Stormtide Rising (Kirov Series Book 29)

by Schettler, John

  “What about the north?” asked Wilson.

  “It will have to hold on. I think it likely that Jerry will get into Mosul very soon. So Kirkuk will have to stand as a fortress city with 5th Indian and the Kurdish Levies.”

  “Thank God for the Levies,” said Wilson. “I hope they fight.”

  The British had raised ten Kurdish, 22 Assyrian, five Arab, and ten other tribal levies of battalion size in the last two years, and they were now mostly deployed in outlying cities, and along the border with Iran.

  “So it’s decided,” said Auchinlek. “We put our house in order in the south first, secure Abadan, and defeat any Iranian forces in the region. Then 2nd Infantry moves to Baghdad with all the armor, and by that time, Wavell says he’ll have 7th Indian Division landing at Umm Qasar to look after Basra.”

  Auchinlek was a superb military mind, and excellent tactician and real master of the operational art. He was quite possibly the best field General the British had, Montgomery’s equal in every respect. Yet now he found himself in a largely administrative role as overall commander in Persia, Iraq, and the Gulf. While Wilson was a steady hand, the Auk might have been a real match for Guderian on the ground, and better there than behind a desk in Basra.

  Alexander agreed that their plan was the best approach. “Now then,” he said. “What is Jerry going to do about it?”

  That was the question of the hour.

  * * *

  Guderian had taken ten full days to get supplies down the Euphrates, which was now the main link back to forward depots on the Turkish Frontier. Now he met with his three division commanders, Beckermann, Schneider with 4th Panzer, and General Fredrich Muller with the 22nd Luftland. He had come forward to Hadithah to personally lead the invasion of Iraq, sending the whole of 3rd panzer back through Palmyra with Hans Hube to check the offensive Alexander had pushed as far as the T4 Pumping station.

  “So far, so good,” said Guderian. “We have taken every planned objective on schedule, and now control all of Anbar province. We’ve had time to refit and resupply, but we have also given that time to the enemy. They undoubtedly regrouped those two Indian divisions near Baghdad, and this brings us to the decision we must make concerning that city.”

  “We’ll have to take it,” said Beckermann. “It can in no way be anything like the fight we had at Volgograd, so I say we simply storm the place with my entire division.”

  “Assuming we do so, we then have the choice of turning either north or south. I have asked for infantry support, and General Kubler is adjusting his lines to free up Volker’s 78th Sturm Division on the coast of Lebanon. That division will move by rail and it should be in Mosul in another day.”

  “Hauptmann Barenthin is already there,” said Muller. “They flew in this morning and took the place without a single shot. It was completely ungarrisoned.”

  “Excellent, then Volker’s troops will have no problems.

  Beyond that, the Turkomen Korps has made the long and difficult trek through northern Iran and they are now approaching Kirkuk. If those forces can secure Kirkuk and Baba Gurgur, then we stay on schedule, because no matter what you think, Herr Beckermann, city fighting in Baghdad could take us time.”

  “My division is available to assist,” said Schneider.

  “I am thinking to have you move north of Baghdad, here.” Guderian pointed at the map. “This will cut the Baghdad rail, and prevent the British from sending anything north quickly. Take Al Taji, then divide your division into two strong Kampfgruppes. The first can move south and attack Baghdad from the north. The second can be dispatched up central Iraq through Samara and Tikrit, with the aim of establishing contact with the 78th Sturm Division, and opening that rail line to Mosul for our use. They will be a much more reliable LOC than our present lines back up the Euphrates, and this is essential.”

  “Then we aim to secure Baghdad and Northern Iraq first,” said Beckermann. “I agree.”

  “Correct,” said Guderian. Once we have that rail line operational, and Baghdad secure, then we make that city our main supply hub. The Luftwaffe can concentrate everything there, and then your division, Herr Muller, will not be tied down on LOC duties as it is now. The falloff Baghdad and opening of that rail line to Mosul concluded Phase II of Operation Phoenix. Phase III then becomes the invasion of central and southern Iran, with the ultimate objective being the key oil refineries and facilities at Basra and Abadan. At that point, and pending the situation in the air, we may be able to move some of your troops by air, Muller—a nice little surprise.”

