201: A Soft Underbelly: The Allied Invasion of Sicily & the Fall of Il Duce

I know you hear me from time to time promoting life shows

“or the H2D's membership program, and so forth.”

But what sounds like self-promotion is actually much more about you, the listeners. I started this podcast to share my passion for history, and to make learning history not suck. Along the way, a community of informed citizens, coal less, and that makes me genuinely happy.

If you haven't heard, I've been working on a book for two years and I wanted to do something different. Something special to celebrate with the community of listeners

that inspired me to write the book in the first place.

So, to celebrate its publication, we're planning the ultimate book club meeting on a Caribbean cruise, May 18th through the 22nd. And I'd love for you to join me. Each guest will get an advanced sign copy of my book.

“I'll perform my live show, or record a live podcast, and much more.”

I know it's not for everyone, so there are only a few cabins available. If you're interested in joining me and this HTDS community for some fun, fellowship and learning at sea, then go to HTDSCruz.com. That's HTDSCruz.com, and use the code HTDS for $100 off. Hope to have you aboard.

If it's not for you, don't worry, we're playing some other events. Thanks for being a listener. Truly. It's about 9 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 Long Champs, where two gentlemen are just walking in and making their way past countless tables and booths, ready to get some breakfast. They're not pear, and no, I'm not referring to the way 46-year-old Moses Policov covers over his younger, shorter, heavier set, and thicker-haired colleague, Murray Girfine.

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 me all. But the contrast between them reaches new heights as they sit at their booth,

which is already occupied by their breakfast meetings third participant.

Seated in Sydney, his coffee is the short life, smartly dressed, and infamous gangster. My or landscape. 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 out fitted for naval service, the Normandy, 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 instant got the Office of Naval Intelligence, aka the O and I, 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. I 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 O and I Commander Charles Havent and Hope 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 O and I think this long shot is worth it,”

and it's to this end that assistant DA Murray Gurfine is having breakfast with Charlie's lawyer, and the gangsters likewise law breaking best friend. And with that, I think breakfast is being served. Let's see how the conversation is going. As the man E in talk, Murray is pleased to find both of his breakfast companions are on board.

Moses Polikoff 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 loads eight-off Hitler and Naziism. He's all for doing his part to bring down the access.

Yes, Meyer is willing to talk to Charlie. It's now a few weeks later, Friday morning, May 15th, 1942,

are unlocking the door to Charlie lucky Luciano Sal,

because he has visitors. Wait, what? Visitors.

“Step you 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 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 the enters, he can hardly believe his eyes. There stands, Meyer Lansky, and Moses Polikoff. unable to contain his excitement, Charlie exclaims.

What the hell are you guys doing here? And of course, they didn't tell him. They explained that Uncle Sam needs his help with the docks in New York. Perhaps they mentioned future intel possibilities about the island of Sicily. Charlie listens carefully, then answers quite clearly.

No. At least, nonetheless, it's completely off the books. The Mafioso explains. Look, I'm going to be deported. When I get out, nobody knows how this world will turn out.

Whatever I do, I want to get 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 tomb starts to change.

By the time his visitors suggest a visit from Joe, Sox Lanza. The answers. All right. Fine. Yes.

The incarcerated Mafia boss is in. And when Meyer and Moses next visit, Charlie, in his new swing, Country Club prison, they will indeed bring Sox 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 Halfidon, will downplay the Mafia's contributions. And yet, in 1984,

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 Mafia's talk to Sicily's Mafia's. All Italians who deeply hated Benito Mussolini, who was the most famous in the world. So, did he provide significant protection for New York's ports? Did his Mafia's talk to Sicily's Mafia's.

It deeply hated Benito Mussolini, and thereby provide the allies with the 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 Casa Blanca Conference, we turned 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 DC 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 on to Sicily in the Dark of Night, with the 500th of the 82nd Airborne, after which we'll encounter hard fighting,

and bear witness is 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?

