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History That Doesn't Suck
201: A Soft Underbelly: The Allied Invasion of Sicily & the Fall of Il Duce
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I'm getting excited that spring is right around the corner. Blooming flowers, warmer days, Ants in my kitchen. Okay, so not the last part. I've got nothing against ants. Their work ethic and community cooperation is something we humans can take a lesson from. But I prefer the ants to live outside and not inside my house. My wife and I were debating if we re up with our pest control service, but we don't love the rising costs each year. That's why we're excited to try Pesti. It's do it yourself pest control, but it's actually simple. They send you everything. A sprayer, mixing bag, pro grade pesticide. The same stuff the pros use. It's all in one kit and it's customized to your location, your season and even your weather. It's kid and pet friendly when used as directed. And when applied properly, we can also minimize the risk to bees and other important pollinators while still enjoying bug free homes. Treatments start at just $35. No appointments, no strangers in your house. Plus there's a 100% bug free guarantee or your money back. Bugs. Hate to see you coming with Pesti. Go to pesti.com HTDS for an extra 10% off your order. That's P E S T I E.com HTDS for an extra ten percent off history that doesn't suck is supported by Bob's Discount Furniture. Spring is here, but let's face it, we're still going to spend more time indoors. So new season, new vibe to the indoor living and working space. And yet every time my wife and I start browsing furniture, we're reminded how fast the cost of our ideas can stack up. That is, except at Bob's Discount Furniture. If I'm going to refresh my space, I want style and quality without draining my bank account. And Bob's just gets that. Take the Playday Sectional. It's a total space saver with built in bookshelves which of course I love and charging ports perfect for long lazy weekends. Or there's the modular Bob Sectional. Buttery soft upholstery, multiple colors built in storage, wireless charging and family proof construction. Super important in my household at only 250 per piece. And it's easy to build your dream sectional for hundreds less than the competition. So when you're ready to get going on that long awaited home makeover, know that there's a better way to score wow worthy pieces at everyday low prices. Stop into your local Bob store or shop online and see for yourself. It's about nine in the morning, on an unspecified day, late April 1942, we're in Midtown Manhattan, just south of Central park on West 58th street at a popular upscale New York City chain called Longchamps, where two gentlemen are just walking in and making their way past countless tables and booths, ready to get some breakfast. They're an odd pair. And no, I'm not referring to the way 46 year old Moses Polakoff towers over his younger, shorter, heavier set and thicker haired colleague, Murray Gerfein. I'm referring to the fact that Moses represents some of the most notorious names in organized crime, while Murray is New York County's Assistant District Attorney and oversees the Rackets Bureau. Yeah, these two are usually locking legal horns, not going out to share a meal. But the contrast between them reaches new heights as they sit at their booth, which is already occupied by their breakfast. Meeting's third participant. Seated and sipping his coffee, is the short, lithe, smartly dressed and infamous gangster, Meyer Lansky. Tell you what, let me fill you in on the situation while this assistant DA lawyer and gangster decide how to order their eggs. Here's the deal. Two months ago, in February 1942, a French Ocean liner getting outfitted for naval service, the Normandie, went up in flames in New York Harbor. The fear is that this was sabotage. Whether it was or wasn't, and it wasn't, this incident got the Office of Naval Intelligence, AKA the oni, thinking about the need for better control of New York's docks. And who controls those docks? Yeah, not the government, but New York's crime bosses, including a figure we met back in episode 159, Charlie Lucky Luciano. And come to think of it, if the Allies end up taking the fight to the Mediterranean, to Sicily, this native born Sicilian could prove useful far beyond New York's waterfront. Huh. Sounds like Charlie might do a lot of good for Uncle Sam. Or at least ONI Commander Charles Haffenden hopes so. There's just one small complication. Charlie is currently doing time for basically running all prostitution in New York City. It's going to take a lot to approach him, let alone convince the jailbird to lend his influence to the cause. Nonetheless, the ONI thinks this long shot is worth it. And it's to this end that Assistant DA Murray Gerfine is having breakfast with Charlie's lawyer and the gangster's likewise lawbreaking best friend. And with that, I think breakfast is being served. Let's see how the conversation is going. As the men eat and talk, Murray is pleased to find both of his breakfast Companions are on board. Moses Polakoff might represent some of the worst criminals in the nation, but he also served in the Navy during World War I. He's a patriot, just one who thinks everyone deserves good counsel. Meyer Lansky is also in, perhaps even more so. He might be one of the greatest criminal minds of his generation, but he's actually quite a patriot. He loves America and as a Jewish man, he loathes Adolf Hitler and Nazism. He's all for doing his part to bring down the Axis. Yes, Meyer is willing to talk to Charlie. It's now a few weeks later, Friday morning, May 15, 1942, and two guards at upstate New York's Great Meadow Correctional Facility are unlocking the door to Charlie Lucky Luciano's cell because he has visitors. Wait, what visitors? Stepping out and walking down the hall, Charlie is thrilled. But what gives? After years of languishing in the austere Clinton Correctional Facility near the Canadian border, he suddenly got transferred only days ago to Great Meadow the the so called country club of New York prisons. And now he has visitors during non visiting hours. Hmm. Something isn't right. Charlie is ushered into a room next to the warden's office. And as he enters, he can hardly believe his eyes. There stands Meyer Lansky and Moses Polakoff. Unable to contain his excitement, Charlie exclaims, what the hell are you guys doing here? And of course they then tell him. They explain that Uncle Sam needs his help with the docks in New York. Perhaps they mention future intel possibilities about the island of Sicily. Charlie listens carefully, then answers quite clearly, no. At least not unless it's completely off the books. The Mafioso explains. Look, I'm going to be deported when I get out. Nobody knows how this war will turn out. Whatever I do, I want it kept quiet. Private. So