200: The North African Campaign: Desert Rats, the Desert Fox, & Operation Torch

It's always good! It's always great!

It says "Freshest" for Aldi. To Aldi price. This week's table is €650 for €2.99 or "Kulturheidelbeeren". €125 for €1.39 in your Aldi Nordvilliale. And wait for it to come out and enjoy.

Aldi. Good just for Aldi. Vince Soyer, how you doing there? Greg Jackson, I'm doing great and you've got a book coming out.

I do have a book coming out.

You ever thought about the greatest way possible to celebrate your book coming out?

“Yes actually and I think the best way to do that is on open waters.”

You want to go to history cruise? I think that's a great idea and you know what? We should record an episode of the road to now at sea. Okay but you have to do your live show then. So you want me to do my live show and launch my book.

Okay guys everything you just heard is real. We are going on a cruise May 18th through May 22nd. We're going to be on the open water. It is history, it is fun, it is nature, it is blue skies and blue seas. Come hang out with me, come hang out with Ben and have a great time in the Caribbean.

Visit htdscruz.com/100 for $100 off per cabin. That's htdscruz.com/100.

“It's an early Wednesday morning, July 3rd, 1940.”

In Captain Cedric Holland has a stern tense face as his vessel. The Royal Navy Destroyer, HMS Boxing, cuts through the Mediterranean Sea, making its way to add Mavsa Alcambia, Algeria. Well currently that's Mavsa Alcambia, French Algeria.

See, for nearly a century, the French have considered this North African region just across the Mediterranean more than a simple colony within its vast worldwide environment. Rather, it's held to be an integral part of France itself. French Algeria is home to the French Foreign Legion and right now the bulk of the mighty French Navy, now line an anchor in the harbor of Mavsa Alcambia, and it's the fleet's presence in this

French Algerian harbor that brings us to Cedric Holland's mission. Emissioned that, the trim column captain with a sense of discipline that exudes from his angular

“serious face is very much not looking forward to.”

It's now around 9 a.m., the Foxhound is entering Mavsa Alcambia's waters. Cedric sends word to the French Navy's highest-ranking officer here. Vicerat-Ral Mavsa Alcambian Jean-Souille, asking for an audience. The French Vicerat-Ral knows Cedric fairly well from his days as British naval attache in Paris, but as a man of "procryte", he won't receive an officer at such a significantly

lower rank than himself. That said, the Vicerat-Ral won't leave the request unanswered either. Abort his flag ship, the dumb cap, he sends his flag aid, lieutenant Donald Dufé, speak with the British captain instead. Yet another old friend of Cedric's, yes, also from those same bygone days in Paris. Lieutenant Dufé is quickly drawn into the discussion, but this visit is a far cry from reminiscing

on old memories. As they talk, Cedric fulfills this mission that he hates so very much, delivering an austere ultimatum. Here's the deal. The British government is deeply concerned about the French Navy in the wake of the new French government, the Vicerat-Ral Mavsa Alcambian Jean, signing an armistice with Nazi Germany last month. Although the Vicerat-Ral Mavsa Alcambian Jean is led by the Great War hero,

Marshall Philippe Petan, it only exists at the pleasure and in the shadow of Adolf Hitler's third life. And given Adolf's track record of broken diplomatic promises, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill and other British government leaders don't trust the Nazis won't use the French fleet to attack the United Kingdom. Thus, Cedric is now presenting his old friend, with a message for Vice Admiral Basseguino Jelsuis, from Royal Navy Vice Admiral Sur James Summerville.

It's written as kindly as possible, but that doesn't change the fact that it's a brutally hard message. The French fleet must join the allies, sit out the war, or be destroyed. It reads, in part, to Admiral Jean-Soul. It is impossible for us, your comrades up to now, to allow your fine ships to fall into the power of the German or Italian enemy. We are determined to fight on until the end,

and if we win, as we think we shall, we shall never forget that France was our ally.

Should we conquer? We solemnly declare that we shall restore the greatness and territory of France.

“For this purpose, we must make sure that the best ships of the French Navy are not used against us”

by the common foe. In these circumstances, his majesty's government have instructed me to demand that the French fleet now, at Ms. Elecubier, and Oron, shall act in accordance with one of the following alternatives. The message then offers four alternatives. One, join the fight against the Germans and Italians. Two, sail for British ports to sit out the war. Three, sail for the West Indies to sit out the war. Or four, sink his own fleet, and if the Frenchman doesn't choose

one of these options immediately, then the British Vice Admiral to clarify us, I have the orders

from his majesty's government to use whatever force may be necessary to prevent your ships from

“falling into German or Italian hands. Translation. The Royal Navy will attack and destroy his fleet.”

Today. Good, God. With the gravity of the situation sinking in, Vice Admiral Marcel Bono Jean-Couille tries to contact Vichy Francis Admiral the fleet, François d'Alain. No dice. But he gets French Swas' subordinate. Who? Understanding only that the British are demanding surrender conveys that French ships in the Mediterranean will rally to his support. Meanwhile, propriety is out the window. For the next few hours, he and Captain Cedric Holland

have a long talk aboard the Dunkirk. But all the Vice Admiral's assurances that his fleet

was effectively being demilitarized already, and would never fall into German hands or for not.

The Sun is Saturday. It's too late. Originally selling from Gibraltar, a strike force from Vice Admiral Sir James Summerville's 27 vessel forced H begins its attack on French vessels. In Mous El Capillots, Harbour, around 6 p.m. His flagship, battle cruiser HMS Hood, along with the battleships HMS Resolution,

“at HMS Valley, unleash their deadly guns. The destruction of French ships in life is nothing”

short of catastrophic. A magazine on the French battleship, Bretagne, and Explodes, she capsizes within minutes, taking 977 Frenchmen to their watery graves. Vice Admiral, Barça de Bruno Jean-Couille's great flagship, the battleship Dunkirk, suffers four hard hits, and is disabled. She runs around. Another battleship, the Povalce, and the destroyer, Mulgadah, are also heavily damaged and soon beached near the coast, all of this in a mere 10 minutes.

