The War in the Mediterranean

By Bernard Ireland

A military history of World War II in the Mediterranean Sea, from Italy’s declaration of war to the last surrender of Axis forces.

For 1,000 days the Allied and Axis armies fought for the domination of the North African shores knowing that defeat would bring disastrous consequences. Much has been written about the conduct of the land battles and the commanders who faced each other yet, as the main protagonists realised at the time, success or failure rested on the effectiveness of their seaborne supply chain. Control of the Mediterranean was therefore crucial. In the final analysis it was the Allies’ ability to dominate the Mediterranean that bought them victory but there is no denying that it was a ‘damned close run thing’. In this authoritative study, Bernard Ireland brings a fresh clarity to the complexities and factors at play during this critical period.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Jul 22, 2003
• ISBN: 9781473820463

Book preview

Introduction

For the space of nearly three years, during 1940–1943, Allied and Axis armies battled for possession of the North African shores. To the German High Command the struggle rarely rated above a ‘sideshow’ until the end, but to their wayward ally, Italy, it represented far more. Success would bring colonial expansion; failure would engender political change at home. There was everything to play for.

To the British, defeat in North Africa would spell little short of disaster—the prospect of the sequential loss of Egypt, the Suez Canal, the Levant and, ultimately, the Middle Eastern oilfields. With Japan hammering at the eastern gates of India, those to the west would also be wide open. Following Dunkirk, British military strength was at a low ebb, yet Prime Minister Churchill still considered it a good investment to send much of what remained to North Africa.

Once landed, both armies became dependent upon sea power. ‘Command of the sea’ is a somewhat nebulous concept but means essentially the control of it for one’s own use, while denying it to one’s enemy. In the context of the Mediterranean Campaign, this meant that one side needed to run supply convoys reliably, while destroying those of the other. In practice, such clear-cut ascendancy was nearly impossible to achieve.

In the see-sawing fortunes of North Africa, the capacity to strike the decisive blow was denied on occasion to either side. Ultimately it became the sort of attritional struggle that elevated good logistics to an importance that rivalled military skill. The industrial power of the United States was a most potent factor, yet it would have proved of little use had sea power not been available to apply it where required. In the final analysis, for all their abilities in the field, the Axis were unable to allocate and deliver sufficient resources. It cost them the campaign.

Operations by the Services of each side formed a closely woven tapestry, the fortunes of one quickly affecting those of another. Preventing the delivery of Axis essentials to North Africa called for the disruption of its convoy system. To strike at these required the use of Malta as a viable base. Malta, however, was totally dependent on its own convoys and vulnerable to both attack and invasion. The successful running of Malta convoys hinged greatly upon the use of land-based air power, and which side had pre-eminence in this at any time depended upon the military situation. This, in turn, depended on convoys and sea power …

In this study, only that period to mid-1943—the ‘sea-dependent’ period—is considered: beyond this point the conflict in the Mediterranean was a struggle on and for Continental Europe.

The illustrations in this book have been drawn from the comprehensive collections of the Imperial War Museum, London, and the author would like to express his thanks to Mr Paul Kemp, of the Museum’s Department of Photographs, for his assistance. He is grateful also for the help and understanding of his wife, whose usual extended efforts helped this project through.

ONE

To the Brink

The Situation to June 1940

WHILE NORTHERN EUROPE faced the full reality of war from the moment the Wehrmacht crashed into Poland on 1 September 1939, the Mediterranean and its littoral was to remain largely uninvolved for a further nine months or so. Its calm was, however, deceptive. Little of the area could be described as ‘neutral’ or ‘non-aligned’, with tensions remaining from the rearrangement of national boundaries following the First World War, mandates, colonial problems and local conflicts.

The United Kingdom remained a major force: despite being in decline following the late war, she retained her empire. Of vital interest to her, therefore, was the Suez Canal, administered jointly with France since 1879. To and from the East shuttled her commerce, her administrators and her military. With a growing dependence upon Middle Eastern oil, the waterway had gained a new significance. A vast military base and dockyard had been established at Singapore, but, although its defence depended upon a major British naval presence, the Royal Navy had not the strength to provide this on a permanent basis. In the event of a threat to Singapore, a fleet (drawn mainly from Mediterranean-based units) would arrive via the Canal, in an estimated 38 days, having collected military personnel from India en route. Japan had been engaged in overt hostilities in the Far East for some years, yet the potential threat from this source was subordinated to that from Germany, identified by the United Kingdom as its principal potential enemy.