that when I get back to Italy I'm not a marked man. Meyer and Moses reassure him everything will be entirely secret. And while there is no deal to be made per se, they explain that he will enjoy frequent confidential visits with his men, since he'll need to talk to them to assist. Uh huh. Come to think of it, that would make running his criminal empire a little easier. Charlie's tune starts to change. By the time his visitors suggest a visit from Joe Sockslanza, he answers, alright, fine, yes. The incarcerated Mafia boss is in. And when Meyer and Moses next visit Charlie in his new Swink Country Club prison, they will indeed bring Socks with them. Thus begins what will come to be known as Operation Underworld. Welcome to history. That doesn't suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson and I'd like to tell you a story. It's true, in a years long partnership codenamed Operation Underworld, the US government worked with some of the nation's most notorious mobsters. But just how useful is Charlie Lucky Luciano? Office of Naval Intelligence Commander Charles Haffeden will downplay the Mafiosis contributions. And yet in 1946, this blast from the HTDS playlist past does get released from prison with the one way ticket to his native Italy. So did he provide significant protection for New York's ports? Did his Mafiosos talk to Sicily's Mafiosos, all Italians who deeply hated Benito Mussolini and thereby provide the Allies with intel on the island before its invasion? We may never know for sure, but it's certainly a fascinating component of the war to keep in mind. For Today's story, the 1943 Allied invasion of Sicily, codenamed Operation Husky, we'll begin with some background. Building on our last episode's coverage of North Africa and the Casablanca conference, we turn to another tale of wartime deception preparatory to the invasion of Sicily carried out by British intelligence. Called Operation Mincemeat. It's basically a James Bond moment in the midst of World War II, but no spoilers. I'll leave it there for now. We'll then head to Washington D.C. for the Trident Conference where Franklin Roosevelt and Winston Churchill have a tense moment of disagreement on where their combined efforts should go after Sicily. Will they move against mainland Italy as Winston wants? Or to channel my inner George C. Marshall, will it finally be time to take the fight to France? And once we finish this friendly tussle, it's go time. We're parachuting onto Sicily in the dark of night with the 505th of the 82nd Airborne, after which we'll encounter hard fighting and bear witness as George Patton lets his open palm drag him into a scandal that's on par with the likes of the modern day actor Will Smith. But ultimately, will this Allied invasion of Sicily succeed? Might it destabilize Benito Mussolini's reign? How will it impact fascist Italy? We'll find all these answers and more. And we start by shipping out to the Mediterranean. All ashore that's going ashore, all on board. Roughly the size of Vermont, the hill covered triangular shaped island of Sicily and its towering 10,000 foot above sea level volcano Mount Etna officially enters into Allied conversations at the Casablanca Conference of January 1943. I trust you recall this conference and the complicated colonial lay of the North African land from the last episode. But to jog our memories, this conference in Casablanca, Morocco, that is the the French protectorate of Morocco, which is now allied friendly thanks to last year's Darlan Deal, is a gathering of Allied minds that includes both President Franklin Delano Roosevelt and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill. And here they decide that once the forces under Supreme Allied Commander in the Mediterranean Dwight D. Eisenhower and British General Bernard Monte Montgomery close their pincer movement in the French protectorate of Tunisia, thereby forcing the Axis out of North Africa, Ike and the boys should take the Italian island of Sicily. It makes sense. Sicily lies smack dab in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. It's almost a literal puddle jump from Tunisia to Sicily, which is only 100 miles or so to the northeast, and once taken, would put the allies about 2 to 3 miles from the toe of mainland Italy at the Strait of Messina. Talk about a sweet setup for taking the fight into the territory of the OG of Fascism. And. And of course by OG, I mean the original goose stepper. Now, there is some concern that the plan is simply too obvious. Germany, which unlike Italy can actually put up a fight, is bound to see this coming. Some at the Casablanca conference wonder should they carry out an operation in Greece or perhaps the Mediterranean island of Sardinia instead? Ah, no, they need to take Sicily, or the island of the sun as it's also known for all the same geographical reasons we just identified that will likely make the move so obvious to the Axis. But the question might they throw the Axis powers off the scent of this Allied invasion? Well, some body might have an answer. It's just after 4am on a moonless, windy, Friday, April 30, 1943. The British submarine HMS Seraph is surfacing about a mile off Huelva, Spain. Its commander, British Lieutenant Norman Bill Jewell, is tense. Along with two officers and three crewmen, he's maneuvering a large metal tube up top, exiting the submarine's hull through a topside hatch. They and their bulky cargo are soon on the kc that is the narrow exposed deck running along the sub spine. Meanwhile, the crew below scan the dark ocean and shoreline for anyone who might spot them and thereby upend their secret mission. Once the three crewmen set the tube down, they're dismissed to go back below. They do so believing that they carried up secret meteorological equipment. But that's not the case at all. Bill and his fellow lieutenants now unscrew the steel canister's bolts, revealing its true a petrified corpse in an officer's uniform. Okay, timeout. Let's get some background. This top secret mission Operation Mincemeat comes out of the British Naval Intelligence Department, or the NID. Back in 1939, a young agent named Ian Fleming provided a list of ideas for counterintelligence missions. Yes, that Ian Fleming. The same agent who will later garner literary fame for his future spy novels about Agent 007. Or rather Bond, James Bond. But back to the real operation. Ian's idea to feed the Axe's false information through a corpse was picked up by two men, another spy novelist, the mustachioed Charles Cholmondeley, and an aristocratic lawyer, the barely lipped Ewan Montague, who think this cadaverous ruse could trick the Germans into thinking the next Allied attack will actually consist of two an American attack on Sicily's western neighbor, the island of Sardinia, and a British attack in the eastern Mediterranean against Greece. If Berlin takes the bait, Sicily, the real target, will