When the British guns fall silent, the French battleship, Strasbourg, and five destroyers, swiftly set sail to escape the Harbour. Other French warships joined them, but as much as Sir James Somerville might want to let them go, you can't allow that. With a lovely hingest rope, the orders aircraft from the carrier HMS Ark Royal, pursue the fleeing French warships. The British attack from the air continues until the last rays of light disappear

from the western horizon. Welcome to History that doesn't suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. When all is said and done, Britain's July 3rd, 1940 attack on the French fleet at Mauss-El Capirre, Antenabrine of All, and French Algeria, about 1,299 Frenchman dead. Nor is that the sum total of Britain's move against the French

Navy. That same day, French warships in the English Harboures of Plymouth and Portsmouth were seized. Two died as a result of the British seizing the French submarine, Sir Couff, one British and one French. Cool-headed naval officers on both sides managed to keep the neutralization of French ships bloodless in the British controlled Harbour of Alexandria, Egypt. But later that week, July 8th, the British do serious damage to the French

battleship, which you do. At the car, in French West Africa, or as you and I know it, cynical.

immediately orders his crippled Navy to attack British warships and seize British merchant ships.

“Meshi France's head of state, Marshall Philippe Pétain, revokes those orders, but oh,”

is the relationship damaged. Even the leader of the free French, Sheldegaud, or English-sized as Charles de Gaulle, now an exile in London struggles hard to swallow this bitter pill. Yet, he does. He'll continue to work with the British, and two decades later, when emotions have subsided a bit. The Frenchmen will even say that, he understands. That, where he and Winston Churchill's shoes, fighting for his nation's long-shot survival,

in a war that appeared all but over as Nazi Germany held a conquered continent. He'd have done the same thing. I realized I nodded to this British attack back in episode 189, but aboard an in-depth telling today. The reason is that, today's tale requires

“understanding the complications of France's position as a defeated British ally”

turned Nazi collaborating regime. That nonetheless still has a massive colonial empire.

An empire that includes the very place where the Americans are going to take their first major

swing at the Nazi empire, North Africa. To capture all the intricacies that play here, we'll begin with a basic primer in France's colonization of North Africa, which includes, moving from west to east, Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia. Also, note Italian colonization in Libya and British control in Egypt. With this full context, we'll be on solid ground to follow why Benito Mussolini has a presence in North Africa, how he botches it so badly that the soon-to-be infamous desert

fox, Avie, or Irwin Rommel, and his Africa core, have to come bail him out, and how the allies pincer movement, consisting of British forces coming from Egypt, and mostly American forces

landing on, then advancing from French North Africa, will ultimately put the squeeze on the axis.

All that said, ready to see our boy Dwight D. Eisenhower, lead the amphibious landing, codenamed Operation Torch, enviscied ministered French North Africa, then team up with his fellow tank lover George Patton to battle their way east across these dune strewn and arid lands, as Bernard Montgomery leads his British and Commonwealth forces west to combine attack on the axis. Excellent, then let us begin with Francis' first colonial step in North Africa,

taking in the region, more than a century before World War II, Rewind. In the summer of 1830, Francis deeply unpopular King Charles X makes an odd play to stay

off-revolutionary. He sends his military across the Mediterranean to conquer the nominally

Ottoman controlled North African city of Algiers. The King and his Prime Minister, Jules de Polignac, think this will help the regime's popularity. They even framed the invasion as a matter of national honor, pointing to an incident three years earlier in which the city's ruler, the day, slapped the French console with a fly-wisc during a dispute over a nearly three decade-old debt. One taken out by a French Revolutionary government that the restored French

King has zero intent of pain. Well, the play fails. The French people want representation, not conquest, but even as Francis's second or rather July Revolution, rips up the cobblestone of Paris, and sweeps Charles de Tint out to usher the liberal-minded citizen King Louis Philippe in. The 37,000 strong French force sent to Algeria's shores have already done the job. As of July 1830, France, not the Ottoman Empire, rules outgears.

This French foothold in North Africa only grows, in a little less than two decades, France takes the whole of Algeria. As Francis' third revolution, the Revolution of 1848, gives rise to the second republic. This new government also designates Algeria's coastal regions as the optimal, or departments. This means that, at least on paper, Algeria isn't a colony anymore. It's an integral part of France, known as French Algeria. Citizens here vote and sin

“represent it as to the French legislature in Paris. But wait, who gets to be a citizen?”

European settlers known as Pied Noir, certainly are, but most others, predominantly Muslims and Jews, are not. Well, until 1870, that is, as Napoleon III's second empire falls, and the third republic begins, I know, the French change government's a lot, but this third republic is it for a while,

Muslims. The Arabs and Berbers and these depart to Mal, who want to vote, or rather vote fully,

“will have to renounce their status under Islamic law. Effectively, this means abandoning their faith,”

their identity. Few will. French rule also spreads east and west from French Algeria. To the east, the French use a Tunisian tribe, rating over the border as pretext, to rest Tunisia from Ottoman rule in 1881. It's made a protectorate, and skipping past the politics of the Africa-Dividing Berlin Conference of 1884, that we covered in episode 128, as well as the hard diplomacy of the Al-Jesiris Conference in 1906 that we touched on in episode 1116.

That same fate befals Morocco to French Algeria's west. The Saltonate becomes a French protectorate in 1912. Now, France isn't the only colonial power in North Africa. To the east of Tunisia, Italy takes Libya in 1911. As we saw in episode 183's tale of the rise of Italy's fascist dictator, but into Mussolini. At the same time, Britain rules in Egypt. The exact legal status of Britain's dominance here shifts over the years, but de facto rule began in 1882,

and despite nominal independence in 1922, that will continue until 1952. Thus, by the time Adolf Hitler rises to power, the whole of North Africa is under European rule, and the entire western half is under French rule. Indeed, Morocco, Tunisia, and especially Algeria comprise a treasured region in the global French empire. An empire that stretches from the Caribbean across much of the African continent, southeast Asia's Indo-Chinese peninsula, and beyond.