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, now Etna. Officially enters into Allied conversations

at the Casablanca Conference of January 1943. I trust to recall this conference, and the complicated colonial way of the North African land from the last episode. But to jog our memories,

this conference in Casablanca, Morocco. That is the French protector of Morocco, which is now Allied-friendly, thanks to last year's Darlan deal. Is a gathering of Allied mines

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 Monty Montgomery, close their pinceur movement in the French protector of Tunisia,

thereby forcing the axis out of North Africa. I can 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 a hundred miles or so to the northeast, and once taken, would put the allies about two to three miles from the toe of mainland Italy at the straight of Missina. Talk about a sweet setup

for taking the fight into the territory of the O.G. of Fascism, and of course by O.G., I mean the original Gustavor.

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 cost of long-to-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 remains, might they throw the axis powers off the scent of this allied invasion? Well, some body might have an answer. It's just after 4 a.m. on a moonless windy Friday,

April 30, 1943. The British submarine HMS Seraph is surfacing about a mile off well-duck Spain. It's commander, British lieutenant, Norman Bill Jewel, is tense. Along with two officers and three crewmen,

he's maneuvering a large metal tube up top. Exiting the submarine's hole through a topside hatch. They and their bulky cargo are soon on the casing. That is, Benero 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 up in their secret mission. What's 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 lieutenant, now in the secret of the steel canisters' bolts, revealing its true contents, a petrified corpse and an officer's uniform.

Okay, time out. Let's get some background. This top secret mission, operation minced meat, comes out of the British naval intelligence department or an ID. 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 later garnered 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 mustache-yowed Charles Chomley, and an aristocratic lawyer, the barely-lived UN Montague, who think this "cardavorous ruse" could trick the Germans into thinking

the next allied attack will actually consist of two operations. 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 plans are brilliant. If it works, of course. As for the corpse,

he's a recently deceased homeless Welshman, Glendur Michael, who died after accidentally eating bread that was set out for pest control and filled with rat poison.

Refrigerated and prepped, Glendur transformed into major William Martin, dressed in a full officer's uniform, carrying ID, letters,

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 plain 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 sheriff, 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 two black coffin. The smell of the tan he caged by is too much for all the 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 later described,

what I could remember of the funeral service. Then, respectfully, he places Glenn's body in the water. The officers scrambled 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 on-clave of Gibraltar, Bill sends a message to London, Vince Meat 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, aid off Hitler proceeds to smuggly 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 arrived 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 be spectacle,

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, 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 long-time focus

on a cross-channel landing on the northern shores of France. George Warren's 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,

quote, "more of a liability than an asset," close quote. Potentially pushing a cross-channel landing to 1945, or even 46. Oh, and the commander in chief of the Navy, or Comich, 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 a 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 two-third in the afternoon, May 12, 1943. We're on the second floor of the White House, and 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.

Now, 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. 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 fill of loneliness over the German people

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?

Faking the Portley PM for being frank on his objectives, Franklin responds, "Starting with the same question Winston retortly posed. 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 the NATO Mussolini's regime. And while 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, night to day two, 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,

Colin Illduché, a whipped jack-all 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 tube, collider 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 Brook, 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 stock aid 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 promised 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 aid off, fooled by Operation Mint's meat, and are 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 Pentelaria, 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 at the Allies' ground forces. And, of course, that's the same nothing of yet another player in this and every war. A precarious participant is so very influential in amphibious operations, and can be an ally or an enemy. The weather.

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. Well, thirsty total, and we leveled up our business with Shopify.

Start your free trial at Shopify.com/AU. Hey everyone, it's Professor Jackson.

I'm excited to announce that my friend, Dr. Ben Sawyer, host of the road to now podcast,

will be joining us as a special guest. It just adds to all the great history-centric activities we're planning while sailing

“from Fort Lauderdale to Key West and the Bahamas aboard the beautiful celebrity reflection.”

If you haven't heard, I've been working on a book for two years, and I wanted to do something different. Something special celebrates publication. We're not only going to have the ultimate book club meeting, where each guest will get an advanced signed copy of the book.

I'm also going to give a special private performance of my live show, Ben and I will record a live podcast, we'll host a fun history-trivial night contest where you can compete and test your knowledge with us.

There'll be nightly group dining, where you can meet other history-efficient autos,

plus the usual excitement and relaxation that celebrity cruises is known for. We only have a limited number of cabins left, and right now we're offering a hundred dollars off per cabin when you use the code HTDS to check out. Go to HTDSCruise.com and use the code HTDS for a hundred dollars off.

