Originality in historical research takes many forms. The more romantically inclined amongst us may instinctively reach for images of intrepid scholars using overlooked archives to discover never-before-seen sources that break entirely new historiographical ground—the researcher as doughty explorer in search of entirely unmapped territories into which their flag might be planted. However, Nicola Cacciatore's Italian Partisans and British Forces in the Second World War: Working with the Enemy is a reminder that with sufficient thought and care, space remains for innovative contributions in even the most crowded historiographical field. And it is worth reflecting on the level of interest that the 1943–45 Italian resistance movement (or perhaps that should be movements) has received from scholars over the decades. Even the most cursory glance at the bibliography (233–44) and references of Italian Partisans and British Forces in the Second World War reveals the array of historiographical big beasts that any new contributor must navigate a path between. Roderick Bailey, Philip Cooke, Renzo de Felice, Filippo Focardi, Lutz Klinkhammer, David Stafford—to name but a few––will be familiar names to any Anglophone and Italian readers who have encountered the topic before.

Cacciatore is clear that the foundations of this book lay in his PhD thesis, submitted under a slightly re-worked title to the University of Strathclyde in 2019, and supervised by the aforementioned Professor Cooke (v). Between an identified “orthodox” early historiography that primarily considered the British a hostile political and military force in Italy, 1943–45, and a more sympathetic—or at the very least, more nuanced—“revisionist” school which has emerged since the 1980s, Cacciatore is guided by a noble desire to forge a third way. As such, he aims to provide, “some synthesis between those two historiographical schools, as both have their merits, albeit in different fields of interpretation” (221). Issues of representation and self-representation lie at the heart of Cacciatore's argument, and “while the relationship on the field proved to be amicable and productive, leading to an intense work of sabotage and underground operations, this wealth of good relations failed to establish a narrative of good cooperation” (221). Bringing everything together in his conclusion, Cacciatore states—“Italian partisans and British personnel operated under high duress, lacking necessary resources, bogged down by ideological and political misunderstandings. Nevertheless, despite all that, the final balance sheet of their interaction, as emerges from the archives, is rather positive, even surprisingly so” (231).

It is perfectly logical then that chapters are devoted to “interactions in the field between the BLOs and Italian partisans” (6) (in chapter 3, “Fieldwork”), issues of “representation and self-representation connected to the British image in Italy” via wartime propaganda (6) (chapter 4, “Propaganda”), and the British “approach towards partisan disarmament and dispersion, as well as the problem of Fascist epuration” (6) (chapter 5, “The Long Liberation”). Chapter 2, “Where It All Began,” is a little different. Here the focus is “those who fought Mussolini in the 1920s and 1930s,” of particular significance given how many “became prominent leaders of the Resistance or played a central role in the reconstruction of Italian political life in the South” (5). This is a fascinating point, and it is easy to agree with Cacciatore of the importance of embracing a “broader timeframe when analyzing these issues” (230). However, it would have been valuable to have a few more references back to this idea of the longue durée in subsequent chapters. Eyebrows may also be raised by the decision to provide only a very slim index (245–48), slips in attention to detail which—for instance—misidentify Dino Grandi as Mussolini's son-in-law (49) or discuss the Special Operations Executive's efforts in “covet propaganda” (34), and an approach to referencing that classifies works such as Winston Churchill's history of the Second World War, Hugh Dalton's diaries, or the published papers of Dwight David Eisenhower (235–36) as secondary sources.

Cacciatore is at his best when articulating the sheer complexity of organizing partisan warfare in Italy during the latter stages of the Second World War (67–116). The crushing pressure and responsibility placed on the shoulders of the British Liaison Officers (BLOs) dropped into occupied territory to work and fight alongside Italian partisan bands comes across clearly on multiple occasions—theirs was truly “Sisyphean Labour” (113). A similarly compelling insight is just how much more successful were American efforts to win over Italian hearts and minds. While, as Cacciatore argues, British propaganda “suffered from a lack of clarity and scope,” which left many Italians feeling denigrated and humiliated, “American propaganda maintained a more conciliatory tone” allowing, as a February 1945 Psychological Warfare Division (PWB) report noted, “the United States […] [is] looked upon as a saving anchor” (129–46). Cacciatore's closing remarks offer a convincing call to action for further research—“In conclusion, although it appears that there is still much work to be done to extricate the Italian resistance from its shackles and put it in a wider perspective, both temporally and transnationally, my hope is that this work could be considered a starting block to do so” (231). It is absolutely my hope that he continues to lead the charge on this front.

In summary, Cacciatore offers nuanced insights and some deeply compelling lines of analysis. In forging his own path between two established schools of thought, he has established a place of his own in a busy historiographical landscape. As such, this book will be of broad interest to those connected to this topic of enduring interest.