The Pistoia was the division on the line at the point of that attack, and by the time Monty was having his chat with Eisenhower, it was already falling back. General Falugi did all he could, but faced with 200 British tanks backed by waves of infantry, his men simply could not stand. The Italians would answer mainly with their artillery, but it would not be enough, and their AT guns were inadequate, their own tanks far to the rear as a last ditch reserve behind the Germans.
In truth, Rommel had placed the Italian infantry there simply as a trip wire and delaying force, knowing it would not hold long against the 8th Army on its own. He had designed a layered defense in the south, with the first line at Medinine, the main central line along the wadi at Mareth, and a final line at Gabes. He reasoned that a clock would be ticking the minute O’Connor engaged the first line, and now he might have ten days to two weeks before that front would be critical.
He hadn’t counted on the Pistoia Division retiring completely to Mareth instead of trying to fight a defensive withdraw aimed at delaying the British advance. This was the same division that had thrown itself at the 8th Army in an attempt to unhinged Monty’s planned offensive against Mareth. It failed to do so in that history, and it would do no better in this one. The loss of that centermost division in the line did exactly what O’Connor knew it would, and compelled the other two on the flanks to withdraw as well.
There was, however, some advantage to this. The hasty withdrawal of the Italians would now add their strength to the main line at Mareth. O’Connor would not be able to trap those troops or force their surrender before they could escape. He surveyed the scene, realizing that he had a good battering ram right behind his main attack with the 51st Highland Division, and a solid hammer with 23rd Armored Brigade. He had every confidence that he would eventually break through.
* * *
Mid-day on the 7th of February, Patton had another call to make, this time to General Truscott, who was acting Corps commander for the two Armored divisions.
“Lucian? Look, I know I’ve been stepping all over your toes in this thing, but it’s just the old horse cavalry officer in me.” Patton’s domineering presence had reduced Truscott to a rubber stamp for his orders, and he knew the man was better than that. He apologized, then floated a proposal.
“I sent Bradley to roust Fredendall out of bed and kick his ass back to Oran. The man is no good. Brad was going to try and pull II Corps staff together at grid point G7, but I need him here. I was wondering if I can interest you in a new job, considering I’ve had my fingers in your pie all week. Do you think you could get out there and take over II Corps for the duration of this fight? If you want the Armored Corps back when we’ve finished, it’s still yours.”
“Alright,” said Truscott. “You owe me one, General.”
“Lucian, you’re a good man.”
“Well sir, it isn’t often that a three star General taps you on the shoulder at the ball. These are good troops here I’ve been dancing with. Ward’s a little shaky, but Robinette and Oliver can get the job done. Harmon is as solid as granite. You can rely on him.”
“And that I will. I’d like to keep 2nd Armored down here, but When this thing settles down I’m going to send you Ward’s whole division. That will flesh out II Corps, and I’ll create a Provisional Corps with the 1st, 34th and 2nd Armored. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough, General.”
Patton wanted Truscott to know that he valued him and saw him as essential to the future of the American war effort, which he was. Lucian Truscott would go on to become perhaps the toughest and finest US field commander of the war.
“Bradley says the line has stiffened up,” said Patton. “The Germans were forced to go defensive when Monty showed up. That’s another rabbit I managed to pull out of my hat, and it’s a miracle that man moved so quickly. I didn’t think we’d see him until next Tuesday. Now… Any word on the rest of Harmon’s outfit?”
“They arrived last night, sir, loaded for bear with all new tanks.”
“Magnificent! Can you put them on the road through Les Baines to Tebessa right away? The Huns are at the door down here, and Robinette’s boys have been fighting all week. I need a big steel shod boot to kick that door shut again.”
“You’ve got it, General. I’ll get word to Harmon on this for you, and tell him where he can find his CCR. Then I’ll leave for G7 right away.”
