The General found O’Connor late on the 17th, wanting to see what his mind was on the situation. “We’ve got them on the run,” he said. “They’re pulling out west. How are your divisions?”
“The lads are ready as rain, but its fuel we need now. When I chased the Italians west last year, I managed to put together a couple flying columns using vehicles that still had the fuel to go the distance. We’re mopping up that line of delaying forces, but, with darkness falling and the fuel situation being what it is, I think it best to consolidate, sort the units out, and use the time to prepare for a concerted advance in the morning.”
“Very well general,” said Kinlan, extending his hand. “You’ve just beaten Rommel.”
“Not so fast,” said O’Connor. “Oh, we broke 15th Panzer Division alright. 7th Armored gave them a good fight, but we lost a lot of vehicles attacking their infantry hard points. Those damn Lions are formidable. They were wreaking havoc, even on the new American tanks we received. I don’t suppose you had any trouble with them?”
“They mission killed two of my Challengers—lucky hits, but we’ll have them both operational again as soon as the engineers can get to them. Otherwise, Rommel thought he’d bushwhacked one of my Mech Infantry battalions, but we saw him coming and the Dragoons smashed that attack. Frankly, that’s one hell of a body punch to take in a fight like this. We must have wrecked 150 enemy tanks out near Hill 498. After that, Jerry had no more stomach for this fight, and that dusty road west looked a darn sight more appealing. My only regret is not getting far enough west to cut them off.”
“You would have been on your own,” said O’Connor. “Once the 15th Panzer came at us, one thing led to another. That fight just kept pulling my battalions in, until the weight of 2nd Armored Division decided the matter. So we win through today. But this isn’t over. Tomorrow we’ll get after him, and it’s on to Agedabia!”
Chapter 36
They did not yet know it at that moment, but Hill 498 in the desert of Southern Libya was another turning point in the war that was now in its third terrible year. Disheartened but still determined, Rommel would make the long retreat to Agedabia and arrive there by nightfall on the 17th of March. It seemed at that moment just another movement in the long see saw struggle in that forsaken place. Yet after his brilliant opening offensive with Operation Sonnenblume, after that stunning first shock at Bir el Khamsa, he was never the same man again.
Rommel had tried everything. If he dug in his infantry behind mines, this infernal nemesis would use amazing wire guided chains that would explode to create pathways for those awesome heavy tanks. Once they were on the scene, they were simply invincible. In all the long months of this struggle, they had only one confirmed kill—and that had been laurels for the Luftwaffe, and not his own Panzertruppen. His frustrated tank crews reported hitting the enemy two and three times, but with no effect, and those were just the tanks lucky enough to survive to get in range of the enemy. The only way he could use his mobile divisions to attack now was to strike at the enemy infantry divisions, and as he made that long withdrawal west, he thought that was what he should have done.
I should have placed the infantry from 10th Panzer Division down on that flank, studding the line with all the anti tank and heavy flak guns I had, and backing it up with artillery. Then I should have taken the three panzer regiments and the rest of the mobile infantry and formed a massive strum group. We could have blasted right through that South African division, raced to Tobruk and taken the place before Montgomery could do anything about it.
But then what? Another voice spoke to him in the back of his mind. Then you would be sitting right there, in a port where no ships can call because of the damnable Royal Navy, and one where no supply trucks could call, because Montgomery would be sitting on the Via Balbia, and that Heavy Brigade would be sitting on Trigg Capuzzo.
No, he thought. ‘Should of’ never won a race. At least now you still have a secure line of communications to Tripoli. Now the issue of Benghazi comes to the fore. Can we still hold it? If the Italians get back in time, they should have sufficient strength to do so. It will become my Tobruk, even if they cut the road between that place and Agedabia. That port can be supplied by sea, at least for a while, and it will force the British to deploy at least two infantry divisions to invest it, possibly three. Those are divisions they can ill afford to spare for that duty.
When I get to the Gulf of Sirte, I will be sitting on the best defensive ground in North Africa. The only place comparable is Halfaya Pass, or perhaps Gabes in southern Tunisia. They think they’ve beaten me, but they are a long way from doing that. They merely cemented one fact in my mind. We can beat them on even terms, but they still hold that one terrible trump card. Strange that with all these new American tanks that were delivered, no additional heavy tanks appeared. There seemed to be no more than fifty or sixty in total, but my god, that was enough. I spent three months husbanding panzer deliveries from Germany, and lost half of everything they sent me in one hot hour.
So now I sit on my defensive line at Mersa Brega, and let us see if they have the mettle to try and push me out. This is not a defeat, but a mere setback. It is nothing more than a strategic withdrawal. This is far from over, but Crüwell’s words still bite. What will the Führer think? He is getting a lot of bad news from Russia these days, and now this. I salvaged my pride after that debacle at Tobruk last year by stubbornly sitting on my Gazala line. This time, they get Cyrenaica back, and all those good airfields.
A lot of good they did us in this fight. Where was the Luftwaffe? Most of the Stukas were pulled out west to French North Africa and Operation Condor. The British knew that, of course, which is why they struck me now. If I only had those Stukas back…
If wishes were horses, he thought, his weary mind completing a circle as he mulled over the battle. Thank God I had the backbone to admit what was happening and get the Army out in time. If the British had pushed further west before they turned north, we might have been cut off. So Crüwell’s preemptive attack was the key, wasn’t it. Of course I must never admit that to him, but that forced the British to commit their 7th Armored Division on his front, and he was just good enough in that attack to hurt them. Then O’Connor had to put in his 2nd Armored Division. Crüwell fought bravely today. I was the one who took the foolish gamble this time, and I risked everything in thinking I could get to the infantry formations in that hellish Heavy Brigade.