“And that vast empire matters in the context of World War II. It raises important questions”

as the Nazi war machine blitz creaks in France in May 1940, and as the French government flees, leading the perfectly timed clump of the Valmachs who stepping boots to echo through the almost empty streets of the capital that June. Even if European or metropolitan France has fallen, could the French empire carry the torch? Could the French government? It's virtually untouched and fourth largest in the world navy, and what remains of its army? All evacuate to French Algeria,

set up a new capital, and with the help of colonial subjects, like the half a million who fought

for a loury pubique during the First World War. Continue the fight. Britain wishes France would, but this would require a level of global vision and risk tolerance far beyond current French leadership. Instead, the third Republic collapses, and a new government, led by Great War Hero, Marshall Philippe Petain, signs an armistice. If you remember episode 188 opening, you know what that armistice entails, but broadly, I'll remind you that, it allows the Nazis to occupy northern

and Atlantic coastal France. It makes POWs of the whole French army in Europe, and it permits Philippe Petain to set up a government in the ski town of Vichy to administer metropolitan France's unoccupied Zollib, or Frieson, as well as administer the global French empire. And I say it administer quite intentionally. For the armistice, Vichy survives only at Germany's

“Suference. That's why in battle, lonely Britain, takes such extreme action to neutralize the French”

navy, despite the armistice saying that it's out of the war. And this is why Adolf Hitler can focus his attention elsewhere. Indeed, Vichy's collaboration means Adolf doesn't have to worry about France fighting on from the Collins, be that nearby North Africa, or elsewhere, and setting Charles De Gaulle and the free French aside, the armistice is pretty successful. But the fewer it does have one worry down in North Africa, his air and ally, Italian dictator Benito Mussolini.

As we learned in episode 183, Benito's ideology, fascism, is an extreme nationalism that, among other things, glories in empire. It's with this line of thinking that Benito, or Elduce, aspires to make his modern fascist Italy into a new Roman empire. And in his fascist mind, that means his Roman empire needs to conquer the same Mediterranean territory that the historical Roman empire of antiquity held. That includes coasts of the Middle East and North Africa.

But perhaps myth that Adolf kept him and the dark as Germany gobbled up bits pieces, then

finally large swaths of continental Europe, Elduce doesn't give the fewer much of a heads up

before sending his armies forth. And that's a problem for Adolf, because it soon becomes apparent

thing. In October, 1940, Benito informs Adolf of the impending invasion. Fear, we are on the march, victorious Italian troops cross the Greco Abanian frontier at dawn today. But the attack goes badly,

“downright awful. German control of the Balkans and the crucial oil fields of access allied”

Romania are at stake. Basically, the Italian army falls so flat on its face that Adolf has no

choice but to absorb the distraction of sending the Valmacht and Luftwaffe to bail out Ilduce. During it takes Greece by May of 1941 but only after diverting forces that Adolf would have preferred to use elsewhere. And this isn't even Benito's only screw up. Around the same time as the Greek disaster in September 1940, Italian forces marched east from their north African colony of Libya and into British controlled Egypt. Side note, of course they march east. To the west is French

North Africa and like Germany, Italy has an armistice with France as well. The Italian attack against Egypt threatens to open a path to rich oil fields in the Middle East and of course, seafaring Britain's great treasure, the Suez Canal. But as in Greece, Italian forces prove less than capable here. In fact, the Italians are losing ground. British forces not only push the Italian invasion back, but take much of eastern Libya, a region known as Serenica.

Adolf's frustrated. Seriously, with a friend like Benito who needs enemies. Is Duce's proving more of a hindrance than a help, as he not only fails to shore of Germany's southern flank, but needs Nazi forces to fight his battles too. And it's not like the fear isn't busy. As we know from episode 188, the battle of Britain might be settled, but the Luftwaffe isn't done with its bombing efforts. And as we know from the last episode, the Vemacht is gearing up

“for its secret invasion of the USSR, Operation Barbarossa. Meanwhile, during U-Botes are busy”

seeking out light ships in the battle of the Atlantic. All that to say, the Nazi war machine has a lot going on and Adolf has no time for Benito's shenanigans. So, he sends one of his most capable men to clean up El Duce's mess in North Africa, Johannes Alvin Wagen-Hormel, or Anglicized Irwin Rommel. On one level, Irwin is a surprising choice. I mean, this clever, charismatic, and short, Guignaral de Panzotupa, with a hard-lined face, made his name humiliating Italians in World War I.

Back in the fall of 1917, in the eastern Italian Alps, at Caporetto, then Lieutenant Irwin Rommel led a few companies in seizing Mount Mata Yur, while taking 9,000 Italian prisoners and suffering a total German loss of six dead and 30 wounded. In Italian, Caporetto still means a devastating loss. It complete disaster.

“I guess the Italians would just have to swallow their pride and hope he does the same to”

their now common enemy, the British. In February 1941, the first elements of Irwin Rommel's newly

created Africa Corps, whose ranks will soon swell to 30,000 men, streaming the Libya to reinforce the reeling Italians. This combined force quickly pushes back the British soldiers, aka the Tomis, and lays seas to Tobruk. The British captured deep water port near Libya's eastern border with Egypt. The determined rats of Tobruk, the garrison made up of mostly Australians, hauled their position for 231 days until the 8th Army comes to relieve them.

Then, it's back in 4th one more. The Brits pushes far west as L.A. Gala, then a force back to Tobruk again. And then, it's in the Egypt one more, where the British and Commonwealth forces hold back Irwin Rommel, a rather the desert fox, as he's now known.

At the first battle of L.A. L.A. in July 1942.

The feels like you're watching a tennis match, you're not alone. The campaign in North Africa is colloquially known as the Ding Dong war. This is due in no small part to the difficulty of maintaining supply lines in the harsh and desolate climbs of the desert, which makes being pushed back even a little, necessitate falling back a whole lot more. As the Brits in the Germans chase each other back in 4th, across the Italian Libya and British held Egypt, both sides littered

North Africa's coast and Sahara desert, with miles of barbed wire tumbleweeds, minefields, burned out vehicles and endless papers. Then, in August 1942, Shrewd sharp-faced Bernard Monti Montgummery takes command of the British 8th Army. Monti is the victor of the September battle at Alam al-Halfa, Egypt, and a very slow and steady wins the race type of commander.

