major build-up
of troops and supplies in Britain (codename BOLERO) with the intention of invading
the continent in strength in the spring of 1943 (ROUNDUP). He also envisaged an
‘emergency’ invasion by five divisions in the autumn of 1942 (SLEDGEHAMMER), to
be mounted if either the situation on the Russian front became ‘desperate’ or,
alternatively, the Germans had been ‘critically weakened’. Marshall had no doubt that
his plan was right on strategic grounds, insisting that ‘through France passes our
shortest route to the heart of Germany’. But he also had bureaucratic politics in mind.
Without a firm commitment from the British to a cross-Channel attack, it would be very
difficult to resist the pressures in Washington to concentrate resources in the Pacific.
Hence Marshall’s keenness to keep open the prospect of an invasion in 1942, however
risky that seemed: SLEDGEHAMMER was in part a way to ring-fence the resources
needed for ROUNDUP. Otherwise, he feared, BOLERO would unravel.3
The problem in 1942 was that a major German collapse seemed unlikely, while
SLEDGEHAMMER mounted to divert German forces from the Russian front would be
a suicide operation – in the words of Marshall’s memorandum ‘a sacrifice for the
common good’. And given the lack of American combat troops in Britain at this stage,
the sacrificial lambs would be mostly British and Canadian. After the succession of
British military reverses in 1940-2 – Norway, Dunkirk, Greece, Crete and Singapore –
4
and the damage these had caused to domestic morale, neither Churchill nor his military
advisers wished to add to the list of disasters and, as the senior partners in
SLEDGEHAMMER, they had effectively a veto power. When the British and American
Combined Chiefs of Staff (CCS) met in Washington on 20 June 1942 they proposed
pushing ahead on the BOLERO build-up ‘with all possible speed and energy’ in order
to mount ROUNDUP in 1943. ‘[S]ince any 1942 operation would inevitably have some
deterring effect upon Continental operation in 1943,’ they added, ‘it should be
undertaken only in the case of necessity or if an exceptionally favourable opportunity
presented itself.’ The same strictures in their view applied to other possible diversionary
operations such as attacking Brest, the Channel Islands or Norway – though any of
these, the CCS agreed, was preferable to an attempt to occupy French Northwest Africa
(currently codenamed GYMNAST) because that was so far away from the British Isles
and would involve serious dispersal of ‘base organisation, lines of sea communication,
and air strength.’ The CCS stated firmly that GYMNAST ‘should not be undertaken
under the existing situation’.4
Within twenty-four hours, however, the Combined Chiefs had been forced into a
total rethink. While they were sweltering in Washington, Churchill had been bending
Roosevelt’s ear at the President’s country house in the Hudson Valley, north of New
York. The Prime Minister emphasized that no one, British or American, had come up
with a plan for attacking France that autumn that had ‘any chance of success’ and then
asked: ‘Can we afford to stand idle in the Atlantic theatre during the whole of 1942?’
Against this background he pressed the case for GYMNAST. The President was
receptive and the two leaders travelled down to Washington and instructed the CCS to
re-open the issue of Northwest Africa.5
5
For both Roosevelt and Churchill a fundamental imperative was to propitiate the
Russians. Although the Wehrmacht had been driven back from Moscow in December
1941, it mounted a renewed offensive in May 1942, this time aimed at the oilfields of
the Caucasus. As in the summer of 1941, the Red Army fell back once again in disarray
and Stalin repeatedly demanded a Second Front to relieve the pressure. ‘I would rather
lose New Zealand or Australia’, FDR remarked, ‘than have the Russians collapse.’ In
May and June Soviet Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov visited London and
Washington to press the Soviet case. From Roosevelt he secured a communiqué stating
that ‘full understanding was reached with regard to the urgent tasks of creating a second
front in Europe in 1942’ – the precise wording was inserted at Stalin’s insistence.
Molotov was consistently cynical about American sincerity, whereas Stalin at this stage
seemed more optimistic, agreeing to a reduction in Allied supply convoys to the USSR
in the hope that this would expedite the cross-Channel operation.6
Roosevelt stressed his desire to cross the Channel with six to ten divisions in
1942, telling Molotov that it was ‘necessary to make sacrifices’ in order to help the Red
Army. The President even said he was willing to risk the possibility of ‘another
Dunkirk’ with the loss of 100,000 or 120,000 troops. When Molotov repeated those
words in London, however, Churchill was furious, insisting he would never venture
another Dunkirk with such losses, no matter who recommended the idea. Defensively
Molotov said he was only passing on Roosevelt’s opinion. Churchill responded: ‘I shall
give him my opinion on this matter myself.’ The Prime Minister was at pains to
suppress any false hopes about a landing in 1942, stating in an aide-mémoire for
Molotov that the British could ‘give no promise in the matter’. But, by way of
6
compensation, he talked up without qualification Allied plans to land ‘over a million’
troops on the continent in 1943.7
For both leaders, domestic politics also weighed heavily. After two years of
defeats, Churchill was desperate for a victory against the Germans. His attention that
summer was primarily directed on Egypt, where Rommel’s Afrika Korps was only one
hundred miles from Cairo, but he saw TORCH as an additional way to boost British
morale. For Roosevelt the political imperatives were even more pressing. Although
Hitler had declared war on the United States in December 1941, the American media
and people were understandably intent on revenge for Japan’s ‘sneak attack’ on Pearl
Harbor (where 2,000 Americans had died) and for its conquest of the Philippines.