The Suez Canal cut about 3,500 miles—nearly one-third of the distance—from the passage to the East, while the British were also establishing Near Eastern transit points in their expansion of imperial air routes to India and Australia. Their presence in the area centred on Egypt. This state was no longer a protectorate, but considerable British forces remained on its soil by right of treaty. Behind the scenes, a not universally popular Egyptian monarchy was much influenced, in the interests of regional stability, by the British ambassador. Much of the energy of the Egyptian garrison was absorbed in keeping order in Palestine, in which mandated region there was a growing conflict of interest between Arabs and Zionism. In Egypt itself, demands for a British withdrawal were growing more strident.

Italy, allied to the United Kingdom and France during the late war, had been aggrieved at the settlements following it. Incessant and loud claims for territorial gains and a large share of the former Austro-Hungarian Fleet had made them unpopular with their allies. Both France and Italy had laid claim to a substantial part of the German High Seas Fleet but had gained little (much to the relief of the British and the Americans) because of its scuttling in 1919.

Having seen herself fobbed off with worthless territory, Italy was determined, under the dictatorial control of her Prime Minister, Mussolini, to press her demands from a position of strength. However, despite his bellicose utterings and occasional heavy-handed adventurism (for example, in the bombardment of Corfu in 1923), the British did not accord Mussolini the status of a potential enemy significant enough to warrant defensive measures being taken. British defence planning had, until 1933, assumed no major war within ten years. In 1933 this period had been reduced to five years, but the policy had allowed strength in most areas to atrophy.

British attitudes to Italy changed in October 1935 when, following an engineered border clash, the latter invaded Abyssinia (now Ethiopia). There had been no shortage of indicators preceding the event, but neither the United Kingdom nor France was decided on an individual or joint response. Over-reaction would have antagonized Mussolini and, for the British particularly, would have created a potential enemy on the flank of an important trade route. In the event, the under-strength British Mediterranean Fleet, centred on its base at Alexandria but with detachments at Port Said and Haifa, was substantially reinforced. It was a tacit indication that the long lines of sea communication upon which the Italians were dependent could be severed at any time. Mussolini, however, gambling correctly that the greater powers had little political will for a military confrontation, proceeded. The resultant crisis showed the democracies to be equally indecisive and the League of Nations, of which both belligerents were members, to be ineffective. Indirectly, the British benefited from the exercise of putting forces on to a war footing, exposing shortcomings in matériel and method in good time for remedial action to be taken.

A major problem concerning the Mediterranean lay in its geography. The Sea comprises two basins, divided centrally by narrows that could easily be dominated by adjacent Italy. The western basin, accessible from the Atlantic by the British-controlled choke-point at the Gibraltar Strait, was regarded as an area of French responsibility; the eastern basin, terminating at the Suez Canal, was the purlieu of the British. From Gibraltar to Alexandria, the 1,850-mile passage equates to the distance from the United Kingdom to the eastern seaboard of Canada. Just east of the 80-mile-wide Central Narrows lies Malta. Only 122 square miles in extent, the group’s main island encompassed the fortified British fleet base in Valletta’s Grand Harbour and several useful airfields. It was, however, heavily populated and vulnerable to air attack. This new form of warfare had much impressed the planners of the 1930s, and it was accepted that Malta’s functioning depended absolutely on a friendly Italy.

Mussolini’s Italy, however, was not the willing ally of the late war. Its egocentric dictator (‘This is the epitaph I want on my tomb: Here lies one of the most intelligent animals who ever appeared on the face of the earth’) was bent on the creation of a New Rome. Impressed only by strength, he admired but feared the Germans, while courting the Japanese. The British he considered decadent, but he was still infuriated by their championing of sanctions to be imposed upon him by the League of Nations as a consequence of his Abyssinian adventure. That these sanctions did not include vital oil or steel, and were only half-heartedly applied by a far from unanimous League, only increased the Duce’s contempt. As early as August 1935, before the invasion of Abyssinia, the Italian leader was proposing a surprise attack on the British Fleet at both Malta and Alexandria, ‘On a historical plane,’ he opined, ‘a conflict between Italy and Great Britain is inevitable.’

