Cassino ’44: Melee in the Mountains

Entrenched under an ancient monastery, fanatical Germans held back the Allies in Italy. We spoke with James Holland, who reveals why the campaign was so costly and how his view of the battles have changed

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The hardest fought battle in Italy during the Second World War came in the winter and spring of 1944 as the previously unstoppable Allied advance on Rome came against the immovable Gustav Line. Threading coast to coast through the Apennine Mountains, it was a formidable barrier formed of minefields, bunkers and booby traps. Perched at its strongest point was Monte Cassino Monastery. It would take five bitter months and the destruction of the abbey and the surrounding villages for the Allies to bludgeon their way north.

In his latest book Cassino ‘44, James Holland draws from diaries, letters and other contemporary sources from those on the frontline of both sides, delivering an account of the campaign told through a rich cast of characters. Speaking with History of War, James Holland tells the story of the attack on Monte Cassino, sharing what he had learned from his direct encounters with the source material and how his impression of the Monte Cassino campaign has changed. 

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What was Monte Cassino’s significance and why was it so hard to capture?

Monte Cassino itself is the mountain overlooking Cassino town. Highway 6, the old Via Casilina, runs directly underneath Cassino and then to Rome. There were four major roads from the south to the north that all converged on the capital. One is on the western coast and it was narrow, with mountain passes and little room for manoeuvre. There was one on the Adriatic Coast which crossed the Appenine Mountains. Another was in the middle, also through the mountains, winding and easy to defend. The only prominent artery north was the Via Casalina. Although you might think the Allies were mechanised with enough tanks to do what they liked, they needed these main roads to move north. 

The problem was that any Germans on the top of Monte Cassino overlooked Via Casalina and could direct pre-arranged artillery fire on anyone trying to use that road. Until they had cleared the observers from the mountains, the Allies had a problem.

The Germans knew that the observers were vulnerable and protected them with lots of infantry that the Allies had to clear. However, it was difficult to attack as that would mean exposing themselves. Meanwhile, the defenders could hide behind rocks or in fissures. That’s why Monte Cassino became the crux of the whole defensive position that ran across the narrow peninsula of Italy. It was the strongest point.

Related: Wounded at Monte Cassino: A veteran remembers one of the costliest battles of World War 2

What situation did Lieutenant General Sir Bernard Freyberg inherit when he was made commander of the New Zealand Corps?

I greatly respect Freyberg as a soldier but not much as a commander. The problem was that the American 34th “Red Bulls” Infantry Division had gone up from the beginning of January and early February and taken two-thirds of the Monte Cassino massif. They couldn’t get it over the line because they didn’t understand the defensive structure that the Germans had created. The Germans had figure-of-eight defences around Point 593 and the Americans had to overwhelm more than 50% of two of the circles of the figure-of-eight simultaneously. They didn’t know they had to do that. The “Red Bulls” thought they were close because they could see the Liri Valley beyond with the Via Casalina running through. That made them think it just needed one more push.  

When the New Zealand Corp was created, Allied command was hoping they could exploit this success. The problem was that when suddenly creating an extra corps, bringing three divisions over from the British Eighth Army on the Adriatic Coast to join the American Fifth Army, they had to make the most senior general the corps commander. The most senior and only Lieutenant General available was Freyburg, a New Zealander. The problem was that he had been overpromoted and was not up to it. The New Zealanders were also massively punching above their weight in the Second World War. They were a small country with a tiny population but offered a lot in terms of aircrew and soldiers in North Africa, Syria and now Italy. There was a mutiny back at home, so Freyberg had to move carefully.

Attached to Freyberg was the superb 4th Indian Division led by Francis Tuker. However, Tuker got rheumatoid arthritis at the wrong moment because he came up with a much better plan than the bombing of the abbey. Tuker wanted to go further up the massif towards the massive Monte Cairo. His argument was that although it was higher, the ground was more open compared to the Cassino town end of the massif, which was riven with fissures and chasms. The Allies could only put down a company of a hundred men at a time on the narrow ridges, not enough to overwhelm the enemy. The smoothed out landscape at Monte Cairo allowed for an attack on a broader front. The most robust German defences were also  at the end of the massif, not further to the north.

Why did Freyberg decide to bomb the monastery?

Tuker suggested the attack at Monte Cairo and Freyberg was all for it. Then Freyberg got ill and decided to go with what the American suggested, which was to continue the “Red Bulls’” attack at the end of the Monte Cassino massif. Tucker argued that the only way to do that properly was to smother the entire Monte Cassino massif with heavy general-purpose bombs: 4,000lb (1,800kg) and 2,500lb (1100kg) bombs, whereas 1,000lb (450kg) or 500lb (230kg) bombs wouldn’t cut it. The Allies had to destroy everything, covering the whole site, followed by an immediate infantry attack. That was a difficult operation, involving the destruction of the abbey. Tuker was still arguing for his suggestion, but if Freyberg was going to insist on the American plan, these were the consequences. 

Tuker went back to hospital and Freyberg did the opposite of what he had asked. Freyberg used ‘Kitty’ bombers to attack the monastery. It’s hard to understand how Freyberg got this the wrong way around. General Mark W Clark, Fifth Army commander, was also appalled by the idea. He complained to General Harold Alexander, the Army Group commander, who told Clark that he must support whatever Freyberg said he needed. The net result was an absolute fiasco because they didn’t attack with large general-purpose bombs and the main target was the abbey rather than spreading their ordnance. As far as we can tell, not a single German was killed. There was also no coordination with the infantry, who weren’t told the bombing was going to happen. 

The bombing of the abbey was one of those moments that didn’t affect the result of the war, but it certainly affected the campaign’s outcome. It was entirely because Freyberg had been given a command that was beyond his ken.

What did you discover about the experience of the monks and others trapped in the monastery, particularly under bombardment?

Everyone was trying to preserve the abbey as much as possible. It’s [destruction was] the fault of the Germans for putting a primary defensive line right through it, with the monastery at the heart of the strongest point. You can’t put all the blame on Freyberg and the abbey was getting biffed about by shells before it was completely destroyed. What was especially painful was that the monastery was home to a small monastic community leading an ascetic life of prayer, study and looking after their little farm. They existed in a bubble and the whole point of building the monastery high on a mountain was to be safe. 

From the moment in October when the Germans turned up and made the abbey their defensive position, it was clear that the Father Abbot and the monks were ill-equipped to deal with the trauma. This was just not part of their remit. It was tragic because lots of civilians were sheltering there as well and many were killed along with a number of the monks. It’s a heartbreaking story that was made worse by the fact that one of the greatest artistic treasures of Europe was destroyed in the process completely needlessly.

To read our full interview with James Holland, including his thoughts on working closely with Second World War primary source materials, pick up issue 139 of History of War.