seem like a diversion. The plan's brilliant, if it works, of course. As for the corpse, he's a recently deceased homeless Welshman, Glyndure Michael, who died after accidentally eating bread that was set out for pest control and filled with rat poison. Refrigerated and prepped, Glen is transformed into Major William Martin, dressed in a full officer's uniform, carrying ID letters, a photo of a girlfriend who's actually an MI5 agent, and a briefcase with fake secret orders. And now he's ready to wash up on Spain's coast, looking like the victim of a plane crash, with hopes that Francisco Franco's neutral but fascist Spanish government will pass his false intel onto the Nazis. And with that, let's return to the serif, shall we? It's now nearly 4:30 in the morning. Light is starting to appear over the horizon as the three officers fully open the tube like coffin. The smell of the tanned, decayed body was too much for all but Bill. As the son of a doctor, this officer knows the stench of death well. He pays his respects to the posthumously recruited agent, reciting as he'll later describe what I could remember of the funeral service. Then, respectfully, he places Glen's body in the water. The officers scramble below and the sub dives, pushing the undercover corpse, Major William Martin toward the shore with its weight. With his course now set for Britain's nearby Mediterranean enclave of Gibraltar, Bill sends a message to Mincemeat. Completed. Truly a crazy plan. Will it work? Shockingly, it does. Local Spanish fishermen tow the fake downed Allied body in, then alert local authorities. Glenn turned William gets a funeral. And when his briefcase is returned to the British weeks later, it's clear that all the documents have been read. More than that, Adolf Hitler proceeds to smugly reinforce all the wrong places. But this is hardly the time for a victory lap. Even without greater reinforcements, taking the island of the sun will pose its challenges. And British senior military minds are hard at it. Planning the amphibious invasion of Sicily or Operation Husky. On May 11, 1943, as British Prime Minister Winston Churchill and his military chiefs of staff arrive in Washington D.C. for the Trident conference, the British Bulldog is very ready to push forward with this already planned operation and to look to the future. But there is some consternation among President Franklin Roosevelt's chiefs of staff. See, ever since the Morocco conference, which is when this invasion was planned, they've worried that the bespectacled cigarette holder loving president is a little too taken by his might we say. Husky ally. Secretary of War Henry Stimson even writes in his diary that I fear it will be the same story over again. The man from London will arrive and will have his way with our chief. And the careful and deliberate plans of our staff will be overridden. Those deliberate plans include US Army Chief of Staff General George C. Marshall's longtime focus on a cross channel landing on the northern shores of France. George warns Franklin that if Sicily leads to an invasion of mainland Italy, they'll be short on men and resources for France, Something he believes could make Italy more of a liability than an asset, potentially pushing a cross channel landing to 1945 or even 46. Oh, and the Commander in Chief of the Navy or comic Ernest King is constantly asking for more help in the Pacific theater. And let's not forget, many Americans view this war as primarily against the Japanese, the ones who struck at Pearl Harbor. With Germany and Italy being secondary, some in Congress are even mumbling that Franklin only does Winston's bidding. Oof. With all this going on, it's probably for the best that Comrade Joseph Stalin won't be attending what we can sense will be a tense meeting with the war effort. Pride and lives on the line. Let's join this Trident conference and see who blinks first. It's 2:30 in the afternoon. May 12th, 1943. We're on the second floor of the White House in the world map covered oval study where President Franklin D. Roosevelt often likes to work on his stamp collection. But today isn't a day for stamp enthusiasts. No, today FDR and his buddy Prime Minister Winston Churchill have an important meeting on the books. Franklin kicks things off by reminding the Brits that it's been a year since they first planned Operation Torch. That is the amphibious landing in French North Africa. Six months ago, the invasion of Sicily. Operation Husky was planned. Now it's time to consider the next move. Winston agrees. As he puts it, torch is over. Husky is near. What should come next? I would like to put forward for consideration a number of objectives. The great prize is to get Italy out of the war. The collapse of Italy will cause a chill of loneliness over the German people and might be the beginning of their doom. Alright, the opening moves have been played. The pawns are in an attacking position, if you will. But now, to continue the chessboard analogy, Franklin's Chiefs of Staff are all wondering, will the President play aggressively or will he be wooed into tipping his king? Conceding to his buddy Winston, thanking the portly PM for being frank on his objectives, Franklin responds. Starting with the same question, Winston rhetorically, Where do we go from Husky? I have always shrunk from the thought of putting large armies in Italy. This might play into Germany's hand. There is not much time in 1943 because planning future operations is a lengthy procedure. The question to be decided quickly is how to use the Mediterranean troops. This year, conditions in Italy are known to be precarious. Italy might drop into the lap of the United nations, who will then have the responsibility of supplying the Italian people. Franklin goes on to suggest that perhaps taking Sicily, or even just the heel and toe of Italy, may be enough to check Benito Mussolini's regime. And while every everyone agrees that it's not possible for an invasion of France in 1943, Franklin says that if it's going to happen in 1944, planning needs to start now. Hmm. So, Knight to D2. It seems the President's men silently feel a sense of relief. I can only assume the British bulldog is conflicted here. While he's long hated Benito Mussolini, calling Il Duce a whipped jackal of Hitler, he does see that strategy is more important than grievances. Coming around to agree with Franklin, Winston says, I do not feel that an occupation of Italy is necessary. And with that, the big two call it a day. Franklin and Winston head to FDR's Allegheny retreat, Shangri La, while the British and US chiefs of staff hammer out the details of what Winston calls mere questions of emphasis and priority. As they do, George Marshall ends up in a shouting match with British officer Alan Brooke, who says a French invasion won't happen for another two years, with a pause to visit Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia, a