Cassino had once been the site of a temple to Apollo and the setting for the countless orgies of the Emperor Tiberius. But, it was here that Benedict found what he was looking for. The city of Cassino, itself, is dwarfed by an almost sheer peak which rises 1700 feet behind it. It's summit could only be reached with extreme difficulty and it afforded perfect observation in all directions. It offered security and the ability to see intruders before they could attack. It was here on this peak that Benedict and his monks built their monastery, Montecassino!

For its very inaccessibility even the resident monks were lulled into a false sense of security. Marauding Lombards in 581 and then Saracens in 883 and finally the Normans in 1030- attacked and destroyed the monastery. But everytime, the monks rebuilt it. Then 300 years passed peacefully. And then God tested the resolve of the Benedictines- the monastery was destroyed by earthquake.

Stoically the monks rebuilt the monastery again. A daunting fortress, surrounded by 15 feet high walls, ten feet thick at their base, and approachable only by a five-mile long hairpin road. The monastery, Monte Cassino, was inviolate...untouchable.... and secure... until January 1944.

The Allied Fifth and Eighth Armies had invaded Italy in the preceding September 1943 and were clawing their way towards Rome. The Brits landed in Reggio Calabria on September 3, 1943 and during the next week landings were made in Taranto and at Bari on the Adriatic. The Americans landed in Salerno on September 9. The Germans had resolved not to give up Rome, this symbolic city and Axis capital without a fight. Although Rome was not strategically important it's capture had great propaganda value.

The entire Axis strategy hinged on the selection of suitable defensive lines behind which to deploy most effectively their overstretched but still determined forces. Monte Cassino, dominating as it did the most obvious route to Rome, the Via Casilina or Highway Six as it was known, was a strategic lynch-pin of such a line, the Gustav line. Linking the Aurunci Mountains to the south, reaching almost to the coast, and with the huge Monte Cairo and the Simbruini Mountains to the north.

January 1944, all of four months after landing in Reggio Calabria and on the beaches in Salerno the slowly advancing Allies reached the line, dubbed the Gustav Line, a distance of perhaps 100 kilometers. In other words it took four full months to travel all of sixty miles through the treacherous, mountainous Italian terrain. Can you imagine the hardships?

It wasn't enough that the Fifth Army American Forces had lost some 9,000 men in battle losses and another 50,000 from non-battle casualties, such as, trench foot and sickness due to months of exposure to mud, snow and rain; now these forces had been ordered to penetrate the strong Gustav Line. The area was a sea of mud, hampering the use of tanks. Positioning of artillery pieces in advantageous positions required extensive man handling, topping of trees and hours upon hours of tedious back-breaking work. And, the Rapido River which had to be forded in order to get to Cassino was a raging torrent filled with winters snows, heavy rains and rubble.

And then, for the next six months soldiers battered heads in an agonizing series of battles for Monte Cassino that were distinguished equally by the sufferings of the ordinary soldiers and the ineptitude of at least the Allied commanders.

The chronology of the battles are simple enough to chronicale.

The first attack was made in the time period 12 Jan to 9 Feb. The French drove to the Gustav Line on 11-24 Jan followed by with X British Corps and then the US 36th Div and the US 34th Div. Held off they fell back and waited for a second attempt.

The second battle took place between 15- 18 February. The New Zealanders under Lieutenant General Sir Bernard Freyberg attacked the mountain...it was Frieberg that called for the bombing of the Monastery. Held off they fell back and waited for a third attempt.

The third battle took place on 15-23 March. The New Zealanders again. They fell back and waited for the fourth attempt.

The fourth battle up the mountain to the monastery was led by Polish troops under the command of Lieutenant General Wladyslaw Anders...finally took the Monastery in a ferocious battle.

Insofar as the aerial bombing is concerned, that too was a comedy of errors, commander, as asked for some bombing runs by KittyHawks.. P-40 type fighter bombers. Instead, he got Flying Fortresses and Mitchells and Marauders. It was like asking for a piece of bread and getting an entire bakery.

Interestingly, before the aerial attack, leaflets were dropped onto the monastery to warn the monks and refugees to evacuate the area. But, they didn't bother to tell the allied soldiers on the ground about it. All in all the allied planes dropped 442 tons of bombs on the Abbey and it's immediate area. There were two separate attacks, the first between 9.30 and 10 on February 15. when 145 Flying fortresses dropped 500 pound bombs and a few 100 lbs. incendiaries, and the second attack was between 1030 and 13330 when a mixture of 97 Mitchells and Marauders dropped a further 283 bombs, all of them 1000 lbs.

The actual bombing looked spectacular. An eyewitness said, it looked as if the mountain had disintegrated, shaken by a giant hand. Once the dust had cleared the Monastery looked pretty well beat-up...but the essential fabric of the building...that is the fortifications were barely affected, and the outer walls, though now crazily battered, still presented formidable obstacles.. The re were no significant gaps in the walls and the main gateway, the only entry into the monastery had not even been touched. Perhaps, in retrospect, the bombings were militarily unsuccessful, certainly they didn't work.