Opinion polls during 1942 suggested that half of Americans had little idea what the war
in Europe was about. ‘I can see why we are fighting the Japanese,’ was a familiar
refrain, ‘but I can’t see why we are fighting the Germans.’ About 30 percent of the
public favoured a negotiated peace if the German Army toppled the Nazis, and 20
percent were actually inclined to ‘do business with Hitler’. Roosevelt, however, had no
doubt that Germany was America’s prime enemy: he was therefore anxious to get
American troops into action against the Wehrmacht in order to fire up his people about
the struggle against Hitler. He was also mindful of the mid-term elections on 3
November. Substantial Republican gains in Congress would make it harder to secure his
war aims – as had happened to President Woodrow Wilson after the elections of
November 1918. Marshall later admitted: ‘we failed to see that the leader in a
democracy has to keep the people entertained.’ He added: ‘That may sound like the
wrong word but it conveys the thought. People demand action. We couldn’t wait to be
completely ready.’8
7
In July 1942 the President made one last effort to get British agreement on
SLEDGEHAMMER, sending the Joint Chiefs of Staff (Marshall and Admiral Ernest
King) to London with very firm instructions. ‘I do not believe we can wait until 1943 to
strike at Germany’, the President warned. If SLEDGEHAMMER was ruled out, he
wanted them to ‘determine upon another place for U.S. Troops to fight in 1942’ against
the Germans, instructing that ‘the theatres to be considered are North Africa and the
Middle East.’9 Marshall had now developed his SLEDGEHAMMER plan from a
clearly suicidal ‘tip and run’ raid into a bid for a permanent toehold on the Cherbourg
peninsula from which to launch a breakout the following year. But the British Chiefs of
Staff argued that there weren’t sufficient troops or air cover to prevent this operation
also becoming a suicide mission at Britain’s expense. So Marshall abandoned the
struggle. On 30 July Roosevelt gave instructions that TORCH (the new codename for
the operation in French North Africa) should be undertaken at the earliest possible
moment.
In conceding defeat on TORCH, however, the American military laid down a
very clear warning. The Combined Chiefs of Staff memorandum following the London
meeting (CCS 94) included a statement (inserted by Marshall and King) ‘that a
commitment to this operation renders “ROUND-UP” in all probability impracticable of
successful execution in 1943 and therefore we have definitely accepted a defensive,
encircling line of action for the continental European theatre, except as to air operations
and blockade’. The British Chiefs of Staff did not openly dissent; indeed Admiral Sir
Dudley Pound, the First Sea Lord, agreed with the Americans on logistical grounds,
noting that ‘if we undertook GYMNAST it was possible that even if very favourable
circumstances were suddenly presented on the Continent for an invasion, we might not
8
have sufficient resources available to take proper advantage of it.’ The War Cabinet was
told by Brooke that ‘there was complete unanimity’ on CCS 94: ‘Both the British and
United States Chiefs of Staff believed that it was unlikely that ROUND-UP would be
carried out in 1943’.’10
But these statements were simply not accepted by either Roosevelt or Churchill.
‘Under any circumstances’, Roosevelt instructed, ‘I wish BOLERO and ROUNDUP to
remain an essential objective even though it must be interrupted’, he added, for some
‘three months’ in order to supply the North African landings. Churchill was even
blunter. ‘It should not be admitted’, he told the Chiefs of Staff, ‘that “Gymnast”, though
it impinges temporarily on “Bolero”, is at the expense of “Round-up”’. He proposed
that the ‘Second Front’ be considered in a more spacious sense, comprising ‘both the
Atlantic and Mediterranean coasts of Europe’ with the idea that ‘we can push either
right-handed [from TORCH into southern Europe], left-handed [from Britain across the
Channel], or both-handed as our resources and circumstances permit.’11 In closing their
eyes to the implications of TORCH, both leaders were displaying their characteristic
indifference to issues of logistics, especially shipping, which were central to the waging
of a world war. But, in a sense, such blindness was inevitable because of their preexisting political commitments to Stalin: they could not afford to admit that TORCH
imperilled the cross-Channel attack. Hence Churchill’s ingenious definition of the
Second Front as embracing both the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. When he travelled
to Moscow in August to convey the news about SLEDGEHAMMER to Stalin, the
Prime Minister drew a sketch of a crocodile. Northern France, he said, constituted the
hard snout of Hitler’s Europe; better, therefore, first to strike at the enemy’s ‘soft under-
9
belly’ in the Mediterranean. Stalin was not persuaded but the idea of the soft underbelly became a convenient Churchillian conceit – seductive but also dangerous.