“Hope to have you board this spring for the history cruise that doesn't suck.”

It's late at night, July 9, 1943. Flying out of Tunisia in V-Formations, 227 Douglas C-47s, 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 500-fifth parachute infantry regiment,

Colonel James M. Gavin,

dressed in full combat gear, James,

or jump in Jim as the man preferred to call their 36-year-old Brooklyn-born and Pennsylvania coal fields raised leader described as having "magnetism" for attractive women, sits under the hole'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 Jella on the southern shore system. They are then to secure crossroads against Axis Counter-Tax,

“thereby opening the way for General George Patton's 7th 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 power winds. Must have pushed the planes off course. Not to mention the danger for his well-trained, but green parachrooms.

But Jim does his best to put all of 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 gained on him. A flood of wind rushes into the cargo hole.

Each man jumps in quick succession. His shoot automatically to point as his static line hooked to the anchor cable gives way, and at least some yelling the World War II parachute was work-riding. Duronimo! Plane soon disappears into the black.

Access bullets, whizby, as jumping Jim and his men descend, utterly subject to the whims and mercy of their sheets and the harsh winds. The night's sliver of a moon only faintly lights the train below. But soon, Jim can see that his worst fears are realized. Their way off course.

He recognizes nothing below. Is this even Sicily? Whatever it is, it's coming out and fast. Jim hits the ground and rolls like a probe. He's fine, but this isn't the landing they expected.

Then drop on rocks, trees, even buildings. On the ground, Jim pears 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 passports. On the pair troopers pay for, as they regroup to secure roads and trails. Despite the mayhem, the invasion miraculously comes together. By the morning of July 10th, jump in Jim and his pair troopers have cut access communications and captured concrete bunkers called pill boxes that would have otherwise threatened George Patton's 7th Army.

Employing an off-used military term, Stathu, which means system's normal, all... Hmm, let's say, fouled up.

that the first action of Operation Husky was, and, I quote, "the best executed Snathu in the history of military operations."

A very fair take.

“Yet, the commander of the 82nd Airborne, General Matthew Ridgeway, will note that he prefers Colonel Jim Gavin's description better.”

To quote, "Jump in Jim of the 500th, 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 in equipment onto the island makes day one feel like a victory. That said, the fighting heats up the next day, July 11th, when the Germans push on the American center line at Jella Beach.

Yes, right where jumping Jim and the 500th 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 fighting here and across the island takes its toll. The Allies suffered 2300 casualties by the day's end. Trying to replenish forces, General George Patton calls for 2,000 more paratroopers to drop in from the 500th regiment.

“But after a full day of striking fire from the German Lufthava, the incoming Allied transport aircraft are mistaken for a German air raid.”

Firing anti-aircraft into the Dark Knight sky, Allied friendly fire takes down 23 of their own planes and damages 37, leaving 88 dead, 162 wounded, and 69 missing an 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 Monti, as we know this discerning Brit with a well-trimmed moustache and aqualine nose, requests a shift in his boundaries to allow him to move up through central Sicily.

British General Harold Alexander, or again, just Alex, is cool if 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 mirror 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 casserine pass back in February. A snap food we covered in the last episode, as I'm sure you recall.

“And the truth is that Alex, who, all remind you, is calling the shots on the ground,”

trusts the still better season to 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 Agri Gento. That done, old, blood and guts, then takes things one step further.

He captures Agri Gento on July 15, 1943. From there, he argues to Alex that he should drive to the northwestern coast of Sicily,

while Monty and the 8th Army work at getting to the essential port of Missina,

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. While George just ignores the revocation, saying that the message was "garbled" when transmitted. The US 7th Army sweeps northwest from the center of Sicily,

covering over 100 miles and 3 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 welcomed the Americans with a spontaneous outpour of cheers and flowers. Nor are the people of Palermo, the only Italians fed up with the Luce.

While he won an adoration, building an empire, and seemed to outwit and outplay the League of Nations, and heavyweight nations, like Britain, in the 1930s, all of which we saw, while meeting you due to J. 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 distinct words of his biographer, Jasper Ridley, quote, Mussolini had committed the one unpartnable crime of a dictator. He was losing a war, closed quote. And so, only days after George Patton takes Palermo, in a meeting that drags from the evening of Saturday, July 24 into the early hours of the 25th, the grand council of fascism votes 19-7

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 do nothing.

