Very few things have been true for almost all of human history since the first human settlements. One of them is that sexual violence happens – in war and in peace. Another, now thankfully beginning to change in many parts of the world, is that most assaults remain unreported. Sometimes for years. Sometimes forever.

This is true for female victims, and for male victims as well, who endure the same trauma but often carry it in silence and in very different ways.

Today we are going to talk about a horrific event known as the **Marocchinate**, or **the “Deeds of the Moroccans.”** These “deeds” were acts of mass violence against civilians during World War II in Italy – including widespread sexual abuse. What shocks many people is that the perpetrators belonged to units fighting **on the Allied side**, moving up the Italian peninsula in 1944.

 

In the spring of 1944, hundreds of thousands of Allied soldiers were slowly advancing up the Italian peninsula toward Rome. In September 1943, the Allies had crossed the Straits of Messina from recently conquered Sicily to mainland Italy, landing in the far south.

At first, British and British Imperial troops carried much of the fighting. Further north, mainly American forces landed at Salerno, around 140 miles south of Rome. The intention was to trap German troops from north and south, forcing their surrender.

Another major objective was to capture Rome, one of the capitals of the Rome–Berlin–Tokyo Axis, which the Allies had been fighting since 1939.

 

Shortly after the Allied landings in Italy, the king and political leaders around him made secret overtures to the Allies. They planned to overthrow and detain Mussolini and make peace, hoping to spare their country the worst destruction.

That is exactly what happened. Mussolini was taken to a deserted hotel in the mountains. King Victor Emmanuel III and his closest adviser, Marshal Pietro Badoglio, formed a new government.

But Hitler reacted far more quickly than the Allies.

 

The Germans already had between five and eight divisions in southern Italy, perhaps 50,000 men. Very quickly they sent more than 250,000 additional troops, even stripping units from the Eastern Front to face the threat closer to home.

Hitler also ordered a daring commando operation that successfully rescued Mussolini from captivity. For years, the Italians had been German allies. Relations were often strained, but by 1944 most German units in Italy had not yet carried out the kind of mass atrocities that would soon follow.

After Mussolini’s overthrow, that began to change.

 

Between September 15th and 26th, 1943, the Italian Acqui Division refused German orders to disarm. They fought German forces for almost two weeks, until they ran out of ammunition.

They surrendered – and were then systematically massacred by German Army troops. Over 5,000 men were executed.

Around 3,000 survivors were forced onto transport ships headed for labor in occupied Europe. Many of those ships were later sunk by Allied aircraft that had no idea who was on board. Another 1,300 Italians had been killed in combat.

 

In March 1944, German soldiers took revenge for the killing of 33 of their comrades by Italian partisans. They retaliated by killing over 300 people, many of them Jews or political prisoners, in what became known as the Fosse Ardeatine massacre.

Later that year, in late September and early October, German forces killed more than 700 civilians in the Marzabotto area, including many children.

At Sant’Anna di Stazzema in Tuscany in August 1944, SS troops and Italian fascist militias murdered more than 500 people from the village, again including many children.

 

Countless other smaller atrocities took place throughout Italy.

That’s one reason why, despite the destruction of war all around them, most Italians welcomed the arrival of Allied troops in their villages and towns. They believed the worst was behind them.

They did not yet know what fate still awaited some of them in the months to come.

 

Despite large numbers of American and British–Canadian troops in Italy, the campaign was a truly Allied effort. Soldiers from Poland, New Zealand, South Africa, India, Brazil, and Greece all fought there, as did over 100,000 men of the Free French Army.

Among the French troops was a large contingent of North African soldiers. Before World War II, Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia were all under French rule, and France also drew troops from its sub‑Saharan colonies such as Gabon, Chad, the Central African Republic, Congo‑Brazzaville, and southern Cameroon.

When France and Britain declared war on Germany on September 3rd, 1939, about 75,000 African troops were serving under the French flag.

 

Many of those men were initially used in colonial territories for internal security, freeing up French units to defend Europe. After the fall of France in 1940, much of North Africa came under Axis influence, but by May 1943, the Axis had been driven out by the Allies.

