The Bitter Sea: The Struggle for Mastery in the Mediterranean 1935–1949

The only concession Eden would make was that he should have one more tilt at the Turkish problem. Perhaps it would be possible to pull a last-minute rabbit out of the hat. Wavell told him that this idea was pointless. There was little chance that the Turks might cooperate. If they did, it would be a disaster, yet another call on British resources to no military advantage. Eden was determined that his Mediterranean mission should end on a high note and persisted. Thus the penultimate leg of Eden’s Mediterranean travels was a flight to Cyprus, unaccompanied by any military advisers, for a last meeting with the Turks. 51 Eden’s encounter with his Turkish opposite number, Saracoglu, on 18 March 1941 proved a fitting postscript to the whole business. It caused a flurry of excitement but meant nothing. The Turkish foreign minister, convinced that it was advisable to encourage Eden more than his own colleagues thought wise, was unexpectedly accommodating about the idea of a last-minute appeal to Yugoslavia to stand up to the Germans. Eden reported home about his success, but when Saracoglu returned to Ankara the proposal was immediately buried.

In the event, weather delayed Eden in the Mediterranean long enough for the events to unfold in his presence. Whilst Eden had been making his way to Cyprus, Hitler had issued the final order for an attack on Greece. The aim, he said, was to conquer the entire country, and thus force the British permanently out of the Aegean. At the same time as Eden and Saracoglu were negotiating, Hitler was meeting Rommel to discuss his plans for operations on the southern shore. Rommel made a most favourable impression on the Nazi leadership. They lapped up the story that this ‘magnificent officer’ told. The German war machine was operating brilliantly. Any problems were the fault of the Italians. In the background Rommel’s own colleagues grumbled about his inability to grasp either strategy or logistics. Regretfully, Hitler denied Rommel’s request to be allowed to launch an all-out attack to recover Cyrenaica. That would have to wait a few months until victory over Russia. Rommel might make a limited advance to the first major Cyrenaican crossroads of the Balbia at Agedabia, but he could go no further. Rommel picked up the undertow in these conversations, however. He was a true Nazi hero, undervalued by his own colleagues in the Wehrmacht. If he could conjure something spectacular with existing resources it would not go ill for him. After all, the Führer himself had assured him that he would not turn away from Africa ‘under any circumstances’. Immediately upon his return he ordered his one completed armoured division to lead the Italians forward. He would see how far they could take him. 52

News of the first German probes filtered back to Cairo. Wavell hoped that they meant little. He had ordered his armoured forces back to Egypt to refit. He was ‘anxious’, but buoyed by the thought that the Germans had so few men in Africa. They could not, he guessed, do anything serious for another month. More immediately eye-catching was the announcement on 25 March 1941 that, in Hitler’s presence in Vienna, the Yugoslavs had paid formal deference to the Nazis. On this rather sour note, Eden reached Malta.

Suddenly, however, the tide seemed to be turning. British cryptanalysts deciphered Luftwaffe signals that talked about some kind of Italian naval activity south of Crete. They could offer no real clue to its purpose. The Italians might be thinking of attacking the ships bringing troops and supplies to Greece, they could be reinforcing the Italian garrisons in the eastern Aegean; more worryingly still, it was possible that an Italo-German expeditionary force was at sea, heading for Greece, Libya or even Malta. Cunningham was ‘therefore faced with the problem of meeting a threat which he knew to exist, but whose nature he could not foretell’. He launched the Mediterranean Fleet into the unknown to try and find the Italians. The same fog that was keeping Eden trapped in the Mediterranean, helped Cunningham. Both sides had decrypts from the other and knew that their ships were heading towards a confrontation. Both sides had aircraft out looking and each spotted the other. Crucially, Admiral Iachino thought he was hunting a force of British cruisers with his battleships. Instead, on 28 March 1941, he found the full Mediterranean Fleet. Although the fast Italian battleships were able to outrun Cunningham’s rustbuckets with ease, the unwary Italian cruiser division blundered into the British pursuit, to be destroyed by the heavy guns of the British battleships. The Mediterranean Fleet had been under a cloud for months and Cunningham’s bravery had been questioned at the highest levels. With the one flourish off Cape Matapan the slate was wiped clean. 53