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 and is next meeting”

with the king. And wouldn't you know, his majesty would like to see El Duché today. It's about five o'clock in the afternoon, Sunday, July 25th, 1943. A sleek, lansia asura, or perhaps an alpha Romeo, is just pointed off the Via Salaria, and onto the stunning grounds of the Italian royal estate in northeastern Rome,

known as the Via Savoy. The vehicle continues along the gravel, passing the ancient pines and homoels,

the breathtaking gardens, and finally coming to a stop at the royal residence.

The yellow-hued palatzina Priyad. Smartly dressed in a dark blue suit and brown fedora. It'll do Chay steps out of the car with his leather briefcase in hand. Telling his body guards to stay put, he walks on alone, taking little note of the extra armed guards,

or kind of being nevy behind the hedges. Preaching the door, Benito is greeted by an immaculately moustache-yod man, dressed in a martial vitally uniform. That's right. It's the king of Italy himself.

Victor Emanuel III. The two men head into small drying.

“And even after 20 years at the head of Italy's government,”

what an odd sight they make. Standing at five-foot seven on a good day, 61-year-old Staki barrel-chested Benito, towers over 73-year-old Victor's barely five-foot and life-frame. Centuries of royal inbreed have left this proud relic

with moustache and legs. Anyhow, once situated Benito begins,

as he always does in their meetings,

within update on the military and domestic situation. But Victor breaks from the usual procedure by cutting him off. My dear Tut Chay. 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 moustcellini'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 to 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 L. D. Chay, like the shell from a three or five houtzer. The king repeats over and over. 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 incite. I realized the people's hatred. I had no difficulty recognizing it's last night

in the midst of the Grand Council. When 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 due to Chay'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 car. When the captain of the Caribbean Yeti approaches, he calls to Benito. Do Chay, I have been ordered by the king to protect your person. An officer grabs the long-time 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 in the room's famous thoroughfare. Via del Tritone. Sitesis, wake up, Mussolini is finished! The car will storm Piazza fills with dirt, laughter and tears, and even bonfires burning furniture from the fascist party headquarters.

And all night long, the city reams with shout-a. Dibellitalia! From Vida Beverba, Flaute, they shout an Anseigum Anseigum. That's enough, and there's a lot to tell.

Stop, ask the recruiting spirals. With Stepstone Alljobs, an Anseigum Anseigum for a year,

So let's start with about 75% cost,

and they're always flexible.

“Now let's take a look at Stepstone.de/alljobs.”

Stepstone, easy to find the real talent for all jobs. It's your garden star club for the cooling, by action, quality and the smallest price in hand. In the world, mini-capten seagulls, only 24, 18, or garden-touch garden-sharing, only 21, 18.

In the case of all garden products, and in the action app, action, little price, big joy. It's true. Benito Mussolini is out of power, and a prisoner, although the narrative is protective custody.

And it seems the Italian people largely love it. But just because Ilduce is out, doesn't mean that Italy is out of the war. The pact is steel signed by Germany and Italy in 1939, remains very much in place,

which is why Benito's successor as Prime Minister,

Marshall Pietro Badoio, announces that the war will continue. This is the Italian government's official position, and the key word there is official.

“At the very same time, the Italian government is quietly opening peace talks with the Allies,”

far away from German years in neutral Portugal. And so, even as news of Ilduce's downfall rocks the world, and puts Italy on a discreet path towards an armistice. The fight for Sicily must continue. General George Patton of the U.S. sanitarmi 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 has 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 U.S. 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, all blood and guts and his yanks are facing the same obstacles as Monty and his brits.

The jagged, rough ground that forms the base of Mount Etna, fierce German fortifications. In other words, both racing armies are equally stalled. But little due George Romante no,

“that the German forces here are not aiming to hold out”

as we saw the Americans do in the Philippines in Episode 97. No, this is more of a less intense reverse-done curtain 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 survived fighting another day, and positions them to hold Italy if as Adolf Hitler now suspects. His acts as ally, Italy, wavers on its dedication to the packed of steel.