Operation Torch, the Allied landings in North Africa in November 1942, combined with British advances from Egypt, gradually forced German and Italian forces to retreat.

As the Allies liberated North Africa, Free French leaders regrouped their colonial units, provided further training, and recruited many more volunteers.

 

Roughly 75,000 North African soldiers would eventually be sent to Italy, either in the initial landings or soon afterward. Most served in regular units with French officers.

But a significant minority served in irregular formations known as **Goumiers**. History remembers them for both their exceptional mountain fighting skills – and for serious abuses against civilians.

These troops were drawn from Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia – countries today often referred to as “Arab,” with populations that speak Arabic and are mostly Muslim.

However, many of these soldiers were **Berbers**, the indigenous people of North Africa.

 

The Berbers had lived in the region long before the arrival of Arab conquerors in the 7th and 8th centuries. Today, precise numbers are hard to establish due to urbanization and intermarriage, but Berber communities remain a significant part of the populations of Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia.

Most Berbers are Muslim, though historically there have also been Berber Christian and Jewish communities. Culturally, Berber traditions are diverse and vary by region, but they share a long history of resisting outside domination.

For centuries they fought or outlasted invaders from Carthaginians and Romans to later empires. They developed a reputation as tough, resilient mountain and desert people.

 

In the French military, Berber units – especially the irregular Goumiers – were known as skilled and daring fighters, particularly in rugged terrain. In World War II, German soldiers in areas where Goumiers were active feared their ability to move at night and infiltrate exposed positions.

There were Berbers among the regular Free French units as well, under stricter control and with a higher ratio of officers. Those units generally behaved more in line with formal military discipline.

The term *Goumier* comes from the word *goum*, referring to a tribal or irregular company of about 200–300 men.

 

Several goms formed a **Tabour** (similar to a battalion), and three Tabors made up a **Groupe**. Tabors often operated semi‑independently, especially in mountainous areas where radio communication was limited.

During the brutal battle of Monte Cassino, Goumier units played a key role in outflanking German positions in the mountains, helping open the road to Rome. Their contribution to the military success was significant.

The entire French Expeditionary Corps, including the Goumiers, was under the overall command of General **Alphonse Juin**.

 

Juin had long experience with Moroccan troops from before the war and understood both their strengths and their traditions. Unfortunately, among those traditions was the practice of taking “war booty” after victory – which, in some cases, extended to civilians and included sexual violence.

He is widely reported – though not definitively proven – to have told some Goumier units that for a limited period after breakthrough, they would be “absolute masters” of whatever they found beyond enemy lines, and that they would not be punished for what they did.

Some historians argue that, after the key role the Goumiers played in the battle for Monte Cassino, French commanders feared loss of control or mutiny if these troops were not granted some kind of reward.

 

Rome lies in the region historically known as Latium, now called **Lazio**. During the advance on Rome, many Goumier units were stationed in the hilly areas south of the city.

Villages in this landscape can be quite close in a straight line but many hours apart on foot or by vehicle, especially on damaged wartime roads. Radio contact between such villages was often poor.

This isolation made it harder for civilians to seek help – and harder for any officers who might have wanted to intervene to understand the full scale of what was happening.

 

From May 19th, 1944 – the day after the German surrender at Monte Cassino – and for several days afterward, parts of southern Lazio experienced a wave of violence from some Goumier units and other troops.

These soldiers moved through towns and villages, targeting civilians. Men who tried to defend their families were often beaten or killed.

Women and girls, and in some cases boys and older people, were subjected to widespread sexual violence.

 

Local priests in several villages tried to intervene, hiding women in churches or confronting the soldiers directly. Some of them were beaten, abused, or killed for their efforts.

Many victims suffered multiple assaults over the course of hours or days. Some did not survive. Others later took their own lives, unable to cope with the trauma and the stigma.

Beyond the immediate physical injuries, the psychological impact on survivors and families was profound and long‑lasting.