Yugoslavia yielded an even more surprising turn of events. A coup carried out by elements of the Serbian military overthrew the government of the despised Prince ‘Palsy’ and proclaimed that they would govern in the name of King Peter. No one was sure whether the ‘hidden hand’ of the British was behind the coup. 54 Even the British themselves could not be quite sure of the role that they had played. At least three British intelligence agencies had had links with potential coup plotters. All had expressed enthusiasm for the demise of Paul. The long-time SIS resident in Belgrade, whose friends in the air force took a leading part in the final denouement, was nearest to events. The British were, however, by and large, spectators of a power struggle within the Serb elite. 55

What the coup did not achieve was the emergence of a pro-British regime. As soon as they possibly could, the plotters were on the phone to Germany offering friendly relations. They were too late. A frothing Hitler had already gathered his generals and told them that the upstarts must be crushed. 56 Indeed he wanted Yugoslavia and its bastard multinationalism erased. ‘This fair-weather nation will have to pay for its provocations against the Reich with its life,’ Hitler decreed. It was essential that the civilian population of Belgrade should be bombed viciously and constantly. 57 Once destroyed, Yugoslavia would be replaced by a series of ethnically cleansed regimes. The Serbs would be purged of their leaders. As for the Croats, it was time to ‘stroke them!’ 58 The Ustasha–Insurgents–Croatian terrorists whom the Italians had financed and maintained in exile for many years were assembled at Pistoia. 59 Their leader Ante Pavelic was received by Mussolini with the promise of a new Fascist Croatia. The band was then dispatched to Trieste to await events. 60

The potential fall-out of the coup held Eden in the Mediterranean. Churchill suggested that he return to Cairo to take control. In the end Eden chose to fly to Athens, passing directly over the battle of Cape Matapan. 61 From Athens there were hopes of moving on to Belgrade. Perhaps the north-east Mediterranean alliance that had eluded him for so many months was now in his grasp. It would then be possible to say when he finally does return to London’ that he did so with ‘“Serbia in the bag” for which he has striven so tirelessly’. 62 Watching his progress, Hitler commented that ‘the travelling warmonger’ might be in Athens, ‘but his activities are no longer a problem so far as his plans are concerned’. 63 Indeed, Eden soon found that the Yugoslavs had no desire for his presence. ‘Belgrade is denying Eden’s presence,’ recorded Goebbels with satisfaction, ‘he has not been invited and would not be received, even if he came privately. Strong words and dramatic evidence of the Jew-boy funk.’ 64 Dill and the commander of the British forces in Greece, Jumbo Wilson, did hold secret meetings with the Yugoslav military, but they achieved nothing. The nearest that Eden got was a train journey to Florina at the end of March, where a Yugoslav general furtively crossed the border to meet him. 65 The Greeks and Yugoslavs refused to cooperate with each other in order to defeat the Germans.

By then it was clear that Eden had made a mistake by heading north. The German threat in the south revealed itself more clearly with each passing day. On 2 April 1941 Rommel’s armoured forces took Agedabia, the limit of his authorized advance. On the same day, Bletchley Park reported that another German armoured division was in Sicily in the process of embarking for Tripoli. The intelligence intercepts still suggested that the German build-up would take over a month. The orders flowing from Germany to the battlefront did not give any real hint of reckless advance. Yet something was afoot. Rommel had little intention of obeying those orders.

The day after the fall of Agedabia, he browbeat his Italian opposite number, General Gariboldi, into submission. Gariboldi demanded that Rommel should halt the advance. Rommel replied that his orders were not to advance unless the British were in headlong retreat. Then he had the authority to exploit the opportunity. As far as he could see, the British were fleeing. There were no armoured forces in front of him. Wavell was showing no appetite for the defence of Benghazi. It was his duty to chase him out of Cyrenaica. With Nelsonian arrogance Rommel seized for himself the triple initiative: over the British, over the Italians and over his own army high command. 66 Eden had to get back to Cairo. The idea was growing that we cannot face the Germans and their appearance is enough to drive us back many score of miles’. Such a suspicion would ‘react most evilly throughout the Balkans’. 67 As he prepared to fly south again, Italian troops–effectively under Rommel’s orders, whatever the formal command arrangements–occupied Benghazi. Rommel’s patron, Goebbels, immediately flooded the airwaves with read-backs of all the gloating statements the British had issued when Benghazi fell into their hands. It was ‘a dreadful humiliation for England’. 68

