Tobruk 1941

by Chester Wilmot

  For the second phase of the attack which called for speed, drive and daring, General Mackay could not have found a more suitable man than Brigadier H. C. H. Robertson, a Staff Corps officer who commanded the 19th Brigade. Those who have served under or with him rank him second to none as an audacious, brilliant, hard-driving leader. He is, moreover, as able in the training camp as in the field. He showed this later in 1941 when he built up the A.I.F. Reinforcement Depot in Palestine from little more than a drafting camp to a first-class training centre, which General Auchinleck took as a model for all Middle East forces.

  He possesses undoubted brilliance – a fact of which he is not unaware. His eagerness to exercise his talents in a wider field, and his sharp intolerance of the shortcomings of others, have made him a target for criticism, and it is unfortunate that these traits have tended to blind his critics to his real ability. In the task of making soldiers and leading them he may be right in thinking there is no place for the gloved hand and the soft tongue. Certainly his methods have produced outstanding results. Mackay appreciated his qualities and gave him a free hand to plan Phase II of the attack.

  Describing his plan to me later the Brigadier said:

  I believed that the Italians could be defeated by speed and that, if my brigade could penetrate fast enough, we could strike at the heart of the Tobruk defences before the enemy could organize an effective counter-attack. I set myself to get to the El Adem crossroads by the middle of the morning so that the artillery could move inside the perimeter about midday and be ready to support a further advance early in the afternoon. In that case I considered we might capture the H.Q. of the Tobruk Fortress before dark.

  This meant that my brigade had to pass through the perimeter gap while the 16th Brigade’s attack was still in progress and would have to move at a hundred yards a minute during the approach march and the attack. That would involve covering twelve miles in four hours – and fighting the last three of them. The success of this plan depended on the 16th Brigade carrying out its programme to time, the artillery silencing the enemy batteries and my troops keeping up the stiff pace. I felt confident they could do this because in training them I had concentrated on mobility, speed and hardness, and before the battle every man was told what he had to do and was impressed with the importance of speed.

  The 16th Brigade’s plans for the break-through involved most careful reconnaissance of the bridgehead area, but because of bright moonlight and booby-traps this was extremely dangerous. The point which had been chosen for the initial break-through could be easily picked on the map, but on the featureless ground at night it was difficult to find. Nor was it easy in the open desert to fix a start-line for the infantry advance.

  The problem was solved at Tobruk, as at Bardia, by the resource and daring of Major Ian Campbell. Aerial photographs and maps showed that between Posts 55 and 57 the anti-tank ditch ran first south-east and then turned sharply north-east. If this elbow could be found there would be a certain reference point from which to start. On the night of January 18th–19th Captain R. W. Knights, Allen’s new Brigade Major, and Captain F. G. Hassett and Lieutenant H. O. Bamford of the 2/3rd Battalion were wounded by booby-traps in trying to locate this point. On the night of January 19th–20th, Campbell, recalled from Divisional H.Q., went out himself, crawled through the booby-trap field and found the turn in the ditch. From there he moved due south on a compass bearing for a thousand yards and thus established the position for the start-line. It was then marked by pegging a light-coloured hessian tape to the ground. The stage was set for Mackay’s forces to make the assault, led by engineers of the 2/1st Field Company and infantry of the 2/3rd Battalion.

  The final problem was to fool the Italians as to the date and direction of the attack. Zero hour was eventually fixed for 5.40 a.m. on Tuesday, January 21st. On the previous Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights, the Navy, the R.A.F. and Herring’s artillery carried out the same bombardment programme as they did on Monday night – the eve of the attack. They directed their fire on to the town, the inner defences and the eastern and western perimeter. Every night during the previous week patrols exploded Bangalore torpedoes in the enemy wire and shot up posts from close quarters in sectors other than that chosen for the break-through.

  South of this sector on the Sunday and Monday, there was nothing to attract the attention of any inquisitive pilot. He would have seen most of the guns, tanks, carriers and trucks still concentrated in the Bardia road area. They did not move until the Monday night and the noise they made was covered by bombing and shelling. Nevertheless, it was no easy task to assemble unobserved in a small area of open desert eight infantry battalions, five artillery regiments, more than fifty tanks and carriers and hundreds of vehicles.

