The Pope at War, page 48
Chafing at his loss of authority, and perhaps thinking ahead to the slender possibility that he could escape with his life from the unfolding disaster of the war, Mussolini now periodically tried to distance himself from the Germans. His protests to Rudolf Rahn, Germany’s ambassador to his government, and to the German military authorities about some of their more egregious executions of Italian civilians were becoming more energetic. Only a few months earlier he had not protested when the Germans executed 335 Italian civilians at the caves outside Rome.
In mid-December Mussolini roused himself from his depression and self-pity to go from his remote villa headquarters on Lake Garda to Milan. There he made the last crowd-rousing appearance of his career. At Milan’s Lirico Theater, he offered a stem-winding speech as of old, regularly interrupted by enthusiastic applause and shouts from his die-hard followers. Recounting the ongoing battle of his Fascist republican government against the “reactionary plutocracies” and denouncing the “traitors of July 25,” he called nostalgically for a return to the early comradely spirit of Italian Fascism. Over the next two days, he toured Milan in his open-topped car, stopping at Piazza San Sepolcro where, as a thirty-five-year-old veteran of the Great War, he had launched the Fascist movement a quarter-century earlier. Not surprisingly, his euphoria did not last long. To a comrade who later congratulated him on the adulatory reception he had gotten in Milan, he replied, “What is life? Dust and altars, altars and dust.”[3]
While not nearly as dramatic as the situation in the north, life in Rome and other liberated parts of the country was a struggle as well. Food was scarce, homes had been destroyed, and the economy was barely functioning. An American intelligence report of the time captured some of the drama of everyday life. Although based on a report filed from Naples, it was presented as representing the broader picture of conditions in the Allied-occupied regions of the country: “In many cases, there is literally no food to be had, and houses are so cold and damp that in the evenings one goes to bed very early.” Telephone lines and public transportation functioned only sporadically. The black market, it seemed, was the only market, and food prices were sky high. “People try to steal—a pair of socks here, some butter there, even chestnuts.” In their desperation, many women were selling themselves to Allied soldiers: “The men are bitter about what they call the prostitutionalism of their women, yet a great many parents send their daughters out so that the family may have the wherewithal to carry on.”
As the American report described it, the public mood was dark, the Italians wallowing in self-pity: “Time and again they speak of themselves contemptuously, saying they are capable of nothing, their leaders are either idiots or crooks, and their military effort a sham…. As a whole they are bewildered and confused, and sometimes they react in a pitiful childlike dependency upon the Allies.”[4]
While President Roosevelt was receiving these intelligence reports, he was also receiving a stream of requests from his emissary to the pope, Myron Taylor, calling on the United States to send Italy desperately needed supplies. Taylor, who had taken up residence in an elegant town house near the Spanish Steps, was now spending most of his time not on Vatican business but on coordinating American relief programs. On January 15, 1945, he urged the importance of supplying “a very large quantity of shoes,” suggesting that a simple design of serviceable shoes for workmen would be best, while adding that women’s need for shoes was less pressing because they were accustomed to wearing homemade wooden footwear. The next day he sent a follow-up telegram detailing the shortage of ambulances in Italy and asking that a large number be sent: “Recently in Florence sick people are carried to hospital by hand litter and in one instance with wheelbarrow.” He added that the words “American Relief for Italy” should be stenciled prominently on the side of every vehicle.[5]
The problem of prostitution of Italian women with Allied soldiers, cited in the U.S. intelligence report, had been also very much on the pope’s mind ever since the Allies seized Rome the previous June. On January 17 the Vatican Secretariat of State sent the president’s envoy its latest complaint. “At Via Babuino, no. 186…there has been opened since the month of June 1944 a clandestine house of prostitution…. This house is visited continuously by Allied soldiers, almost exclusively colored…. The Secretariat of State would appreciate very much the esteemed cooperation of the Personal Representative of the President of the United States in bringing about the termination of this situation so offensive to public morals.” On receiving the request, Myron Taylor passed it on to the Allied military command in Rome. “I beg to advise,” the American military chief of staff wrote Taylor a few weeks later, that as a result of the Vatican’s plea, “the premises have been ordered ‘Off limits’ for all Allied personnel.”[6]
