On May 6, 1941 Galeazzo Ciano wrote in his diary:
“…On the train Mussolini is wrapped in thought. We speak at length of the future prospects of the war. I cannot say that now that he has cast aside his optimistic view of a rapid end or he has any clear idea of the future. I give him my ideas including those about a compromise peace…”
The foreign minister was careful in selecting the conversations he had with his father in law for inclusion in his secret diary. Many pages were immediately destroyed as he realized they might be too sensitive to be recorded for posterity. Now, as the train to Venice and Trieste crossed the Italian peninsula, there would be enough time to have a meaningful exchange on a few sensitive topics that Ciano wanted to discuss especially regarding the Germans. In his civilian clothes, after dinner some two hours out of Rome, Mussolini looked more like a prosperous provincial businessman than an all powerful dictator as he sank quietly into a leather armchair.
Ciano, still wearing his dark blue diplomatic uniform lit a short cigar and poured himself a glass of vintage French cognac that had been confiscated by invading Italian troops from the famous cellar of the Hotel Negresco in Nice. He didn’t offer any to the Duce who very rarely drank any alcohol.
Mussolini remained lost in his thoughts for some time; he was often deceptively remote; occasionally he would glance sideways at his son in law who always felt uncomfortable under the dictator’s invariably hostile scrutiny. At 38 Galeazzo Ciano happened to be one of the youngest top government officials in the world, and was regularly mentioned as Mussolini’s heir apparent or at least as the second most powerful man in Fascist Italy since he had married the Duce’s daughter Edda. He led a charmed life as the regime’s golden boy. Only slightly taller than the dictator, Ciano carefully slicked his black hair back, displaying the handsome and happy face of a perpetual adolescent. Women enjoyed his company and thought of him as charming; he fully deserved his reputation as a relentless and rather successful ladies’ man.
But Ciano was unable to escape the heavy burden of having married the “boss’s daughter” and never felt he truly enjoyed his father in law’s full confidence. The Duce appreciated Galeazzo’s sharp intelligence and his quick mind but carefully kept his own counsel and very rarely offered any praise for the foreign minister’s accomplishments. Mussolini was also irritated by the knowledge that Ciano scrupulously kept a daily diary and rightly suspected that those handwritten pages contained information that was potentially damaging to him and to his relationship with Adolf Hitler.
On the other hand Mussolini also thought that those candid pages, that had already been somewhat self-censored by their author, could become useful in the future if he needed to justify himself to the Italian people with proof of how he attempted to moderate the Nazi onslaught. At times Ciano feared losing the Duce’s favor and expected to become another one of his many administrative victims. That fate generally meant being shunted into a humiliating and meaningless job effectively cutting him off from power. It was a falling from grace from which no other Fascist leader had recovered in the past. Ciano therefore often suffered from bouts of almost uncontrollable inner panic that went far beyond his natural insecurity and drove him to crave Mussolini’s approval and seek his praise at all costs. He therefore much preferred to be alone with the Duce for several hours on a train where they could exchange ideas without the pressures and interruptions of the Palazzo Venezia.
The Duce nodded at Ciano’s talk of peace feelers but didn’t follow up.
Then suddenly he asked,
“Galeazzo, I meant to ask you about that American contact of yours, the gentleman from Naples, the freshly minted ‘commendatore’…?”
Ciano was startled by the question and instantly knew who Mussolini was alluding to without wanting to name him. Knowing how the Duce’s mind operated Ciano figured that the question had been carefully considered in advance and strategically placed at that precise moment, after gestating for many days, with all its potentially dangerous ramifications. At first he childishly pretended not to remember.
“Which American do you mean, Duce?”
Mussolini looking annoyed twisted his mouth contemptuously.
“Galeazzo, you of all people should know exactly who I am referring to. Not just any American, I mean the man from Naples. I am told you’re still in contact with him. Or could my informers be mistaken once again?”
The dictator was now looking straight up at his son in law who was biting his lower lip as he quickly paced around the saloon car, nervously sipping French cognac. Ciano knew there was no escape. The Duce had his eyes and ears everywhere and his way of asking the question was itself a test. He therefore opted to tell the truth because further denial would only be more damaging.
“Yes Duce, you are perfectly and accurately well informed, I have had occasional contacts with the commendatore.”
Mussolini had known for several years that Galeazzo was meeting with an Italian American from New York, a mobster originally from a small town near Naples who had “retired” to Italy in 1937 and was buying himself protection by generously offering cash “gifts” that landed into the coffers of the Fascist Party. Mussolini met that gentleman once and was duly impressed. Ciano was never one to refuse cash but his American “friend” was also able and eager to satisfy some of his more unmentionable needs.
“Galeazzo, don’t you know by now, after working with me all these years that I make it my business to know everything that goes on in this country and that I certainly know all your filthy little secrets?”
Ciano felt deeply humiliated by Mussolini’s words. The only saving grace being that the dressing down was taking place on the train rather than in the presence of other Fascist Party leaders who would instantly spread any such derogatory news to the four winds. It was one of Mussolini’s favorite forms of punishment by public mortification. Ciano suddenly regretted taking the train trip when he could have opted to fly and began wondering how far the Duce intended to go on this unpleasant fishing expedition.