  By the afternoon of the 20th everything was ready. The assaulting infantry was ‘stripped for action’. To give them speed and freedom, respirators were dumped; ground-sheets and greatcoats shed. Shrunken haversacks contained only a dixie, a tin of bully, four packets of biscuits and a few personal odds and ends. Pouches bulged with at least a hundred rounds of .303 ammunition and two or three grenades. In some battalions each man carried four empty sandbags – to be filled, if necessary, from the desert. At dusk they had a hot meal and a swig of rum, and turned in for a few hours’ sleep before the battle. They missed their greatcoats and, though their leather jerkins helped to keep out the biting Libyan cold, they were glad even at the bottom of a slit trench of the four blankets, specially provided for this night’s rest.

  And as they slept British warships stole in to bombard the Tobruk garrison into sleeplessness and to distract the Italians’ attention from the desert outside, which had suddenly come to life as night fell. There, field and medium guns bumped over camel-thorn hummocks to battle positions beside ready-stacked ammunition. Tanks, carriers and trucks rumbled across the desert to the concentration areas, two miles south of the start-line. By midnight they were all in position and the Navy turned out to sea again – its first task over. Back in Egypt aircraftsmen fuelled and bombed-up Wellingtons and Blenheims, which were to begin the bombing offensive at 3.30 in the morning.

  From inside the perimeter came occasionally the nervous chatter of Italian machine-guns and the sullen roar of routine gun-fire, but among the Diggers and Tommies lying in wait on the desert all was quiet. The orders said ‘No lights – no smoking – no talking.’

  But there was bright electric light, smoking and talking, the buzz of field telephones and the rattle of typewriters back at Mackay’s headquarters, where staff officers and clerks were checking last-minute details. They worked on undisturbed for H.Q. was housed in two ancient Roman cisterns hollowed, like catacombs, out of the cavernous limestone plateau.

  In one of these cisterns earlier in the evening I talked with an A.I.F. staff officer about the attack. ‘If it goes to timetable,’ he said, ‘it’ll be over in two days. It all depends on that first hour or so. If we take them by surprise, it’ll be all right. If not, well – it may be a stiff go. To-morrow morning’ll show us. They’re very quiet to-night. Maybe they don’t know; maybe they do.’

  _____________

  1 These tanks, known officially as ‘Infantry’ or ‘I’ tanks and popularly as ‘Matildas’, because of the skirt which protects their bogies and tracks, were the British reply to the pillbox. Mounting a 2-pounder and a machine-gun and protected by 3-inch armour, they had proved themselves almost invulnerable to enemy fire at Sidi Barrani and Bardia and had been a key factor in crushing enemy infantry resistance.

  2 Thermos bombs are so called because they look like a thermos flask. They do not go off when dropped, but explode on the next impact or heavy vibration.

  3 Of these, about 10 000 were anti-aircraft or coast artillery gunners, lines of communication troops and naval personnel.

  4 He evaded the Australians at Derna too, but was finally caught in the last round-up by the 7th Armoured Division at Beda Fomm, south of Bengazi.

  5 When Rommel eventuall
y attacked Tobruk, he was never able to concentrate his full strength against it because of the diversion provided by the British forces on the frontier.

  6 There were 116 25-pounders; 12 18-pounders; 12 4.5-inch howitzers; 16 4.5-inch guns (last war 60-pounders converted to fire a heavier, longer shell further); 2 60-pounders; and 8 6-inch howitzers.

  7 Campbell’s subsequent capture in Crete was a severe blow to the A.I.F. He then commanded the 2/1st Battalion, which held Retimo aerodrome so long as its ammunition lasted.

  CHAPTER 2

  BREAK-THROUGH

  THEIR only weapons were a thin willowy stick, a pair of scissors, a pocket full of nails and a revolver. Yet they were the advance guard of the 16 000 Australian and British troops who assembled on the dark face of the desert on the night of January 20th, 1941, ready to attack Tobruk before dawn. On the steady nerves and fingers of these men with strange weapons, the waiting infantry relied to clear the maze of booby-traps, which screened the Italian defences.