But 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 reached the fight. Meanwhile, starting on July 31, 1943,

the famous first division that we heard so much about in our first World War episodes.

Yes, the big red one. Faces hard fighting, trying to take Troina and Central Sicily. The hill tops and rocky crags provide excellent cover for the Axis forces. As for the yanks, their path up the expansive and open, undulating hills you low, make them easy targets.

Mid the fighting. Private James William Bill Reese's mortar squad pummel's advancing Germans. When the squad gets down to its last three shells, Bill, as the private's friends call him,

orders them in 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 a last. This is real life, not a movie. The Germans riddle the brave Pennsylvania with bullets. Postomously, he will be honored for his excellence in 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 130 in the afternoon. August 10th, 1943. General George Patton is inside the 93rd evacuation hospital, stationed near Santos Stefano on Sicily's northern coast.

He's here to visit his injured soldiers. Seeing their general means a lot to these men. If his words have encouraged men, respect me even more. As he walks through the receiving tent,

George comes across private Paul G. Bennet. The 21-year-old South Carolina in Gunnar, and the 17th Field Artillery, is sitting off on his bed, shivering, still wearing his uniform and helmet.

George approaches the young man,

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 artillerymen, and asks what his trouble is. Looking up at the hard face, but concerned general, Paul responds, "It's my nerves,

and with that, Paul breaks down, sobbing. Sturingly, George answers the sudden 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 just a kid, damn cow,

"you yellow son of a bitch." With that, George slaps Paul across the face. Ben 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 in Shouts.

"Don't admit this yellow bastard. "There's nothing, the matter with him. "I don't have the hospitals cluttered up "with these sons of bitches who have got the guts to fight." Paul tries to stop the tears and pulls himself up,

standing at attention even if quaking. George charges up 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 the wall

and have a fiery squad kill you on purpose. 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 goddamn, wimpering cower. Under his lunches at the general. But he's 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 it looks at the suffering from physical injuries. Speaking to his own violence, but a moment ago, George addresses these wounded warriors through sobs. "I can't help it. "The breaks me down.

"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. I yell a bastard being baby.

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, "Syconerosis 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 shot to use the air as 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, quote, "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. You would have been restored to an normal state."

Close quote. "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,

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, I also know that he'll never elevate old blooding guts to a higher level.

Continuing into the mess your aspects of George Patton's command on Sicily, we also have to ask,

“does he bear responsibility for illegal executions?”

All American GIs largely conduct themselves well and lawfully on the island. It appears that American forces killed 75 POWs at Biscari Airfield. Colonel George Martin, chaplain of the 45th Division later describes coming across, "Three mounds of buys stacked like a cordwood."

but that they had been prisoners of war slaughtered while being moved to the rear.

Close quote.

“The next best documented massacre happens in the city of Kani Kati,”

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, well later a test 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 Kani Kati 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 is in as one for another day. By August 11th, 1943, The German commander on Sicily, Hans Huba, is in full-scale evacuation mode.

“Allied Army engineers work swiftly to clear mine fields”

and repair bridges in hopes of catching him, but when American infantry from the 7th Regiment into Missina on August 17th, they missed 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 Britsnowet, 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 Badoio, 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

without Italian resistance, which is more likely with linear 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 McMillan's words,

plots, counter-plots, and cross-plots. But eventually, someone must yield. It's a little after nine on a hot summer's morning. August 31st, 1943. We're at the Allied Force headquarters near Casibule, Sicily,

where high-ranking American and Italian officers are gathering in a canvas tint among all of trees. Two men of note dominate the discussion. Ix47-year-old Clef-China de Chifostaff, Journal of Walter Badell Smith, A.K.A. Beetle,

and a 49-year-old Italian general with black receding hair as slick as his political maneuvering. Giuseppe Castelano.

“Having communicated and secret with Giuseppe in recent weeks,”

Beetle 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. It's, quote-unquote, "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 Americans. If the Italian government were free, it would accept and announce 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. Beetle 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 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 grief. 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 play chicken.

He replies sternly, "Nothing can prevent Italy from becoming a battlefield, but the Italian government might shorten the duration of the battle

Nothing is signed on August 31st,

“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 falling. On September 3rd, 1943, as British and Canadian troops crossed from Sicily to the Toad of the Italian boot.