“Fair enough. I do owe you one for this. I know I can be a real pain in the ass at times, but you’ve done your job and done it well. Now go put some fire in the belly at II Corps. I want those two infantry divisions ready to attack in support of Monty’s move up there. As for Ryder. He plunked himself down in a defensive laager, well to the south, but I think he’s got Jerry worried about his flank. That’s at least good for something. Word is that a good chunk of 15th Panzer is still facing him down, which means I don’t have to kill those sons-of-bitches here.”
Truscott couldn’t see it, but he knew Patton was probably grinning ear to ear with that. Patton would find that CCR before Harmon even got word, and he had it moving exactly where he wanted it that same hour. He had been moving all the pieces on the board that he could get his hands on, amazed that he had managed to talk Montgomery into coming down to lend a hand.
Now he was at Tebessa to fight the gallant stand against Rommel’s two tough Panzer divisions. He had the ground, and he had reserves, and for that he was grateful. The sheer size of a US Heavy Armored Division was daunting. It had six tank battalions with 270 tanks organic to those units, and some 30 more scattered in other division elements and HQs. The two American Armored Divisions had started the campaign with 600 tanks, and a good 500 still remained active, with others in the shops or wrecked on the field of battle.
Harmon’s CCB had 300 of those, and Patton was marching it to his fortress wall to relieve the battered CCA of Ward’s 1st Armored. His other two Combat Commands were slowly bulling their way through the pass at Damous, forcing Fischer to pull more and more troops back to that sector. The daring plan Patton had conceived would have never dawned in the mind of lesser Generals. It was risky. He had mixed commands from both divisions instead of fighting them together as a whole, though this was largely forced on him by circumstances.
It had been his ability to go to Montgomery, hat in hand, that really made the difference, and to his credit, Monty had risen to the occasion in a way that Patton had never thought possible for the man. The swift and deliberate deployment of 10th Armored south from Constantine had changed everything. It had forced von Arnim’s attack to completely halt, giving Patton, Bradley and now Truscott time to pull together the two sagging US infantry divisions in II Corps.
This day, when von Arnim looked at his latest situation map, things looked very bleak. He picked up the telephone to call Kesselring, convinced that this offensive was now over.
Chapter 9
The storm had reached its high tide, and the weather was changing. Off on the distant horizon, von Arnim could see new clouds forming dark ridges in the sky.
This should not be happening, he thought. This army should not be able to stop us here. I should have deployed my two divisions closer together, and formed one strong thrust. If I had an infantry division, I would not have had to cover such a broad front. Yet even so, I was pushing the Amis back just as I expected. Then Montgomery shows up—those damnable British.
“The situation has changed,” he explained to Kesselring. “I do not think I can occupy the ground I’ve already won in this offensive any longer. There is simply too much pressure on my flanks.”
“You know what Rommel will say.”
“Let him say anything he wants. He had the Lion’s share of the Panzers, quite literally, and most of the Tigers as well. Has he taken Tebessa yet? I think not. The fact remains that if I stay where I am, it is the same situation I faced earlier—two divisions trying to hold a 25 to 30 kilometer front, and now I am facing two British and three American division sized units.”
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“Two British?”
“Montgomery has reinforced his attack with 10th Armored.”
“Interesting,” said Kesselring. “I didn’t think the man could move that quickly. He was tenacious on defense in Libya, but we haven’t seen how he conducts an offensive yet. Well, let me have a look at the latest situation map, and I’ll have a chat with Rommel tonight. Yet if things are as you say, then I think Sturmflut is over, a brief Spring rain instead of what Rommel had in mind. He won’t like it, and frankly, I think he will be recalled home to Germany after this. O’Connor took Tripoli from the Italian garrison he left there, and Mussolini is screaming that he again sacrificed those divisions like lambs to the slaughter.
O’Connor had indeed accomplished that, but with his 4th Indian and 1st South African Infantry Divisions, with a little tank support from the 7th Armored units he was sending back to Benghazi. With one hand he had closed the long arduous and often dramatic campaign in Libya, while with the other fist he was now knocking hard on the gateway to Tunisia.