  “What about the Iranians?” asked Muller.

  “They aren’t much to speak of,” said Guderian. “On paper their army looks enormous, but I would estimate their typical brigade might have less real combat power than a single German battalion. Nonetheless, they can be useful by crossing the border, and pestering the British in the south to delay the advance of their reinforcements north to Baghdad. To that end, I want Reinhardt to use his Kommando Battalions to interdict the rail lines in the south.

  “My pleasure,” said Reinhardt, his black hair slicked back tight on his squarish head. A handsome man, with a dimpled chin and prominent nose under dark brows, his blue eyes looked over the map, tracing the rail lines.”

  “Can we expect any further reinforcements.”

  “10th Motorized is being relieved even now by the 31st Infantry Division in Syria. I’ve been trying to get it east all along, but the British put in a very dogged spoiling attack at the T4 station. That situation is stabilizing, and so now we finally get Schmidt’s division. It should arrive in three days on the road from Palmyra. I would love to have Westhoven’s 3rd Panzer, but I’m afraid it must stay where it is. The British brought up a good deal of armor, but Westhoven had a lot of Lions, and he’s stopped them.” He folded the map, satisfied with these dispositions.

  “We may need that division soon.”

  “In time,” said Guderian. Then he took a deep breath, looking over the capable men under his command. “Soldiers of the Reich,” he said. “If we succeed here, we deliver a prize of greater value than Moscow was in 1941—of greater value than Volgograd in 1942! We deliver the largest known oil reserves in the world to the Führer, and at the same time, we take them from the enemy. The stakes could not be higher. This campaign is far more significant than anything Rommel did in Libya. We have a chance here to completely unhinge the enemy’s strategic supply situation, and immeasurably improve our own. Fight accordingly. We move out at dawn.”

  15 FEB, 1943

  It was Gruber again, out in front of the Brandenburgers as always when the division kicked off a mew operation. He was the first unit down the main road to Habbaniyah airfield, his three companies on line of march, but they were forced to deploy almost immediately. The 5th British Essex Battalion was right there at the airfield, dug in behind wire and fencing that was its only protection. On his right, between the airfield and the broad marshy lake of Al Habbaniyah, he could see the streams of dust being thrown up by 1/I Brandenburg Battalion, racing to engage another enemy force protecting that corridor.

  Beckermann expected the British to put up a fight there, and he had planned to send Gruber’s Recon Battalion, and the entire 1st Regiment of the Brandenburgers to plow right on through. At the same time, he would order Konen’s 2nd Regiment to pass north of the Euphrates in a wide enveloping maneuver, the sort of which had so unsettled the Indian divisions earlier. They simply could not react quickly enough to run with the fast moving hit and move tactics of the Brandenburgers, soon finding themselves bypassed, cut off, and in full retreat. Konen moved quickly, and he already had his artillery battalion set up well north of the airfield, the first ranging salvos starting to fall there.

  The Second Battle for Habbaniyah was now underway, only this time there would be no helicopters with mini-guns, no Argonauts in Talos assault suits and the Black Death led by the intrepid Sergeant Troyak. This time it was men of equal caliber, perhaps not as well armed or poss
essed of that modern technology, but arguably among the finest fighting infantry in the world.

  That same hour, Volkov’s troops came done from the high mountain passes east of Kirkuk and surrounded a Kurdish Levy posted on the road north of the city. At the same time, the Iranian Army crossed the border at three locations, two divisions moving from the Kermanshah Sector, another from Khorramabad, and two other near Al Amarah. For them it was nothing more than a land grab, territories promised to them by the Reich if they would agree to support the German invasion. They were also promised handsome payment for their oil, which would be wrenched from the greedy hands of the British Petroleum Company, and made theirs to sell as they pleased.

  In the south, there was fighting on the lower Tigris at a refinery on that river between Abadan and Basra. The Iranian 1st Division was moving up from Abadan toward the prize facilities just northwest of Basra, but they were going to meet more than they bargained for. The British 9th Armored moved from Basra north of the river, then swung over and came down on the Iranians like a hammer. 6th Infantry Brigade was right behind it, and the British intended to smash this enemy force and push right on to Abadan.

