Peace?
‘Know that the great Italy, after having conquered your mother Tripoli, has become your father.’
Italian proclamation to the Arabs1
Take up the white man’s burden – The savage wars of peace.
Rudyard Kipling, The White Man’s Burden: A Poem, 18992
According to European international law, Libya is now under the undisputed and entire sovereignty of Italy. On the other hand, the firman of the Sultan agreed to at Ouchy, and the subsequent Royal Decree of 17 October 1912, have gravely hampered the entire exercise and led the native population to consider that they are jointly governed in an Italian-Turkish condominium. […] It is clear that the state of affairs created by the arrangements between Italy and Turkey creates uncertainty concerning our governing of Libya.
Aldobrandino Malvezzi, L’Italia e L’Islam in Libia, 19133
IT is doubtful if the news of the peace agreed at Ouchy gave much cause for concern to the Ottoman government and peoples; they had much greater matters to grapple with. What became known as The First Balkan War had effectively begun on 8 October 1912 with the Montenegrin attack on Ottoman positions at Podgoritza. It became general following the demand by the Balkan League that the European vilayets be granted autonomy and divided according to nationality on 13 October. This was followed the next day by the Greek government signalling that the union of Crete with Greece was imminent. In response to these ‘provocations’ the Ottomans declared war on 17 October and the Balkan League responded by beginning military action the following day.4 The League also had a naval arm, courtesy of the Greek Navy, and of course Greece had a separate agenda of its own. This quickly manifested itself when the Hellenic fleet was dispatched to the Aegean and began landing on the Ottoman islands that had not been occupied by Italy. Eleven of them were taken by the end of November; Lemnos (21 October), Imbros (31 October), Thasos (31 October), Samothrace (1 November), Psara (4 November), Tenedos (7 November), Nikaria (17 November), Mytilene (21 November), Chios (24 November), Samos (24 November), and Agios Efstratios (24 November).5 Once again, the Ottoman Navy did not seek to contest matters, not even leaving the Dardanelles until December. To be fair however it did deploy into the Sea of Marmara and the Black Sea, supporting the successful defence mounted by the army at Catalca and harassing the Bulgarian coast.6
The Ottoman military plan in the case of a concerted attack by the states of the Balkan League was relatively simple; to defend from prepared positions and await reinforcements. It failed comprehensively and the army was routed, retreating in disorder to strong fortified lines at Çatalca, which extended from the Black Sea to the Sea of Marmara but were only some thirty kilometres to the west of Constantinople. Thus virtually all of the European portions of the Empire were overrun. These areas, which included some of the most developed and economically profitable vilayets, had been Ottoman territory for over five hundred years and contained over four million inhabitants or about 16 per cent of the population of the Empire. There was massive suffering amongst the civil population as the ‘innocent’ Christians turned on their neighbours:
[…] the Moslem population endured during the early weeks of the war a period of lawless vengeance and unmeasured suffering. In many districts the Moslem villages were systematically burned by their Christian neighbours. […] In the province of Monastir, occupied by the Serbs and Greeks, the agents of the (British) Macedonian Relief Fund calculated that eighty per cent of Moslem villages were burned. Salonica, Monastir, and Uskub were thronged with thousands of homeless and starving Moslem refugees, many of whom emigrated to Asia.7
The arrival of these emigrant refugees produced, according to Arnold J Toynbee, ‘an unexampled tension of feeling in Anatolia and a desire for revenge.’8 Indeed, the cycle was to be repeated when some of the lost Ottoman territory was subsequently regained. Powerful forces had been unleashed, and to quote Richard C Hall: ‘The Balkan Peninsula was aflame, a conflagration that would rage for the next six years.’9 There were other implications for the future; the CUP openly stated that they would never have countenanced peace with Italy.10 They were of course in opposition in October 1912, but that would change.
The Great Powers were also deeply concerned over the Balkan situation, but nevertheless took the step of recognising Italian sovereignty over the North African former vilayet; both Britain and France soon followed the example of Austria-Hungary, Germany and Russia. Whilst Italian occupation of Tripoli was of little or no consequence in terms of the ‘Balance of Power’ between the Great Power groupings, the Italian acquisition of the islands, even if ostensibly at least this was only on a temporarily basis, had major implications. Whilst it would be untrue to assert that neither Austria-Hungary nor Germany had any interests in the Mediterranean area, it was undoubtedly the case that they were relatively weak there in the naval context. On the other hand the French and British fleets exercised almost complete control of the Mediterranean. This was achieved by the deployment of significant naval assets, which together with the necessary bases to support them and the fact that the two states acted in concert guaranteed superiority. That there was effective liaison was exemplified by the withdrawal of British forces to northern waters to face the growing strength of Germany’s High Seas Fleet, and their replacement by French squadrons. Newspapers in September and October 1912 carried reports of the French Government transferring a third battle squadron from Brest to the Mediterranean ‘with the scarcely concealed intention of carrying out an understanding with Great Britain that the North Sea should be left to the care of that power.’11
This reallocation of resources and division of responsibility made little difference to the naval balance in the Mediterranean, which remained overwhelmingly on the side of Britain and France. Indeed, the British navy still intended to deploy significant force there including, from the end of October 1912, the eight pre-Dreadnoughts of the ‘King Edward’ class and, from July 1913, four battle-cruisers.12 When combined with virtually all the heavy units of the French Navy, Entente superiority was overwhelming. Even a combined Italian and Austro-Hungarian fleet would have struggled to prevail. This of course also meant that, in terms of the recently acquired territories at least, Italian interests would probably be best served by remaining friendly with Britain and France. If this were taken to its logical conclusion by an Italian Government, then a realignment of Italian foreign policy was implied at some point. That though was for the future, and the most immediate effect of the treaty was on the Italian domestic scene.
The Boiling Point. This cartoon, taken from the 2 October 1912 edition of the British magazine Punch, depicts figures representing Russia, Britain, Germany, and Austria-Hungary attempting to prevent the pot containing the ‘Balkan Troubles’ from boiling over. The Italian figure looks on having, in contemporaneous opinion, materially contributed to the turbulence within by initiating war with the Ottoman Empire the previous year. When the pot did boil over the Ottomans lost most of their European territory to members of that ad hoc formation, the Balkan League. (Author’s Collection).
Italian ‘public opinion,’ as expressed through the various press organs, took a generally favourable view of the outcome. The Corriere della Sera ran an editorial arguing that the struggle had succeeded in restoring Italian pride and confirming its position amongst the Great Powers.