In truth, there was little for Eden to do in Cairo. The dispositions had been made around the Mediterranean, and there was little that the Mediterranean-hopping representative of Britain could do to affect the outcome. The one substantive decision made during his final stay in Egypt was that Tobruk should be reinforced by an Australian division and held for as long as possible. The Mediterranean commanders urged this decision. Eden and Dill added their imprimatur. Eden’s main task was to put a brave face on things, and to get his story straight for future consumption. When his Lockheed touched down at Heliopolis aerodrome on 5 April 1941, Eden himself cut a confident figure. His sartorial elegance had survived the journey, in contrast to his travelling companion who left the aircraft visibly ‘travel stained’. The jaunty air that had marked both Eden’s conversations and reports was still in place. This too was in contrast to the diplomats and officers who surrounded him. They were at the end of their tether, sunk in gloom at their repeated failures. A few hours in Cairo, however, was enough to bring Eden’s mood into line with that of everyone else. For the first time he started showing signs of ‘considerable emotion and agitation’. The atmosphere became one of ‘abysmal gloom’. As news from the battlefront trickled in, most notably that the British commanders in the Western Desert had been captured by the advancing Italo-Germans, there was a sense that people were cracking. They spent hours going over the same unprofitable ground, discussing ad nauseam how it had come to this. Out of these discussions came a ‘line’ about what had gone wrong. The whole scheme of sending assistance to Greece had been based on ‘the definite and positive assurance from the soldiers that they could easily hold the West’. It was the generals who were to blame for this misjudgement. Eden had been let down by the military. 69

Eden was certainly wise to prepare such a cover story before he departed, for a double-edged and doubly uncomfortable welcome was in preparation. ‘The great trip’, it was said in Whitehall, ‘has been a failure.’ Churchill was ‘saying he never wished to help Greece’. At the same time the Prime Minister declared of Eden that he wished ‘to exhibit him in triumph’. Whether he liked it or not, Eden was to be yoked to events in the Mediterranean and made to take responsibility for them. Eden delayed his departure long enough to hear the news that the Germans had invaded both Greece and Yugoslavia. 70

Thus ended Eden’s Mediterranean adventure. It took him three days to reach home. By that time the news was even worse than when he had left. The Greek army of the north-east, comprising 60,000 men–bigger than the entire British expeditionary force–had surrendered. The Germans had launched a second invasion of Yugoslavia from the southern Reich itself. Zagreb had fallen and the independent Ustasha republic of Croatia had been proclaimed. Rommel had captured Derna, prompting renewed Nazi gloating. ‘Wonderful! wonderful,’ declared Goebbels, ‘stunning blow for London; supplies excellent material for our propaganda. We are on top of the world.’ 71 The commanders in the Mediterranean agreed, in part, with what the German propaganda chief said. 72 Arthur Longmore, the RAF commander, was heard to say that ‘it really didn’t matter’ either way whether they held the Mediterranean. ‘All we had to do was to fall South [into Africa] and let the Mediterranean look after itself.’ 73 Longmore made the further mistake–ultimately fatal to his career–of saying that Eden’s tour of the Mediterranean had been a disaster. 74 Such statements played into the narrative that the commanders in the Mediterranean were ‘windy’, and it was only the unyielding will of London that kept them up to the task. 75

In fact, those commanders had formulated a highly risky ‘island strategy’ for the Mediterranean. They would hold Crete, even though they doubted it was really defensible with the Greek mainland in Italo-German hands, and they would hold Tobruk despite the danger that it would become little more than a ‘beleaguered garrison’. 76 They warned that Malta was already a ‘beleaguered garrison’. There was finally a sufficiency of antiaircraft guns. But by their very nature anti-aircraft guns were solely defensive. A few days previously Somerville’s Force H had managed to fly Hurricanes onto Malta from the west. But short-range fighters were also solely defensive. What was really needed was that Malta should be reactivated as an offensive base, and for that to happen a much greater effort was needed. Malta needed bombers, reconnaissance aircraft, cruisers, destroyers and submarines. But there was no point sending ships and aircraft if they could not survive German air attacks for more than a few days. The Governor reported that this was unlikely. The Germans had established a moral and physical superiority over the island. Any aircraft that arrived were rapidly destroyed. The morale of the pilots was so low that some of them were combat-ineffective. The RAF commander on the island was having a nervous breakdown. Nevertheless, as a first step, Cunningham ordered a destroyer flotilla to the island. 77