Torch as an operational compromise
The details of the TORCH landings will be discussed in another paper. Here I wish to
address three aspects of the operation that reflected the larger Anglo-American strategic
compromise: the intention behind the landings, their location, and who was to take part.
American military planners, still averse to any deep entanglement in the
Mediterranean, preferred to land only on the Atlantic coast of French Morocco,
funnelling their forces through Casablanca and neighbouring ports. Their priority was to
secure the approaches to the Straits of Gibraltar and forestall the danger that a German
move into Spain could jeopardise lines of communications. Only after a three-month
period of consolidation would US forces start to push east. British planners, by contrast,
envisaged substantial landings deep inside the Mediterranean which, in conjunction
with the advance of Gen. Bernard Montgomery’s Eighth Army from Egypt, would
crush Rommel in pincers within a few weeks. To this end they wanted to land as far east
as possible in order to take Tunis before German reinforcements could be rushed across
the Sicilian narrows. ‘Our primary concern must be to forestall the arrival of Axis forces
in Tunisia,’ stated the British Joint Planning Staff. ‘The defeat of the French is only a
means to an end.’12
Over the next few weeks, proposals flew to and fro between London and
Washington, in what became known as the ‘transatlantic essay contest’. The Joint
Chiefs of Staff had to concede some landings within the Mediterranean but they still
tried to avoid anything east of Oran. That infuriated Churchill. ‘It seems to me’, he told
10
Roosevelt at the end of August, ‘that the whole pith of the operation will be lost if we
do not take Algiers as well as Oran on the first day . . . Strongly established in Algeria
with Oran making good the communications, we could fight the Germans for Tunis,
even if they got there.’ But he remained confident that the French would not resist and
that Hitler would not be in a position to respond rapidly. Infuriated by what he called
the ‘almost unending hemmings and hawings’ about strategy and supply, Churchill
warned: ‘Careful planning in every detail, safety first in every calculation, far seeing
provisions for a long-term campaign, to meet every conceivable adverse contingency,
however admirable in theory, will ruin the enterprise in fact.’ He added: ‘Personally I
am prepared to take any amount of responsibility for running the political risks and
being proved wrong about the political assumptions.’ Such breathtaking indifference to
specifics was not likely to enhance the confidence of American military planners about
an amphibious landing that would be a far bigger than Gallipoli in 1915. None of them
had forgotten the fate of that venture or the name of the British leader who had inspired
it.13
Roosevelt’s reply, based on a draft from Marshall, stuck to the idea of landings
only at Casablanca and Oran. It also introduced a new consideration. ‘I feel very
strongly’, FDR told Churchill, ‘that the initial attack must be made by an exclusively
American ground force, supported by your naval, transport and air units.’ He predicted
that initial American landing without any British ground troops offered ‘a real chance
that there would be no French resistance’ whereas the involvement of British units
‘would result in full resistance by all French in Africa’. Mindful of French fury after the
British had shelled the French fleet at Mers-el-Kebir in July 1940, to prevent any chance
of it falling into German hands, Roosevelt had made a plausible point. But, as with
11
Churchill’s predictions about how Hitler would react to TORCH, both leaders were
really making guesses to suit their larger political agenda. Roosevelt’s essential aim was
to make TORCH, at least initially, a purely American operation with maximum chances
of success, in order to ensure the best possible impact at home.14
In later rounds of the essay contest, the two leaders gradually reached an agreed
conclusion. Churchill reminded Roosevelt that, given the scale of British air and naval
support, no one would be fooled that this was a purely American operation. He also
pointed out that the British had already conceded an American commander. Roosevelt,
in turn, accepted Churchill’s demand for a landing at Algiers at the same time as Oran
and Casablanca, providing that the first wave was American – ‘followed within the hour
by British troops’. Both leaders harried their military to strip all other operations
(BOLERO and the Pacific) of spare troops, supplies and shipping to increase the punch
of TORCH and get it mounted as soon as possible.
Although Roosevelt had hoped that the invasion of Morocco and Algeria would
start before the mid-term elections, it did not start until 8 November – five days after
polling. Contrary to the President’s breezy predictions, the American landings around
Casablanca and at Oran met serious resistance from Vichy French forces, whereas
General Charles Mast at Algiers cooperated with the Anglo-American forces and
fighting there was brief. In any event the battles elsewhere were over within a couple of
days. The success of the landings was therefore a huge relief given the scale of the
operation – two Allied task forces travelling 2,800 miles from Britain and a third sailing
4,500 miles across the Atlantic from the United States, which involved over 100,000
men (double the landings at Gallipoli), most of whom lacked any combat experience.