The pope continued to complain about the breakdown of public morality produced by the Allied occupation of Rome. “I absolutely do not intend having Rome become the amusement center for Allied officers,” said the pope in early April. “I did not allow such a thing to happen under Fascism; I did not allow it under the Germans, nor will I allow it to the Allies. Every day I hear complaints about the regrettable scandals taking place.” The pope went on to explain that what he had in mind were not only “public and private entertainments, which too often assume the aspect of orgies,” but also pervasive corruption, presumably here referring to the flourishing black market.[7]
In these final months of the war, no one outside the pope’s immediate court had such easy access to the pontiff as the American president’s envoy. Although in February and March the pope was ill with the flu, he was always pleased to meet with Taylor. “Myron Taylor,” the new French provisional government’s envoy to the Vatican observed in mid-March, “pays the Pope visits with a frequency unheard of by all the other foreign diplomats. With his familiar and direct bonhomie, which has earned him unanimous sympathies, he seems to have established himself as some sort of adviser to the Holy See.” Indeed, the pope and Taylor shared a certain chemistry, helped, as the French envoy put it, by Taylor’s personal friendship with Roosevelt and his “large personal fortune.” Widely seen as the face of American economic aid efforts in Italy, Taylor had become one of the most popular foreigners in the peninsula.[8]
For Pius XII, Taylor’s importance derived as well from the pope’s fears of what the impending German defeat might bring. Since Mussolini’s overthrow, the pope had been hoping for what the French envoy described as a “moderate Allied victory,” one that would put an end to Hitlerism and to Hitler’s puppet Italian government in northern Italy, yet somehow not inflict on Germany “the rigors of total defeat.” That way the plague of Communism would remain sealed off in the Soviet Union, leaving the rest of Europe safe. Now, though, with the Red Army marching rapidly toward Berlin, things were turning out differently. The pope thought American support crucial if Italy, and indeed all the Catholic nations of Europe, were to be saved from Communism’s spread.[9]
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Reporting to Roosevelt on his lengthy mid-December papal audience, Myron Taylor had put the matter starkly: “The principal preoccupation of the Pope is the spread of Communism in Europe and Italy.” Later in the month, after waiting an unusually long time outside Pius XII’s office before their scheduled meeting, Taylor was taken aback when he saw the German ambassador emerge. On greeting the pope, Taylor remarked on the length of time the pontiff had spent with him. The pope replied, defensively, that Ambassador Weizsäcker had never been a Nazi. The man had seemed so unhappy, said the pope, that he thought he should do what he could to console him.[10]
With Allied armies moving eastward across France and Belgium toward the German border and the massive Red Army pushing westward, Weizsäcker was not the only one in a position of authority in the Third Reich who was eager to find an escape. In the face of the Allies’ insistence on Germany’s unconditional surrender, Pius XII seemed to some to be the only prominent figure in Europe in a position to change their minds. The pope’s long-nourished hope that, by remaining neutral in the war, he would ultimately be in a position to broker a peace deal between the two sides was widely known. Now many, both in Italy and in Germany, were eager to avail themselves of his services.
For the Germans occupying northern Italy, as well as for their Italian Fascist associates, Cardinal Schuster was the closest they could hope to get to the pope. As archbishop of Milan, formerly known for his strong backing of the Fascist regime, he was, from the time Rome was lost, the highest-placed Italian prelate in the lands under German control. Among the first to explore this approach was the German ambassador to Mussolini’s government, Rudolf Rahn, who stealthily made his way through a side entrance of the archbishop’s quarters on January 22, 1945. “He is looking for a bridge,” recalled the archbishop of their conversation, “and was hoping that this might be the Roman Pontiff.” Because Milan was cut off from direct communication with Rome, Schuster’s channel for contacting the Vatican ran through Monsignor Bernardini, the nuncio in Switzerland.[11]
From his headquarters on Lake Garda, Mussolini, in what must have been particularly galling for him, used the same route to seek the pope’s assistance. He had a proposal to make for which he needed the pope’s help, and to increase his chances of success, he tried two different routes to get to the pontiff.