We wished to confirm to ourselves, and have Europe attest to, our national progress, to our energy and the great revival of our power, and to have full consciousness of our place in the world and our strength and ability to enforce it.13
There were however dissenting voices. In his memoirs, Giolitti characterised some amongst these as being ‘humanitarians’ who wished Italy to undertake a ‘crusade’ against the Ottoman Empire in order to liberate all the oppressed peoples, with particular emphasis on those who were Christian. There were also the nationalists of the jingo-right. They were disappointed that the war had been terminated with a negotiated peace and had wanted an all-out struggle with no holds barred. This would have involved attacking the Ottomans at vital points, including those in the Aegean and on the European and Anatolian mainland, ignoring all international complications that might have arisen. They also criticised the inaction of the army in North Africa, arguing that it should have advanced inland and conducted military operations ‘with greater speed and energy.’ This viewpoint, of course, ignored the realities pertaining on the ground. Giolitti also made the point that conducting operations in Europe or Asia Minor would have resulted in a great loss of life, and argued that whilst such considerations might be ignored in a struggle for national survival it was a ‘strict duty’ to avoid bloodshed in a colonial war.14 The nationalists also disapproved of the government’s willingness to evacuate the Aegean islands. If, in their somewhat febrile imagination, the venture in North Africa offered a modern parallel to Roman imperialism, then Italian conquests in the Eastern Mediterranean and Aegean demonstrated an analogous resurgence of the Venetian Empire.15 Other aspects of the treaty also caused some concern, one being the payment of an indemnity; victors did not indemnify those they had vanquished.16
Whilst much of the criticism can be discounted, there is no doubt that the Treaty of Ouchy, or of Lausanne as it was also known, was somewhat ambiguous. It was, as the modern Italian historian Mariano Gabriele has noted, ‘rather strange and full of implications.’17 Other contemporary scholars have tended to agree that the treaty had major flaws. Mario Montanari has written that the government wholly underestimated the importance to the inhabitants of Tripoli of the Sultan’s official representative (Naib es-Sultan) and the judges (Cadi) who were to oversee the sharia. He notes that the intimate linkage between political and religious authorities and civil and religious law inherent in Islamic societies, completely escaped them and quotes approvingly the observation that ‘history probably does not record another example of a treaty discussed and concluded with such complete ignorance of the opponent’s institutions.’18 Indeed, under its terms as published, both Italy and the Ottoman Empire were ‘two states which appear, at the same time, to be sovereign over the territory and people of Libya.’19 Giolitti simply ignored such matters when, on 26 November 1912, he presented the treaty to those assembled for the reopening of the Chamber of Deputies. His references to Italian successes and the ‘happy conclusion’ of peace was greeted with ‘great cheering,’ and when he read out the various protocols he emphasised ‘the complete recognition by Turkey of Italian sovereignty [over] Libya.’20 Under the Italian constitution the treaty had to be approved by parliament because it involved financial responsibilities, and to this end a committee of deputies was appointed by the Speaker to examine it. When the matter of sovereignty was submitted for parliamentary approval 431 of 470 Deputies voted in favour, whilst it passed through the senate unanimously.21
The costs incurred by Italy during the war are not easy to reckon. The casualty figures for the Italian Army vary dependant on source and the way they are calculated, but generally a figure of about 10,000 killed and wounded is usually accepted. It is probably about right, though almost certainly on the low side. The reports of the General Staff produced more or less contemporaneously give the figure for September 1911-January 1912 as 1,432 killed and 4,220 wounded in combat operations, plus 1,948 that died of disease. From January-October 1912 a total of 4,292 dead and wounded were recorded. These total to 11,892 for all casualties from all causes, but do not seem to include prisoners. Taking everything into account, it is likely that about 4,000 Italians died during the period of the conflict and about 8,000 were wounded.22 Such low casualty figures for just over a year of war demonstrate what had become apparent as the conflict went on; the Italian Army had not engaged in heavy fighting. Conversely, if the price of victory had been relatively cheap in terms of blood then the same could not be said of treasure. It was calculated in January 1914 that the total cost of the acquisition of the former vilayet amounted to 957,000,000 francs, or £38,260,000. The army accounted for the greater portion of this, £31,440,000, whilst naval costs amounted to a figure of £4,840,000 at the time.23 Indeed, as has already been pointed out, in the financial year 1912-13 the adventure was reckoned to have absorbed nearly 47 per cent of total state expenditure.24 This precipitated an economic crisis which sent the cost of foodstuffs, unemployment, and poverty levels, rocketing. There was a political uproar when the costs of the war thus far were revealed in November 1913 by Finance Minister Luigi Facta; parliament had been kept in the dark by Gioitti’s government concerning the enormous financial costs.25 Indeed, it had not proved cheap, in any sense of the word, for Giolitti and San Giuliano to extricate their donkey from the tip of the Tripoli minaret.
The terms of the Treaty of Ouchy were by no means welcomed by those peoples who found themselves involuntarily bound up with them. Without a doubt the inhabitants of the Aegean Islands occupied by Italy, or the ‘Autonomous state of the Dodecanese’ as they had proclaimed themselves, were in a somewhat invidious situation. Dr. Skevos Zervos put the matter succinctly:
Italy […] undertook in a special article to restore the Twelve Islands to the Ottoman tyranny. Stirred by the report of this unholy compact, the Dodecanesians held mass meetings and national congresses, and, by universal resolutions addressed to the European Governments, reasserted their immemorial desire, their single and unalterable determination [for union with the Greek State].26
To add to their discomfiture, upon the outbreak of the Balkan War in October 1912 the Greek navy had almost immediately taken possession of many of the other Aegean islands:
Thus the Balkan Wars […] found the Dodecanese diplomatically a Turkish province, but de facto under the power of Italy, who continued to hold it provisionally until the execution of the terms of the treaty by the Porte. For this reason the Hellenic Fleet, which within a few hours of the commencement of the Helleno-Turkish hostilities had freed all the great sister islands and close neighbours of the Dodecanese […] was unable to act as the liberator of the Dodecanesians because they were still in Italian hands.27
The frustration felt by the Dodecanesians, who had welcomed the Italians as liberators, must have been excruciating. Had the Italians not invaded in May then Greece undoubtedly would have in October, and their ‘immemorial desire’ would have been satisfied. In order to try to influence the Italians and other Great Powers, plebiscites were held between December 1912 and February 1913 on all of the islands occupied by Italy. The results of these were sent to the Italian, Greek and British governments, together with pleas for assistance. One of the shorter addresses, from the inhabitants of Kalymnos, may serve to give the flavour of these resolutions:
The people of the Island of Calymnos […] are in great anxiety because – owing to the temporary Italian occupation of their island – they cannot participate in the struggle [against the Ottoman Empire] in this island, held a mass meeting this Sunday, February 3rd, 1913, in the premises of the Holy Church of Christ, and have decided the following:
1. They proclaim the union of their most Greek island with the motherland Greece.
2. They declare their unswerving decision that they will not accept any other settlement of the fate of the island. They are ready in the contrary case to follow the brilliant example of their sister island Crete.
3. They solicit the favour of all the great Powers for the realization of their national establishment.
[Follow the signatures of the people.]