All the logistics had to be improvised in a few weeks amid constantly changing political
12
directives. Equipment arrived in the wrong places and in the wrong order, often packed
in wooden or cardboard containers that simply fell apart. It took weeks to sort out the
chaos on the docks at Casablanca. U.S. soldiers were also grossly overloaded with kit
and clothing. ‘I realize’, wrote one supply officer, ‘that the great American Public may
not like the idea of their sons going to war without a complete wardrobe akin to the one
which Gary Cooper might have in Hollywood’. But, he insisted, that was simply out of
the question in North Africa.15
Given all the problems, TORCH could easily have gone disastrously wrong.
Henry Stimson, the US Secretary of War, was so pessimistic that he had a private bet
beforehand with Roosevelt that it would fail and claimed for the rest of his life that
TORCH was ‘the luckiest operation of the war.’ The British and Americans were
indeed fortunate that the weather was good, Spain remained neutral, there were few
enemy U-boats around and the fighting in French North Africa was over in a couple of
days – otherwise the worst fears of the American military about another Gallipoli might
have be realized. Both Churchill and Roosevelt were certainly well aware of the risks
they were running by forcing this operation on their generals. ‘If Torch fails,’ the Prime
Minister told members of his War Cabinet, ‘I am done for and must go’. When FDR
received the call about the landings, his hand shook as he took the phone. ‘Thank God,’
he exclaimed, ‘thank God’, on learning that the GIs were ashore with fewer casualties
than expected. Public approval in America was overwhelming. General Marshall’s wife
was watching a football game in Washington when an announcer broke in with the
news. ‘The football players turned somersaults and handsprings down the center of the
field; the crowd went wild,’ she recalled later. ‘We had struck back.’ Whatever his
limitations as a military planner, FDR the politician had been absolutely right.16
13
Torch and Anglo-American diplomacy
TORCH had profound diplomatic implications, especially for British and American
relations with the French. Although Gaullist mythology has fostered the impression of
the General’s inexorable rise after the famous Appeal he made from London in June
1940 to the French people, the story is more complex. Churchill and especially
Roosevelt had real suspicions about de Gaulle and did their best to avoid a formal
commitment to him, as their conduct of affairs in North Africa clearly shows.
On 28 June 1940 Churchill had announced that the British Government
recognised de Gaulle as ‘leader of all Free Frenchmen, wherever they may be, who rally
to him in support of the Allied cause.’ After the French armistice with Hitler the Prime
Minister desperately needed to create the impression that Britain was not entirely alone,
to boost national morale and impress international opinion. But Churchill thought he
was backing an essentially military figure who could serve an immediate purpose in
rallying French resistance, not a future political leader of France. However, no French
politician of note fled to Britain so, faute de mieux, de Gaulle became a political figure
as well – which was, of course, what the General intended. For the best part of three
years, however, the British Government refused to accept the Gaullists as the French
government in exile: Churchill took the line that de Gaulle was ‘not France, but
Fighting France.’17 After the failure to seize Dakar in September 1940 – which the
British blamed partly on leaks from de Gaulle’s forces – they kept firm control of
subsequent operations, such as the conquest of Syria in the summer of 1941, or they
excluded de Gaulle entirely, as in the capture of Madagascar in May 1942. Any sign
that the British were trespassing on French territory produced explosions of rage from
14
de Gaulle, fuelled by his profound suspicion of perfidious Albion, and Churchill
responded in kind. ‘There is nothing hostile to England this man may not do once he
gets off the chain’, he exploded in May 1942 to his Foreign Secretary, Anthony Eden,
de Gaulle’s strongest supporter in London.18
In 1940-1 Churchill kept open contacts with Vichy and tried to rally civil and
military leaders in French North Africa. In the planning for TORCH he hoped that they
would offer an invitation for British and American troops to land unopposed. ‘Vichy is
the only party that can offer these good gifts’, he told Eden sternly. ‘There is much
more in British policy towards France than abusing Pétain and backing de Gaulle’.19 De
Gaulle’s relations with America were even worse. The Roosevelt Administration wrote
off France as a great power after the collapse of 1940 and the President, in particular,
could not abide de Gaulle. In any case, the United States – then a neutral – had
maintained diplomatic relations with Vichy after the Fall of France and contrived to do
so even after Pearl Harbor. American consular staff in French North Africa provided
valuable intelligence, on which Roosevelt based his confident predictions of nonresistance to a purely American landing. Encouraged by the new Office of Strategic
Services (OSS), anxious to build up its clout, the belief grew in Washington that once
the landings had taken place French opinion in North Africa would quickly rally around
the figure of General Henri Giraud, renowned for his daring escape from a German
prison the previous spring. On Roosevelt’s adamant instructions, and against Eden’s
advice, de Gaulle was excluded from all planning for TORCH and not even given any
advance warning of the landings. Despite his private anger, the General took it all the
snubs with what one British diplomat called ‘an astonishing sang-froid’.20
15
On 8 November, however, Washington’s key assumptions were falsified. The
landings were contested by local French forces and Giraud’s name turned out to count
for very little. The man with real authority was Admiral Pierre Darlan, Commander-inChief of the Vichy armed forces, who happened to be in Algiers visiting his sick son.