In early February, Mussolini made his first approach by calling on Father Giusto Pancino, the priest who had earlier helped him contact his daughter in Switzerland. He hoped the priest could use his link with the nuncio in Bern to get a message to the pope. After meeting with Mussolini, Father Pancino wrote the nuncio, asking for his help to get a visa to come see him. His mission, he explained, was to convey “messages of the greatest urgency and importance.” They were, he said, from Mussolini and his “friend,” whom the nuncio thought might be Hitler. Not sure how to respond, Bernardini wrote the Vatican asking for instructions.
The pope replied quickly: Bernardini should arrange the visa for Father Pancino, but he should take care that the Allies not find out about it.[12]
In early March, using a separate route for the same purpose, Mussolini sent his son Vittorio to Milan to ask Cardinal Schuster to contact the pope through the Swiss nuncio.[13] Although the cardinal and the nuncio were both Italian, Schuster then wrote the nuncio in Latin as an extra precaution against prying eyes. He recounted Vittorio Mussolini’s visit and the three-part message his father wanted to send the pope. The first two parts consisted of threats, the third, an offer. First, the Duce informed the archbishop of Milan that while he knew he could not stop the enemy’s advance, he would fight “tooth and nail” to the end. He vowed to take Italy down with him as, he noted, Hitler was doing in Germany. “In short,” observed Schuster in offering his own gloss on the Duce’s threat, “he has acted as Samson among the Philistines.”
Second, Mussolini told the archbishop that only one option remained for his forces if the war continued. They would protect themselves for as long as they could “by sacrificing Milan and Lombardy.” Here Schuster added another comment: “Is that really their plan or are these empty threats for our benefit?”
Last came the offer. The Duce, his son informed the archbishop, would “gladly make peace with the enemy.” All he required was an assurance that no one be punished simply for being loyal to the Fascist cause, but only if found guilty of committing a crime.
Cardinal Schuster told Vittorio that he could hardly refuse to do what he could to help avoid further bloodshed and destruction. He asked only that Mussolini put what he proposed in writing, “in order that I might be able to convey his desires in his very own words to the Holy See and to his adversaries.” Like the pope, Schuster was worried not only by the German occupation but, with Italy’s Fascist regime in its final death throes, by a rapidly growing Italian Communist Party. A big political void was about to open in Italy, and the danger that it would be filled by the Communists loomed large. In February Schuster had sent a pastoral letter to all the parish priests in his archdiocese, calling on them to explain to their flocks the fateful choice they faced: “With Christ or with Satan, with Christ or with materialist communism.”[14]
Three days after Mussolini’s son visited the archbishop, Father Pancino finally reached Bern, bringing the nuncio Mussolini’s proposal. Pancino described the sad situation in which northern Italy now found itself, afflicted on one side by “the ferocity of communist partisans guided,” the priest said, rather surprisingly, “by Slavic women,” and on the other by the atrocities visited on them by the Germans. “Finally,” reported Bernardini, Pancino “spoke to me of the intention of Signor Mussolini and Germany (not of Signor Hitler, who does not like to be compromised, but of Signor Himmler) to negotiate with the Allies.”