None of these ideas or actions saved the victor of Cape Matapan from the insistent insinuation that he was insufficiently bold. Just as Somerville had done previously, Cunningham argued that it was a misuse of naval power in the Mediterranean to take capital ships close inshore to bombard cities. The ships would be dangerously vulnerable to land-based aircraft. Whatever the psychological impact of their big guns, the bombardments produced few military results. At the moment of crisis it seemed to him futile to waste strength on high-risk, low-return adventures. He was told that this was simply not good enough. German reinforcements were arriving in Tripoli, he had to be seen to do something. 78 The ‘whole situation’, Churchill declared, was ‘compromised’ by Cunningham’s inability or unwillingness ‘to close the passage from Italy to Libya, or to break up the port facilities of Tripoli’. 79 What was required was a ‘suicide’ mission. 80 Cunningham’s reputation was once again saved by another timely victory. He had consistently pointed out that Tripoli was not the only potential terminus for supply ships from Italy. Now that Darlan had thrown his lot in with the Nazis, there was always the possibility that a deal would be struck to allow the Germans to use Tunisian facilities. Already, the Axis convoys used the Tunisian coast as protection from the British. On 16 April 1941 the destroyers that Cunningham had sent to Malta were guided onto to a German convoy off the Tunisian port of Sfax by signals intelligence. The night-time interception combined elan with precise technical skill, winning universal praise. Five German transports were destroyed. 81

Although such victories were to prove the key to the future of Mediterranean warfare, at the time the battle of the Kerkenah Bank seemed but a small ray of light. 82 Churchill described it as a ‘skirmish’. 83 The high command of the German army might say in private that Rommel’s failure to take Tobruk showed that they had been right all along: he was an overrated Nazi stooge. The British, on the receiving end, could but notice the ferocity of his attacks. 84 The Yugoslavs were suing for peace, as were parts of the Greek army. King Peter of Yugoslavia had already arrived in Athens, fleeing into exile. Whilst the Greek forces in the east cooperated with Wilson’s plan to hold the Germans at the Pass of Thermopylae, those on the west coast refused to withdraw to a new defensive line. The western officers maintained that the Italians were the enemy, the English were troublemakers and the Germans were potential friends. Hitler ruled that these ‘brave soldiers’ should be offered ‘honourable surrender’. The generals of the Army of Epirus were a ‘heaven-sent favour’ who would lead Greece into the New Order. 85 Despairing of his country, the Greek Prime Minister committed suicide. In the confusion that followed the collapse of central authority in Athens, British officers, diplomats and secret agents all agreed that both the military and political will to resist had collapsed. Few Greek politicians viewed with favour a plan to carry on the fight from Crete. In the end the British stopped looking for a Greek leader to accompany the King into exile and found a Cretan banker, Emanuel Tsouderos, who might serve as politician. The British evacuated their second monarch, King George of the Hellenes, from Athens in a few days. 86

For German aircraft in the Aegean it was a happy, killing time. In one 24-hour period they sank well over twenty ships which were trying to evacuate British troops. Over the same period the bombardment of Tripoli, albeit shorn of its suicidal aspects, proved, as Cunningham had predicted, a damp squib. The only redeeming feature of the operation was that the German air force, so successfully deployed elsewhere, missed the opportunity to sink a British battleship. He had, Cunningham wrote, got away with it by dint of good luck. The cost had been to tie up the Mediterranean Fleet for five days, ‘at the expense of all other commitments and at a time when these commitments were at their most pressing’. 87 You have to understand, he signalled London, that ‘the key which will decide the issue of our success or otherwise in holding the Mediterranean lies in air power’. Stop complaining, the reply came back; it was Cunningham’s duty to establish control of the Mediterranean, not to try and slough it off on the air force. 88 In despair, Cunningham told Churchill that he understood nothing of what was happening in the Mediterranean. 89 He was ‘blind to facts’. 90 Churchill’s riposte was that he understood the failings of those in the Mediterranean only too well. He was providing the tools that they were too scared to use. It was he who had ordered a huge convoy of tanks to be sent from the UK to Egypt. It was he who had ordered Somerville to get the convoy through to Malta; it was he who had insisted that Cunningham pick it up on the other side and see it through to its destination. It was he who had overruled naval objections that ‘their chances of getting through the Mediterranean were remote’. 91 Once more, Cunningham complained, Churchill misrepresented the situation. He was all for the single-minded pursuit of an essential goal, however dangerous, but his actual orders were to divert forces from the convoy. London insisted on another pointless coastal bombardment, this time of Benghazi. 92