Eisenhower, struggling to handle both the fighting and the diplomacy, cabled the
Combined Chiefs of Staff on 14 November:
The actual state of existing sentiment here does not, repeat not, agree
even remotely with some of the prior calculations . . . Foremost is the
fact that the name of Marshal Petain is something to conjure with here . .
. The civil governors, military leaders and naval commanders will agree
on only one man as having an obvious right to assume the Marshal’s
mantle in North Africa. That man is Darlan . . . All concerned profess
themselves to be ready to go along with us provided Darlan tells them to
do so, but they are absolutely not, repeat not, willing to follow anyone
else.21
Eisenhower assured the CCS that Allied hopes of an early conquest of Tunisia
could not possibly be realized without a deal with Darlan, but he was totally unprepared
for the media outcry in Britain and America about such ‘collaboration’. So concerned
was Marshall at the furore that he convened an off-the-record press conference to warn
reporters that their ‘incredibly stupid’ comments would simply play into the hands of
the British, who would demand that one of their own generals should replace
Eisenhower. Roosevelt issued a statement insisting that this was a ‘temporary
arrangement’ intended to save American, British and French lives and also to save time
in the push for Tunis. But he noted privately that it was ‘impossible to keep a
16
collaborator of Hitler and one whom we believe to be a fascist in civil power any longer
than is absolutely necessary.’22
Churchill also moved to distance himself from the Darlan deal, representing it as
an entirely American decision. But privately the Prime Minister could see real benefits.
At the end of November he told Eden that Darlan had ‘done more for us than de
G[aulle]’, and he was even more positive when the Admiral, as promised, scuttled the
French fleet rather letting it fall into German hands.23 On 10 December, in a secret
speech to the House of Commons, Churchill declared that de Gaulle was by no means
‘an unfaltering friend of Britain’ – noting that the General’s tour of French colonies in
Africa ‘left a trail of anglophobia behind him’. Churchill told the Commons not to
‘base all your hopes and confidence upon him’, adding: ‘I cannot feel that de Gaulle is
France, still less that Darlan and Vichy are France. France is something greater, more
complex, more formidable than any of these sectional manifestations.’24 It is interesting
to speculate how de Gaulle’s relationship with Churchill would have developed if
Darlan had remained in power. Interesting, but ultimately fruitless, because the Admiral
was assassinated in Algiers on Christmas Eve by Fernand Bonnier de la Chapelle –
which solved all the Allies’ problems. Although portrayed as a lone actor, Bonnier was
in league with the Gaullists who in turn were supported by local elements of Britain’s
Special Operations Executive. Who else was implicated remains unclear but, as
François Kersaudy observed, rarely has a political assassination been ‘so unanimously
condemned and so universally welcomed.’25
The furore over the Darlan deal was probably a factor in Roosevelt’s decision at
the Casablanca conference in January 1943 to announce publicly the policy of
unconditional surrender. Although the President was mainly motivated by his desire to
17
avoid another ‘stab in the back’ myth developing in Germany, his statement helped
mollify opinion back home by suggesting that the Allies, despite ‘temporary’
arrangements such as the Darlan deal, would take a firm moral line with all the Axis
regimes.26
With Darlan dead and all of France brought under Nazi occupation after the
TORCH landings, the Vichy option was closed for Britain and America. But Churchill
and Roosevelt still searched for French alternatives to de Gaulle. At the Casablanca
conference in January 1943 they obliged de Gaulle to work with Giraud in a unified
administration of French North Africa. This was a ‘shotgun wedding’ that de Gaulle
bitterly resented. Roosevelt hoped this arrangement would eventually marginalize de
Gaulle and pressed hard for Britain to break with him. When Churchill was in
Washington in May 1943, he was fed daily stories about de Gaulle’s machinations until
eventually he sent a diatribe to the Cabinet about ‘this vain and even malignant man,’
asking ‘whether should not now eliminate de Gaulle as a political force.’27 But in July
1943 the British and American governments extended grudging political recognition of
the French Committee of National Liberation as the body ‘administering those French
territories which acknowledge its authority’ and by the end of the year de Gaulle had
gained full control of the FCNL, forcing out Giraud entirely. Despite his political
position, however, de Gaulle remained on the periphery of Allied policymaking. His
exclusion from TORCH would be repeated in June 1944 over the planning for D-Day.