  Up country, Brigadier Kingstone had replenished from stores and hidden ammo caches on the border with Arabia, and he was leading Kingforce up through Karbala to Alexandria. Behind him, stretched out in a long column for over 40 miles, were the last two battalions of the Free French, followed by the 10th Indian Division. They had all been forced to move south of the mass of Lake Razzazah, and so now they would be approaching Baghdad from the south, a much welcome reinforcement.

  At Habbaniyah, the British were forced to quickly abandon the field, seven Maryland bombers and a few Spitfires blasted by that German artillery. Only four Spits got out, speeding away to Rasheed airfield, where the RAF had converted the old racecourse east of the city to a landing field. Flanked to the north, the 19th Indian Brigade fell back towards Fallujah, demolishing any bridge after they crossed. Their mission had been to force a delay upon the enemy, and now they fell back to the main line of resistance behind Fallujah.

  As this was going on, Glubb Pasha had led his Arab Legion over a narrow isthmus between Habbaniyah Lake and the marshlands to the south. The Brandenburg Kommandos had come down along the northern edge of that lake, and this put the two sides into direct confrontation, a wild scene where the Arabs, most mounted on horses, were charging wildly over the scrubby desert, shooting from the hip with rifles and flashing their long cruel scimitars. They were met by the elite Kommandos in desert Cammo, crouching low and firing with submachine guns from the wadis and other depressions where they went to ground. It had the air of a wild west Indian attack, with the German Kommando company outnumbered three to one.

  That did not last long, for other battalions of Brandenburgers were racing up on trucks, scout cars in the van with machineguns barking out a warning. Gruber’s armored cars came up, and that took the fire our of Glubb’s Arabs. That wild action around Fallujah concluded the day, largely a preliminary sounding out of the battle to come. The Brandenburgers had flowed down the road from Ramadi like a steel river, and met the berm thrown up by the 8th British Indian Division under General Russel.

  The General had his division deployed in a wide arc northwest of Baghdad, with Brigadier Ford’s 19th Brigade at Fallujah, Brigadier Purves 21st Brigade on their right along a canal flowing to the Tigris to the east, and Brigadier Jenkins had his 17th Brigade way off to the north of Baghdad at Al Taji, the city Schneider’s 4th Panzer was tasked with taking.

  That division was only now arriving in the wake of the Brandenburgers, the halftracks, trucks and tanks rolling past Habbaniyah airfield, north of the river. At the same time, Brigadier Kingstone’s column was arriving at the edge of the main Baghdad airport right at dusk. His AEC-III armored cars were a welcome sight to the infantry of 6th Indian Division posted there. He wanted to get up to see Jumbo Wilson that night at the British Embassy in the heart of the city. Behind him the weary 10th Indian followed in column of march, but as all these forces converged on Baghdad, the defensive prospects for the city seemed much brighter.

  Chapter 14

  “Joe … Good to see you, but you’re looking a little worn from the road.” Jumbo Wilson stood to shake hands with Kingstone, knowing him well.

  “Worn isn’t half a word for it,” said Kingstone. “General, I hope you’re ready for a fight here. Jerry ran circles around us on the Euphrates. I’ve never seen troops move like that. Damn good motorized infantry, and we’ll need to keep our wits about us.”

  “Our infantry will do better here at Baghdad,” said Wilson. “Not that you didn’t pull your load. They caught us napping, and we paid for it. Now it’s time to get back on our feet.”

  “What’s the situation up north?” Kingstone had heard no news at all. In fact, he didn’t even know if Briggs and 5th Indian had safely arrived in Iraq.

  “5th Indian made it to Kirkuk, and they’re digging in for the long haul. Jerry brought in another infantry division on the main rail from Mosul—they’ve got that place now. And they’re pushing patrols over to Arbil as well. I ordered the Levy battalion there to move to Kirkuk.”

  “Briggs did his damnedest to link up with us earlier, but Jerry got right between us. As for Blaxland… You might want to keep a firm rein on that one. Word is that he was sitting down to tea at the T1 Station when Jerry came for the airfield.”

  “I see…” Wilson said nothing more. He could see that Kingstone was a bit agitated, and certainly worn out from two weeks fighting and 300 miles on the road. The Brigadier had more he wanted to say.