Indeed, his British 7th Army division, aka the desert rats, are well dug in and ready for the next

“fight as the second battle of Alamayne begins. It's about 4 o'clock in the evening, October 28th,”

1942, where in Alamayne, on the northern Mediterranean coastline of Egypt, where the 29-year-old Londoner, Reginald Lewis Crimp, is lying in a sandy desert slit trench. A part of the British

7th Army division's second battalion, Rife Brigade, Reginald's company is situated on what

he describes as "sort of long, straggling island of soft sand, a few feet higher than flat, film a desert, which stretches off to a distant horizon on every side." With their wounded in the safer, deeper trenches, that the battalion has appropriated from Germans who once held this position, Reginald lies in the sand, dug as best as he can, into this slit trench, that offers him little protection from German artillery or the elements. As the sun beats down,

“he sweats into his army regulated helmets and prays that the Germans don't notice or hit him.”

From his position, base down in the sand, lying doggo as he puts it. Reginald sees a smoldering, abandoned, medium-answer tanks on three sides of his "iron." But he's got little time to observe this. Other tanks are quickly approaching. The Brit's 57-millimeter anti-tain cannons, aka Stitz-Pounders, that's so bravely repelled that German panters advance this

morning, are slowing down. Clearly, they're running low on ammunition. Then finally, they fall

silent altogether. As they do, the panzers flourish forward. They're soon only 200 yards out. Then 100 yards. Nevertheless, the company holds its position. But then, the Brit's heavy artillery, the 25-millimeter's open fire. Reginald breathes a sigh of relief as these massive shells screened and pounced forcing the German armor to withdraw from them. All in separate one, answer for that answer. This lone, daring tank steadily advanced, spraying a shingun fire in

clear its mouth. Reginald to mere 50 yards of distance from Reginald, the panzer pauses. It should be a city gut. But the Brit's anti-tain guns are completely out of ammo. This bold German tank crews gamble is paid off. And apparently, it's paying off at Reginald's expense. Again, creeping forward. This German monster spits machine gun fire as it comes but right up to the British perimeter. The men there lie low, their rifles, about as useless as

spears. But that doesn't stop them from taking me. The panzer halts once more. As it does, the Germans inside swing the guns around. An enormous blast explodes from its cannon,

“painfully jolting Reginald's tin hat. But thankfully, that's the only thing Reginald feels.”

It seems the panzer has somehow missed. Another round flies, likewise failing to find its mark. Processing this, the Londonborn soldier questions, maybe if you can't sink his barrel onto a low enough flame. And the less, Reginald shifts nervously in the sand, anxiously wondering if this next one will end his life. Suddenly, one of the British anti-tain cooperators, or an 18-chat, as they're known, crawls out of a trench and sprints through the flying bolts and sand, toward one of the

north-facing six-pounder British guns. Reginald is gasped. Surely, this is a suicide mission. But the brave A.T. soldier continues on, removing the shell already end the breach of the wrong facing gun. After which, as Reginald tells us, he calmly puts the shell into his own gun. Take steady aim and fire! Immediately, there's an explosion from the panzer, whether the Jerry Gunner had fired again, or the six-pounder found its mark. I can't tell. But the machine gun

cuts out and the tank stays still. A strand of smoke issues from the turret, and minutes later, it starts to blaze. Beasts to this daring A.T. chap, Reginald's entire brigade is safe.

The second battle of A.L. Alameen is resounding Allied victory. Well, British victory.

Though their ranks include five Americans. After British forces picked their way through field martial urban rommels and iron fields, with millions of landmines protecting the Axis Defensive Precision, areas that become known as "garden's of the devil," the desert fox orders a retreat westward to avoid the complete destruction of his Panzer divisions. Had the battle gone the

sent to attack the Jewish population in North Africa, and the British mandate for Palestine.

“We don't know what extent Erwin Rommel would have been involved. His loyalty to Germany is clear,”

while the depth of his adherence to Nazi isn't as something historians will debate until the end of time. But whatever the desert fox is used, his loss thankfully means that these extermination plans

never have a chance to come into fruition. The victory re-energizes the beleaguered British,

not least, because it was against such an intimidating foe. Just three months earlier, in Cairo Egypt, Churchill had exclaimed, "Romel, rumble, rumble, rumble, what else matters, but be to him." But winning a war, as we know, as far easier said than done, especially since the desert warfare presents serious challenges to supply lines. Soldiers and tanks both need fuel, and the Sahara doesn't have much to offer in an entire army,

“let alone, too. Soldiers learned to subsist almost entirely on canned foods. Water”

and ammunition are both precious. The only two plentiful things are, one, a flies, which one Scottish officer describes as "a polling. One couldn't raise a piece of bread to mouth with her to be coming covered in flies." And two, the sand. After all, it's coarse and rough and irritating, and it gets everywhere. Sand gets in weapons, food, shoes, engines, you name it. It's inescapable. Meanwhile, troops are also worried about sunstroke and diseases like disintering. In short, it's no picnic out

here, and yet Monty's quote-unquote rats and other soldiers are somehow succeeding. But sweet as this victory at the second battle of El Alameen is, the fight in North Africa is far from over. Coat Winston Churchill amid the battle's aftermath. "This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is perhaps the end of the beginning."

We always recommend Shopify. It took us from an idea to a real business. We got set up,

“I think, in less than a day. With very little effort, we could just focus on the supply chain to the”

product development. Shopify gives us the ability to customize without the complexity. We can change something without introducing fragility or having to pay a developer. We're thirsty total, and we leveled up our business with Shopify. Start your free trial at Shopify.com/AU. Amazon beat all frisch-buck-in-a-l-t-in-the-logistic-centrum-ex-traffam-yoyeon-boni. So we are ready to take a new bookbore-in-a-t-o-t-a-m-a-m-a-m-h-t. Your glucs-in is for in the beautiful garage-the-world. That's heist. We're likely to be the most beautiful from all.

As we heard about in the previous episode, the big three. That is British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt, and Soviet General Secretary and dictator Joseph Stalin.