  They were thirty-three members of the 2/1st Field Company, led by Lieutenant S. B. Cann. Several hours before moonrise they moved out into no-man’s-land to the accompaniment of jibes from infantry, who little realized how important those thin willowy sticks were. A stinging wind swept across the desert and the sappers were thankful for their army-issue jerkins and long woollen underwear, and for ‘rum-primed’ water-bottles, which were some compensation for the greatcoats they had left behind. To lessen risk of detection they wore woollen Balaclavas instead of tin hats and their shiny leather jerkins were turned inside out.

  For more than three hours the sappers felt their way round among the booby-traps working as fast as half-numb fingers and the all-too-close enemy patrols would let them. If they were not to be discovered, they had to finish delousing the necessary 2000-yard gap in the belt of traps in front of Posts 55 and 57 before the moon rose at 1.15 a.m. But, as it climbed over the horizon, some sappers were still lying on their stomachs, feeling for booby-traps, while an Italian patrol passed only seventy yards away. It was over an hour before these sappers managed to crawl back undetected.

  In the concentration area, three miles south of the perimeter, the booby-trap parties finally rejoined the rest of the 2/1st Field Company, and the 2/3rd Battalion. At 2.30 a.m. the troops had a meal, brought up from unit kitchens in hot boxes, and got ready to move. The Navy’s preliminary bombardment had ended at midnight, but soon the R.A.F. was pounding the inner Tobruk defences. To the distant music of their own bombs the troops marched to the start-line 1000 yards south of Posts 55 and 57. They were glad to be on the move at last, for the strain of waiting without talking or smoking was worse than going in to attack. They were as eager for the first bark of the barrage as a sprinter for the starter’s gun. Company by company they took up their positions on the taped start-line. One last check on equipment and orders and they were ready.

  About 5.30 there was a lull in the bombing and stillness once more settled on the desert. Back behind the assembly area at a British 6-inch howitzer position, I watched the gunners gulp their last mouthfuls of bully-beef stew and tea as they stood by their guns. The ‘hows’ were ready, loaded and laid. There was no sound except the voice of a signaller speaking from a shallow dug-out behind the gun-pits to an officer at the observation post – a low mound in the desert a mile or more from the perimeter. At the entrance to the dug-out the troop commander was peering at his luminous watch, set like all other watches for the battle by the B.B.C. time signal. Megaphone in hand, he waited to give the order. The last few silent minutes dragged by . . . 5.38, . . . 5.39, . . . 5.40 – ‘Fire!’

  His voice was lost in the roar of the four howitzers as they spoke together. Breeches flew open, were loaded and slammed shut. The guns settled down to a slow, rhythmic pounding almost as regular as the beat of a pump. Soon they stood in a dust-cloud of their own making.

  The leading troops were already on the move. From the sea to the north of them, from the land to the south, east and west of them, came the thunder of the heaviest bombardment the Middle East had known. Out to sea stood more than twenty warships, including three 15-inch battleships; firing from the desert were 166 guns. Sixty of them put down a box barrage on and around the five posts that the 2/3rd were to attack first. Meantime the other hundred guns concentrated on three tasks: neutralizing the posts nearest to 55 and 57; silencing the most dangerous batteries beyond these posts; and shelling the Bardia road and western sectors to provide a diversion.

  The desert across which the troops advanced was so flat that they could see the flash of their own guns firing behind them and of their own shells bursting in front. From their new positions the gunners had not fired even ranging rounds, but the infantry soon knew that the artillery was right on its targets. As the troops moved towards the wire very little enemy fire met them and much of what there was went well over their heads. But as the 2/3rd got near the anti-tank ditch one chance salvo landed in the middle of Major J. N. Abbot’s ‘C’ Company, killing or wounding an officer and twenty men.

  With the infantry went some engineers with Bangalore torpedoes. Other sappers followed behind to clear the minefield, which lay between the belt of deloused booby-traps and the anti-tank ditch. The minefield did not check the infantry. The mines were not set to explode under a man’s weight and the Diggers picked their way safely through. At 5.55 a.m. they reached the anti-tank ditch and took cover there for ten minutes while our gunners concentrated their fury on Posts 55 and 57.

  As the troops lay there more than a ton of high explosive burst on and around each of these posts every minute. This was the climax of the 25-minute bombardment in which 5000 shells had plastered an area a few hundred yards square. They had left many scars but few craters in the stony ground which made the shell splinters spread farther, and magnified the blast. For the Australians in the ditch the noise was deafening, but in the concrete dug-outs, where the Italians lay, the detonations reverberated like a succession of thunder-claps, leaving the garrisons dazed.