visit that, alas, did not include taking stockade photos. As far as we know, the chiefs of staff try to answer Winston's questions of emphasis and priority over the coming week. By May 25, 1943, they have their answer. The British promise to aim for a landing in northern France by spring of next year, 1944. Right now, however, the priority will be to move from Sicily to the toe of Italy's boot. But let's not allow the leaders to count their chickens before they're hatched. The invasion of Sicily is still yet to happen. So what is the plan for Operation Husky? Our dear friend, Supreme Commander Dwight Eisenhower, will oversee it. On the ground, British general Harold Alexander, or Alex, as his friends call him, will command the 15th Army Group, which includes British General Sir Bernard Montgomery's 8th army landing on the southwest coast and US Lieutenant General George Patton's 7th army striking the center and southeast, as well as paratroopers dropping behind the Axis lines. Altogether, this force comes to roughly 150,000 or more ground troops, 3,000 ships and 4,000 aircraft. And so, with the surrender of Axis forces in Tunisia early that May, and Adolf fooled by Operation Mincemeat into reinforcing the incorrect locations, prospects are strong for Operation Husky. Things only look better still in June, as Nazi intelligence continue to believe that Greece and Sardinia are the real targets, even after the Allies capture the miniscule Italian island of Pantelleria just to the southwest of Sicily. Nonetheless, Sicily is held by perhaps 300,000 Axis troops, mostly Italian and poorly supplied, but still twice that of the Allies ground forces. And of course, that's to say nothing of yet another player in this and every war, a procurement participant that is so very influential in amphibious operations and can be an ally or an enemy. The Weather. History that Doesn't Suck is sponsored by vistaprint. You may have heard me talk about our touring live show. Well, that's because it's an important extension of this podcast, and I'm very proud of it and how it allows us to connect with listeners in person on the road. Every detail of these events is important, from what you see on stage to what you encounter at the venue, right down to the custom tablecloth we printed with vistaprint. Seeing our HTDS logo on the lobby table tells you you're not only in the right place, but that you're with a community of fans who love stories from history. Vistaprint makes preparing for an event easy from start to finish. From printed table covers, signs, postcards, and swag, vistaprint has everything you need to look polished and and professional at your next event. Vistaprint makes it simple to take that first idea and expand it and vistaprint's design tools and human support help you bring those ideas to life, no matter your experience or your budget. There's a reason over a million people trust Vistaprint for their small business print needs. Vistaprint print your possible right now new customers get 20% off with code new20new20@vistaprint.com history that doesn't Suck is supported by Quints I've learned that the best wardrobe isn't huge, it's smart. Quince nails it with versatile essentials, lightweight cashmere sweaters, Mongolian cashmere polos, linen bottoms and tees in 100% Pima cotton or European linen pieces you'll actually wear season after season. Spring is coming, but it's still a bit chilly, so I'm still rocking the cardigan sweater I got from Quince this winter. Frankly, almost daily. I do love it that much. And it's not a stuffy professor's cardigan, it's a stylish update that is soft and warm from 100% organic cotton. Quince works directly with top factories, cutting out the middleman so you pay for quality, not retail hype. Everything is built to last. Stop overcomplicating your wardrobe. You just need the pieces that work over and over. Right now. Go to quints.com htds for free shipping and 365 day returns. That's a full year to build your wardrobe and love it and you will now available in Canada too. Don't keep settling. For clothes that don't last, go to Q U I n c e.com htds for free shipping and 365 day returns. Quince.com history that doesn't suck is sponsored by Squarespace. Squarespace is the all in one website platform designed to help you stand out and succeed online. Whether you're just starting out or scaling your business, Squarespace gives you everything you need to showcase what you do, grow your brand and get paid all in one place. HTDs.com is hosted on Squarespace and you can see how great it looks. What I really appreciate is how easy it is to update as we offer more content beyond the podcast and serve as a destination where people who are passionate about history can learn more and the Squarespace design tools make a huge difference. With blueprint, AI or their award winning templates, you can build a beautiful professional site that actually reflects your brand. No design experience required. On top of that, Squarespace email campaigns are built right in so you can stay connected with your community and clients, automate follow ups and promote your services with emails that look as polished as your website. Go to squarespace.com htds for a free trial and when you're ready to launch, Use Offer Code HTDS to save 10% Use Offer Code HTDS to save 10 percent off your first purchase of a website or domain. It's late at night, July 9, 1943. Flying out of Tunisia in V formations, 227 Douglas C47s cut through the dark skies over the Mediterranean at a low 500 foot altitude to avoid radar. In the dim cargo hold of one plane carrying 16 soldiers sits the commander of the 82nd Airborne Division's 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment, Col. James M. Gavin, dressed in full combat gear. James, or Jumpin Jim, as the men prefer to call their 36 year old Brooklyn born and Pennsylvania coal fields raised leader, described as having quote unquote magnetism for attractive women, sits under the hold's faint light. His face is covered in a camouflage of burnt coal, just like his men, all waiting to jump when the plane reaches their designated drop zone, or dz, over the city of Lla on the southern shore of Sicily. They are then to secure crossroads against Axis counterattacks, thereby opening the way for General George Patton's seventh Army landing on the beaches. The orders are plenty dangerous. Yet at this precise moment it isn't German and Italian bullets that have Jim worried as he stares at the red light. It's the weather. He knows the whipping 35 mile per hour winds must have pushed the planes off course, not to mention the danger for his well trained but green paratroopers. But Jim does his best to put all this out of his mind. These worries are of no help, as he'll later recall. There was nothing I could do about it. We couldn't change plans. Now reaching the dz, Jim stands and shouts out, stand up and hook up. Covered