Mud and blood for 'D-Day Dodgers'

While a host of adults and schoolchildren visit the Imperial War Museum in Lambeth every year to look at tanks, aircraft, uniforms and film, most never penetrate the IWM's remarkable archives. For many years now, the museum has been gathering unpublished letters, diaries and audio-tapes from war veterans; it has become one of the most important collections of its kind in the world.

The chief purpose of the IWM's series of campaign books, of which this is the latest, is to provide a stage on which British veterans' voices can tell their stories in their own words. And what remarkable stories they are - of very young men undergoing extraordinary experiences in battle by land, sea and air, and describing what happened to them with a vividness undimmed by the passage of more than half a century.

As Lord Carver remarks: "The campaign which the Allies fought against the Germans in Italy from July 1943 to May 1945 was, in some ways, more reminiscent of the First World War than any other of the Second." This was brought about by a combination of circumstances. The shape of the country enabled the Germans to fight a succession of brilliant and dogged battles in ideal terrain for defence. The Allies had to launch themselves again and again for almost two years against an enemy of roughly equal strength, holding positions guarded by mountains and rivers, often hampered by awful weather. There were many months of mud and blood before the "D-Day Dodgers", as the British in Italy ruefully called themselves, broke through to the green fields beyond.

The author himself is, of course, a prodigy. He still writes with splendid lucidity at the age of 87, having fought in Italy and become an armoured brigadier at 29. Perhaps not surprisingly, he rejects the view of most modern historians - and that of Americans since 1943 - that the Italian campaign was a mistake. He argues that it tied down vital German forces, more than 20 divisions, which might have tipped the balance had they been free to deploy in north-west Europe.

Some of us remain doubtful about this. Whatever the case for an aggressive strategy in Italy before the D-Day landings, once the Allies were safely ashore in Normandy, operations in Italy looked more marginal than ever. It is much easier to agree with Carver's scepticism about Alexander, Churchill's favourite general, who may have possessed the looks and graces of a great commander, but lacked the intellect and energy. The author follows the judgment adopted by most critics since June 1944, that the biggest missed opportunity in Italy came when the American Mark Clark seized the glory of liberating Rome, rather than cutting off the retreating German army, as he had been ordered to do.

There was never any quick panacea in Italy, when some indifferent Allied commanders were up against superb German ones. The book quotes the gloomy judgment of a British staff officer who found himself at the headquarters of the lacklustre American commander at Anzio: "Lucas was far too old a man, who seemed dazed by what was happening. The senior artillery officer was ... another old man, quite ignorant and incapable."

The German commander, Kesselring, though a Luftwaffe officer, conducted a consistently brilliant ground defence. The Germans never gave up. Only weeks before Hitler's suicide in April 1945, Kesselring's successor, Von Vietinghoff, sent a signal to Berlin acknowledging that he must stage another retreat, but concluding: "... I still see a possibility ... of continuing our resistance with a chance of success. Difficult as it is for me ... my Fuhrer ... I await your orders." Lord Carver's book represents a worthy monument to the British soldiers who fought so long and so hard against such foes, for less than their just share of glory.