British Chiefs of Staff began to warn their Government of the perils of simultaneous hostilities with Germany, Italy and Japan. These could not be contained by British forces alone, and, as war with Germany and Japan looked the most dangerous, it was decided to use diplomacy to keep relationships with Italy on a friendly basis, while actively seeking French support. The resulting lack of ‘bite’ in sanctions, and a stream of conciliatory measures, were to be condemned later as ‘appeasement’, but the legacy of neglect in the country’s defences had to be made good. Time, more precious than money, was thus bought. As ‘Jackie’ Fisher had once observed, ships cannot be conjured up by the magic of Emergency Bills.

Italy formally annexed Abyssinia in May 1936 and, with civil war erupting in Spain two months later, tension in the Mediterranean remained high. The hostilities in Spain began as an insurrection by the right-wing forces of General Franco (the ‘Nationalists’) against those loyal to the Government (the ‘Republicans’), but affairs were muddied by outside involvement. Franco, in the guise of a buttress against encroaching Communism, was both overtly and covertly supported by Germany and Italy. Idealistic left-wing ‘International Brigades’ supported the Republicans, supplied largely by an ill-organized Soviet Union. Spain thus became a trials arena for Fascism against Communism, and a total of probably 150,000 men were committed by the dictatorships alone. As events became stalemated, the whole affair became a means of testing the theories and hardware of modem warfare. The misery was to drag on until 1939, the losers, as usual, being the nation’s citizens. France and the United Kingdom maintained a strict policy of official non-intervention. However, when naval forces loyal to Franco blockaded Spanish ports, these units, lacking formal belligerent rights, were held to be in contravention of International Law and the Royal Navy was kept well occupied in endless evacuations and the safeguarding of numerous ‘Potato Joneses’ who were making good profits in running cargoes of staples.

During 1937 mercantile shipping began to suffer aerial attack, then, more sinisterly, torpedoings by submarines purporting to be Spanish but widely known to be Italian. The latter were gaining operational experience but, under threat of their being branded ‘pirates’, two were ceded by Italy to the Nationalist Navy in order to give them a gloss of legitimacy. As attacks continued, the British and French invited all interested parties (including the ostensibly innocent Italians) to a conference at Nyon. Eighty anti-submarine warships and flying boats were pledged to eliminate the nuisance. They were not required, for the obvious resolve of the democracies was sufficient for Mussolini quietly to call the adventure off.

On 1 September the British destroyer Havock was unsuccessfully attacked by the Italian submarine Iride. This, one of several incidents, showed that the newly developed asdic (sonar) gear, upon which so much depended, was a good deal less than perfect. Beyond those who actually used it, much of the Navy regarded the equipment as little short of miraculous, but in practice it had poor performance in a seaway or at fleet speeds, while it also had limited arcs of detection.

One benefit arising from this episode, however, was the establishment of an Operational Intelligence Centre (OIC) for the tracking and identification of the ‘mystery’ submarines. This was co-ordinated with a network of direction finding (D/F) stations, whose intercepts were sent directly by teleprinter to a central crypotographic facility. With separate Surface and Submarine Tracking Rooms, the organization formed the nucleus of what was to become a vital element in winning the Battle of the Atlantic, yet in the future. A further matter of concern was the inability of warships to defend themselves from air attack. Of 81 attacks on merchantmen, six resulted in sinkings and 29 in damage. Slow, unescorted targets such as these were one thing, but seventeen damaged warships was another matter—and a worrying portent.

In February 1939 France and the United Kingdom accepted the inevitable by recognizing the Franco government. Thus they accepted a further European dictatorship, albeit one known to be exhausted. The best that could be hoped for from Spain in the event of war was a hostile neutrality, but even this was preferable to a committed alignment with the Axis.