Torch, the Soviet Union and Anglo-American strategy
In 1942-4 ‘American strategy evolved as a process of constant adjustment to the
consequences of TORCH’.28 This comment by the military historian Richard Leighton
18
might also be applied to the British as well. Although much happier than the Americans
about being in the Mediterranean, Churchill and his advisers were also forced to rethink
their strategy once the North African campaign developed along lines that had not been
expected.
Churchill had been euphoric about the success of the landings. On 9 November
he told the Chiefs of Staff that the success of TORCH was ‘now plainly in sight after
one day’s campaign’ and predicted that ‘in a month French North Africa should be
comfortably and securely in Allied hands.’ On 3 December he was still optimistic that
the campaign would be over ‘by the end of the year’. Churchill’s confidence was
mirrored in Washington and it reflected the general complacency of Allied intelligence,
seduced by Ultra, about likely German reactions. By the end of November advance
British and American units had penetrated to a dozen miles of Tunis but then German
counter-attacks drove them back and the winter rains turned the sandy tracks to mud.
The Allies would not capture Tunis until May 1943. There were many reasons for this,
including the cautious pace of Eisenhower’s advance and the original decision not to
land in strength within the Mediterranean. But the root problem was this intelligence
failure about the likely German reaction, which the Allies compounded by a slow
response when the German build-up became apparent, thereby allowing the enemy to
build up strong forces and airbases in Tunisia.29
The fact that the campaign in French North Africa took seven months rather than
six weeks had enormous consequences for Anglo-American strategy. As we have seen,
in the summer of 1942 both Churchill and Roosevelt had ignored the professional
opinion of both sets of military planners that TORCH would make it almost impossible
to mount ROUNDUP, the full-scale invasion of France, in 1943. During the autumn, as
19
the North African campaign slowed down and its logistical demands became more
apparent, the British Chiefs of Staff hardened their opposition to ROUNDUP, producing
numerous papers to show that there would simply not be sufficient troops, supplies and
shipping available because of Allied commitments in the Mediterranean and the Pacific.
More positively, the Chiefs talked up the opportunities available in the Mediterranean
for dramatic advances – invasions of Sicily, Sardinia and Italy itself, which should help
persuade neutral Turkey to join the Allied cause. Churchill, mindful of his promises to
Stalin, kept telling his military that the Mediterranean campaign could be combined
with an invasion of France in 1943. Eventually he had to acknowledge defeat but his
constant arguments had forced the Chiefs of Staff to put teeth into what had previously
been a policy of slow attrition – featuring a major bombing campaign against Germany
and a continued build-up in Britain in case the prospects for a cross-Channel attack
improved. The Prime Minister knew that only such signs of offensive intent could
persuade his allies to accept continued operations in the Mediterranean.30
The Americans came to the Casablanca conference of January 1943 fatally
divided between the Army’s preference to concentrate on Europe and the Navy’s focus
on defeating Japan. American preparations for the conference were sloppy and British
planners, armed with a mass of papers, maps and statistics, ran rings around them. ‘We
came, we listened and we were conquered’, reflected General Albert Wedemeyer
ruefully. Agreement was reached that after North Africa was cleared, the British and
Americans would land in Sicily (Operation HUSKY), hopefully in July 1943.
Explaining why the JCS had given consent, Marshall said it was ‘because we will have
in North Africa a large number of troops available’ and because the capture of Sicily
would make the Mediterranean more secure for Allied shipping and save scarce
20
merchant vessels from the long haul around South Africa. The other reason for
HUSKY, he added, was ‘the possibility of eliminating Italy from the war and thus
necessitating Germany’s taking over the present commitments of the Italians.’ This
would aid the Russians by diverting German resources from the Eastern Front. But
Marshall accepted that it would be ‘difficult if not impossible’ to undertake ROUNDUP
in 1943 once the Allies had committed themselves in Sicily: there would not be time to
transfer sufficient troops, ships, supplies and landing craft to Britain before the
autumn.31
It should be emphasized that at the Casablanca conference the Allies made no
commitment to invade Italy itself. Indeed Marshall told Roosevelt ‘that the British were
not interested in occupying Italy, inasmuch as this would add to our burdens without
commensurate returns’ – a view with which FDR entirely agreed.Why the British and
Americans did invade Italy is a separate story – but, as Marshall noted at Casablanca,
the Mediterranean campaign was functioning like a ‘suction pump’. Once started in
Northwest Africa, it inexorably drew in resources in a way no one, even Churchill and
Brooke, had intended.32
Eventually, in the autumn of 1943, Roosevelt and Marshall would put their foot
down and start to close up the Mediterranean theatre. But in January 1943 they went
along with the British and accepted the logic of events in North Africa. Stalin, however,
was not happy. After Casablanca, Churchill and Roosevelt sent him a carefully phrased
account of their conclusions. ‘We believe,’ they told him, ‘that these operations,
together with your powerful offensive, may well bring Germany to its knees in 1943.’