in guns, grenades, knives, water and heavy parachutes, the men hook their static lines to the anchor cable. A bell rings, the light turns green and the door is yanked open. A flood of wind rushes into the cargo hold. Each man jumps in quick succession, his chute automatically deploying as his static line hooked to the anchor cable gives way and at least some yelling the World War II paratroopers War Cry Geronimo. The plane soon disappears into the black. Axis bullets whiz by as jumping. Jim and his men descend, utterly subject to the whims and mercy of their chutes and the harsh winds. The night sliver of a moon only faintly lights the terrain below, but soon Jim can see that his worst fears are realized. They're way off course. He recognizes nothing below. Is this even Sicily? Whatever it is, it's coming at him fast. Jim hits the ground and rolls like a pro. He's fine, but this isn't the landing they expected. Men drop on rocks, trees, even buildings on the ground. Jim peers into the darkness, searching for his regiment. He and a small group call out the password George, expecting to hear Marshall. It works for some. But others scattered into the British sector face friendly fire. A painful lesson on sharing passwords. One the paratroopers pay for as they regroup to secure roads and trails. Despite the mayhem, the invasion miraculously comes together. By the morning of July 10th, jumpin Jim and his paratroopers have cut Axis communications and captured concrete bunkers called pillboxes that would have otherwise threatened George Patton's 7th Army. Employing an oft used military term, snafu, which means systems normal, all, let's say fouled up. It will in time become unattributable. Conventional wisdom that the first action of Operation Husky was, and I quote, the best executed SNAFU in the history of military operations. A very fair take. Yet the Commander of the 82nd Airborne, General Matthew Ridgway, will note that he prefers Colonel Jim Gavin's description better. To quote Jumpin Jim of the 505th. This was a SAFU, a self adjusting foul up. The day ends with some serious combat in the American center lines. But the primary enemy isn't the Axis. It's logistics. Just getting all the men and equipment onto the island makes day one feel like a victory. That said, the fighting heats up the next day, July 11, when the Germans push on the American center line at Jela Beach. Yes, right where Jumpin Jim and the 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment was supposed to land. He and his formerly Lost Boys joined troops from the 45th Division and managed to repel a German attack of 700 infantry and a company of Tiger tanks. But the fighting here and across the island takes its toll. The Allies suffer 2,300 casualties by the day's end. Trying to replenish forces, General George Patton calls for 2,000 more paratroopers to drop in from the 504th Regiment. But after a full day of strafing fire from the German Luftwaffe, the incoming Allied transport aircraft are mistaken for a German air raid. Firing anti aircraft into the dark night sky, Allied friendly fire takes down 23 of their own planes and and damages 37, leaving 88 dead, 162 wounded and 69 missing in action. Even as the Situation improves on the American front. The British 8th army gets bogged down on the southeast coast, one of the corners of the triangle that is Sicily, if you will. General Bernard Montgomery, or Monty as we know, this discerning Brit with a well trimmed mustache and aquiline nose requests a shift in his boundaries to allow him to to move up through central Sicily. British General Harold Alexander, or again just Alex, is cool with it. But you know who isn't? Good guess if you said General George Patton. In George's mind this is relegating American forces to mere backup guarding the British 8th Army's flank. To be fair, he's right. And it's no secret that the British haven't forgotten the mess at Tunisia's Kasserine Pass back in February. A snafu we covered in the last episode, as I'm sure you recall. And the truth is that Alex, who I'll remind you is calling the shots on the ground, trusts the still better seasoned British 8th army far more than the Americans. But you know George, old blood and guts, this man of temper and action, unwilling to let this assumption made plan take him out of the action, he persuades Alex to let him do some reconnaissance toward the city of Agrigento. That done, old blood and guts then takes things one step further. He captures Agrigento on July 15, 1943. From there he argues to Alex that he should drive to the northwestern coast of Sicily while Monti and the 8th army work at getting to the essential port of Messina, over at the tip of the island's northeastern coast and all but touching the toe of Italy's boot. In short, George wants to split and do his own thing. Alex initially agrees, but after reflection he reverses the go ahead. Well, George just ignores the revocation, saying that the message was garbled when transmitted. The U.S. 7th army sweeps northwest from the center of sicily, covering over 100 miles in three days to take some 53,000 Italian troops captive and to capture the island's capital of Palermo. As George and his army roll in on July 22, the city's many non fans of Benito Mussolini welcome the Americans with a spontaneous outpour of cheers and flowers. Nor are the people of Palermo the only Italians fed up with Il Duce while he won adoration building an empire and seeming to outwit and outplay the League of Nations and heavyweight nations like Britain in the 1930s, all of which we saw while meeting Il Duce back in episode 183, World War II's losses of Ethiopia, more recently Libya and now, perhaps Sicily, which could open the way to an invasion of mainland Italy, are costing the Fascist dictator his popularity. In the succinct words of his biographer, Jasper Ridley, Mussolini had committed the one unpardonable crime of a dictator. He was losing a war. And so, only days after George Patton takes Palermo in a meeting that drags from the Evening of Saturday, July 24th into the early hours of the 25th, the Grand Council of Fascism votes 197 to urge King Victor Emmanuel III to take command of both the military and the government, effectively to remove Benito from his position as Prime Minister. But Benito is sure this vote will will do nothing. I mean, the Grand Council is a faux parliament of his own making, after all. He leaves confident that he can put this annoyance behind him quickly and wakes the next morning just as certain that he can set things right in his next meeting with the King. And wouldn't you know, His Majesty would like to see Il Duce today. It's about five o' clock in the afternoon, some Sunday, July 25, 1943. A sleek Lancia Astura, or perhaps an Alfa Romeo is just pulling off the Via Salaria and onto the stunning grounds of the Italian royal estate in northeastern Rome known as Via Savoia. The