The Holy Metropolis and the Town Council confirm the contents of the above resolution.28
This was not though an age when the democratically expressed wishes of a people were reckoned of much, if any, importance, and the desires of the islanders were ignored. They did perhaps have one crumb of comfort inasmuch as it soon became apparent that the Dodecanese would not be handed back to the Ottoman Empire. That the Italians would keep them became more and more evident as the months passed; ‘within a year of their occupation […] they [the Italians] had introduced martial law, prohibited assemblies, forbidden the display of the national symbols of Greece, meddled in the affairs of the local Orthodox Church and deported some of the most vocal champions of enosis [union with Greece].’29 The Italian justification for this change of policy and apparent breach of the terms of the Treaty of Ouchy related to the precise wording and meaning of the relevant article. This had specified that the withdrawal from the Dodecanese would only take place following the removal of Ottoman personnel from North Africa, and, the Italians argued, this had not taken place. It must be conceded that, in this at least, they had a point.
It was of course the peoples of the former Tripoli vilayet that had the most to lose, or gain, from the settlement. The reactions of these peoples, as well as the Ottoman officers and regular forces that led their resistance, differed somewhat between Tripolitania and Cyrenaica. In the former area reports that the Italians and the Ottomans had come to terms at Ouchy arrived, in Angelo del Boca’s words ‘like a bolt out of the blue.’ He quotes one of the tribal leaders as stating that the news caused ‘alarm and confusion among the rank and file of the mujahedeen formations’ and further split the already fragile unity of the resistance.30 Upon learning of the peace treaty, Nesat Bey withdrew the Ottoman regulars, estimated to number some 2,600, southwards away from the Italian lines, and the Arab and Berber irregulars felt they were being more or less left to fend for themselves. They had not been totally abandoned however. Before he left with his command on 8 December 1912, aboard ships provided by Italy, the Ottoman commander addressed them and, according to an Italian source, informed them that:
A peace treaty has been signed: the Turkish government can no longer provide any official aid to you for your continuation of the war, but there is someone who can: the Committee for Union and Progress. I can make available to you the victuals that have already been ordered and 20,000 Turkish liras; other sums will be sent to you from the committees of Tunis and Egypt. I cannot give you munitions, but I can let you take them, likewise with rifles, and I will report that you simply carried them off.31
In order to decide what their course of action might be, the tribal leaders met at Kasr Azizia. There is no doubt that the withdrawal of the Ottoman commander and his troops, and the removal of the administrative and logistical structure they had created and fostered, inflicted a devastating blow to the Arab resistance movement, and they could not reach agreement on what to do and split along tribal and regional lines. According to the memoirs of Mohamed Fekini, who was later to become the most notable and effective leader of the resistance to Italian occupation in Tripolitania, the chiefs from the coastal region and its hinterland were in favour of coming to terms with the Italians. On the other hand, those from further inland were more inclined to continue the struggle using Kasr Azizia as their base of operations. The Ottoman deputy, or former deputy as he now was, Sulyman al-Baruni (Sulaiman al-Barouni) was one of the most fervent supporters of continuing to resist the Italians. He argued that the Ottoman government was almost bound to continue sustaining them in one way or another and that they would have the support of the Islamic world. He also advocated continuing the fight for its moral effects, and, more prosaically, because they might then get more concessions from Italy were they forced to come to terms. His motives were not purely derived from hatred of the Italians or solidarity with his fellow resistance fighters. Sulyman al-Baruni was a Berber, and his political goal was to set up a Berber territory within the framework of Tripolitania. This had been resisted by Ottoman governments over the years, particularly since the advent of the CUP who sought to suppress such ideas and followed a policy of amalgamation. With their departure from Tripolitania he saw an opportunity with the potential at least to realise his ambition.32
Given his later status it is perhaps ironic to note that it was Mohamed Fekini who was amongst the most vociferous in arguing against the general thrust of Sulyman’s position. He made the point that the vast majority of the inhabitants of Tripolitania were living a hand-to-mouth existence, were largely without weapons, and could not hope to defeat Italy given that the Ottoman Empire, with all its resources, had failed to do so. This analysis was also in accord with the viewpoint expressed by al-Baruni’s fellow former Ottoman parliamentarian, Farhat al-Zawi.33 These arguments were rejected or ignored by el-Baruni, who also managed to take possession of the munitions, food, and money left behind by Nesat Bey and withdrew southwards to the mountains. He claimed that he was in possession of a secret order from the Ottoman Sultan appointing him the leader of the forces charged with continuing the jihad against the invaders. He issued proclamations to this effect in the expectation that the tribes would follow him in to the renewed conflict. This response was, in the opinion of Mohamed Fekini and others, premature. He issued an appeal urging caution, arguing that it would be sensible to discover what the Italians intended before coming to any final decisions. Fekini believed at this point that there was a chance of some autonomy for the Tripolitanian peoples similar to that which he believed pertained in Tunisia and Egypt. Even given that the ‘autonomy’ that France and Britain accorded to Tunisia and Egypt had far more form than substance, it is clear that Fekini was somewhat over optimistic in this regard. Having said that, both of the countries he looked to as potential models were, albeit, nominally still under the sovereignty of the Ottoman Sultan. As has been repeatedly noted, Italy had continually and specifically rejected any settlement of the conflict on anything even approaching similar terms, though had eventually accepted a settlement that could be interpreted as so doing. It depended of course on whose interpretation could be made to stick.
