Historic monastery was one of the key anchoring elements of the Gustav Line, a system of fortifications running across Italy’s narrowest point. Ribboned with mountains, ridges, rivers, and swamps, these geographical features made it ideal terrain for the German defenders. In the words of historian Matthew Parker, the Gustav Line “was the most powerful defensive system encountered by the British and Americans during the war.”
With the Allies already in the south of Italy, the Gustav Line was, to all intents and purposes, an immovable object blocking the road to Rome.
Heavily fortified, successive attacks on Monte Cassino had already failed. In mid-January, a joint assault by American and British units had been beaten back. Beginning on February 15th, the Second Battle of Monte Cassino also ended in defeat despite 576 tons of Allied bombs falling on the monastery. This time, it was British, New Zealander, and Indian forces that failed to dislodge the Germans.
With no option but to persevere, a third wave of attacks came on March 15th. With the German resistance softened by a three-and-a-half-hour artillery barrage, New Zealand troops appeared close to gaining a foothold. However, a follow-up attack came too late and momentum was lost.
For the Allies, worse was to come. Heavy rainfall turned the already challenging terrain into a treacherous bog. Despite the best efforts of the Gurkhas and New Zealanders, after eleven days the attack was called off. The German positions had been heavily bludgeoned, but the line had held.
Even before the first attacks had been launched, one British brigadier is said to have remarked that “the best plan would be to let someone else do the job.” After months of fighting, these words seemed more pertinent than ever - the ruins and shell holes had rendered the landscape seemingly impassable.
It was in these conditions that the Polish 2nd Corps entered the fray having been ‘invited’ to do so by the British. General Władysław Anders, commander of the Polish forces, later recalled: “I assessed the risks, the inevitable losses, and my full responsibility in the event of failure. After a short reflection, I announced I would accept this difficult task.”
His decision had been heavily influenced by the rumors fanned by the Kremlin that the Poles had lost their appetite for war. “This would be the best response to their propaganda that Poles no longer wanted to fight Germany,” he said.
Composed of soldiers who had survived Soviet labor camps, and had previously served in the 1939 September Campaign as well as in Norway and France, the troops at the disposal of Anders were skilled and hardened veterans. This experience would serve them well, and so too would the iron will that the last few years had imbued them with.
Codenamed Operation Diadem, the fourth battle opened on the evening of May 11th with a furious bombardment involving 1,600 guns manned by British, American, French, South African, New Zealander, and Polish crews. Shortly after midnight, all units from the Polish 2nd Corps launched assaults on the hill.
Meeting stiff resistance, attacks were followed by counter-attacks; another grinding stalemate seemed the most likely result.
Undeterred, on May 17th another assault was ordered by Anders. The fighting was brutal and relentless, and at times hand-to-hand. Aware of the increasingly tenuous position of the German troops, in the late evening Field Marshal Albert Kesselring ordered the first withdrawals.
The following morning, Polish units entered the wreckage of the monastery and raised a regimental banner. This was swiftly followed by a Polish flag. As the afternoon crept in, the stirring sound of St. Mary’s Bugle Call echoed over the pockmarked terrain.
In all, 923 Poles had died, 2,931 had been wounded, and 345 were listed as missing in action. Their sacrifice had not been in vain. Within days, the Gustav Line was broken.