The suffering of the fighting troops cannot be overstated, particularly, the Poor and Bloody Infantry. Perhaps, historians will say the Verdun in WWI and Stalingrad and Iwo Jima in WWII are comparable.

An example of the suffering is taken from the book, Dogfaces Who Smiled Through the Tears. It's a history of the 34th "Red Bull" Infantry Division.

Sgt. Stanley Seika, Riceville, Ia., recalls hearing groans and what sounded like someone crawling through the brush. Setka and PFC Jack Burtker, crawled out, observing caution, for it could have been a German patrol. Then the saw the helmetless head and shoulders of a youthful Dogface, inching his way through the uneven, rocky, brush covered terrain. The man's pain wrackedface, belied hisyouth, for even though it was cold and his uniform drenched, sweat was pouring from every pore and his eyes refiected the hopelessness only in those of extreme misery.

Setka and Byrtker, now an attorney from Western Springs, Ill., moved closer and to their amazement found the young man had only bloody stumps where his ankles andfeet had been. Miraculously the courageous solider had survived a mine blast during the river cross attempt The Rapido River). He had applied sulfa, then tourniquets to his legs. Somehow this unbelievable human being, who possessed a strong desire to live, had kept his cool, sanity and enough presence of mind to crawl the long distance backfrom where he had fallen and unbelievably in the right direction.

Setka and Burtker picked up the soldier and carried him back to the battalion aid station.

What an extraordinary testimony to the horrors of the battles for Monte Cassino.

Four major assaults were launched against the fearsome defenses that barred the way to Rome. Thousands died in these assaults and, in each interval, thousands more endured terrible privations as they shivered in their slit trenches and dugouts waiting for the order for the next attack, the next scramble to pry the Germans off Monte This or Point That, or the next suicidal dash into murderous pill boxes, wire and minefields. So much for 'Sunny Italy'. The fighting was so intense that every German soldier that spent fourteen days at Monte Casino automatically was awarded the Iron Cross for conspicuous bravery.

Conditions were almost impossible to imagine. One soldier wrote home,

It's a state of utter timelessness. There were not even days and nights. There was just light and dark... The other world, the world of women and shops and music and streets, churches and schools, no longer existed. It was something we'd once read in a book. The only world was here. And the only time was now. There was no past, present or future. There was only now. We'd always been here and we always would be... It was just a passive state of sustained awfulness.

Awfulness.. just a word...but...think about it! Here then is another vignette that happened...again taken from the history of the 34th Infantry Division.

Sometime during the battles for Hill 193 a callfor two litter teams reached the Ist Bn,. 133Inf. aid station. Among the volunteers were Private Robert Geerstenecker and George Ziarek. When they arrived at the battle line, they were told a German patrol had rounded the nose of the hill to their front and were laying out ahead of the wounded. The litter teams moved out beyond their abutment where the found no wounded but to their surprise two Germans stepped out from behind concealment. Unarmed and defenseless, their hearts in their throats, they had no alternative but to drop their litters and throw up their hands.

One of the Germans, a handsome powerfully built sergeant, spoke English- the other a corporal seemed to be insisting that the litter bearers be taken prisoners. Fortunately, the sergeant prevailed and told the other, "We do not kill or take prisoners of medics. " Breathing sighs of relief, the litter bearers then were told to follow the handsome German sergeant. "I know you are looking for your comrades, they lie wounded in our aid station. We have no medication to treat them or to ease their pain, you may come with us and take them, but if you look right or left we must kill you.

Reaching the German aid station, the doctor released the the prisoners, they were placed on the litters and escorted back to the American lines. An officer asked the litter bearers if they had seen any machine gun placements.

They answered, "Hell NO!"!

What great testimony to the futility of war and the heroics of man. Is there no end? Will we ever understand the futility that is war?

Now, for those of us that have had the experience of close ground hand-to-hand combat, there is no need to explain anything. For those that have not, I'm not certain that I can adequately do the scene justice. But, I'll try, think in terms of bone chilling cold, mud that sinks up over your ankles, a smell that is worse than bad eggs, dead fish and whatever else turns your stomach all combined into one nasty, all encompassing stench.. It's wet, everything you touch is tainted. And you're so frightened that your fear verges on ecstasy. It's the prelude to hell.

The senior allied commanders did little to alleviate these hardships. Actually, there was little that could be done. Though they were conscious of the sufferings of those at the front lines, there was nothing they could do about the appalling weather, or the chronic supply shortages, or the intractable terrain all along the Gustav Line.

Often enough they could not even agree between themselves as to what should be done. The entire Italian campaign was badly abused from the start by profound American and British disagreements about the value of full-scale Mediterranean operations.

Though the British point of view prevailed. The Americans continued to believe that they had been duped by the Brits. Why? Because Stalin wanted relief from the German invaders in Russia and a southern European campaign would drain troops from the Russian front. Should it have been done? I can't answer that. However. the lives of hundreds of thousands might have been saved.