The mutual disillusion of Whitehall and Grey Pillars was the product of the collision of Cairo strategy with London politics. On the day that Force H sailed from Gibraltar with Churchill’s prized tank convoy, and the Mediterranean Fleet sailed from Alexandria heading west towards Malta, Eden had to give an account of his Mediterranean mission to the House of Commons. Eden’s explanation of the Mediterranean situation on 6 May 1941 was not a happy occasion. The speech was ‘appallingly bad’. He rose to a hostile silence, ‘gave a dim account of his travels and failures’ and sat down to an even more hostile silence. Eden’s enemies said that it was possibly the worst speech of the war. Everyone agreed that it was ‘a complete flop’. 93 As Churchill had always intended, Eden carried the can for the crisis in the Mediterranean. The reviled Foreign Secretary stood as a bulwark for his leader. Churchill–taking a wider view of the war–was more warmly received, and the government survived a vote of confidence with ease. The Mediterranean had raised Eden up, the Mediterranean cast him down. But Eden could not be allowed to fall too far, lest the whole government be dragged down with him. The political strategy Eden had adumbrated in Cairo remained sound–blame the military. The fact had to be established that the government was ‘completely hamstrung’ by the ‘sensational ineptitude of our commanders’. 94

Wavell, holding out the hope of a counter-attack, was for the moment safe. Tobruk was a beacon of hope. Indeed in early May 1941 the German army high command had dispatched a mission to discipline Rommel for his failures in front of the town. 95 Cunningham could utter bitter truths because of his glorious victories: Taranto, Matapan and Kerkenah Bank were his shield. Their comrade-in-arms, Arthur Longmore, was less fortunate. He had no such spoils to show. Many in the RAF murmured that he had been too willing to kow-tow to Cunningham, too willing to spread his forces thin in order to support the navy and the army. Instead of trying to make the best of the situation, it should have been his task to celebrate the supremacy of the aeroplane over the ship. Longmore should have forced Cunningham to admit that disaster in the Mediterranean was the navy’s fault. It was Cunningham, and before him Pound, who had padded their budgets with the ridiculous claim that warships could fight planes. If Longmore had few airmen friends, he had even fewer political allies. His pungently expressed pessimism had made him a marked man. Defeat in the Mediterranean was laid at his feet. He was the first Mediterranean commander-in-chief to be sacked.

In the days immediately after the debate it appeared that a ‘very nervous’ Churchill had been right. Italo-German forces attacked the great tank convoy but ‘the scale was very much less than had been anticipated’. Indeed the attackers did not seem very good at their job. The formations were ill-coordinated, jettisoned their bombs too soon, or carried out brave but ineffective independent attacks. Only one of five big cargo ships was sunk. Observing, Somerville concluded that he had caught the Axis air forces by surprise. In addition, his forces were being helped by the heavy cloud over the Mediterranean. Full of praise for the skill of his captains and aircrews, Somerville concluded, nevertheless, that they had got through only because of the ‘luck of the gods’. The German bomber units had been involved in a complex series of exchanges between Sicily, North Africa and Greece. Their base at Trapani was in confusion. The specialist anti-shipping strike aircraft were away. Cunningham took the convoy off Somerville’s hands some fifty miles off Malta. Three days later he delivered its precious cargo into Alexandria. Like Somerville, Cunningham maintained that he too had been lucky. ‘We got through all right,’ he signalled London, ‘but it mainly due to the extraordinary thick weather experienced off Malta and the whole way to Alexandria.’ 96