vehicle continues along the gravel, passing the ancient pines and palm oaks, the breathtaking gardens, and finally coming to a stop at the royal residence, the yellow hued palazzina. Real smartly dressed in a dark blue suit and brown fedora, Il Duce steps out of the car with his leather briefcase in hand, telling his bodyguards to stay put. He walks on alone, taking little note of the extra armed guards or carabinieri behind the hedges. Reaching the door, Benito is greeted by an immaculately mustachioed man dressed in a Marshal of Italy uniform. That's right, it's the King of Italy himself, Victor Emmanuel iii. The two men head into a small drawing room. And even after 20 years at the head of Italy's government, what an odd sight they make. Standing at 5 foot 7 on a good day, 61 year old stocky, barrel chested Benito towers over 73 year old victors, barely 5 foot and lithe frame. Centuries of royal inbreeding have left this proud relic with misshapen legs. Anyhow. Once situated, Benito begins, as he always does in their meetings, with an update on the military and domestic situation. But Victor breaks from the usual procedure by cutting him off. My dear Duce, it's no longer any good. Italy has gone to bits. Army morale is at rock bottom. The soldiers don't want to fight anymore. The Alpine regiments are singing a song which says they don't want to make war on Mussolini's account any longer. You can certainly be under no illusion as to Italy's feelings with regard to yourself. At this moment, you are the most hated man in Italy. You have one friend left, and I am he. That is why I tell you that you need have no fears for your personal safety, for which I will ensure protection. Benito is completely caught off guard. Victor will later say. The conversation strikes Il Duce like the shell from a 305 howitzer. The king repeats over and I'm sorry, I'm sorry, until finally the dictator is able to respond, you are making an extremely grave decision. A crisis at the moment would mean making the people think that peace is in sight. I realized the people's hatred. I had no difficulty in recognizing it last night, in the midst of the Grand Council. One cannot govern for such a long time and impose so many sacrifices without provoking resentments. In any case, I wish good luck to the man who takes the situation in hand. As always, Benito towers over Victor. But according to the now deposed Duce's later recollections of this moment, the King looks smaller than ever, almost dwarfish all the same. The two men shake hands, ending the meeting. Back outside the yellow hued palace, Benito is nearly to his bodyguards, Chauffeur and Carr, and the captain of the Karabi approaches. He calls to Benito, duce, I have been ordered by the King to protect your person. An officer grabs the longtime dictator by the arm and tells him, you must get into this. Benito isn't fully grasping reality yet, but he's just been arrested. His 21 year dictatorship is over. That very night, July 25, 1943. Speakers shout the news into Rome's famous thoroughfare, Via del Trittoni. Citizens, wake up. Mussolini is finished. The cobblestone piazza fills with dancing, laughter and tears, and even bonfires burning furniture from the Fascist Party headquarters. And all night long the city rings with shouts of Viva Litari. History that doesn't suck is sponsored by Claude from Anthropic. The interesting parts of history live in the contradictions. When three sources describe the same event differently, or when the textbook version falls apart and something messier, more human emerges underneath. Claude is built for that kind of thinking. When you're chasing down a question and the accounts don't line up, Claude doesn't try to smooth it over. It helps you sit with the contradictions, tracing where they came from, and figure out what the disagreement itself reveals. Anthropic the company behind Claude was founded by AI researchers who wanted to build something more careful and more useful. Claude is the result, an AI that works through complexity with you rather than rushing to wrap things up neatly. So for those who love to wrestle with the complicated version rather than settle for simple, Claude was built for that. Try Claude for free at Claude AI htds and see why problem solvers choose Claude as their thinking partner.
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It's true, Benito Mussolini is out of power and a prisoner, though the narrative is protective custody, and it seems the Italian people largely love it. But just because Il Duce is out doesn't mean that Italy is out of the war. The Pact of Steel signed by Germany and Italy in 1939 remains very much in place, which is why Benito's successor as prime minister Marshal Pietro Badoglio announces that the war will continue. This is the Italian government's official position, and the keyword there is official. At the very same time, the Italian government is quietly opening peace talks with the Allies far away from German ears in neutral Portugal. And so, even as news of Iduce's downfall rocks the world and puts Italy on a discrete path towards an armistice, the fight for sicily must continue. General George Patton of the US 7th army gets new orders to turn from his northwestern position in Palermo and drive on to the same place that General Bernard Montgomery's British 8th army is headed eastern Sicily's coastal city of Messina. That's right. It's a race, as George puts it, this is a horse race in which the prestige of the US army is at stake. But this time George won't cover 100 miles in three days. Unlike that swift movement over poorly protected and gentler terrain, this time old blood and guts and his Yanks are facing the same obstacles as Monti and his Brits. The jagged rough ground that forms the base of Mount Etna and fierce German forces fortifications. In other words, both racing armies are equally stalled. But little do George Ramonti know that the German forces here are not aiming to hold out as we saw the Americans do in the Philippines in episode 197. No, this is more of a less intense reverse Dunkirk action in which the Germans are still fighting while secretly evacuating men from Sicily to the Italian boot. This serves a dual purpose. It ensures these German soldiers survive to fight another day day and positions them to hold Italy. If, as Adolf Hitler now suspects, his Axis ally, Italy wavers on its dedication to the pact of Steel. With the high ground in their favor, the Germans defend the four roads to Messina as the summer heat and malaria SAP thousands of Allied soldiers before they even reach the fight. Meanwhile, starting on July 31, 1943, the famous First Division that we heard so much about our First World War episodes. Yes, the Big Red one faces hard fighting trying to take Troina in central Sicily. The hilltops and rocky crags provide excellent cover for the Axis forces. As for the Yanks, their path up the