Target Italy: The Secret War against Mussolini, 1940-1943. By Roderick Bailey. Faber and Faber; 454 pages; £20. Buy from Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk

AFTER Benito Mussolini’s rule in Italy came to an abrupt end in 1943, partisan groups quickly formed, soaking up disbanded Italian soldiers and civilians. As the allies advanced, the activities of these courageous groups helped undermine German rule in the north of the country.

Before the fall of fascism, the British Special Operations Executive (SOE) had spent many months and a great deal of energy trying to find pockets of resistance in order to foment rebellion from within. But finding Italians—even among those who abhorred fascists—who were prepared to fight their own rulers was far from easy. This book is the official account, commissioned by the British Cabinet Office and sourced largely from the SOE’s own files, of a series of badly planned, poorly executed missions as the allies tried to get a toehold inside Mussolini’s Italy.

Once Italy had been identified as ripe for infiltration, the British government required instant results. Major Cecil Roseberry, head of the SOE’s Italian desk, made it clear he needed something—indeed, anything—to report to the War Office: “something concrete once a week would be encouraging”.

The secret “war” of Roderick Bailey’s subtitle is rather an overstatement, since the episodes collected here describe plots so ill-conceived that most of them had to be abandoned at an early stage. The first problem the SOE encountered was recruiting men to send on secret missions. Italians who had lived in Britain for decades were rounded up and sent to internment camps early in the war, where they were held alongside captured fascists. It was among these Italian immigrants that the SOE sought its recruits, not always happily. Of the five men taken on for active service, two were dismissed on the grounds that they were “completely lacking in heroic qualities”. The Foreign Office routinely referred to the Italians as “wops”; one candidate was criticised for throwing his arms about, others for excessive pride. “There is nothing tough there at all; all waiters and small tradesmen,” lamented Hugh Dalton, the SOE’s minister in charge. A submarine captain protested after the so-called spies he was supposed to be landing in north-west Italy refused to go ashore.

One SOE triumph turned out to be nothing of the kind. In November 1942 news reached Britain of “groups of anti-fascists in northern Italy who seemed active, very aggressive and willing to have help from the British”. An intermediary was located to transport money and explosives across the border to these groups. Unfortunately, the man was already known to Italian intelligence. Vetting, Mr Bailey observes ruefully, was not what it is today. The fellow was a drunk of questionable character, who frightened his children and subjected his wife to degrading sexual acts. Despite this, the SOE duly sent regular packages of explosives, tools, cash and radio equipment, believing it was sabotaging the Italian war effort. Meanwhile the Italian authorities opened the packages and sent back invented reports that they were hitting their targets.

In a long footnote Mr Bailey debunks the myth that the Americans enlisted the help of the Italian-American Mafia to make contact with Sicilians who had reason to be unhappy with Mussolini’s rule. As it turns out, there is no evidence to support the legendary “bloodless” invasion of Sicily, in which yellow kerchiefs bearing the insignia of a Mafia boss were said to fly from the gun towers of tanks.

Nevertheless, the British were all in favour of doing deals with the Mafia, though fully aware of its violent reputation: “[A] weakening of the Fascist organisation would help the Maffia (sic) to become reorganised and powerful,” said a report by the SOE in Cairo. “If they want to ‘play’ with us they would be an ideal organisation for Sicily.” Happily the SOE failed to find any mafiosi to “play with”.

Winston Churchill called the SOE’s activities “naughty deeds”, which just about sums up their Boy’s Own nature. Mr Bailey tells the tale with as straight a face as he can muster. He has an eye for the colourful characters drawn to undercover operations, but the absurdity of much that he recounts cannot be ignored.