On the other hand, if Mohamed Fekini was responsible for over-optimism, or in retrospect even naivety, then the same charge may certainly be made in respect of Sulyman al-Baruni. Described even by Fekini as standing head and shoulders above all the other chiefs, he took the autonomy granted by the Sultan at face value. He proclaimed an independent mini-state in the mountains of the Gharyan region, a predominantly Berber populated area, around 100 kilometres to the south of Tripoli. His words on the matter are quoted by Del Boca:
His Majesty the Sultan granted to the inhabitants of Tripolitania complete and entire self-government, we have decided to maintain that autonomy in accord with the inhabitants, who have invited me to accept the presidency of the government. Many requests in writing and signed by the people were presented to me for that purpose, and I accepted, and hastened to telegraph the news to the Great Powers and the most respected newspapers. […] I formed a regiment of soldiers, consisting of infantry and cavalry on horseback and camels, uniformed in the European style. I organized a mail system over the entire territory. Telegraph and telephone offices were instituted that extended to the border of Tunisia. I established a war zone in front of the Italian forces.34
Such developments were of course deeply unwelcome to the occupiers. This was particularly so given their long standing belief that it was only the presence of Ottoman forces and their logistical arrangements that had prevented the tribes conceding Italian dominance. The Italian strategy of coming to terms with the Ottoman Empire in order to remove its forces from the theatre had developed from this, and it appeared, on the face of it, to be working. Following the withdrawal from combat and eventual departure of the Ottoman forces under Nesat Bey, General Ottavio Ragni had begun successfully extending the area of occupation. The three former Ottoman strongholds of Suani Ben Adem, el-Azizia, and Funduq Ben Ghashir were occupied without major effort. For the majority of the Tripolitanian tribes the motivation for fighting had been to preserve their way of life, on which the Ottomans had hardly impinged; they were at that time ‘unencumbered by any sense of nationhood.’35
With some misgivings, the majority of the tribal leaders from the regions in the coastal hinterland and the northern areas of the mountains to the south decided to go, or send emissaries, to Tripoli City. Some 6,000 irregulars accompanied this delegation, and somewhat unexpectedly they were welcomed and treated with honour though required to surrender their arms. A measure of the distrust felt by the tribes is perhaps indicated by the fact that only some 800 weapons were handed over, and fewer than 500 of these were modern and suitable for combat. Nevertheless, whilst undoubtedly worried by this, General Ragni expressed his friendship for the various leaders and confirmed that Italy was determined on a path of reconciliation. To this end, the Italian government was prepared to invest significant funds in the region, and was happy to answer all the questions that the tribesmen might care to put. Indeed, at this time the Italian administration appeared happy to leave the tribesmen much to their own devices, and Fekini noted that whilst the position of mutasarrjf (governor of a district) that he had held under Ottoman rule was no longer recognised, he was held to be a kaymakam (sub-governor or communal leader). By virtue of this rank he was able to appoint judges and teachers in his area of responsibility, and ensure adherence to Islamic sharia law throughout his jurisdiction.36
From the Italian perspective then, the first few weeks following the signing of the Treaty of Ouchy boded tolerably well in Tripolitania. The Italian regime in Tripoli City and the majority of the tribal peoples within easy reach of the seat of government had reached an accommodation of sorts, albeit with a great deal of mutual suspicion. Moreover, the Ottoman forces had been removed from the theatre. This latter success formed the culminating point of Italian initial operational strategy, and led to the fracture of whatever solidarity the Tripolitanian population had previously displayed. This was of course a phenomenon that could hardly be to Italy’s disadvantage in future.
From the initial viewpoint of the tribal peoples, the outlook also appeared reasonable. Those tribes that had decided to attempt an accommodation with the Italians had been courteously received and no particularly onerous conditions had been imposed upon them. Those that had no wish to come to terms with Italy were reasonably free from interference in the interior. Even the statelet proclaimed by Sulyman al-Baruni, which continued to not only proclaim war on the Italian invaders but also began attacking areas where the leaders were in favour of compromise with them, was ostensibly tolerated. Indeed, a two-man delegation sent to Rome by al-Baruni was cordially greeted by Pietro Bertolini, head of the newly constituted Colonial Ministry, and their requests for an autonomous relationship with Italy were seemingly well received. In reality however, the Italian military in Tripoli was merely biding its time before moving against him. Ragni informed Bertolini on 19 January 1913 that ‘al-Baruni was truly a megalomaniac, not a man of war’ and that ‘only in his imagination’ does he believe that he could be Emir of the polity he had created.37 This view was entirely in accordance with the wishes of Giolitti in Rome, who upbraided Bertolini on 23 March 1913 for giving al-Baruni’s ideas any consideration whatsoever, and arguing that only ‘vigorous action’ would convince him of the futility of his goal.38 Indeed, this vigorous action had already begun by the time Bertolini received Giolitti’s missive, for on the day that he wrote it a divisional-strength force won a substantial victory as it moved to assert Italian control.
Consisting of the 1st Brigade under Major General Domenico Mazzoli (23rd and 82nd Regiments), the Mixed Brigade under Major General Luca Montuori (the 11th Bersaglieri, 8th Alpino, and a battalion of the 52nd Infantry), and supported by a battalion of Eritrean ascari plus camel-transported artillery, engineers and cavalry, this powerful force consisting of 259 officers and 8,014 troops, was commanded by Major-General Clemente Lequio. Since there were now no regular Ottoman forces in the theatre there was little to oppose them, and on 23 March the Battle of Assaba (Asàbaa, also Asabaa-Rabta) saw Sulyman al-Baruni’s force routed. The autonomy of his ‘tiny alpine state’ lasted a mere five months.39 Lequio’s force moved further inland and on 27 April a small detachment of about 530 colonial troops, mainly recruited from around Tripoli, under the command of Captain Alessandro Pavoni arrived at Ghadames. En route he had received a welcome from the leaders of many of the local tribes, which led the Italians to the conclusion that they had submitted their rule.40 This belief was bolstered when several of the Tuareg leaders visited him there and likewise acquiesced in accepting Italian rule.41 However, if, from the Italian point of view, the situation in Tripolitania seemed relatively favourable then the same could not be said in respect of Cyrenaica. There, the Italo-Ottoman War morphed into what came to be called the First Italo-Senussi War, and, as an appreciation by the British Foreign Office put it, ‘the peace was merely nominal.’42
Enver’s diary entry for 22 October 1912, quoting a ‘letter to a friend,’ says that on the previous day he had received a message from the Italian commander informing him that the two sides were now at peace. Further, during the night of 21-22 October he ‘received a telegram from the War Minister, which ordered me to cease hostilities, as His Majesty the Sultan had signed the peace treaty. You can imagine my thoughts.’ Indeed in the same missive Enver raged that he and his fellow Ottoman soldiers have ‘done our duty in vain, and the new government has destroyed everything again. A shameful peace, and further war with an uncertain end. This is the final result!’ However, despite both his knowledge of the ‘shameful’ peace and the orders from his superiors in Istanbul Enver nevertheless determined on continuing to fight the Italians. His verdict was perhaps spurred on by the similar decision made by the Senussi leader and communicated to him on the same date as he wrote to his unknown friend. Indeed, despite arriving at the decision to continue fighting Enver found himself suffering from ‘an unspeakable inner dilemma.’ In his own words: ‘I cannot abandon this land, but on the other hand I cannot let down my homeland which urgently needs me.’43 Orders from the Ottoman capital reached him on 25 October summoning him home, but despite this direct command he seems to have hesitated. On the other hand news of the disasters visited upon the Ottoman Empire in the Balkans was also reaching him and his understanding of the dire situation there was reinforced on 30 October. He records that on that date, and perhaps with a view to unsettling him, ‘the Italians now had the kindness to send me recent newspapers.’ He concluded after perusing them that ‘the situation in Rumelia seems to be very serious for us.’ Having weighed up the matter, Enver determined that the crisis in the Balkans was of such magnitude that he was bound to travel home to attempt to ease it:
It is increasingly disgraceful and intolerable to be a powerless spectator able merely to watch the deteriorating situation. Despite my wishes and all my pledges I must travel as quickly as possible to Constantinople, where the war for us has taken an unfavourable turn. I am deeply sad, especially because I must remain inactive [untätig].44
The last entry in the diary is dated 8 November 1912, but a postscript states that soon afterwards Enver surreptitiously left Cyrenaica via Egypt, where he was hunted by the police. However, he disguised himself and, ironically, succeeded in boarding an Italian steamship to Brindisi before eventually travelling to the Ottoman capital. This was then a departure completely different from that undertaken by Nesat Bey in Tripolitania, and not only did Enver appoint a successor but some 800 Ottoman regulars also remained. The inheritor of Enver’s command was the circa 34-year old Aziz Ali al-Masri (or Misri), usually referred to as Aziz Bey, an Ottoman officer of Egyptian origin later to become famous as a champion of Arab nationalism.45 He had made an impression on his superiors during the campaign to settle the 1911 Yemeni revolt, not just with his military but also with his political skills; the campaign ended with an agreement in which Aziz Bey had a large part in negotiating.