In Italy itself relations were if anything more strained. Generals Sir Harold Alexander of the British Eighth Army and Mark Clark, the commanding general of the US Fifth Army did not work well together. Clark's attitude towards his nominal superior was colored by a virtual contempt for the British Army and all its works.

Let's digress here for a moment. Mark Clark was a man full of contradictions. He was in his own way as colorful as Patton, as dedicated as Bradley as bright as Eisenhower and like the others a favorite of George Marshall. An evaluation form about him said, "A cold, distinguished, conceited, selfish, clever, intellectual, resourceful officer who secures results quickly. Very ambitious a superior performer. "

Well, the members of the 36th & 34th Divisions were certainly abused in their battles. Yet, this same man took in the 442nd Regiment ( the Japanese- American soldiers) that were spurned by other commanders. His beloved Nesei warriors repaid him with extraordinary bravery.

The Cassino campaign was a sorry example of coalition warfare. Each of them Alexander and Clark, seemed to have little regard for the other nationalities that were fighting under the Allied banner. Certainly, these national contingents were often sent into action in a somewhat cavalier fashion. New Zealanders and Indians were broken into tactically hopeless, head-on assaults against Monte Cassino; the Poles likewise in another bloody attack that was devoid of any real strategic rationale. Hundreds of Canadians perished in front of barbed wire and machine guns on the Hitler line. Thousands of Frenchmen, too, died around Cassino.

In the end, of course, Cassino and Rome did finally fall, but these were at best hollow victories. For in the last full-scale battle in May, though Alexander had at last massed the major part of his forces for a full-scale Army group offensive, much of his planning was ill-conceived. In the attack by which he set great score, seven divisions were pushed up the bottleneck along highway six and got embroiled into a horrendous traffic jam. Thus allowing the Germans to slip away to fight again another day.

A hollow victory indeed. Perhaps not for Alexander who became a Field Marshall, but assuredly so for the hundreds of thousands who had already clung for so long to their icy slit trenches and dugouts and for tens of thousands who had already bled and died.

Bill Mauldin, the famed cartoonist for Stars and Stripes, was a part of the Italian campaign. In fact, one of his famous cartoons with his irreverent heroes, Willie and Joe, is considered a masterpiece. It says it all so well.

Picture the scene: there are bullets flying all around and Willie and Joe are in a shallow fox hole. "Git down, Willie. Git down further!" and Willie answers laconically, "I can't, Joe, me buttons are in the way!"

Hollow, too, perhaps, even more so for the Germans who fought with such tenacity for a country that had already been virtually written off by Hitler and in a war that was already lost. Many, too, were fighting on behalf of a regime with which they had no sympathy at all, none more so than General Frido von Senger und Etterlin, along with General Juin, the French commander that wanted both Clark and Alexander to by-pass Cassino, were by far the most able of the commanders in Italy. von Senger's achievements encapsulate the tragic irony of the German Army in WWII, whose military excellence demanded professional admiration and whose cause could only evoke disgust.

For von Senger, the man who defended Monte Cassino monastery and so helped ensure its destruction, not only despised Hitler and the Nazi state but was also a Rhodes Scholar and a lay Benedictine brother. He was the one responsible for the historic artifacts and treasures of the monastery been moved to safer grounds in Rome. But such is the logic of war and in the last analysis, as at Cassino, there are no victors. And even those who would plead justice and rectitude of their cause are perhaps best answered by the sardonic futility of man fighting man for a cause that at best is a will-o-the -wisp!

In retrospect we have to wonder whether the battles for Monte Cassino were not finally unimportant within the larger perspective of history. The four battles themselves might have been botched but it seems undeniable that the fighting had an important bearing on operations elsewhere in Europe. The German divisions that were tied down in Italy were not available for fighting in Normandy. Perhaps, a few high-quality panzer divisions tied up in Italy could have turned the tide in the first weeks of bitter fighting to consolidate the D-Day beaches. Of course, had the Allies not invaded Italy at all they too would have had extra divisions to use in France.

But there is a wider context to consider, and one that has been so often overlooked in history books about war in general. The sufferings of ordinary soldiers in battle created extraordinary bonds of comradeship and genuine lov e for one buddy to another. But it should never be forgotten that such bonds were only forged in the foundries of hell itself. Strangely, the friendships that have been bonded in war are often lost in peacetime. Or perhaps, not so strange. The horrors of battle are best forgotten and all that goes with it.

Fifty-five million people died as a result of World War II. So in the long run, the loss of a monastery here or a palace there or a bridge across a river there is of limited concern. Human life after all is Divinely given and should not to be taken for the sake of a pile of stones. I know I for one would not want to offer the life of a mother's son in battle to save any man made monument, be it a masterpiece or not. Glory after all is achieved by devoting one's life to God, not by piling stones one atop another.