 

In the years after the war, Italian government commissions collected testimony from survivors and witnesses. Many names remain on the record; here we will use only initials out of respect.

One case describes a mother in her fifties, killed while trying to protect her two teenage daughters, who were then assaulted. In another, a parent was shot while shielding an adult daughter.

Many testimonies describe people trying to defend the “honor” of wives and daughters and losing their lives in the process.

 

A woman from the region, who was 15 years old during these events and avoided assault by hiding, gave her recollections decades later:

“Not everyone was as lucky as me. I don’t know how many girls were caught, but when the soldiers left, many had venereal diseases. Some became pregnant. Fiancés rejected their fiancées.

“There were even young women who could not bear the shame and took their own lives. Nobody really talked about it; it stayed inside the family.

“It was a terrible period. It felt as if they had killed the joy of youth. Everyone became sad and depressed.”

 

A British officer in the Cassino area also recorded a report about what had happened in several villages. He described large numbers of women being assaulted, and in some places even children and elderly people being harmed.

In one town, local doctors were treating hundreds of victims. In another, British forces had to build a guarded camp simply to give women a place of safety.

His report painted a picture of widespread abuse over a short period, overwhelming the ability of local authorities and Allied units to respond.

 

Nine months after the Marocchinate, in just one town, hundreds of babies were handed over to the local orphanage. No one knows exactly how many children were born as a result of these events across the region.

In deeply Catholic rural areas, where abortion was taboo and rarely even spoken of, some women still chose to end pregnancies – sometimes through dangerous, improvised procedures.

Others carried their pregnancies to term but lived with the lifelong emotional burden of what had been done to them.

 

Venereal disease also spread widely. Many women had no access to proper treatment and suffered for years. Some unknowingly passed infections on to their husbands, causing further illness, conflict, and stigma inside families.

For those who survived physically, the psychological trauma often lasted a lifetime. Some could not bear to be around groups of men. Others avoided relationships, never married, and never had children.

The Marocchinate marked not only individual lives, but also the social fabric of whole communities.

 

One recurring theme in accounts of the Marocchinate is the lack of effective action by many French officers who were supposed to command the Goumiers.

Historian Bartolomeo Terracina writes that French officers often did not respond to pleas from civilians and sometimes appeared indifferent or dismissive.

This does not mean that no action at all was taken – but it does suggest that what was done was far from sufficient to stop the abuses quickly.

 

In total, 28 Goumiers were reportedly caught in the act and shot on the spot. Three more were later executed after court‑martial.

207 men were arrested, and 168 served prison sentences. These figures, however, represent only a small fraction of those believed to have participated in the violence.

In 1947, the French government formally acknowledged the crimes committed by some of its troops in Italy, and compensation for victims was calculated.

 

In practice, the compensation was limited and complicated. France ultimately did not pay the full amount. Instead, in the complex web of postwar reparations, Italy itself ended up covering much of the cost as part of its own obligations for having sided with Nazi Germany and invaded southern France in 1940.

For many survivors, the financial aid they eventually received was symbolic at best – and came nowhere close to addressing the scale of their suffering.

For years, the French state and much of French society preferred not to confront the Marocchinate openly.

 

In 1960, the subject resurfaced indirectly when Italian actress Sophia Loren won the Academy Award for Best Actress for her role in **“Two Women” (*La Ciociara*)**, a film based on a novel inspired by these events.

The movie brought the topic to international attention, but in France the discussion remained limited.

Only in the last decade or so has there been more open debate in France about what happened in Lazio, about responsibility, and about what can still be done for the few survivors who are still alive.

 

The story of the Marocchinate is not easy to tell, and even harder to hear. It reminds us that war does not automatically divide the world into “good” and “bad” sides, and that civilians often pay the highest price, even at the hands of those who are supposed to be liberators.

It also shows how long silence can last around sexual violence, and how deeply it can affect individuals, families, and entire communities.

Remembering these events is not about condemning a whole people or erasing the sacrifices of soldiers who fought against fascism. It is about facing the full truth of history – including the parts that are painful – and learning from it.