I've spent much of 1942 talking about opening a second front against the Nazis, and by late summer,

they've decided to make that front a combined Anglo-American attack in North Africa. With the British out of Egypt, hitting from the east, and a mostly American force striking from the west, this pincer-like strike on the axis in North Africa should pay off in three ways. First, it will force the axis out of the region and open up the dangerous Mediterranean for more shipping. Second, Allied control of North Africa should pave the way for boots on the ground in

continental Europe, likely via Italy, and third, this action in the west ought to hamper Nazi efforts against the Soviets in the east. Leading the invasion force, that will strike the desert fox and his apricot core from the west is good friend of ours from the last episode. The U.S. Commanding General of the European Theater, now named Commander-in-Chief of the Allied Forces in North Africa, Dwight D. Eisenhower. Under his command, our 107,000, mostly American troops,

making this invasion the first major American engagement in the Western Theater of World War II. And their first step is an amphibious landing, codenamed Operation Torch. His forces will make landfall at three points, one along the Atlantic coast at Casa Blanca, in the French Protector of Morocco, and two others from within the Mediterranean at Oran and Al-Jir's in French Algeria. Yes, their landing in French North Africa.

And what of the French? Though not occupied by the Germans, French North Africa is, as we know, in the hands of the Nazi collaborationist Vichy French government. So how will their 125,000

in the last World War, and engaged in the fight against Nazism until their government capitulate

“two years ago? Fight back? Will they tow the Vichy line? Or will they welcome the Allies”

as their brothers and arms, finally liberating them so they can fight to regain their homeland,

like Charles de Gaulle's free French? Hard to say, but given the painful memories of the royal Navy's most recent, and deadly visit with the French Navy, and the value in showing that the Americans are truly committed to the war at this point. Perhaps it's best that the Yanks, not the Brits, be the first ones to knock on France's North African door. Yeah, good call. Meanwhile, a pamphlet distributed to the American troops about to participate in

Operation Torch reflects Allied hopes of a warmed section. To quote it in part, "It is the wish of the President that the first blow in this assault should be primarily America." We have come from afar to hit the common enemy, and we are determined to do our fullest share to liberate the victims of oppression. You'll be landing on the shores of a country whose people are our traditional friends. We are not after the conquest of territory, but are out

to destroy our enemy. Millions of Frenchmen are going to see the point, no matter what, they're Nazi-Fied government tries to tell them. Close quote, "With these optimistic words ringing in their ears, the American troops board, their 350 warships, and 500 transports, then sail for North Africa. They sail with a full ability to read Vichy French naval codes, thanks in part to Elizabeth or Betty Pack/ Thor."

Now, spy for British intelligence, codenamed Cynthia, the stunning and charming woman, seduced the French press attached shea at the Washington D.C. embassy at some point earlier in this same year, and convinced him to help her steal his government's code books so they could be copied. And so, cutting through the Atlantic, fully capable of understanding the French Navy's messages, the Americans began their operation torch landing on the French North African coast

“in the early morning hours of November 8, 1942. But how will the yanks actually be received?”

Well, let's join the Western Task Force at Casa Blanca and find out. It's around 2.30 in the morning, November 9, 1942.

Second lieutenant Edward W. Wellman of the 204th military police company

is aboard the second of four landing craft, bound for Vichyella, or Fagalla, just to the north of Casa Blanca on the coast of French Morocco. The 113 men on these four boats have been tasked with bringing order out of the chaos on Vichy's. The salty spray gets in the men's eyes as they motor toward you point to Vichy, an oil tank fire on the shore, but between the challenges of spinders and the target,

the transports are actually about 15 miles off force. They're heading right toward Casa Blanca Harbor, right where the French fleet lies at anchor. That guiding Vichy faith and following is actually the French-like loser, Primoje, burning brightly after being hit by American naval fire.

Luckily, they've been spot with they think as a U.S. destroyer. The first two landing crafts

draw in the air, and Edward watches as a military policeman on the lead boat. Perhaps company commander captain William H. Sutton tries to get the attention of someone on board. The second lieutenant

“here's a yellin' turn, but he doesn't understand what's being said. Maybe it's the loud waves?”

The MP Hollars. We are American! The overture is met by a burst of machine gun fire. Okay, definitely not an American ship. And definitely not a friendly Frenchman. Only 15 yards away from the guns, Edward watches its shocking form as bullets grip through the office of killing an instant. Realizing the futility of resisting a warships fire from a wooden landing craft, the men know they must surrender to survive. But even as the soldiers in the first boat

stand with their hands raised, some waving their torn undershirts, the unnamed French vessel opens fire again, this time with three inch shells. The second lieutenant looks around and sees as he later recall that the air was full of metal. Suddenly, the cockset who has been desperately madly zigzagging the boat away from the attacking French warship has his leg blown on. Another officer rises to take the wheel, but he too takes a bullet to the leg.

The wooden boat is slowly becoming a little more than shrapnel as a massive splinter applies into the boat's foot, reportedly taking the front of his boot in two toes. Still, he scrambles the wheel. Just as a shell hits the motor, coating the barely still floating boat and burning gasoline. There's nothing more to do. Edward orders his men into the water.

are quickly fished out of the water and taken prisoner. Meanwhile, the few who managed to swim

“through the oily waters to shore are pounced on by Moroccan police. Until unnamed French”

civilians chase the officers away, then use their own coats to wrap the dripping freezing Americans. Right there, you can see the conflict of Vici and real French sympathies playing out on the beach. It's not clear what happens to this group of GIs, but at least they're not among the upwards of 30 men killed in the harbor today. And speaking of Vici, the leader of this collaborationist regime, the great war hero,

Marshall Felipita, stands by the French Navy's response. He makes no apologies in a telegram to President Franklin Roosevelt. False and he'll honor our steak. We are attacked. We shall defend ourselves. And so they do. The Vici French fight fiercely at nearly every landing site. Their successful and part is destroying Rick at considered rights, because they "intended not just

“to fight but to fight with passion." Close quote. They're also aided by unpredictable”

tides and American inexperience. Both are overturned, men drowned. Critical supplies are left on ships,

guns arrive without ammunition. Truly, some of these landings are, choose a soon-to-emerge military term, Fubar. Commander and Chief Dwight D. Eisenhower and Deputy Commander, Major General of Mark W. Clark, are desperate to find a French commander who can stand down their Nazi-aligned Vici countrymen. With neither Winston Churchill nor FDR being fond of Charles

De Gaulle, Ike turns to General on Liji-Hol. On Lee, or Henry, is promising. But he arrives at Gibraltar from France, with a pinching for speaking in the third person, in a brief case full of zone plans for defeating Germany. He believes he'll be the supreme ally commander in North Africa.