expansive and open undulating hills below make them easy targets amid the fighting. Private James William Bill Reese's mortar squad pummels advancing Germans. When the squad gets down to its last three shells, Bill, as the private's friends call him, orders the men back. But he doesn't join them, instead advancing alone to single handedly use these last projectiles to take out a German machine gun nest. He then continues to Fight with his rifle. But alas, this is real life, not a movie. The Germans riddle the brave Pennsylvanian with bullets. Posthumously. Bill will be honored for his excellence and bravery with the Medal of Honor. After a week of fighting, the Americans have victory. Troina is theirs. But all the death and destruction that comes with driving out the retreating Axis forces is enough to drive anyone to anger, tears and worse, even a commanding officer. It's about 1:30 in the afternoon, August 10, 1943. General George Patton is inside the 93rd evacuation hospital stationed near Santo Stefano on Sicily's northern coast. He's here to visit his injured soldiers. Seeing their general means a lot to these men. And his words of encouragement and respect mean even more. As he walks through the receiving tent, George comes across Private Paul g. Bennett. The 21 year old South Carolinian gunner in the 17th Field Artillery is sitting up on his bed, shivering. Still wearing his uniform and helmet. George approaches the young man, so deeply shocked after witnessing a friend's severe wounding. Though he begged not to be removed from his unit, it's clear that Paul can't return to the front without care. George focuses on the listless artilleryman and asks what his trouble is. Looking up at the hard faced but concerned general, Paul responds, it's my nerves. And with that, Paul breaks down sternly. George answers the sodden soldier, what did you say? Paul manages another sputtered response. It's my nerves. I can't stand the shelling anymore. A switch flips in the general. He shouts, your nerves. Hell, you're just a goddamn coward, you yellow son of a bitch. With that, George slaps Paul across the the face, then shouts, shut up that goddamn crying. I won't have these brave men here who have been shot at seeing a yellow bastard sitting here crying. The general strikes the young soldier again, this time so hard that Paul's helmet flies off. Landing outside of the tent, doctors and nurses alike can't believe what they're seeing. George turns to an astonished medical officer and shouts, don't admit this. This yellow bastard. There's nothing the matter with him. I don't have the hospitals cluttered up with these sons of bitches who haven't got the guts to fight. Paul tries to stop the tears and pulls himself up, standing at attention even if quaking. George charges at Paul, raging at him. You're going back to the front lines and you may get shot and killed, but you're going to fight. If you don't, I'll stand you up against a wall and and have a firing squad kill you on purpose. And with that, the furious general pulls his revolver out of its holster and thrusts it into Paul's face while telling the shaking soldier through gritted teeth, in fact, I ought to shoot you myself, you God damned whimpering coward. A nurse lunges at the general but is held back by the doctor. George then slaps Paul one last time before storming out of the tent. Minutes later, in another ward, the general breaks down as he looks at men suffering from physical injuries, speaking to his own violence. But a moment ago, George addresses these wounded warriors through sobs. I can't help. Breaks me down to see you brave boys. George pauses for a moment. He then continues in a mix of anger and tears. It makes my blood boil to think of a yellow bastard being babied. This slapping incident is George's second. Within a week's time on the earlier occasion, the enraged 8th army commander slapped a soldier diagnosed with what the hospital called a, quote, psychoneurosis, anxiety state, close quote. Only with the help of friends did the soldier escape more wrath. What on earth? What fuels George Patton's awful, inexcusable cruelty to these men clearly suffering from ptsd, or shell shock, to use the era's term? The answer, perhaps, can be found in George's explanation of his horrific behavior to Supreme Commander Dwight D. Eisenhower. He writes to Ike that during the First World War, a close friend of his suffered from shell shock. That friend continued to suffer for years until he committed suicide. But before that tragic moment, George explains that both my friend and the medical men with whom I discussed his case assured me that had he been roundly checked at the time of his first misbehavior, he would have been restored to a normal state. Yes, the cruel violence is best explained as a result of George Patton's gross misunderstanding of shell shock created by incorrect medical opinions, mixing with his own trauma of losing a dear friend to it in the last war. No wonder then, that after smacking around poor Paul Bennett, George writes in his journal, I may have saved his soul if he had one. Worried about the war. First and foremost, the reporters let these incidents lie low for the moment, but they will make the news later and cause quite a stir. As for Ike, he's deeply bothered, but sees George's contrition and chooses not to relieve him of command. That said, Ike also knows that he'll never elevate old blood and guts to a higher level. Continuing into the messier aspects of George Patton's command on Sicily, we also have to ask, does he bear responsibility for illegal executions while American GIs largely conduct themselves well and lawfully on the island. It appears that American forces killed 75 POWs at Biskeri Airfield. Colonel George Martin, chaplain of the 45th Division, later describes coming across three mounds of bodies stacked like cordwood. There was no doubt in my mind but that they had been prisoners of war, slaughtered while being moved to the rear. The next best documented massacre happens in the city of Kanikati, where Lieutenant Colonel George Herbert McCaffrey responds to military police refusing to shoot looters by pulling his pistol and blasting eight civilians dead on the spot. Several men tried for war crimes on Sicily will later attest that George Patton had given speeches about taking no prisoners, that more POWs meant drained resources. To quote Captain Howard Cry of the 180th Combat Team, he said, to kill and continue to kill, and that the more we killed then, the less we'd have to kill later. Some men are acquitted, others not, while the Kany Conti massacre is kept quiet for a full 60 years. These incidents are all black marks on George's career, even if they don't end it. But we'll leave George's legacy there. For now, his story's end is one for another day. By August 11, 1943, the German commander on Sicily, Hans Hube, is in full scale evacuation mode. Allied