The message that Mussolini wanted to get to the Holy See was this: “Germany and the neo-fascist government intend to pass, under certain conditions, into the Anglo-American camp to block the spread of communism and prevent the bolshevization of Europe.” Germany would renounce any claims to an empire and, said Father Pancino, “turns to the Holy See so that it is possible to reach a compromise with the Allies.” Asked what the “certain conditions” were that Mussolini’s message had mentioned, Pancino said he had not been told. He added that “an analogous request to negotiate with the Allies, accompanied by the threat to destroy Lombardy, was made by Vittorio Mussolini in his father’s name to the Cardinal Archbishop of Milan.”[15]
The nuncio replied that he thought Mussolini’s last-minute proposal had little chance of success, given the Allies’ repeated insistence they would never negotiate with either him or the Nazi government. Pancino acknowledged the difficulty but insisted that Mussolini’s proposal be sent on to the pope.[16]
While Pius XII continued to be tempted by the prospect of playing his long-dreamt-of role of peacemaker, Monsignor Tardini was doing all he could to discourage him. Shortly after Mussolini’s proposals arrived, Tardini prepared a memo for the pope offering his critique: “That Germany and the neo-fascist government…intend to pass into the Anglo-American camp to block communism is truly astonishing. While the Anglo-Americans declare that they will not consider any negotiations with the Nazis…the Nazis propose an alliance with them.” Tardini saw no reason why the Holy See would want to get involved as a middleman in transmitting such a proposal. The Anglo-Americans would undoubtedly reject it, and it would only incite the Russians to increase their attacks on the Vatican. “For both, the Holy See itself might well appear as favorable to saving, in extremis, Nazism and fascism.”
Tardini advised the pope to reply to the nuncio in the following terms: The Holy See had recently received confirmation of the Allies’ continued insistence on “unconditional surrender”—here Tardini used the English term. “As a result, while the Holy See is so desirous of a true and just peace, it is not in a position to take other steps.” Making only minor changes in the proposed text, on March 14 Pius XII instructed Tardini to send the response to Bern.[17]
At the same time, Mussolini’s son returned to Milan to bring the archbishop the written proposal he had requested. Schuster in turn sent it to Bernardini in Switzerland to forward to the pope. In sending the report on to Rome, the nuncio added his own note: “These people either ignore or pretend to ignore the fact that the end is rapidly approaching and with threats of destruction and reprisals, with a language that recalls times now past, they present proposals that have no possibility of being considered.”[18]
Mussolini’s written proposal repeated his threats: Should the German army retreat from Italy, widespread anti-Fascist hatred left his government no other option than to fight until its last bullet was spent. But to prevent further deaths and destruction, and to show they placed their love for Italy above any political interest, “the government of the Italian Social Republic proposes that preliminary agreements be signed with the Supreme Allied Command, on the basis of which the two contracting parties commit to the following points.” Among the conditions listed was the Allies’ commitment to collaborate with the Fascist forces to repress the partisan bands and the Communists, while the clergy worked to promote a general pacification. The list ended with what Mussolini described as the one “absolute condition.” The arrests of those who had remained loyal to the Fascist cause must be stopped and the persecution of Fascists through the commission that had been set up in Rome ended. The Allies were to try only those guilty of “infamous crimes, not attributable to the war.” Mussolini promised that following this transitional phase, the Republican Fascist Party would be dissolved and a government of national unity formed.[19]
Still nurturing some hope that he could bring about a negotiated peace, Pius XII, spurning Tardini’s advice, decided he could not ignore Mussolini’s plea. Do not put anything in writing, Pius XII instructed Tardini on April 2, 1945, but speak with Osborne, Britain’s envoy, and through him relay Mussolini’s offer to the Allies on condition that Osborne agree to keep the Vatican’s role “absolutely secret.” The pope himself, still looking ill and tired from his stubborn bout with the flu, had met with Osborne only a few days earlier. He had shared his concern about recent Russian propaganda efforts to remind the world of the Vatican’s two-decade-long support for Italian Fascism. It was all, said the pope, part of an effort to discredit the church and bring the Communists to power in Italy.[20]
This worry was likely much in the pope’s mind when, only hours after instructing Tardini to contact the British envoy, he changed his mind. He had learned in the meantime of a violent Moscow Radio attack on Switzerland for serving as a transit point for German peace proposals. “For that reason,” Tardini recorded in a note, “His Holiness prefers that we say nothing to Signor Osborne.”[21]