“After hours of unproductive conversation with Ike and others, the Frenchmen departs,”

stating in the third person naturally, "Gi-Hol will be a spectator in this affair."

Ike is not heartbroken, not after that waste of a breath of a conversation. In fact, he found on Lee Gibral so difficult, the cans and darkly jokes that they should arrange, quote, "a little airplane accident," close quote, "for the Frenchmen." Again, he's kidding, mostly kidding. Anyhow, on the option too, a man in Algiers purely by coincidence on a visit to his sixth son, Vichy's admiral of the fleet. Jean-Louis Gisavier, Juan Suadette, "Yes, we met this admiral

amid and after the British attack at Melsette Kabir." The naval officer has no love for the grits, but with the allies closing in, he's willing to play ball now. And that's just what Ike needs, a ball player. The American commander desperately wants to end French opposition, so he can get on with marching toward the French protector of Tunisia to hit Irwin Rommel's forces already contending with the British out of Egypt. So, in the name of pragmatism,

Ike strikes a deal with the Vichy admiral on November 22. Juan Suadette, along orders a ceasefire, and in return is recognized as the supreme French authority in French north and west Africa, under the title, "High Commissioner." The world is shocked and dismayed by the arrangement, or "The Darlan Deal," as it comes to be known. Si Juan Suadette, along, is an notoriously shameless Nazi collaborator. In France, he has a hand in mass arrests of anti-Vichy citizens,

and the persecution of French Jews. To make matters worse, he also directly provided Irwin Rommel's troops with supplies. Now in Africa, the admiral continues to uphold anti-Semitic laws and in prisons many who ate it the Allied invasion. To most, he's a willy Nazi collaborator. Not for Tunis that best, and the circumstances of this flip to the Allies doesn't lessen that image. Summarizing the sentiments of many, among continental government leaders in exile in London,

American journalist Edward R. Murrow asks, "What the hell is this all about? Are we fighting Nazis or sleeping with them?" Winston Churchill and Franklin Roosevelt feel a sense of embarrassment, though both support Reich's strategic play, calling the move justified by the stress of battle. But the Nazi collaborator doesn't get to enjoy his position as High Commissioner for long, on December 24th, in Algerian-born Frenchman, that is, Epi Nguar, 20-year-old anti-Vichy,

Ferdinand Bonnier de la Chappelle puts two bullets in Francois de la Lotte, one in the head and one in the chest. I can't say the Allied leaders are too upset. A diplomat bursts into Deputy Commander

quote, "I think the Lansing of a troublesome oil." Close quote, "Well then, as for supreme commander

“Dwight Eisenhower, he simply pivots back to Alonlie Girhol, making him the new High Commissioner."”

"I can then return his energy to the next goal in the Snowdark African invasion. He feeding Irwin Rommel's Nazi forces." And for that, his 1942 turns into 1943. It's time to head farther east, toward Nazi hell territory in the French protector of Tunisia. It's just before 245 p.m. February 15, 1943. We're at a brand new American-infor Sherman tank, approaching the town of City, Busy, and Western French Tunisia.

29-year-old Lieutenant Colonel James D. Alger is leading a battalion of what behind the years American tank crews on a counter attack, chasing Nazi soldiers back toward town. Even though the emphors are new, Tunisian dust and sand have already worked their way into every crevice. It all five men inside James's tank, Steve. Yes, terribly uncomfortable. Nonetheless, the focused battalion commander keeps the vigilant eye out for anything suspicious.

So far, he sees little more of them local Arabs, clowning. All of the sudden, James spies a flare cutting through the sky above CB Busy, more follow up. Radios into command, a siding of dust plumes, indicating enemy tanks approaching on both sides of the column. Almost immediately, brown guisers of soil and smoke rise. The result of enemy artillery slamming into the heart, sunk hooked Earth.

Then, the German Panzers draw close. They begin firing their tank piercing rounds. As this destruction and death plays out, the locals, perhaps long used to living amid European encroachments, including war. Go on plowing, seemingly unbothered, I've been explosive tank in artillery battle, happening all around. Most of James's battalion of tanks is bombed into oblivion in an uneven hill. In our trap inside the burning vehicles,

unable to escape. Cooking and suffocating, they die within minutes.

“The Colonel watching the plumes of smoke give a mile's way radios in. What does the battalion need?”

James replies. Still pretty many. Situation is hard. A moment later, his own tank is hit. Along with two other surviving crewmen, James scrambles out of the hatch, and runs for his life across the desert. The trio become POWs within the next half hour, and to number among the very few survivors of this otherwise almost entirely obliterated battalion.

This brutal, burning barrage at CD-Vozid marks the beginning at the Battle of Casterine Pass for fuzz-cheeked American GIs, learned hard lessons fast. Lessons the British have long committed to memory. Indeed, even as the advancing allies, muster the strength to repel Irwin Rommel's African corps. Their British friends take to calling the Americans our battalions.

“Yeah, given how badly the Italian army has been doing, I think you could get the draft.”

How much? And so, no disrespect to Ike. A tank master, as we know from the last episode,

let's clear that the American second corps needs to shape up fast. And who better

to whip the mini-shape than Ike's fellow tank expert, and long-time friend? But one in all, George S. Pat. Major General George Pad. The 57-year-old, hotheaded, prone to battling tank evangelists, landed in Costa Blanca during Operation Torch, but has been handling logistics thus far, and is yet to see any real action. Frustrated, George Wright's home. I wish I could get out and kill

someone. Okay, point taken George. You're eager to get into the fight, which, as we know from the last episode, is an impatience for action that Dwight Eisenhower can appreciate. Well, George's moment has come in the disastrous aftermath of Casterine. A March 6th, 1943, George Patton gladly takes command of the unseasoned, undisciplined,

second corps. And a week later, he's promoted to the temporary rank of Lieutenant General.