The extra duties assumed by the Royal Navy during the Spanish war served only to underline their experience of the Abyssinian crisis. The British were totally unprepared for full-scale hostilities. A policy of avoiding any annoyance of Italy allowed the assembled ships to return to the Home and Far East stations from which they had been recalled, and where the longer-term threats were greatest. Little comfort could be drawn from the reluctance of the French to commit themselves firmly to co-operation at sea in the event of a Mediterranean war.

Paradoxically, the tough-talking Mussolini was far from keen to precipitate such a conflict. Apprehensive of the consequences of being irretrievably attached to the Hitler juggernaut, he hedged on closer ties by making impossible demands for war matériel. These, as intended, were summarily rejected. Publicly declaring the inevitability of war against the British and/or the French, Mussolini recognized the British Prime Minister, Chamberlain, as a conciliator and did not make his political life difficult. The Foreign Secretary, Eden, was a different matter: he believed in pushing for hard sanctions and persuading the French to agree. Unable to sway the opinions of his chief, Eden resigned—much to the Italians’ relief. Increasingly alarmed at Italy’s attitudes, Britain began to discuss with France in March 1939 the safeguarding of maritime interests in the Mediterranean and Europe. It was anticipated that the opening onslaught by the combined dictatorships would be contained. Germany would be held in check while her weaker partner was defeated; then, their resources having been suitably built up, the democracies would mount the final offensive against Hitler.

With Italy now to be included in its calculations, the Royal Navy’s plans were thrown away. Gibraltar and Malta had been considered adequate from which to meet any eventuality in the Mediterranean, but the practical demonstrations of air power in Spain had underlined the doubts over holding Malta. Alexandria had never been developed as a fleet base: it had not been required, and Britain’s long-term future in Egypt was unclear. Without the use of Malta, however, it would not be possible to support a fleet in the eastern basin. Famagusta in Cyprus was considered, but rejected as being too close to Turkish territory. Turkey had been an enemy during the late war but now, as a strategically significant neutral country, was being wooed actively by the combined democracies.

Early in 1939 Italy invaded Albania, increasing the Turks’ apprehension at Mussolini’s further ambitions in the area. Their suspicion grew when, in May 1939, Italy and Germany entered into a Tact of Steel’. This was encouraged by Italy to prevent Germany successfully attracting Japan into a triple Axis. Japan was seen as very likely to draw the two countries into a general conflict with the United States—which promised a dire fate for all. Oddly, at this time, Japan was refusing to join Germany for the same reason—the fear of being drawn into a war with the combined Americans and British.

In the light of later events, it is worth noting some of the stipulations of the ‘Pact of Steel’, including (a) that the two Powers would remain closely in contact and agree on all questions of mutual interest; (b) that there would be immediate consultation in the event that those interests were endangered; and (c) that, if either party became involved in military action, the other would come to its aid with all available forces. It now took only a few concessions from the British and French to agree a mutual defence policy with a thoroughly alarmed Turkey. At a stroke, Italy had contrived to deprive herself of her essential supplies of Soviet oil, all of which had to be shipped from the Black Sea through Turkish waters. Italian bases in the Dodecanese Islands, acquired after the First World War and hard by the Turkish coast, would also be difficult to sustain in the event of full hostilities.

Still needing the situation for a further base, the British set up a Mobile Naval Base Defence Organization (MNBDO) and weighed up the prospects of using Navarino Bay. Referred to as Base ‘X’, this was an excellent anchorage and, in an emergency, would likely be seized if the Greeks proved unco-operative. In the event, Italian air power militated against the choice and Alexandria was improved instead. This location had advantages in a spacious and unpopulated hinterland for the dispersal of facilities and in the proximity of both Haifa and Port Said for the dispersal of the ships themselves. Damaged warships could be sent south through the Canal to the safety of Suez for patching up. Though materials destined for Malta were diverted for the task, there was little that could be done to improve Alexandria’s base facilities in the time. The Admiralty also had to take account of elements of the Italian Fleet based on Red Sea ports, in Eritrea and Somaliland. These were perfectly placed to cause a nuisance on the convoy routes from Suez to Aden and the Far East.

