The reception must be poor because the officer slows his speech to enunciate every word. “Her-papers-state-she-is-a-Christian.” Den is talking again. Louder now. The officer holds the phone a fist-width from his ear, scowling, until the barking ceases. Halina catches a few words: “Ashamed . . . certain . . . myself.”
“You are sure. All right, all right, no, don’t come in. That won’t be necessary. I—yes, I understand, we will, sir, right away. I apologize again for bothering you.” The officer slams the phone into its base.
Halina exhales. Standing, she thrusts a palm over the desk. “My papers,” she says with disgust. The officer frowns as he slides her ID across the table. Halina snatches it up. “Outrageous,” she spits softly, just loud enough for the officer to hear, before turning to leave.
JANUARY–MARCH 1944: The Allies, in an effort to secure a route to Rome, begin a series of unsuccessful attacks on the German stronghold of Monte Cassino, located in the Lazio region of central Italy.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Genek
River Sangro, Central Italy ~ April 1944
This’d better be good,” Otto says, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Genek nods, suppressing the urge to yawn. Between the persistent lull of rain and the pea grochówka filling his stomach—this particular batch was so heavy his spoon had stuck straight up in the bowl, like a flagpole—he’s nearing a comatose state. At the front of the mess tent, their commanding officer, Pawlak, climbs onto a meter-high wooden platform, a podium of sorts, from which he delivers his speeches. His expression is serious.
“Looks like he means business tonight,” Genek remarks as conversation beneath the tent fades and eyes turn toward the square-shouldered captain standing before them.
“You said that last time. And the time before that,” Otto huffs, shaking his head.
Genek and Otto, along with the rest of Anders’s 40,000-odd recruits, have been holed up for the month of April on the banks of Italy’s River Sangro. Their position, as Pawlak showed them on the map when they arrived, is strategic—a two-day trek from Monte Cassino, a German stronghold 120 kilometers southeast of Rome. The Cassino is a 1,400-year-old rock-walled monastery towering 520 meters above sea level—but more important, it’s the hub of the Nazis’ line of defense. The Germans occupying it are using it as a vantage point to spot and shoot down anyone who approaches. Allied forces have made three separate attempts on it—so far, it’s proved impregnable.
“Maybe tonight’s news will be different,” Genek offers. Otto rolls his eyes.
Despite Otto’s complaining, Genek is grateful to have his friend by his side. He’s been the one constant since they left Herta, Józef, and Otto’s wife, Julia, behind in Tel Aviv to travel with the army through Egypt and across the Mediterranean by British ship to Italy. They’d only ever fired practice shots from their tommy guns, of course, but the men understood without actually verbalizing it that when the orders finally came and they found themselves aiming at real targets, they’d look out for each other, and for one another’s families, should anything happen to either of them in the field.
“Gentlemen!” Pawlak calls. The men of the Polish Army’s First Survey Brigade sit at attention. “Listen up! I have news. Orders. Finally, what we’ve all been waiting for.”
Otto’s eyebrows jump. He glances at Genek. You were right, he mouths, and smiles. Genek uncrosses his legs, leans forward in his chair, his senses suddenly heightened.
Pawlak clears his throat. “Allied forces and President Roosevelt have met to discuss a fourth massive offensive on Monte Cassino,” he begins. “The first phase of the plan—code name Operation DIADEM—calls for large-scale deception, targeted at Field Marshal Kesselring. The goal: to convince Kesselring that the Allies have abandoned further attacks on Monastery Hill, and that our mission is now to land at Civitavecchia.”
Genek and Otto have been briefed in detail about the three previous attacks on Monte Cassino, each a bitter, bloody failure. The first came in January, when the British and the French attempted to flank the monastery from the west and the east, respectively, while the French Expeditionary Corps fought in ice and snow against the Germans of the Fifth Mountain Division in the north. But the Brits and the French met heavy mortar fire, and the frostbitten fighters in the Expeditionary Corps, though close to victory, were finally outnumbered. A second attempt came in February, when hundreds of Allied fighter planes dropped round after round of 450-kilo bombs on Cassino, reducing the monastery to rubble. The New Zealand Corps was set to occupy the ruins, but the steep terrain leading up to it was impossible to maneuver, and German parachuters reached the now-roofless monument first. A month later, in a third Allied attempt on Monte Cassino, the New Zealand Corps dropped 1,250 tons of explosives over Cassino, flattening the town and stretching the German defense to a breaking point. A division of Indian troops came close to securing the monastery, but after nine days of being pummeled by mortar bombs, Nebelwerfer rockets, and smoke shells, the Allies were once again forced to retreat.
Genek runs the numbers in his mind. Three failed attempts. Thousands of casualties. What makes their commanding officer believe that a fourth attempt will be successful?
“Diversionary tactics,” Pawlak shouts, “include code messages meant to be intercepted by German intelligence, and Allied troops dispatched to Salerno and Naples to be seen ‘practicing’”—he rabbit-ears his fingers around the word—“amphibious landings. They also include Allied air forces making conspicuous reconnaissance flights over the beaches at Civitavecchia and false information fed to German spies. These tactics are key to the success of the mission.”
Pawlak’s men nod, collectively holding their breath as they await the news that matters most: their orders. Pawlak clears his throat. Rain patters on the waxed canvas overhead.
“In this fourth attempt on Monte Cassino,” Pawlak says, his voice lower than before, “thirteen divisions have been assigned orders, with the goal of securing Cassino’s perimeter. The U.S. II Corps will attack from the west up the coast along the line of Route 7 toward Rome; the French Expeditionary Corps will attempt to scale the Aurunci Mountains to the east; in between, the British XIII Corps will attack along the Liri valley. Anders’s Army, however, has been assigned what I believe to be the most critical task of the mission.” He pauses, looks around at his men. They are silent, listening intently, their spines rifle-barrel straight, jaws locked. Pawlak enunciates each of his words carefully. “Gentlemen, we—the men of the Polish II Corps—have been charged with the task of capturing Monastery Hill.”
The words hit Genek like a punch to the esophagus, leaving him breathless.
“We will attempt what the Fourth Indian Division in February failed to do: to isolate the monastery and push around behind it into the Liri valley. There we will link with XIII Corps. Canadian I Corps will be held in reserve to exploit the breakthrough. If we are successful,” Pawlak adds, “we will penetrate the Gustav line and pinch out the position of the German Tenth Army. We’ll open up the road to Rome.”
A murmur fills the tent as the recruits process the momentousness of their mission. Genek and Otto look at one another.