They stated that the forces in Britain and the Mediterranean would ‘prepare themselves
to re-enter the continent of Europe as soon as practicable’ – to which Stalin sent an
21
immediate reply asking to be informed of ‘concrete operations planned and of their
timing.’33 After a week of anxious consultation, Churchill and Roosevelt sent a reply
stating that they hoped to clear the 250,000 Axis troops from Tunisia ‘during April, if
not earlier’ and then move on ‘in July, or earlier is possible, to seize Sicily’ with the
object of ‘promoting an Italian collapse’. They continued: ‘We are also pushing
preparations to the limit of our resources for a cross-Channel operation in August’ or
else September, backed by ‘very large’ British and American air forces.* Although this
statement was hedged with conditions about the state of ‘German defensive
possibilities’ at that time, it ran, of course, flatly against the consensus at Casablanca
that attacking Sicily virtually ruled out crossing the Channel in 1943. Again Stalin’s
reply was prompt and acute, noting reproachfully the slippage of the timetable for
Tunisia and ROUNDUP and observing darkly that since the end of December ‘when for
some reason the Anglo-American operations in Tunisia were suspended’, the Germans
had moved twenty-seven divisions to the Eastern Front.34
The correct figure was seventeen divisions35 but that does not alter the basic
point: Churchill and Roosevelt had encouraged Soviet expectations that they simply
could not satisfy. Their big talk to fill empty promises only served to aggravate Stalin’s
suspicions of Allied double-dealing. Of course, Stalin was duplicitous on a massive
scale, as demonstrated by the Nazi-Soviet pact in 1939 and its secret protocol carving
up Poland and the Baltic states. But on the question of the Second Front his reproaches
had some validity. Churchill and Roosevelt had mounted TORCH in part to offer him a
surrogate Second Front in 1942. But they did so without heeding the advice of their
military planners that to do so would jeopardise the Second Front that Stalin really
*
Churchill’s original draft spoke of an attack on Italy itself in July and of ‘aiming’ to commit
‘between seventeen and twenty’ divisions for the cross-Channel invasion in August. Both of these precise
statements were amended by Roosevelt.
22
wanted in 1943. TORCH may have eased their problems, both domestic and diplomatic,
in 1942 but it was to cast a long shadow over Anglo-American strategy and Allied
diplomacy for the rest of the war.
23
Notes
1
Lord Alanbrooke, War Diaries 1939-1945, eds Alex Danchev and Daniel
Todman (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2001), 1 April 1945, p. 680.
2
J.M.A. Gwyer, Grand Strategy, vol. 3, part 1 (London: HMSO, 1964), pp. 3259, 345-7, 360-5.
3
Notes, 22 Jan. 1942, in Alfred D. Chandler, ed., The Papers of Dwight David
Eisenhower: The War Years (5 vols, Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1970), vol. 1,
p. 66; Maurice Matloff and Edwin Snell, Strategic Planning for Coalition Warfare,
1941-1942 (Washington DC: Government Printing Office, 1959), pp. 181-7.
4
Michael Howard, Grand Strategy, vol. 4 (London: HMSO, 1972), pp. xviii-xix;
Alanbrooke, War Diaries, pp. 267-8.
5
Churchill, memo, 20 June 1942, in Warren F. Kimball, ed., Churchill and
Roosevelt: Their Complete Correspondence (3 vols, Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 1984), 1: 515.
6
Mark A. Stoler, Allies and Adversaries: the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Grand
Alliance, and U.S. Strategy in World War II (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina
Press, 2000), p. 72; Oleg A. Rzheshevsky, ed., War and Diplomacy: The Making of the
Grand Alliance – Documents from Stalin’s Archive (Amsterdam: Harwood, 1996), pp.
210-11, 220-1, 228, 266.
7
Rzheshevsky, ed., War and Diplomacy, pp. 177, 282, 298-9.
8
Richard W. Steele, ‘American Popular Opinion and the War against Germany:
The Issue of Negotiated Peace, 1942’, Journal of American History, 65 (1978), esp. pp.
704-5, 708; Forrest Pogue, ed., George C. Marshall Interviews and Reminiscences
(Lexington, Virginia: Marshall Research Foundation, 1991), p. 622.
9
FDR memo, 16 July 1942, copy in Marshall Papers, Verifax 647 (George C.
Marshall Library, Lexington, Virginia).
10
CCS 32nd meeting, 24 July 1942, CCS 94, 24 July 1942, and WM 95 (42) 3 CA,
24 July 1942 – copies in CAB 120/82 (The National Archives, Kew, Surrey –
henceforth TNA); Alanbrooke, War Diaries, p. 285.