His tenure as commander in Cyrenaica was relatively short, and during it the first battles of the First Italo-Senussi War were fought. Unlike the Tripolitanian situation, Italian attempts to expand their coastal enclaves were bitterly contested and several battles of the type that characterised the Italo-Ottoman campaign were fought. Given their preponderance of military technology the Italians usually prevailed, but if their progress was painfully slow then it almost came to a complete halt following the Battle of Sidi el-Garbàa (Sidi al-Qarbaa, Sidi Garbàa, Sidi Garba) that took place on 16 May 1913 about 12 kilometres south of Derna.
Details of what happened at Sidi el-Garbàa were suppressed contemporaneously by the Italian government but some reports did leak out. A recently arrived officer of colonial experience (he had survived the Battle of Adua), Major-General Ettore Mambretti, was in command at Derna and intelligence reached him that there were a number of enemy entrenched at Sidi el-Garbàa and nearby Ettangi. He despatched a strong force of infantry, plus the usual supporting arms, divided into three columns. The centre column, consisting of six (some sources say seven) battalions of infantry plus artillery and engineers under the command of Colonel Nicolò Maddalena, was to advance directly onto the enemy position at Sidi el-Garbàa.
The attack began at 03:30 hours following a march through the night without breaks for food or water so that in consequence the troops were tired and weary. Nevertheless their attacks were initially successful inasmuch as they penetrated the enemy entrenchments. The enemy were however present in far greater strength than had been estimated, with the result that Maddalena’s command was then surrounded and had to attempt a fighting retreat back to Derna. According to some press reports the entire operation had been a trap into which the Italians had unknowingly walked. This had been unwittingly triggered by an ‘escaped prisoner,’ appropriately named Angelo Machiavelli, who had been duped into delivering misinformation to the command at Derna. An alternative tale had Machiavelli genuinely escaping and warning his superiors that the enemy was present in strength, but being disbelieved.46
Whatever the truth of the matter, the column was forced to retire in disorder and was harried to the outskirts of Derna, losing most of its artillery and accoutrements into the bargain. The Italian socialist newspaper Avanti! complained about the ‘lying official communications’ and published an account claiming that Italian casualties included 400 killed, 700 wounded and over 100 taken prisoner. Harrowing accounts of the wounded being abandoned also appeared, with one officer, Lieutenant Alfredo Monarelli, quoted as admitting that this was so, but arguing that there was no alternative due to a lack of transport.47 Later scholarship has established that the casualty figures were greatly exaggerated, amounting to some 79 killed, including Colonel Maddalena, and 284 wounded, with an unknown number taken prisoner.48 In the grand scheme of things the affair at Sidi el-Garbàa was a minor affair, but it demonstrated beyond any doubt that the conquest of Cyrenaica was to be a difficult and lengthy business.
The Italians attributed blame on the continued presence of Ottoman officers who remained, despite this being a breach of the Ouchy Treaty. There is no question that some did indeed stay behind, but Aziz Bey left the theatre for Egypt on 23 July 1913 where he was interviewed by the Cairo-based Egyptian newspaper Al-Ahram. Described as ‘the hero of Benghazi’ he revealed that he would have preferred to remain in Benghazi ‘in order to inflict as much damage as possible upon the Italians because they are my enemy.’ He was compelled to withdraw from the fray however due to a shortage of matériel; ‘I needed ammunition, supplies and money. These things are essential for fighters and I had none.’ The Bedouin tribes came in for high praise for remaining loyal to the cause, but he was much more critical of the Senussi leadership:
Sanusis are like Russian priests – their only interest is in putting food in their mouths. Some of them had already concluded a truce with the Italians while others had stopped fighting them a long time ago […] The misguided policies of the Sanusis forced me to leave the general command to their elders.49
If the populations of Tripolitania and even Cyrenaica were indeed somewhat divided in their loyalties at this juncture, and all the evidence collected by scholars who have studied the matter suggests that this was indeed the case, then from the Italian point of view the situation was advantageous, or at least potentially so. Any student of western colonialism would be well aware that a strategy of divide and conquer, though clichéd, had nevertheless often proved effective. However a combination of internal policy and external shock were to radically change this and trigger what became termed The Great Arab Revolt (La Grande Rivolta Araba).50
One of the things that provoked hatred of the Italians was their seeming refusal to honour their commitment, under the terms of the Ouchy Treaty, to release those removed and incarcerated on the Italian islands; none had been released by January 1913. Those detained for deportation had been chosen in a random and haphazard fashion; they included males and females, both adult and juvenile. The elderly were not exempt and they came from every, and any, social strata, and even their identities were not established until they arrived at their destinations. Some 1,410 of these unfortunates were exiled on the Tremiti archipelago (Isole Tremiti). By 9 January 1912 it has been calculated that 198 of them had perished from disease, starvation, and cold. Many of these were elderly with 35 of the dead being aged between 60 and 70, seven between 70 and 80, and one aged over 90. Two ten-year old children also perished. Six months later a total of 437 people had died, a death-rate amounting to 31 per-cent of the deportee population on the islands.51
However, of perhaps more immediate concern to those still inhabiting the area claimed by Italy, and the policy that proved effective in providing an impetus towards solidarity against their rule, was the repressive and brutal behaviour of the occupiers. As has been noted (see Chapter Eight), the attitude of the Italians towards the inhabitants had undergone a profound change following the ‘betrayal,’ as they perceived it, of Shara Shatt and this outlook was generally maintained as was the brutality that accompanied it. One group that had constantly opposed the Tripoli venture were the Socialists. Their newspaper Avanti! published a photograph captioned ‘The fourteen strangled in Piazza del Pane’ (I quattordici strangolati in piazza del Pane) following the execution of that number of ‘rebels’ after the Battle of Tripoli.52 These multiple executions in the daily bread market, a place obviously visited by a large number of people, were intended to provide ‘a salutary example’ to others who might be inclined to emulate them.53 Such behaviour was deprecated by those on the left of Italian politics. Arcangelo Ghisleri, atheist, republican, geographer, author and prolific founder of reviews, was coruscating in his criticism:
Can you imagine Garibaldi, instead of Caneva, ordering the ‘clearing of the oasis’ and raising gallows in the Piazza del pane? […] This war in Tripoli has been more fatal for us – morally -than a barbarian invasion. A barbarian wind has devastated and continues to devastate all kinds of minds; it blew unnoticed through the reports of all the large newspapers, no longer distinguishable from each other, all pervaded by the same folly. […] Every elementary desire for justice and integrity was overturned; every abuse and excess was praised and justified in the name of “historical fate”; and anyone from Tripoli who intended to tell the truth was forced into silence and threatened with exile. The Italy of the Tripolists lost every sense of morality. […] Unfortunately every offense to the principles of justice and morality must be paid for! This wretched war will bear fruits of ash and poison. It has already begun to bear them. The frenzy of the massacres, the debasement of human life, the exaltation of savagery, the reinstatement of the gallows (the war has even provided us with this macabre resurrection of our painful past!) will have their repercussions in the homeland.54
Such behaviour is perhaps explicable, though certainly not excusable, given the panic that arose amongst the occupiers following the events of Shara Shatt. That it had not only continued but had become institutionalised – ‘the gallows flourished everywhere in Libya, like ineradicable weeds’55 – was demonstrated by, once again, Avanti! The 5 December 1913 edition carried a series of photographs documenting the hanging of Arabs as carried out by Italian soldiers. The matter was raised by the Socialist deputy, Filippo Turati, in the Italian parliament on 18 December. Turati was unambiguous in his denunciation of the barbarity inherent in the colonial policy of the government.
