DEADLOCK at Anzio and Cassino imposed a halt in the Allied advance in Italy which lasted for nearly two months. Our troops had to be rested and regrouped. Most of the Eighth Army had to be brought over from the Adriatic side and the two armies concentrated for the next assault. In the meantime General Wilson used all his air-power to impede and injure the enemy, who, like us, were using the pause for reorganising and replenishing themselves for further battle.
The potent Allied Air joined in attacking enemy land communications in the hope that these could be kept cut and their troops forced to withdraw for lack of supplies. This operation, optimistically called “Strangle”, aimed at blocking the three main railway lines from Northern Italy, the principal targets being bridges, viaducts, and other bottle-necks. They tried to starve the Germans out. The effort lasted more than six weeks, and did great damage. Railway movement was consistently stopped far north of Rome, but it failed to attain all we hoped. By working their coastal shipping to the utmost, transferring loads to motor transport, and making full use of the hours of darkness the enemy contrived to maintain themselves. But they could not build enough reserve stocks for protracted and heavy fighting, and in the severe land battles at the end of May they were much weakened. The junction of our separated armies and the capture of Rome took place more rapidly than we had forecast/The German Air Force suffered severely and in early May it could muster only a bare seven hundred planes against our thousand combat aircraft.
By then General Clark, of the Fifth Army, had over seven divisions, four of them French, on the front from the sea to the river Liri; thence the Eighth Army, now under General Leese, continued the line through Cassino into the mountains with the equivalent of nearly twelve. In all the Allies mustered over twenty-eight divisions, of which the equivalent of only three remained in the Adriatic sector.
Opposed to them were twenty-three German divisions, but our deception arrangements had puzzled Kesselring so well that they were widely spread. Between Cassino and the sea, where our main blows were to fall, there were only four, and reserves were scattered and at a distance. Our attack came unexpectedly. The Germans were carrying out reliefs opposite the British front, and one of their Army Commanders had planned to go on leave.
The great offensive began at n p.m. on May n, when the artillery of both our armies, 2,000 guns, opened a violent fire, reinforced at dawn by the full weight of the Tactical Air Force. After much heavy fighting the enemy began to weaken. On the morning of May 18 Cassino town was finally cleared by the 4th British Division, and the Poles triumphantly hoisted their red and white standard over the ruins of the monastery. Kesselring had been sending down reinforcements as fast as he could muster them, but they were arriving piecemeal, only to be thrown into the battle to check the flood of the Allied advance. By the 25th the Germans were in full retreat and hotly pursued on the whole of the Eighth Army front.
Six divisions under the American General Truscott had been packed into the Anzio beach-head and burst forth with the simultaneous onslaught of the Eighth Army. After two days of stiff fighting they gained contact with the U.S. Und Corps. At long last our forces were reunited, and we began to reap the harvest from our winter sowing. The enemy in the south were in full retreat, and the Allied Air did its utmost to impede movement and break up concentrations. But obstinate rearguards frequently checked our pursuing forces, and their retirement did not degenerate into a rout. The mountainous country stopped us using our great strength in armour, which otherwise could have been employed to much advantage.
But on the night of June 2 the German resistance broke, and next day Truscott’s Corps in the Alban Hills, with the British 1st and 5th Divisions on its left, pressed on towards Rome. The Und American Corps led them by a short head. They found the bridges mostly intact, and at 7.15 p.m. on June 4 the head of their 88th Division entered the Piazza Venezia, in the heart of the capital. From many quarters came messages of warm congratulations. I even got a pat from the Bear.
At noon on D Day, June 6, 1944, 1 asked the House of Commons to “take formal cognisance of the liberation of Rome by the Allied Armies under the command of General Alexander”, the news of which had been released the previous night. There was intense excitement about the landings in France, which everyone knew were in progress at the moment. Nevertheless I devoted ten minutes to the campaign in Italy and in paying my tribute to the Allied Armies there. After thus keeping them on tenterhooks for a little I gave them an account of what had happened, so far as we were then informed. By the afternoon I felt justified in reporting to Stalin:
Everything has started well. The mines, obstacles, and land batteries have been largely overcome. The air landings were very successful, and on a large scale. Infantry landings are proceeding rapidly, and many tanks and self-propelled guns are already ashore. Weather outlook moderate to good.
26—s.w.w.
His answer was prompt, and contained welcome news of the highest importance. “I have received”, he cabled, “your communication about the success of the beginning of the ‘Overlord’ operations. It gives joy to us all and hope of further successes. The summer offensive of the Soviet forces, organised in accordance with the agreement at the Teheran Conference, will begin towards the middle of June on one of the important sectors of the front.… At the end of June and during July offensive operations will become a general offensive of the Soviet forces.”