“Albert,” said von Arnim. “I think we are finished here. It is only a matter of time now if we do not get at least two more divisions over here.”
“Perhaps. I am not prepared to say anything of the kind to Hitler yet, but I think we must put aside this will-o-the-wisp Spring Wind idea, and revert to a stubborn defense. Start looking over the maps of the terrain behind you. We will need to hold Gulema and Souk Ahras for as long as possible. I will also have to order the infantry on the coast back as far as Bone. Don’t worry, Tunis is still a long way off, and I think we will still have a good deal of fight in us.”
“I’ll still be operating with only four divisions,” said von Arnim. “It won’t be easy.”
“Given the fact that O’Connor has taken Medinine and is forming up to attack Mareth, I think Rommel will have to return there very soon. But I don’t think he will need three Panzer divisions. I’ll see about getting one of his units transferred to your command.”
“That would help,” said von Arnim, the tone of dejection evident in his voice. “This should not have happened. We should have kicked the Amis all the way back to Algiers, just as Rommel boasted.”
“We should have done many things that never happened in this war,” said Kesselring, “and we are doing many things that never should have happened. There are some things I think you should know, von Arnim. We will speak again on this at another time….”
Kesselring sounded somewhat cryptic with that, but von Arnim would never imagine just how strange that conversation would be one day, and what it would portend.
* * *
Smiling Al’s call to Rommel at mid-day on the 8th was just more bad news for the old desert warrior. O’Connor had smashed the Italians at Medinine in a single attack, the French Constantine Division was putting pressure south of Ghafsa, forcing Randow to send two more tank companies south to stabilize that sector. The American 34th Division stubbornly refused to retreat, and now it was merely being watched by the rest of 15th Panzer and parts of the Superga Mountain Division.
Then he broke the news of his discussion with von Arnim. “He does not think he can continue, or even hold the ground he’s taken thus far.”
“I warned you about this,” said Rommel. “He hasn’t the temperament for this sort of action.”
“It’s Montgomery,” Kesselring explained. “He’s sent a very strong armored group to that flank, and there is another one flanking 10th Panzer at Damous. I have ordered him to begin a fighting withdrawal.”
“Well then what am I wasting my time here battering my way through these mountain passes?” Rommel was more than annoyed. “I told you that von Arnim would not be aggressive enough. He cannot take the calculated risk!”
“To be fair,” said Kesselring, “you both fought with two divisions in your main offensive, and we have not yet taken either of our first two primary objectives—Ain Beida for von Arnim, and Tebessa for you.”
“The appearance of that American infantry division northwest of Ghafsa changed everything,” said Rommel. “I could not use 15th Panzer in the envelopment maneuver I planned, and it required both of the other two divisions together to break this stone wall south of Tebessa. The terrain here is maddening—nothing like the deserts of Libya. These ridges and ravines make natural defensive positions, and frankly, we underestimated the Americans here.”
“Then I think we must revert to the defense for the time being,” said Kesselring. “This General Patton was more audacious than anyone expected. Now that Montgomery has sent most of his armor against von Arnim, we must rethink our strategy here. Trying to hold an extended front from the coast to Ghafsa will simply not do. So I am ordering the 327th and 15th Infantry to fall back on Bone today. In the short run, we’ll hold there, at Gulema, Souk Ahras, and I think we’ll need Le Kef.”
“Hitler will be enraged,” said Rommel. “We made him a lot of promises with Sturmflut .”
“The plan was sound,” said Kesselring, but yes, one must not blame the song when he cannot dance. We should have done better with this, but it is all water under the bridge now. Let me handle Hitler. We will say that, given the shift of the British Armor south, it became necessary to combine the Panzer divisions rather than using them in two separate commands.”
“I argued that all along,” said Rommel dejectedly. “If I had those two extra divisions, I would show you how they should be used. I will show you how to dance.”