I heard the King speak, a few days ago, of how the acquisition of Libya by Italy gives us a great mission of civilization, and we have as a first goal to make friends with the people, with respect to religion, property and the family and to let them learn the benefits of civilization. But everywhere I see the shadow of the gallows reaching out […] I wonder if this is really Italy, and if the government knows that Cesare Beccaria was born in Italy.56
The reference to Cesare Beccaria can be construed as a swipe at the claim that Italian colonial rule was at all civilised. Beccaria was an eighteenth century jurist and politician whose name came to be ‘indissolubly linked with opposition to the death penalty and with efforts to create a more reasoned, effective, and humane approach to punishment’ via his 1764 work entitled Dei delitti e delle pene (On Crimes and Punishments).57 According to William Schabas, ‘the modern abolitionist movement establishes its paternity’ with Beccaria, and his influence was one of the factors in the abolition of capital punishment in Tuscany, though all of the other pre-unification Italian states retained it.58 Capital punishment had been abolished throughout the unified Kingdom of Italy since 1889, though had been the subject of a general pardon since 1877. However, if Turati’s shafts went home in respect of the more cerebral deputies, they were certainly ineffective in influencing the policies pursued in the colonial sphere.
The raising of such matters by socialists and their ilk was of course attributed to the bleating of the usual suspects. There were though accounts from those that could hardly be so called. One such was an officer of the Bersaglieri, Lieutenant-Colonel Gherardo Pàntano, the commissario del Gebel. As a young officer he had become a prisoner of the Ethiopians following Adua and he later went on to command, as a Lieutenant-General, an Infantry Division during the First World War. He had extensive colonial experience in East Africa and was also something of a scholar and author of several books. His 1910 monograph, Nel Benadir: La Citta de Merca e la Regione Bimal,59 provided virtually the only source for later studies of the social and political organisation, and the resistance against Italian colonialism, of Somali society in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century.60 Unlike many of his fellow officers, he neither underrated nor despised the tribesmen that Italy claimed to rule, nor did he fail to appreciate the difficulties of campaigning against them should such an eventuality arise. After the event, he recorded meeting in the second half of February 1914 with one of their leaders, Ahmed es-Sunni, who had been willing to reach an accommodation with the Italians:
I found myself in front of a young man of fair complexion, with a sensitive expression that was mild and gentle, almost feminine. […] That young man of such delicate appearance was able to dominate the vast desert and I felt that even with so many forces at my disposal, with my fast motor trucks and my radio equipment keeping me in contact with Tripoli, I was not master of what he was. The silent desert was hostile to us but obedient to him. Whilst for us it was pain and difficulty, he was defended and protected; for us it was all about mystery and danger […] we were prisoners of that immensity where he could move freely.61
Some 17 months after that meeting, on 29 July 1915, he submitted a confidential memorandum to the Colonial Ministry, explaining why, in his opinion, The Great Arab Revolt had broken out:
Our officers demonstrate feelings of great resentment, hostility, and hatred against the Arabs, and do not know how to distinguish between friends and foes, or, rather, between those who we should fight and those we should protect […] They tell you with pleasure amazing things: Arabs found seriously injured are covered in gasoline and burned, or thrown into wells […] others are shot with no other reason than that of a cruel whim. There are officers who boast of personally ordering such executions. There are others that systematically prey on non-rebels, thus feeding Sennusi propaganda in the best possible way. I cannot understand why our officers display such blind ferocity, so much thirst for blood, and so refined a cruelty. […] We take revenge on the Arabs for our errors, our retreats, and the checks we suffer, but the cause of these is not their skill but our ineptitude. Indeed, unable to avenge ourselves on those who obtain such conspicuous results with such little means, we vent our humiliation on the weak and helpless and those unfortunates who look to us for protection. The consequence was that all of those we want to be with us hate us.62
By this time, of course, the external shock to Italian rule had made its impact in the shape of the First World War. Italian participation in the conflict, when it came on 23 May 1915, was not on the side of its allies of 30 years in the Triple-Alliance, but rather on the side of Britain, France and Russia against Austria-Hungary (but not yet Germany). ‘Perfidy, like history does not know’ was how Kaiser Franz Joseph described it. Whether perfidy or not, this political and strategic realignment necessitated a similar operational rearrangement, with Italian forces shifting their focus from the north-west border with France to the north and north-east frontier with Austria-Hungary. Even before this, from about the summer of 1914, the threat of large-scale armed resistance to Italian rule was beginning to manifest itself and by August the Fezzan had become entirely Italian free. The influence of the Senussi in fomenting this resistance is well documented, and of course, as Pàntano was to write, their propaganda had been well underpinned by Italian acts.63
The response to this resurgence of resistance, from the occupiers’ point of view, would have been to crush it. The Italian government however, under the premiership of Antonio Salandra since 21 March 1914, had its eyes fixed elsewhere since the outbreak of hostilities between the Central and Entente Powers. The new Chief of Staff of the army, who had taken office following the sudden death of Alberto Pollio on 1 July 1914, was General Luigi Cadorna. Cadorna was expecting that Italy would honour its commitments to the Triple Alliance and immediately began pressing for measures to be taken in anticipation of this. When he discovered that Italy was to remain neutral he sought an audience with Salandra, and asked what – if war alongside Austria-Hungary and Germany was not going to take place – he should prepare for. Though the politicians had yet to make up their mind, the impression he was given was that Austria-Hungary would be the enemy.64 Cadorna thus had the enormous task of recasting Italy’s long-standing strategic planning; however, upon assuming office he claimed that the ‘serious deficiencies’ that he found with the army were ‘much greater than he had imagined.’65