I was actually sending him a fuller account of our progress when this telegram arrived. “I am well satisfied”, I answered, “with the situation up to noon to-day [June 7]. Only at one American beach has there been serious difficulty, and that has now been cleared up. 20,000 airborne troops are safely landed behind the flanks of the enemy’s lines, and have made contact in each case with the American and British seaborne forces. We got across with small losses. We had expected to lose about 10,000 men.…”
Stalin telegraphed again a few days later:
As is evident, the landing, conceived on a grandiose scale, has succeeded completely. My colleagues and I cannot but admit that the history of warfare knows no other like undertaking from the point of view of its scale, its vast conception, and its masterly execution. As is well known, Napoleon in his time failed igno-miniously in his plan to force the Channel. The hysterical Hitler, who boasted for two years that he would effect a forcing of the Channel, was unable to make up his mind even to hint at attempting to carry out his threat. Only our Allies have succeeded in realising with honour the grandiose plan of the forcing of the Channel. History will record this deed as an achievement of the highest order.
The word “grandiose” is the translation from the Russian text which was given me. I think “majestic” was probably what Stalin meant. At any rate, harmony was complete.
On June 10 General Montgomery reported that he was sufficiently established ashore to receive a visit. I therefore set off in my train to Portsmouth, with Smuts, Brooke, General Marshall, and Admiral King. All three American Chiefs of Staff had flown to the United Kingdom on June 8 in case any vital military decision had to be taken at short notice. A British and an American destroyer awaited us. Smuts, Brooke, and I embarked in the former, and General Marshall and Admiral King, with their staffs, in the latter, and we crossed the Channel without incident to our respective fronts. Montgomery, smiling and confident, met me at the beach as we scrambled out of our landing-craft. His army had already penetrated seven or eight miles inland. There was very little firing or activity. The weather was brilliant. We drove through our limited but fertile domain in Normandy. It was pleasant to see the prosperity of the countryside. The fields were full of lovely red and white cows basking or parading in the sunshine. The inhabitants seemed quite buoyant and well nourished and waved enthusiastically. Montgomery’s headquarters, about five miles inland, were in a château with lawns and lakes around it. We lunched in a tent looking towards the enemy. The General was in the highest spirits. I asked him how far away was the actual front. He said about three miles. I asked him if he had a continuous line. He said, “No.” “What is there then to prevent an incursion of German armour breaking up our luncheon?” He said he did not think they would come. The staff told me the château had been heavily bombed the night before, and certainly there were a good many craters around it. I told him he was taking too much of a risk if he made a habit of such proceedings. Anything can be done once or for a short time, but custom, repetition, prolongation, is always to be avoided when possible in war. He did in fact move two days later, though not till he and his staff had had another dose.
It continued fine, and apart from occasional air alarms and antiaircraft fire there seemed to be no fighting. We made a considerable inspection of our limited bridgehead. I was particularly interested to see the local ports of Port-en-Bessin, Courseulles, and Ouistreham. We had not counted much on these little harbours in any of the plans we had made for the great descent. They proved a most valuable acquisition, and soon were discharging about two thousand tons a day. I dwelt on these agreeable facts as we drove or walked round our interesting but severely restricted conquest.
Smuts, Brooke, and I went home in the destroyer Kelvin. Admiral Vian, who now commanded all the flotillas and light craft protecting the Arromanches harbour, was on board. He proposed that we should go and watch the bombardment of the German position by the battleships and cruisers protecting the British left flank. Accordingly we passed between the two battleships, which were firing at twenty thousand yards, and through the cruiser squadron, firing at about fourteen thousand yards, and soon we were within seven or eight thousand yards of the shore, which was thickly wooded. The bombardment was leisurely and continuous, but there was no reply from the enemy. As we were about to turn I said to Vian, “Since we are so near, why shouldn’t we have a plug at them ourselves before we go home?” He said “Certainly,” and in a minute or two all our guns fired on the silent coast. We were of course well within the range of their artillery, and the moment we had fired Vian made the destroyer turn about and depart at the highest speed. We were soon out of danger and passed through the cruiser and battleship lines. This is the only time I have ever been on board a naval vessel when she fired “in anger”—if it can be so called. I admired the Admiral’s sporting spirit. Smuts too was delighted. I slept soundly on the four-hour voyage to Portsmouth. Altogether it had been a most interesting and enjoyable day.
Soon afterwards I wrote to the President about various questions, including the visit of de Gaulle to France, which I had arranged without consulting Roosevelt beforehand, and added:
I had a jolly day on Monday on the beaches and inland. There is a great mass of shipping extended more than fifty miles along the coast. It is being increasingly protected against weather by the artificial harbours, nearly every element of which has been a success, and will soon have effective shelter against bad weather. The power of our air and of our anti-U-boat forces seems to ensure it a very great measure of protection. After doing much laborious duty we went and had a plug at the Hun from our destroyer, but although the range was 6,000 yards he did not honour us with a reply.
Marshall and King came back in my train. They were greatly reassured by all they saw on the American side, and Marshall wrote out a charming telegram to Mountbatten, saying how many of these new craft had been produced under his organisation and what a help they had been. You used the word “stupendous” in one of your early telegrams to me. I must admit that what I saw could only be described by that word, and I think your officers would agree as well.… How I wish you were here!