army engineers work swiftly to clear minefields and repair bridges in hopes of catching him. But when American infantry from the 7th Regiment enter Messina on August 17, they miss the Axis by mere hours. George Patton arrives to accept the surrender of the city. Shortly thereafter, a line of British cars pull up. Yeah, the Yanks won and the Brits know it and are good sports about it. The senior British commander on the scene approaches George and shakes his hand, saying, it was a jolly good race. I congratulate you. It's taken just over a month and cost the allies about 25,000 casualties, including roughly 5,000 dead. But Operation Husky is officially a success. Sicily is in Allied hands, but Italy as a whole is in limbo. Benito Mussolini is gone and the new Italian Prime Minister, Pietro Badoglio, seeks an armistice. Yet the pact of steel binds his nation to Germany. At the same time, the Allies planned landing on the toe of Italy. Operation Avalanche will proceed more smoothly with the without Italian resistance, which is more likely with lenient terms. Yet Dwight Eisenhower faces pressure for unconditional surrender from the Joint Chiefs of Staff. And it's amid all These factors that August 1943 becomes, in British diplomat Harold Macmillan's words, plots, counterplots and crossplots. But eventually, someone Must yield. It's a little after 9 on a hot summer's morning, August 31, 1943. We're at the Allied Force headquarters near Cassibile, Sicily, where high ranking American and Italian officers are gathering in a canvas tent among olive trees. Two men of note dominate the discussion. Ike's 47 year old cleft chinned Chief of Staff, General Walter Bedell Smith, aka Beadle and and a 49 year old Italian general with black receding hair as slick as his political maneuvering, Giuseppe Castellano. Having communicated in secret with Giuseppe in recent weeks, Bedel gets right to the point, asking if the Italian general dressed in a double breasted suit, has the power to sign this armistice which demands Italy's surrender, its best endeavors against the Germans and other aspects of aid to the Allies like the use of airfields and naval ports. Giuseppe responds that he doesn't. He then reads a memorandum from his superiors to the if the Italian government were free, it would accept and denounce the armistice as demanded by the Allies. Because it is not free, but under German control, Italy cannot accept. Going on to explain that the Italian army isn't equipped to beat the extensive German forces then in Italy. Giuseppe demands guarantees that the Allies will land in northern Italy with sufficient strength to protect the King and government in Rome before Germany can seize the city. Bedel refuses to bend. The terms are as generous as Supreme Commander Dwight Eisenhower will allow. He answers the Italian government has two alternatives. It can accept, accept the conditions or refuse the armistice. The Allies intend to invade the Italian peninsula with or without Italian aid. And the Italians themselves will have to decide whether the struggle will be long and devastating or relatively brief. Flustered, the well dressed Italian general changes tactics. He threatens that the Italian fleet will attack Allied convoys before the official armistice is declared. But Beetle makes it clear that he's not afraid to. He replied sternly, nothing can prevent Italy from becoming a battlefield. But the Italian government might shorten the duration of the battle by accepting completely the Allied conditions. Nothing is signed on August 31, not because Italians want to fight the Allies, but because they're terrified of the Germans. Yet despite those fears, Rome caves in the days following. On September 3, 1943, as British and Canadian troops cross from Sicily to the toe of the Italian boot, General Giuseppe Castellano returns to the Allied force headquarters in this canvas tent in a Sicilian olive grove and signs the armistice. He, Beadle and the rest of the team then celebrate with shots of whiskey. But only days later, on the eve of the armistice's planned announcement of September 8, a new wave of fear of German reprisals hits the Italian government. Prime Minister Pietro Badoyo sends the Allies a message rescinding his agreement. Dwight Eisenhower is livid, face flushed. He snaps pencil after pencil as he curses the Italian prime minister. Or as a British officer in the room later puts it, he expressed himself himself with great violence. The furious Allied Supreme Commander in the Mediterranean dictates a forceful if you or any part of your armed forces fail to cooperate as previously agreed, I will publish to the world a full record of this affair. Failure now on your part to carry out the full obligations of the signed agreement will have the most serious consequences for your country. At 6:30 the following night, September 8th, Ike takes to Radio Algiers as formally agreed upon and announces the armistice. He states, the Italian government has surrendered its armed forces unconditionally. As Allied commander in Chief, I have granted a military armistice. All Italians who now act to help eject the German aggressor from Italian soil will have the assistance and support of the United Nations. Only 15 minutes later, Reuters coverage of Ike's announcement reaches the Italian government. Its leaders are terrified, sick to their stomachs. What can they do? Finally, King Victor Emmanuel laments that Italy cannot change sides for a third time. Pietro broadcasts Italy's acceptance of the armistice. Hearing this, German General Erwin Rommel writes to his wife, italy's treachery is official. And so Italy is defeated, yet nonetheless poised to become a battleground between the Nazis and the Allies. But with more than a year and a half of fighting ahead, the Italian campaign is a story for a much later day. There's still so much to cover about these early months of the European theater, including the Nazis ongoing mass killings, particularly their drive to systematically murder millions of European Jews. Yes, it's time to return to that bleak aspect of this, the most devastating war in human history that we first broached in episode 185. Next time we return to the Holocaust. History that Doesn't Suck is created and hosted by me, Greg Jackson. Episode researched and written by Greg Jackson and Will King Production by Airship Audio editing by Mohammad Shahzade Sound design by Molly Bach Theme music composed by Greg Jackson Arrangement and additional composition by Lindsey Graham of Airship. For a bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit htdspodcast.com. HTBS is supported by fans at. My gratitude to kind souls providing funding to help us keep going. Thank you. And a special thanks to our patrons whose monthly gift puts them at producer status. Adam Gorn, Ahmad Chapman, Andrew Neeson Andrew Sherwin, Hannah M. 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