Cadorna’s account of his early days in office as Chief of Staff sometimes reads as if he had no idea of the state of the organisation of which he had been a member since 1866, a general officer since 1898 and had become a senior corps commander of in 1910. Nevertheless there can be little doubt that his inheritance was unenviable. The reforms that Pollio and Spingardi had been attempting to carry out had been disrupted by the campaign in North Africa, and the effects of this were still very much in evidence. The equipment and stores needed for a European campaign were in disarray following the need to deploy far larger forces in North Africa than had been anticipated and supply them adequately for a far longer period than had been foreseen. As well as absorbing a huge amount of matériel, a large proportion of the army’s artillery was also located in the theatre leaving a critical shortage to the home-based forces. One further factor was that most of the best officers were stationed in Tripolitania and Cyrenaica, and their units had been assembled piecemeal from the forces based in Italy, leaving what remained in a state of disarray.66
To Cadorna the need to reorganise for a European war overrode all other considerations and he began withdrawing units and equipment from Tripoli and Cyrenaica in order to bring the army up to strength.67 The result could be little more than to encourage the resistance, and by April 1915 the revolt had spread over the entire Tripoli region and the Italian hold, such as it was, was becoming tenuous. An example of this was the Battle of Gasr Bu Hadi (al-Qardabiya) near Sirte fought on 29 April 1915 when a column some 3,000 strong, about two-thirds of which were ascari, led by Colonel Antonio Miani marched out to attack the Senussi camp at Gasr Bu Hadi, south of Sirte. The Italian force was attacked relentlessly almost the whole day whilst marching in close formation and was eventually pushed into a narrow defile. By evening the Italians were surrounded and attempted to retreat to Sirte. The retreat was chaotic and severe casualties were inflicted; out of 84 officers, 19 were killed, and 23 were wounded, whilst 479 of the troops (237 Italian and 242 ascari) were killed and 407 (127 Italian and 280 ascari) wounded. All the impedimenta was abandoned to the attackers, including the machine guns, six batteries of artillery, and all the ammunition and the provisions.68
Faced with the double blow of a rapidly swelling revolt and a shrinking force with which to counter it, the Italians simply retreated. Between mid-June and mid-July 1915 all the outlying garrisons and forces began perforce to withdraw into the coastal enclaves, and even some of these were abandoned. The whole retreat was carried out under continuous attack, and the matériel losses were enormous; Del Boca calculates that the resistance captured ‘37 cannons, 20 machine guns, 9,048 rifles, 28,021 cannon shells, 6,185,000 cartridges for rifles and machine guns, 37 trucks, and 14 broadcasting and receiving stations.’69 The casualties were also grim, and according to the best estimates calculated afterwards amounted to ‘5,600 dead, several thousand wounded, and about 2,000 prisoners.’70
The seriousness of the situation as viewed by the head of government is perhaps revealed in a letter of 3 July 1915 from Salandra to the minister for colonies, Ferdinando Martini. In his missive Salandra refers to the massacre that had taken place on 18 June 1915 when an Italian column, in attempting to evacuate Tarhuna some 80 kilometres to the south-east of Tripoli City, had been surrounded. He further notes that a similar fate was expected to befall those garrisoning Beni Ulid, which was a further 70 kilometres away than Tarhuna. He asks Martini, rhetorically perhaps, if we can ‘passively allow events to run their course?’ Martini and the local commanders in North Africa would, of course, have liked to have deployed reinforcements to the theatre. Cadorna however would have none of it and is alleged to have responded to such requests by remarking that ‘the war will be won in the Alps and not in the African deserts’ (La guerra si vince sulle Alpi e non nei deserti d’Africa). Though there seems to be no evidence that he actually said this, it nevertheless encapsulates his strategic view. Whilst this was undoubtedly a correct position, in the grand scheme of things it was a disaster for Italy’s position in Tripoli and Cyrenaica; as Salandra put it to Martini: ‘our losses in terms of material and morale are almost as great as those of Adowa.’71 For an Italian Prime Minister to have used the ‘A’ word to a former governor of Eritrea – Martini had been appointed in 1897 and served for ten years – is perhaps evidence of how bad he thought things were. They were however to get worse. Cyrenaica and Tripolitania were, as far as Italy was concerned, reunited in the gubernatorial sense when General Giovanni Ameglio, who had been appointed governor of Cyrenaica in October 1913, also took over Tripolitania at the end of July 1915. He ordered the evacuation of all interior positions and several of the coastal enclaves as well. When Italy declared war on the Ottoman Empire on 21 August 1915 both states found themselves in an almost identical situation to that which had pertained following the initial landings in 1911. It was indeed back to square one with a vengeance, though this time those stirring up the locals had been reinforced. According to a postwar appraisal by Colonel Arturo Vacca Maggiolini:
[The] Germans and Turks worked to great effect throughout the European war, conducting an active and skilful campaign which destroyed the last shreds of Italian prestige and fanned the flames of the most ferocious hatred and the blindest fanaticism, against us. We became for the Arabs of Tripolitania the most despicable creatures in all creation, and it became a just and meritorious action to exterminate us and expel us from the sacred soil of Islam.72
Although Italy and Germany had been ‘unofficially’ at war since the former’s declaration against Austria-Hungary of 23 May 1915, the matter became official on 28 August 1916. Though the main military effect of this was to be felt in the Alpine region in the Battle of Caporetto (Twelfth Battle of the Isonzo), fought 24 October-19 November 1917, it also had an impact on the North African theatre.73 This was mainly via the Mediterranean U-Boat campaign of the German and Austro-Hungarian navies, which not only allowed small numbers of, mainly Ottoman, officers to be landed in Tripolitania and Cyrenaica, but also supplies of weapons and munitions. Indeed, the situation in Cyrenaica was if anything worse because the Senussi were better organised, or at least rather less fragmented, than the resistance fighters in Tripolitania. Del Boca quotes an Italian prisoner, Lieutenant Ettore Miraglia, captured at Beni Ulid, who later wrote that he had seen submarines arriving every fifteen days carrying Ottoman officers who were sent to assist the resistance.74 This is almost certainly a gross exaggeration, and though they were undoubtedly useful in the transport role the primary mission of the U-Boats was to sink Allied ships. In that they proved deadly until, in 1917, convoy systems and other measures, including a flotilla of Japanese destroyers, were introduced to the theatre. One aspect of this campaign was the near starvation level to which the Italian garrisons were reduced at times. According to Pàntano: ‘The troops were in an incredibly physically depressed state […] food was so short that they resorted to eating the dogs and cats found in the oasis […] The meat ration was reduced to 200 grams per week.’75 Since it is certain that the Arab inhabitants were not eating better than the Italians one can only imagine their state.