Finally, an administrative problem lay in the Suez isthmus marking the boundary between the Mediterranean and East Indies stations. It was fortunate that the Commander-in-Chief (C-in-C) Mediterranean was Admiral Sir Andrew Cunningham, who had spent much of his career on the station. While the Admiral was quartered with his fleet at Alexandria, the Army’s General Officer Commanding, Lt-Gen Sir Archibald Wavell, and the Air Officer Commanding, Air Marshal Sir William Mitchell were, of necessity, based at Cairo. Although well aware that political circles in London thought that Italy ‘could be knocked out at the outset’, Cunningham was more realistic. With the French still refusing to entertain the idea of overall joint planning, the Admiral felt that the quickest chance of success would be to isolate the very considerable Italian military forces in their colonial territory of Libya: if they, and other forces in Somaliland, Eritrea and Ethiopia, were to be cut off from their supplies, their surrender would be likely within six months. In this he was backed by Churchill, who was opposed to any idea of abandoning the centre and who anticipated complete British naval command of the Mediterranean ‘within two months’. The fleet was to cause maximum discomfiture and to attempt to bring the Italians to decisive battle, following which their will to continue would be much diminished. An imponderable problem was if, when and to what degree British naval strength would need to be diverted to the Far East.

While the British were still handling relationships with the Italians with kid gloves, Mussolini was involved in a precarious game of bluff. Italy officially possessed over 3,000 first-line aircraft, but his own naval sources claimed that there were only 980. In order to increase the number of Army divisions, many were reduced in strength from three regiments to two, or even one. Artillery was generally outmoded and short of ammunition, while anti-aircraft guns were ‘altogether lacking’. Alarmed at his forces’ shortcomings, Mussolini objected in July 1939 to a brigade-strength Indian Army force arriving in the Delta for garrison duties. This movement was quite within the agreements and the Italians had been kept fully informed. Such liaison was in contrast to that with his German ally, who continued to humiliate him by keeping him uninformed, even of matters as important as the signing of the Non-Aggression Pact with the Soviet Union, which effectively trumped Anglo-French overtures towards a Three-Power Mutual Assistance Pact with the Soviets. His economy had been seriously eroded because the nation had for years been on a war footing, and the Duce looked for means of freeing himself ‘honourably’ from his obligations to the Germans.

In August 1939, without the prior consultation required by their agreement, Hitler informed Mussolini of his immediate intention to attack Poland. The Duce could have ignored any obligations, as conditions had not been met, but he was unable to contemplate the consequent loss of prestige. He therefore again tried to delay the event until 1942 by presenting the Germans with a formidable list of requirements for war matériel, prodigious enough ‘to kill a bull—if a bull could read it’. Hitler responded icily that he was unable to meet Italian requirements. All that he wanted from Italy was support and military moves threatening enough to tie down British and French forces: Germany, once Poland was dispatched, would single-handedly dispose of the democracies. The Führer was acting in response to an assessment by the German Naval High Command (OKM) that Italy, as a war ally, would be a ‘burden of the first order’ and should therefore be encouraged to act in the role of ‘benevolent neutral’.

The situation bordered on the farcical. Mussolini did not relish the prospect of a real war but, boxed in by treaty and an aggressive foreign policy, he could back-track only with great loss of face. His ally did not want his military assistance but could not display Axis disunity by directing him to forget his treaty obligations. Having so long blustered and threatened war, the Duce was now faced by it. His bluff called, he could hope only to delay matters until his resources could be built up. ‘Neutrality’ was a word that he could not bring himself to utter, and Italy’s policy thus became one of ‘non-belligerence’, a weasel-word matched later by the term ‘parallel war’. Mussolini remained, however, a major supporter of Franco and, by his obvious misgivings, persuaded the Caudillo that a biased neutrality was the best policy for Spain.

Britain, still anxious to avoid any offence to Italy, reinforced Egypt discreetly. Aircraft flew in, in penny packets, from Iraq, Kenya and Palestine so that, by September 1939, there were available 90 front-line bombers and 75 older fighter aircraft, the newer eight-gun monoplanes being reserved for the defence of the United Kingdom. While Egypt, with a British-trained and equipped army, was partly responsible for her own defence, there were about 50,000 British and Commonwealth troops in Egypt and the Sudan, facing Italian attack from Libya, Abyssinia or East Africa.