  “General, you can’t try to hold a cohesive front with this lot. They’ll pick one spot on the line and punch right through. Then they go like bats out of hell on the other side. An don’t count on them hitting you from this side of the Tigris. They’ll look for a good crossing point and try to flank the city from the north. This isn’t just any division we’re up against here. It’s the bloody Brandenburgers, and we’ve identified at least five separate motorized regiments in this lot.”

  “Five regiments?”

  “That’s a fact. So they can hit your line with full division strength and still have two regiments to get round either flank. General, if they do get through your lines, you mustn’t waste a moment getting the men back here—to the city. We can make them pay for their lodging if they fight us here. And another thing—they’ll fight night and day; right round the clock, and by God, they want to win. So you can’t spread out along an extended front. That’s just an invitation to disaster with this bunch at our throats. Concentrate your brigades on key objectives. If it means we fight out of the corner, so be it. Better there than in the center of the ring. This bunch hits harder than Max Schmeling, so look to your ribs when he closes to attack.”

  “We’re set up well if they hit us from the west,” said Wilson.

  “A little too far from the city for my comfort,” said Kingstone. “I was at the airport just now, and the Germans will certainly want that bang away so they can fly in fresh ammo and supplies. Then they’ll want the rail line open to Mosul. After that, then the real fighting starts here.”

  “Logical,” said Wilson, tamping down his pipe. “Well, when Blaxland comes up, we’ll have three divisions here. At the moment, 2nd British Infantry is getting after Abadan, and they may take it in another day or two.”

  “The second?”

  “My old outfit,” said Wilson with a smile. “Damn good troops.”

  “That’s a step in the right direction,” said Kingstone. “I thought they were with Slim in Burma.”

  “They were, but that front has quieted down and Wavell suggested that the stakes here were a little higher than holding the border against Tojo over there. So we’ve got the 2nd Infantry, and 7th Indian Division right after it. That will wrap things up down south, and then they can come forward to settle this business. They’ll have 7th and 9th Armored Brigades with them when they come.”
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  “Armor? Bloody marvelous!” Kingstone smiled for what seemed like the first time in the last month, the lines of his face deepening as he grinned.

  “Forgive my manners, General,” said Wilson. “Would you care for a brandy?”

  “No sir, another time. I’ll want to be getting back to the Brigade. We’re coming in right at the aerodrome. Where do you want me?”

  Wilson looked at his map. “Well now, you’ve a fast outfit there. Why don’t you bring your boys on into the city and cross the Tigris to the Barracks site. If Jerry does what you suggest, you’ll be in a good spot there to parry any thrust from the northeast.”

  “Very good sir, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to take the column around the city. My lads have had little more than a mouthful of desert for the last two weeks, and marching them by the bars and brothels will be a tad rough on morale.”

  “Well enough, Joe. Get some rest, will you? You deserve it.”

  “I’ll rest a good deal easier once we get that armor up. Oh… One thing more. There were two battalions of French Foreign Legion with our column. I left them in Karbala.” Kingstone saluted and was on his way.

  18 FEB, 1943

  The two Turkomen divisions hit the ridgeline defenses north and west of Kirkuk that morning. They had been informed that the German 78th Sturm Division was approaching the city from the west, which was the trigger for this assault. It was meant to pull in as much of the defense as possible, and it was a classic “Russian Style” infantry assault, the rifle battalions swarming forward as a mass and trying to overwhelm the more isolated battalion outposts on the ridge.

  As dogged as the Turkomen infantry was, the 5th Division held its ground. They had spent the last two days digging trench lines, sewing mines and wire, and registering the three battalions of division artillery, and they made the enemy pay for climbing that rocky slope. In two places, it came to fighting right at the trench lines, hand to hand, with the Turkomen fighters brandishing curved swords, and the Indian infantry mounting countercharges with fixed bayonets. Here and there, clusters of regular British infantry that had been salted into the division stood unmoved, their Vickers MGs exacting a heavy toll. By mid-day the enemy attack had faltered, and the battalions were falling back down the slope, still harassed by artillery fire. Discouraged and badly beaten, the Turkomen Divisions decided to wait for the Germans, and there would be no further fighting for that long ridge aside from desultory artillery exchanges.