11
Robert E. Sherwood, Roosevelt and Hopkins: An Intimate History (New York:
Harper, 1948), p. 603; Mark A. Stoler, The Politics of the Second Front: American
Military Planning and Diplomacy in Coalition Warfare, 1941-1943 (Westport, CT:
Greenwood Press, 1977), pp. 57-8; PM Directive to Chiefs of Staff, D.137/2, 23 July
1942, CHAR 20/67 (Churchill Archives Centre, Churchill College, Cambridge –
henceforth CAC).
12
Howard, Grand Strategy, p. 119.
13
C-136 and C-139, 26 and 27 Aug. 1942, in Kimball, ed., Churchill and
Roosevelt, 1:575-9.
14
R-180, 30 Aug. 1942, and draft, in Kimball, ed., Churchill and Roosevelt, 1:5814.
15
Richard M. Leighton and Robert W. Coakley, Global Logistics and Strategy,
1940-1943 (Washington DC: US Government Printing Office, 1955), pp. 452-3.
16
Andrew Roberts, Masters and Commanders: How Roosevelt, Churchill,
Marshall and Alanbrooke Won the War in the West (London: Penguin, 2008), pp. 257,
24
259, 286, 291-2; Eric Larrabee, Commander in Chief: Franklin Delano Roosevelt, His
Lieutenants, and Their War (New York: Touchstone, 1987), pp. 139-41.
17
Record of meeting on 30 Sept. 1942, p. 6, PREM 3/120/6 (TNA)
18
Churchill, note, 30 May 1942, PREM 3/120/7 (TNA).
19
Howard, Grand Strategy, p. 145.
20
Jean-Louis Crémieux-Brilhac, La France Libre: De l’Appel du 18 Juin à la
Libération (2 vols, Paris: Gallimard, 2001), vol. 1, p. 558.
21
Eisenhower to CCS, 14 Nov. 1942, Eisenhower, Papers, 2: 707-10.
22
Stephen Ambrose, Eisenhower, 1890-1952 (New York: Touchstone, 1983), pp.
208-9; Sherwood, Roosevelt and Hopkins, pp. 653-5.
23
John Harvey, ed., The War Diaries of Oliver Harvey (London: Collins, 1978),
pp. 192-3.
24
Text in Chartwell papers, CHAR 9/156, folios 256-8 (CAC).
25
François Kersaudy, Churchill and de Gaulle (London: Collins, 1981), p. 230;
David Reynolds, In Command of History: Churchill Fighting and Writing the Second
World War (London: Penguin, 2004), pp. 328-31. More generally see Philippe
Oulmont, ed., De Gaulle, Chef de Guerre: De l’Appel de Londres à la Libération de
Paris, 1940-1944 (Paris: Plon, 2008).
26
Raymond G. O’Connor, Diplomacy for Victory: FDR and Unconditional
Surrender (New York: W.W. Norton, 1971), pp. 50-1, 101.
27
Quotation from Churchill to Attlee and Eden, 21 May 1943, copy in Churchill
papers, CHUR 4/293, folios 163-4 (CAC); see also Elizabeth Barker, Churchill and
Eden at War (London: Macmillan, 1978), pp. 72-4. Chapters two to nine of Barker’s
book provide a useful survey of Anglo-French-American relations in this period.
28
Richard M. Leighton, ‘OVERLORD Revisited: An Interpretation of American
Strategy in the European War, 1942-1944, American Historical Review, 68 (1963), p.
927.
29
Reynolds, In Command of History , p. 317; F.H. Hinsley, et al, British
Intelligence in the Second World War, vol. 2 (London; HMSO, 1981), pp. 472-5, 493-6.
30
Howard, Grand Strategy, pp. 206-16.
31
Stoler, Politics of the Second Front, p. 77 (Wedemeyer); US Department of
State, Foreign Relations of the United States: The Conferences at Washington, 19411942, and Casablanca, 1943 (Washington DC: Government Printing Office, 1968), p.
631.
32
Foreign Relations: Washington and Casablanca, pp. 583, 597.
33
Roosevelt and Churchill to Stalin, 27 Jan. 1943, and Stalin’s reply, 30 Jan. 1943,
in Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the USSR, Correspondence between the Chairman of
the Council of Ministers of the U.S.S.R. and the Presidents of the U.S.A. and the Prime
Ministers of Great Britain during the Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945 (2 vols,
Moscow: Foreign Languages Publishing House, 1957), vol. 1, pp. 86-9.
34
Churchill to Stalin, 9 Feb. 1943, and Stalin to Churchill, 16 Jan. 1943,
Correspondence, vol. 1, pp. 93-6; C-260, 3 Feb. 1943 and R-256, 5 Feb. 1943, in
Kimball, ed., Churchill and Roosevelt, vol. 2, pp. 133-5.
35
Howard, Grand Strategy, p. 337.
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