But before we go rumbling forward, let's zoom out to get the bigger picture. In mid-March, 1943, Axis Powers are desperately trying to hold their defensive positions in North Africa, including South Eastern Tunisia's Marathon line, which runs 30 miles inland from the coast. Basically, Field Marshal Irwin Rommel's getting pushed into a tighter and tighter area,

squeeze the desert foxes forces in a pinch of light movement. On the eastern side, British

“General Bernard Montymont Gummery, led his eighth army in Tunisia from Libya last month,”

intent upon forcing the Nazi Africa corps to make its last stand in Tunis. Meanwhile, Dwight Eisenhower

and his American divisions, along with British Lieutenant General Kenneth Anderson's first army,

are still pushing west from French Algeria, past the mountain passes like Casterine, and onto the Tunisian planes. As the combined Italian German army retreats, they give up air fields, extending allied air reach. Even better for the Anglo-American troops is the fact that surprise attacks are no more. Ultra intelligence has broken the Nazi enigma cryptography. Amid these developments and disruptions to Axis supply lines, Supreme Commander Dwight Eisenhower

and his fellow allied officers, hope that their grinding advance will soon force Irwin to surrender. But then, Irwin suddenly out of the picture.

“Yes, Nazi Germany's famed desert fox leaves the fight. On March 9th, Vilnus forces the field”

marshal to head back to Germany. German General Hans Jögen von Arnien and Italian General Giovanni Messie have to carry on without him. Back on the American side, George Patton is hard at work. He tightens the ranks, demanding and is jarringly falsetto voice that all officers wear their brightly gleaming rank insignia, even though enemy snipers use them as aiming stakes to pick off officers. Crazy, but to his credit, he'll be at the battle lines alongside his men,

doing the same, making himself a walking target as well. One first lieutenant, John Patterson,

a later save of old blood and guts that he's the kind of son of a bitch who gets you killed, but he'd be there chewing on your romp when it happened. Yes, George Patton's nickname is old blood and guts, though with risky plays like that is

“signabit, the men soon play on it, calling him our blood his guts.”

It's clever, but don't mistake that for disrespect. On the contrary, soldiers hold George Patton in high regard. A sergeant, Hubert, Garbage Edwards puts it, "I didn't like him a bit, but I had to respect him because he was a known fighter." Yes, Garbage is Hubert's nickname. He picked it up for being one of the few Americans not disgusted by the English cuisine served on their ships on route to North Africa last year.

But it's great of an accomplishment as concrete English fair is, Garbage has much bigger worries as the allies tighten the news on their cornered Nazi fall. It's just before 3 p.m. March 23, 1943. We're crouching in the muddy Tunisian desert of Elgitar,

with sergeant Hubert Garbage Edwards and fellow battery, all apart of the second battalion

of the 17th field artillery in the second armand division, aka the Hell on the Wheel Division. German fighters, Zumabah, the machine gun, spitting, providing cover for a dozen U87 Stuka dive bombers, and advancing 50 ton pansers, happy to crush American soldiers in shallow slit jerks, if the opportunity arises. Those bolt spitting fighters are precisely why Garbage and his fellow battery operators are so low to the ground, and his one message meant via 109 comes low with

strafing fire. Garbage is hitting his limit. It's time to get bolt. He shouts to his fellow battery, Michael Neem. Come on, Mike. Where are you going? To my Jeep. When that guy comes back, I'm going to take care of him. The sergeant sprints to the 50 caliber machine gun mounted on nearby Jeep. Mike has hot on his heels, ready to help with felt of ammunition. Garbage swings the gun around, toward the sound of the approaching message meant,

as the fighter comes in for another round of strafing fire. Garbage bellows. He's on his way again. Mike answers, "Give him hell, give him hell!" And that, he does. Garbage fires, armor piercing rounds directly into the plane's engine. The Nazi aircraft bursts into flames. He garbage watches as it crashes, blazing into the ground. The Battle of Elgatar is fought less than a month after George Patton takes command of the second

corps, and it's a jaunty feather in his cap. By the battles end in April, it's a morale boosting American victory. One that brings a swift end to those British-made comparisons between Americans and Italians. The final two months of the Tunisia campaign are marked by a series of tank battles and scrappy fights for individual hills. Fights that continue to squeeze the Germans into a smaller and smaller space. The writing is on the wall. So much so, the George hands commanded the second

corps to general Omar Bradley, which the tank genius needs to do so he can focus on preparations

recapturing the bombed out port city of dessert Tunisia. At the same time, British forces are

“entering Tunis. Ah, that means the pincer has now closed. The Nazis realize that there's nothing to be”

done now, except hope that the terms of surrender are generous. It's May 12, 1943. We're writing into the Africa Corps in Canada. At Saint-Malé du Zit, Tunisia with two British generals, fifth corps commander Charles Alfrey and fourth Indian division commander, Francis Tucer. They're here, of course, to receive this Nazi army surrender. Francis and Charles exit their vehicle, feeling the weight of hundreds of access eyes following them.

The two Brits walked through the ravine hitting the hand and are soon faced to face with their

counterparts. Nazi generals, Ponschok and Fun Arna and Hans Kahn. The two parties stand in

Jarring contrast. The Brits are dressed in dusty boots and worn out trousers. Francis is in a simple

“pullover. Exactly the sort of look you'd expect from men engaged in hard desert fighting.”

But opposite of them, the two Germans are dressed to the nines. Both are along wasted tunics and polished writing boots. And the contrast only grows as they start to talk. With a touch of dry British humor and mockery, Francis Tucer introduces himself with a German flair, as General de Fontuca. Okay, Tucer played this game. Ponschok and Fun Arnaim answers, but not in English, despite speaking the language quite well. Instead, he uses French,

explaining through an interpreter that, "I cannot alter Hitler's orders by self-endling, all remaining forces in North Africa." Well, if that's the Nazi's final reply, Charles Alfrey has a blunt retort. He tells the Nazi leaders that, "That's the situation." Then,

“"Well, blow you off the map." He then gives the English speaking, but unwilling,”

German General 15 minutes to prepare to leave, as a prisoner. After surrendering all prison weapons as well, naturally. Well, that does change things a bit. Ponschoken rages, throwing a small tension as he flings his automatic Walther P38 handgun on the table. Francis responds by calmly demanding the Nazi's pocket knife, too. The well-dressed German goes beat red as he throws it on the table, and with that, the surrender moves forward.