General Giuseppe Castelano returns to the Allied force headquarters in this canvas tent in a Sicilian olive grove and signs the armistice. He, Beetle, 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 8th,

a new wave of fear of German reprisals hits the Italian government. Prime Minister Pietro Badojo sends the Allies a message rescinding his agreement. Dwight Eisenhower is living. Face fleshed, 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 with great violence. The furious Allied Supreme Commander in the Mediterranean dictates a forceful response. If you, or any part of your armed forces failed 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 on the signed agreement will have the most serious consequences for your country. At 6.30 the following night, September 8th, I could take to radio outgears 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,

“Royator's coverage of IX announcement reaches the Italian government.”

It's leaders are terrified. Stick to their stomachs. What can they do?

Finally, King Victor Emmanuel will mention that Italy cannot change sides for a third time.

Pietro broadcasts Italy's acceptance of the armistice. Here in this, German General Irwin Rommel writes to his wife, "Italise Trachari 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, they're 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 in hosted by me, Greg Jax. Episodes Research and Written by Greg Jaxson and Wilkie. Production by Airship, audio editing by Muhammad Shazze, Sound Design by Molly Bach, theme music composed by Greg Jaxson,

arrangement and additional composition by Lindsey Graham of Airship. For bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit htdspodcast.com. Htds is supportive by fans at htdspodcast.com/memorship. My gratitude to Kind Souls providing funding to help us keep going.

Thank you. And special things to our patients is monthly gift put some effort into your status. Adam Gordon, Amog Chapman, Andrew Mason, Andrew Sherwin, Anna Inputta, Art Lane, Autumn Weimer, Bob Stinn, Bonny Brooks, Ryan Gavigand, Ryan Boyles, Trying Goods, Bruce Hibber, Charles Clinton, Charlie Nages, Christopher Merchant, Christopher Pullman, Cindy Rosenball, Fully Martin,

Fallen Faire's Pennington, Connor Hogan, Craig Burhurst, Dan G, Daniel O'Connor, Darren Chambers, David Nebush, David Rifkin, Grantey Spencer, Donald Moore, Eli Edwards, Elizabeth Christianson, Ellen Stewart, Ernie Lomaster, Evan Thompson, G2303, Jeffrey Nelson, George J. Sherwin, Eric Griffin, Gina Johnson, Henry Brunges, Holly Hamilton, Jake Gilbert,

James Bloodsell, James Blue, James Shlander, Jerry Zingor, Jeff Dempsey, Jeffrey Moose, Jennifer Roof, Jeremy Wells, Jessica Poppett, Joe Dovis, John Ludwig, John Frugal Doodle, John Hoover, John Messman, John O'Leigh Berger, John R. Ladies, John Shafer, Jonathan Shaft, Jordan Corbyn, Josh Wood, Josh Westiner, J. P. Brooks, Justin May, Justin Spriggs,

Julian Wright, Pam Bartollen, Carl Aniel of the Selling, Carl Frieden,

Laura Norman, Lawrence Newbauer, Linda Cunningham, Mark Ellis,

“Marcia Smith, Matt Seagull, Michael Sullivan, Nate Sektinger, Nick Kaffron,”

Owen W. Sedlach, Pamela Fiddler, Peter Kugetop,

Thor Nane, Rick Brown, Rob Dresdich, Brock Day, Sam Holtzman,

Sarah Prescott, Sarah Trayway, Shannon Hogan, Sharon Beeson, Sean Daines, Stacey Ritter, Steve Williams, the Creepy Girl, Thomas Churchill,

Thomas Matthew Edwin, Thomas Sabbath, him and Sarah Turner, Todd Curring,

“on the stuff that Travis Cox was in the key, Zach Green, in Zach Jack.”

Join me in two weeks, all right, like this, how you a story. But what I wanted to do was not to know where the whole studio was. It's a messer-by-tag-lept-push-soft-behind-the-internet. It's a master's real-time.

“You can say, you can do the correct thing.”

Do you have a story behind it, huh? But you don't understand it. No, not at all. It's just a waste of time. You just do it with this studio. And if you then work, you'll be able to do it. That's right. Save. This is the studio.

Hold your money back. Now you're just going to be able to do it.