“I must remind you that you were the senior officer in the field for Sturmflut , and yet von Arnim says he received no directives or orders from you whatsoever. One cannot have it both ways, Herr Rommel. If you wish to command, you must do so. And yet, I cannot help but agree with you. We should have beaten these Americans, of that I have little doubt. This time it was Patton who took that calculated risk by attacking at Damous, but he could not have done so without support from Montgomery. It was O’Connor’s offensive in the south, and Montgomery, that really changed the big strategic picture here, though I suppose this General Patton will want his share of the laurels.”
Rommel was silent for some time, his mood darkening, a quiet inner rage consuming him. “What now, Herr Field Marshal?”
“You must first make sure the Mareth line is secure. Sturmflut is over. Now we transition to the broader plan, as we discussed with theFrühlingwind operation. We must first discover the enemy’s real intentions. Was Patton meant to push this far south and move for the coast at Sfax and Sousse? If so, we must plan accordingly. As they come forward, we must be very skillful on the dance floor. Otherwise, this may be our Swan Song.”
* * *
What had first been conceived in Rommel’s mind as a bold gamble, staking everything on one throw of the dice, had now been called a Swan Song. When Kesselring had approved his plan, he said that he felt like an old cavalry horse that had again heard the bugle call of battle. All of this can be found in his diaries and letters to Lucie. Then they suddenly stopped. There he was, huddled in his armored command vehicle, listening to the rain and the jangle of field phones, his mind beset by the demons of despair that had harangued him ever since Bir El Khamsa.
Outside, the rain fell on the cold metal hulks of the 501st Tiger Battalion. One company had been sent forward to support the afternoon attack, but the other two sat, as Rommel sat, cold, silent, sullen. They were unrealized victory, glory ungrasped, power harnessed and held in check, like great war elephants waiting for battle that might never come.
News came that 10th Panzer was already beginning its withdrawal, mustering north of the Damous pass, where the Americans had finally forced their way through. Conrath followed suit, withdrawing back through Medkour along the river and road to Souk Ahras. This meant that the battle in the north had already been decided. Von Arnim was not going to attack any longer, and so anything he did her now was pointless—nothing more than a waste of lives, equipment, fuel and ammunition.
In the old history, this clearly manic flip from
the fervor of battle to the deep despair he felt now had prompted him to be the first to call off the offensive. Kesselring had spent some time trying to bolster his morale and urged him to continue, but it was Rommel who had lost his will to fight. That was not so in this history. His will to fight was as hard and keen as ever, but now he saw everyone around him, Kesselring, von Arnim, the Luftwaffe, the Italians, as part of a grand conspiracy to undermine his plan.
Yet, as he stared at the map, the unfeeling assessment of his cool military mind could now clearly see the futility of trying to continue here. This Patton is a man to be reckoned with, he thought. He fought this stubborn delaying action here, nibbled at my flank with 34th Infantry and the French. Then he was the one who risked everything on one single throw of the dice. He was the old warhorse that heard the call of the bugles….
They will probably say I won the battle of Kasserine. Yes, they certainly must say this. As for the Battle for Tebessa, I will see that they call it a draw. Patton…. I underestimated him, but I will not do so ever again. So what to do here? What do we really need? We must keep Ghafsa, for Highway 15 runs directly from there to Gabes on the coast. For the time being, that job goes to Randow’s 15th Panzer Division.
He fingered the map, squinting. This place here looks like a good choke point—El Guettar. As for Thelepte, it is too exposed, but now the terrain around Kasserine Pass becomes my castle wall for a time. Superga goes to Thelepte, a lamb tied to a stake there as bait for General Patton. He laid on the ropes well here—fought from the corner. If he comes for Thelepte, then I will see if he knows how to fight in the center of the ring. That would be a very good place to counterattack, but I think he may have other ideas.
Stormtide Rising (Kirov Series Book 29) Page 8