“Actually I only see his associate on occasion and him only rarely” blurted Ciano as he gulped the last of the cognac that suddenly burned his lips. His eyes avoided Mussolini who was glaring at him. Then came the inevitable attack:
“Galeazzo, a man in your position cannot be a slave to such unacceptable habits. You are vulnerable to scandal. Cocaine! I am surprised…but I don’t intend to teach you any lessons. That would require sending you for an extended stay on some far off island …something politically awkward at this time. I’m asking about the commendatore because I may need his services in America.”
Ciano looked at Mussolini and feeling relieved, as the paralyzing fear slowly began to lift. What could the Duce possibly want with a man such as the commendatore, Don Vito Genovese, the former associate of Lucky Luciano and Meyer Lansky and a powerful leader of the Brooklyn Mafia even though he wasn’t Sicilian and originally came from the small town of Nola just outside Naples? Since 1937 Genovese was a fugitive from American justice, wanted for murder in New York. But for now, thanks to his large cash contributions to several Fascist ministers, including the Count he spent most of his time in a luxurious apartment in Rome.
“He has excellent communications with America, and receives messages and money on a regular basis. His power in the New York Mafia is considerable. His wife travels by ship several times a year with hundreds of thousands of American dollars in small denominations stuffed in her suitcases. That’s his main source but apparently there are several others as well.”
Mussolini looked annoyed and interrupted.
“I know all that, Galeazzo. The chief of police provides me with those details every morning! This gentleman has been very generous to us and to the party. But now things are taking a very different turn. We must get ready for war with America. I have learned some rather interesting things from the Germans, especially the navy that wants unlimited submarine warfare in the Atlantic to break England’s lifeline…”
Ciano sat down, stubbed out his cigar and collected himself to listen to the Duce. He knew what was coming; Mussolini was about to set a new course, one that he had prepared meticulously for a long time. Ciano was now extremely attentive to what his father in law was about to say.
“War with the United States?” he asked in total amazement.
“Those long convoys sailing off to England are keeping the British Empire alive. Huge quantities of war materiel then filter down from Great Britain to the Mediterranean and the Middle East. Gibraltar, Malta, Suez, Aden, Palestine, Mesopotamia, Persia! Those American tanks and guns are preventing our victory in North Africa and stopping us in the Balkans. Eventually we’ll be at war with the Americans.”
The Duce fell silent and Ciano quickly reviewed the possibilities.
“The propaganda arm of SIM could reinforce the isolationist groups in the United States; we can use Lindbergh and his many followers. They are said to command a sizeable majority of American public opinion right now.”
Mussolini shook his head, and waved off Ciano’s words with a weary gesture…
“Much too slow; we are way past that point. Canaris told me that Raeder and Dönitz are insisting at every meeting with Hitler to allow unrestricted submarine warfare in the Atlantic. They want a repeat of what they did in the First World War. The German admirals claim they could then sink all ships whether they are neutral or not and cut the supply lines permanently. But Hitler doesn’t want this; he desperately wants America to remain neutral and as uninvolved as possible. In many respects he’s absolutely correct. But my reading of geopolitics is somewhat different and I am convinced that the United States must be considered as the ultimate enemy because they are England’s lifeline. It clearly affects Italy’s position in the Mediterranean and the Red Sea.”
“So where does Commendatore Genovese come in?”
Mussolini smiled and took his time to answer as his stubby fingers drummed both armrests.
“There are too many Italian dissidents in the United States conspiring against the regime. Those anti-Fascists are far away but they could have some influence in the future. They have never been given the lesson they so richly deserve and think of themselves as safely out of reach. You handled the Rosselli brothers in France very well and that decisive action cleaned out the nest of vipers that was festering in Paris. To think the audacity of those two Jews who were actually plotting to kill me! –Mussolini rolled his large round eyes at Ciano ominously-- You know the list of our top enemies in United States! I can’t help thinking of that great bearded anarchist who is convinced that he’s some kind of athiest prophet with his ludicrous out of date little goatee and mustache. He is at the top of my list I must admit, and the commendatore must help us wipe his face off the map. To think that because of circumstances I was once involved with individuals like Tresca when I was young! Now the time has come for him to pay the bill.”
Ciano was suddenly delighted. Mussolini had given him a new mission and therefore a reprieve. His position as foreign minister was secure. He began calculating how such an operation could benefit him personally. After all it would be to his credit to further eliminate dangerous enemies of the Regime but also there were advantages to be gained from dealing with a man such as the “commendatore.” The conversation then drifted back to peace feelers and other diplomatic ways to end the war but Mussolini in his closing comments returned to his most urgent requests:
“Galeazzo, I am in a hurry about this American matter. Let me know as soon as possible! As we plan our moves in the Middle East and how to push the British out of Egypt and Palestine we must be certain that the vital supply lines are severed. Besides for internal purposes I need to even the score. Even within the party I have been told about whispering since the Greek problems that I am weak and allowing too much dissent and so on…This will stop instantly if we shut that Tresca chap up once and for all, spectacularly! Now I must get some rest.”
Without any parting words or even a glance at Ciano the Duce walked out of the salon car back to his personal coach. He had very carefully avoided even the slightest hint of Admiral Calamai’s “Operation Neptune.”