  During all this the C.O. of the 2/3rd (Lieutenant-Colonel V. T. England) was in the ditch with the attacking companies, but, when Brigadier ‘Tubby’ Allen joined them, England said, ‘Isn’t this a bit far forward for Brigade H.Q.?’ ‘I came up to dodge the shelling,’ replied the Brigadier.

  At 6.05 a.m. the barrage lifted from the two forward posts, and engineers raced to the wire – which was anything from twenty to fifty yards from the ditch – dragging their long Bangalore torpedoes. Some were hit. A shell landed among a pioneer detachment of the 2/3rd wounding all but one man, Private R. A. McBain. Undaunted, McBain dragged a Bangalore to the wire alone and scrambled back into the anti-tank ditch as it went off. Meantime at four other points along a 400-yard section of the wire other engineers had done the same, but, through some mischance, not all the torpedoes exploded. Knowing that the wire must be blown at all costs, sappers dashed forward again with new torpedoes and by 6.15 five clear gaps were open for the infantry. But it was still a race against time. In the half-hour of darkness that remained the two leading companies had to take three forward and two supporting posts, covering a front of over a mile.

  Through gaps to the right went Abbot’s depleted company, to capture Posts 57, 58 and 59. The platoon that attacked 57 was on top of the post before the Italians had recovered from the barrage, but darkness and the smoke and dust raised by the shelling made it hard to find the other posts. In the confusion Sergeant L. L. Stone’s platoon was about to open fire on some shadowy figures, when one of them dashed forward using language which was unmistakably Australian. Lieutenant D. E. Williams’s platoon had lost its way. Momentarily disregarding the enemy fire, Stone took time off to apologize. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Williams, ‘I put it down to excessive zeal.’ And he led his men off to take Post 56.

  On the other flank ‘D’ Company, commanded by Captain R. W. F. McDonald, had a hard fight, which was won only just in time. The platoon that went for Post 54 became lost in the darkness
and somewhat disorganized under heavy fire. The situation was saved by the prompt action of McDonald who rallied the men and led them in to take the post.

  Meantime it was touch-and-go whether Lieutenant J. E. Macdonald’s platoon took Post 55. There the enemy had six machine-guns and a light field piece, and even though the Australians attacked from the rear, they came under heavy fire. As they rushed the post all but Macdonald, a sergeant and one man crashed through the flimsy camouflage covering the anti-tank ditch that encircled the post. Macdonald was wounded, but he continued on, pitching hand grenades towards the Italian machine-gun pits. The man beside him was killed and he himself was wounded again, yet he kept the post quiet while his sergeant rallied the platoon for a final attack. Only two of the garrison of twenty-two were captured unwounded.

  By 6.40 the two attacking companies had taken the five posts, which were their initial objective, and ‘B’ Company of the 2/3rd was holding the edge of the escarpment a thousand yards north of 54 and 56, to check any counter-attack from that quarter. The bridgehead was established a mile wide and a mile deep.

  By this time too the engineers had cleared the minefield for several hundred yards on either side of the gap and had dug-in the sides of the anti-tank ditch to make crossings for the ‘I’ tanks, carriers and vehicles which were already streaming towards the perimeter. In the grey dawn light, as the first column of prisoners moved back, they passed the leading British ‘I’ tanks and the 2/1st Battalion on their way in to exploit the advantage already won. The first critical phase was over. The danger that the attacking companies might not clear a bridgehead before daylight, and that the supporting battalions might be caught in the open by an alert enemy during their approach march, had been averted.

  Herring’s gunners had done their job well. The Italians had been slow to realize that anything special was afoot and by the time they did bring their guns into action many of ours had been switched from the barrage supporting the break-through to concentrations on Italian battery positions. Many of the enemy guns that had been intended to cover the area of the break-through had been neutralized; but others, including coast defence and ack-ack guns, were now swung round to shell the area across which the British and Australian troops were advancing northward. The 2/1st Battalion (commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel K. W. Eather) had some anxious moments getting through the gap. Before they reached the wire coast defence guns were landing big stuff behind them, while ahead salvoes from enemy field guns were coming down along the anti-tank ditch. Luckily the Australians managed to hurry through during a brief lull.