Libya, vast in area, was vulnerable. On its eastern border were the British, while to its west lay French Algeria and Tunisia. All supplies for the estimated 215,000 Italian troops there had to cross a sea capable of being dominated by the fleets of the democracies. Aware that his Regia Aeronautica (Air Force) could little influence this fact, Mussolini limited himself to rhetoric.

* * *

As northern Europe plunged into war on 1 September 1939, the Mediterranean entered a curious, non-involved phase, with both camps preparing themselves for the increasingly likely confrontation. It was always clear to the British that, if and when Italy declared war, her Fleet would need to be defeated. For the moment, however, it was the small but well-respected Kriegsmarine that had to be contained. Memories of the shipping crisis of only twenty-three years earlier meant that defeat of the U-boat arm would get priority. With the Italians quiet, the French could be left to cope with any sudden threat while Royal Navy units were transferred wholesale.

During the period of ‘non-belligerency’, Italy was greatly and unnecessarily irritated by the Allied economic blockade. This traditional form of warfare, long practised by the British, had defeated a Germany that was far from self-sufficient in the earlier war. By declaring a ‘war zone’. Allied warships in the first month alone of hostilities confiscated some 300,000 tons of Germany-bound cargo from neutral bottoms, while capturing no fewer than 71 homeward-bound German-flag ships, grossing about 340,000 tons. While about one hundred vessels successfully ran the gauntlet, a further 325 were marooned in foreign ports.

Blockade inevitably caused friction with neutral countries and, mindful of earlier problems, the Admiralty introduced the ‘Navicert’, with which the genuine neutral could pass unhindered. But, from the same date, 1 December 1939, any goods of German origin were declared contraband, regardless of ownership. This move, of dubious legality within the imprecise framework of International Maritime Law, quickly cut off supplies of German coal, on which Italy depended. Mussolini, seeing Italy getting a poor press, was greatly offended and, through Ciano, his son-in-law and Foreign Minister, warned the United Kingdom that ‘the measures will serve to push Italy into the arms of Germany’. Churchill, now Prime Minister, recognized the gaffe and sent a placatory note to the Italian leader. Mussolini’s response was typical—a public denunciation of Britain’s involvement in earlier sanctions and ‘also of the real and actual state of servitude in which Italy finds herself in her own sea’. The blockade had scarcely constituted a casus belli, but this was the perfect propaganda by which the Duce could take advantage of a war which, already, was going disastrously wrong for the Allies.

During this period Admiral Cunningham’s forces had been plundered to the point where his ‘Mediterranean Fleet’ comprised four small cruisers and an Australian destroyer division. They were little-pressed, however, and co-operation with the French had greatly improved. Australian and New Zealand troops were also now arriving in the Delta to commence desert training, although they were yet ill-equipped. This was against a backdrop of increasing Italian strength in Libya and a running-down of the French presence in Tunisia and Algeria, as units were withdrawn to reinforce the homeland against the anticipated German onslaught. The Russo-German pact was expected to encourage a thrust, sooner or later, through the Balkans to threaten the Persian Gulf, the Delta and, ultimately, India. Egypt’s position was pivotal, and General Wavell set about the task of creating the necessary infrastructure for a rapid expansion of his forces to fifteen divisions. He could expect also to be charged, if called upon, to provide the means for assisting in the defence of Greece or Turkey.

In parallel, the Royal Air Force geared up to a planned strength of twelve light bomber (Blenheim I), ten fighter (Gladiator) and five army co-operation (Lysander) squadrons. Provision was made also for maritime co-operation and elements of the Fleet Air Arm (FAA) working from ashore: although in September 1939 only five permanent airfields existed, the coastal fringe comprised much hard, flat surface, well suited to the rapid construction of temporary quarters. From the Delta to the Egypt/ Libya border wire was near 400 miles. The first 250, to Mersa Matruh, boasted a single-track railway, the course of which was closely paralleled by the coast road. As a

Reviews for The War in the Mediterranean

[Elizabeth Ireland · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

My late father wrote this book and dedicated it to his beloved granddaughter. Miss you Dad