One effect of the arrival of Ottoman officers in Cyrenaica was the opening of a western front against Egypt. The senior Ottoman officer despatched was Nuri Killigil (Nuri Pasha), the brother of the former commander in Cyrenaica and now Ottoman Minister of War, Enver Pasha. He was joined by another officer of Mesopotamian origin, referred to as ‘Gaafer, a Germanised Turk of considerable ability’ by Lieutenant-General Sir John Maxwell in a 1916 report.76 The person in question is now better known as Jafar Pasha Al-Askari and whilst Maxwell was certainly correct about his abilities, he was less accurate about his background.77 Jafar was to lead the Senussi in an attack on Egypt from Cyrenaica, the idea being to exert pressure on the western border thus expediting an attack on the Suez Canal in the east from the Ottoman territory of Palestine. They also hoped to cause an uprising among the overwhelmingly Muslim population of Egypt against what had become the Sultanate of Egypt when the British deposed the Khedive in 1914 and proclaimed a Protectorate.78
That trouble was brewing in respect of the Senussi, and western Egypt had become evident to the British in late 1915. On 5 November the German submarine U35 torpedoed the British auxiliary patrol boat HMS Tara (formerly the London & North Western Railway passenger steamer SS Hibernia used on the Holyhead to Kingstown (Dun Laoghaire) route) off Sollum. There were 93 survivors from a crew of 104 and these were rescued by the commander of the U-Boat, the all-time greatest submariner in terms of sunken targets, Lothar von Arnauld de la Perière, who towed their lifeboats to Port Bardia (Bardiyah) some 20 kilometres to the north-east. There the unfortunate Holyheadians, for most of the crew had transferred with the steamer, were handed over to Nuri Bey and the Senussi. Two of the senior officers, the former captain of the Hibernia, Lieutenant Edward Tanner RNR and the captain of the Tara, Captain Rupert Gwatkin-Williams RN, were taken to visit Nuri along with their interpreter, Vasili Lanbrimidis. Gwatkin-Williams later left a description of Nuri: ‘a dark-eyed gentle-looking man, somewhat slightly built, and with a straggling black beard; he is an ardent antiquarian and naturalist, and spoke much of the ancient ruins in the interior.’ He also noted that the Ottoman commander ‘did what he could for us, but it did not amount to much.’79 Indeed, the prisoners, together with four of the crew of the horse transport Moorina, sunk on 7 November by the U35, were to be held by the Senussi until St Patrick’s Day (17 March) 1916, whilst the strong representations made to the Senussi for their release immediately following their capture were greeted by ‘feigned ignorance.’
Ignorance on the part of the British as to the intentions of the Senussi could not however be maintained, for in the middle of the month they made active hostile moves. Sollum was attacked by the Senussi regular troops, originally trained by Enver, on the night of 14 November, and on 17 November attacks were made against positions at Sidi Barrani some 95 kilometres east of the border with Cyrenaica.80 The campaign, whilst it did succeed in tying up some British and Allied forces was ultimately a disaster for the Senussi for several reasons. One of the foremost was that they attempted to engage in modes of warfare, such as taking and holding ground, more suited to a regular army. As was observed by a certain Archibald Wavell, who wrote a history of the Great War campaigns in the theatre, this was a grave error: ‘It is usually a fatal mistake for irregular leaders to cramp their natural methods of warfare by adopting the training and tactics of regular armies. The Senussi’s so-called regulars were no match for the British troops, and were easily defeated.’81 Another reason for their failure concerned technology and in particular the advent of reliable motorised vehicles and aircraft. Indeed, the campaign against the Senussi saw some of the earliest successful usage of methods of penetrating the desert using airpower, mainly for reconnaissance, and armoured vehicles.82 The British Royal Naval Air Service famously developed their Rolls Royce Armoured Car in 1914 for use in Belgium, but because they were unsuitable for the conditions that developed on the Western Front most were transferred to Army control and found themselves in the Middle East in 1915. There they became of great utility; according to T E Lawrence ‘a Rolls in the desert was above rubies’ and ‘they were worth hundreds of men to us.’83 They were though quite heavy, and because they could not easily cross stony areas of desert lighter vehicles, based on the Ford Model T chassis and armed with Lewis Guns, were also extemporised.84
One example demonstrating that the old style of warfare was being superseded by a new methodology came with the rescue of the prisoners from Tara and Moorina, which could not have been accomplished in any other way. Following the defeat of the Senussi forces and the reoccupation of Sollum on 14 March 1916, during which manoeuvre aircraft directed the light armoured car battery under Major the Duke of Westminster onto an enemy force completely smashing them, a number of prisoners fell into British hands. Intelligence gathered from interrogation suggested that the unfortunate seamen were being held at Bir Hakeim (Abyar al Hakim), a remote oasis in the desert and the site of an old Ottoman fort. As the crow flies, the oasis is about 160 kilometres west of Sollum and some 60 kilometres south-west of Tobruk. It was decided to attempt to rescue them, a task which was entrusted to the armoured car battery (sometimes referred to as a Brigade), which would be accompanied by a number of unarmoured vehicles; forty-three in all. It was stuff from a ‘Boy’s Own’ adventure; the vehicular column covered nearly 200 kilometres before it found the oasis, whose exact location was largely a matter of conjecture, at 15:00 hours and totally surprising the Senussi guards. Most of these perished whilst attempting to flee, according to Gwatkin-Williams, but there were no casualties amongst the 92 surviving prisoners or the rescuers and the entire column, complete with the former prisoners, returned safely to British-held territory.85 It was most definitely one of those ‘Deeds that thrilled the Empire’ and the Duke of Westminster certainly deserved the Distinguished Service Order that he was awarded for leading the mission.
There was though a much larger implication. The Western Desert Force in general, and the Duke of Westminster in particular, had demonstrated unequivocally that Pàntano’s words of only a year or so previously, about ‘the silent desert’ being ‘hostile’ to outsiders, no longer applied. No longer were Europeans ‘prisoners of that immensity’ where the desert tribes could find sanctuary. The perhaps primitive vehicles originally manufactured by FIAT and Isotta Fraschini were capable of evolution, and what could be done with Rolls Royce and Ford vehicles could also be done with improved Italian designs. Likewise, and particularly following the technological quantum leap consequent upon the Great War, the basic aircraft types of 1911-12 led to hugely improved machines. That these technologies rendered penetration of the desert a practical proposition to Italian arms was something that the peoples of what would become Libya in 1934 were to find out to their immense cost. The Italian reconquest (reconquista) that began in the 1920s and continued into the 1930s was a brutal campaign. Some indication of the harshness of it may be adjudged by noting that, according to figures compiled by Italy, the population of Cyrenaica dropped from 225,000 in 1928 to 142,000 in 1931.86 Giorgio Rochat calculates that between 1923 and 1936 the number of dead in Cyrenaica was between a lower limit of 30,000 and an upper of 70,000.87 Angelo Del Boca estimates that the total deaths in both Tripolitania and Cyrenaica were in the order of 100,000.88 Whichever figures are the more accurate it is indisputable that, in any event, the slaughter was on a large scale. It is then perhaps ironic, though hardly surprising, to note that during the majority of this period Italy was governed by the ex-socialist and former campaigner against the Tripoli War, Benito Mussolini now reinvented as Il Duce.