Allied soldiers are over the moon. We get a taste of that joy in 24-year-old enlisted American soldier Wallace Erwin Juniors, Snarky Poem, bidding the Nazi's farewell, which he writes as the surrender goes into effect the next day, May 13, 1943. Jürgen J. Fun Arnaim, or an iron-plated monocle, but he could not see behind him. That wasn't that agronical. He fought a rear guard action, and he did it very bitterly, with booby traps and telemines and

gallant sons of Italy. Three days later, May 16, Jürgen Fun Arnaim arrives in London. Church bells sound welcoming the Nazi prisoner of war into the British capital. Allied victory in North Africa is sealed. This acts as surrender in North Africa is huge. I really can't overstate this. I mean, after the fall of France, it all Hitler had thought his supreme victory was by a matter of time, and that wasn't an unfair

take. Many of the world over, like Vichy French collaborators, thought the same. But now,

for the first time, ever, the Nazis have lost a major campaign and massive stretch of territory

to say nothing of the loss of men. It combined 230,000 Germans and Italians are taken as prisoners of war. Some troops and equipment escape this fate, such as Erwin Rahmel, of course, who's already back in the thoughterland. But on the whole, this is nothing less than an ally to triumph in an access catastrophe. And while it's the British commanders, not the Americans, who accept the official Nazi surrender, Uncle Sam's boys are just a finally proud.

Between landing in French North Africa in November 1942, and this sweet victory in May 1943, he really commended their own. Green as grass-American GIs have transformed into seasoned veterans. They've learned to hate Germans with a passion. This is no longer someone else's war. It's theirs just as much. And now, armed with that experience, confidence, and sense of ownership, it's time to take this fight in Europe itself. And the plan for that is already set.

See, while American British and free French troops were busy fighting their German Italian

leaders, I mean two of the big three. US President Franklin Roosevelt and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill. Soviet Secretary Joe's installing got an invite, but declined, citing the east front offensive against Germany as need me as full attention. The dynamic duo came together in Casa Blanca, Morocco, for 10 days,

“from January 14 to the 24th, 1943. Franklin and Winston made two key decisions here.”

First, falling there at Atlantic Charter's previously stated post-war desire,

for disarmament and collective security, they adopted a joint policy of unconditional surrender. This means none of the allies will try to seek a separate piece with Adolf Hitler's Germany. FDR was clear to note, though, that unconditional surrender means that destruction of the philosophies in those countries, which are based on conquest and the subjugation of other people, and not the destruction of the people themselves.

Second, since things in North Africa were slowly going into allies' favor. Remember, this was still months before victory, back in January 1943. It seemed like playing the next step after this campaign's likely success was in order.

“A continuation of the promises made to Joe's installing, you might say.”

In other words, the next step is breaching the fortress of Europe. Now, ultimately, they want

to land in France. But first, they'll take advantage of their control of North Africa, kit what Winston has long called the underbelly of Europe. They'll strike from the Mediterranean. First, seizing the island of Sicily, then moving up the Italian peninsula. After all, getting rid of Italy as a Nazi ally would do wonders for slowing the German war machine. And so, with the Axis forces completely vanquished in North Africa in the summer of 1943,

the moment has come to put the cost of block of conference plans into action. Next time, we'll accompany the allies on a treacherous amphibious attack into the heart

of an Axis power itself. It's time for the invasion of Italy.

“History that doesn't suck is created and hosted by me, Greg Jackson,”

episode researched and written by Greg Jackson and Ella Henerson, production by airship, audio editing by Muhammad Shazay, sound designed by Molly Bach, theme music composed by Greg Jackson, arrangement and additional composition by Lindsay Graham of airship. For bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit htdspodcast.com. htds is supported by fans at htdspodcast.com/memorship. My gratitude to

councils providing funding to help us keep building with thank you. And special things to our patrons is monthly gift puts them back to nature status. Adam Gordon, Ahmad Chapman, Andrew Mason, Andrew Sherwin, Anna Inputta, Art Lane, Autumn Weimer, Bob Stinney, Bonnie Brooks, Ryan Gavigan, Ryan Boyles, trying goods, Bruce Hibbert, Charles Plinden, Charlie Mages, Christopher Merchant, Christopher Pullman, Cindy Rosenfall,

Fully Martin, Paul and Fares Pennington, Connor Hogan, Craig Burhurst, Dan G Daniel O'Connor, Darren Chambers, David Nibush, David Rifkin, Grante Spencer, Donald Moore, Eli Edwards, Lisbeth Christianson, Ellen Stewart, Ernie Lowmaster, Evan Thompson, G23 O3, Jeffrey Nelson, George G Sherwin, Derek Griffin, Gina Johnson, Henry Brunges, Holly Hamilton, Jake Gilbert, James Bloodsell, James Bulliew, James Sheldon, Jared Zingor, Jeff Gemsy, Jeffrey Moves, Jennifer Ruth, Jeremy Wells,

Jessica Poppick, Joe Dovis, John Boobie, John Froogle Doogle, John Hoover, John Mesmer, John O'Neighbethers, John Leighbitch, John Schaefer, John Finch-Shaff, Jordan Corvett, Josh Wood, Josh Vestiner, JP Brooks, Justin May, Justin Spriggs, Julian Wright, Hambertholome, Carl Aniel is the Sally, Carl Frieden, Carl Hengel, King Colbert, Kim R, Kristen Pratt, Kyle Decker, L. Paul Gowinger, Laura Norman, Lawrence Newbauer, Linda Cunningham,

Mark Ellis, Marcia Smith, Matt Seagull, Michael Sullivan, Nate Seconder, Nick Kaffer, O'Neighbethers said that, Pamela Fiddler, Peter Cugula, Philip May, Rick Brown, Rob Dresovich, Brock Day, Sam Holtzman, Sarah Prescott, Sarah Trayway, Shannon Hogan, Sharon Beeson, Shawn Daines, Stacey Ritter, Steve Williams, Creepy Girl, Thomas Churchill, Thomas Matthew Edwards, Anna Sabbe, him and Sarah Turner, Todd Curring,

Honda Stoften, Travis Cox, Wesley McKee, Zach Green, and Zach Jackson. Join me in two weeks, I'd like to tell you a story.