I simply underestimated the incredible mobility of that Heavy Armored Battalion. There is something almost supernatural about those troops and machines. They seem to know what we are doing, every step of the way. They spot our defensive positions, through smoke and sand, and then fire right through it all to pick off our strongpoints.
We overran one segment of their line with our tank charge, but that heavy armor moves like the wind. It appeared on the scene just in time to wreak havoc. Watching those Lions burn was quite a shock. They are the best tank we have ever put in the field, and yet they could not even begin to match this British tank. Its capabilities are simply unnatural, simply stupefying. How could the British produce such a tank, and then still clatter about in those god awful machines they give to their main divisions? What am I not seeing here? Something is simply wrong in all of this, and Army intelligence must get to the bottom of the matter, and soon.
He rubbed his brow, weary with the lateness of the hour, closing his eyes. Agedabia first, he thought, then Mersa Brega. After that, Tripoli, and if they manage to get that far, and pry me out of that city, then I’ll stop them again at Gabes. Yes, this is far from over. It is going to be a very long year….
* * *
“Just when I get up a good head of steam, Wavell wants to pull my lead unit right off the line!” Montgomery was exasperated when he got the news. “That South African division I threw on the fire did a fine job, but they certainly can’t carry the offensive up into the Jebel country. In fact, without the Australians, I’ll be lucky if I ca
n get to Derna if strongly opposed. This is one fine kettle of fish.”
The Australians…. Without Bennett’s two brigades he could not have held Singapore. If he had had either the 6th or 7th Aussie Divisions on Java, he’d still be holding that island as well. Now, without the 9th Division here, his prospects for any aggressive push west were quite dim, and he let Wavell know it in no uncertain terms.
“Don’t worry,” said Wavell. “Take the time to catch your breath and tidy up. I’m going to take one of the Indian Divisions from O’Connor, and you can have both the South African Divisions to re-establish your Corps.”
“50th Northumbrian would suit me better,” said Monty. “And when might we get in the Highland Division?”
“Soon,” said Wavell, but he could make no promises. He would have to dangle that carrot in front of O’Connor to keep him in line if he stole away that Indian Division. “Look Monty, You’ve done a fine job here, and fresh off the boat from Java. What we need now is the airfields up north. Make that your primary objective.”
“Alright,” said Monty, resigned to his fate. “How soon can I have that Indian Division?”
“I’ll cut the orders today.”
O’Connor was a frustrated man that day as well. Wavell had also contacted him, just as he had during Operation Compass when he pulled out 6th Australian right in the middle of the offensive. This time it was 9th Australian Division, and the two New Zealand Brigades as well. They were Monty’s troops, but that still pulled the better part of two divisions from the field just as he was hoping to move west again.
“We knew this was coming,” said Kinlan.
“Yes, but all we needed was another week to ten days!”
“And what would you accomplish? Rommel is going to beat us to Agedabia, and now Monty hasn’t the troops he needs to really push the Italians.”
“He won’t have to. They’ll have to fall back to Benghazi.”
“Yes, they’ll go because Rommel and the Germans have gone, but in their own good time. It may be a while before they evacuate the Jebel country entirely, and we may have to fight to pry them out of a few of those airfields along the way.”
O’Connor nodded. “Right, and Monty is already after my infantry divisions. The man had the nerve to call me an hour ago and ask about the Northumbrians. Well, he won’t get his hands on that division, but Wavell is sending him the Indian troops, and both South African Divisions. The question is, will the Italians try to hold Benghazi?”
“I would,” said Kinlan. “That will force us to invest it, and we’re already short on Infantry.”
“Yet once we get the RAF forward, and west of Derna, we can harass all supply deliveries to that port.”
“Don’t forget,” Kinlan cautioned. “There are two good airfields at Benghazi, and my bet is that they’ll be crawling with German BF-109s.”
“It will be Monty’s problem,” said O’Connor, dismissing the matter and chafing to get moving again. “What I want to do is take both armored divisions and get them moving west by mid-day.”
“Why the hurry? All you’ll be doing is extending your present supply lines by another 200 miles. Look, when you get to the other side of this desert, you won’t be looking at Italians as you found them at Beda Fomm. That’s Rommel out there, and I’m not at all convinced that we’ve beaten him here. You plan on attacking him at the gulf of Sirte? That’s the worst damn ground in North Africa, and by the time you get there, he’ll be dug in deep. They already have prepared positions there.”
“Then why not mass everything and just bull our way through,” said O’Connor. “We can make a phalanx of armor, with your boys right up front, just as we discussed.”
“Yes, we could, but there’s a question of ammunition. We expended a good deal in breaking that armored attack at Hill 498. It hurt both panzer regiments we were facing, but now we have to be a little particular about how we use what’s left.”
“How bad is it?”
“We’ve still got at least one more good fight in hand, perhaps two if we choose our targets well. The artillery will get resupplied with useable rounds from your own stores, but not our tanks and APCs. Our engineers are working back in the UK to see about trying to develop replacement rounds, but even if they do, they won’t be anywhere near as effective as the rounds we still have. There are materials in that ammunition that you simply can’t get your hands on. In fact, you won’t have them for many years.”
“So you’re telling me we have to pick our fights more carefully now, and our own boys will just have to put their shoulders to the wheel.”
“If you want my brigade up front—yes. Consider that you’ll also need at least two or three divisions to properly invest Benghazi. That leaves us with only the 50th Northumbrian and the 22nd Guards to support your armor if we attempt to move into Tripolitania. Rommel won’t put his panzers in the shop window at Mersa Brega. He’ll keep them well back, and his infantry divisions were largely unscathed in this attack. We’d better think this one over.”
O’Connor shrugged. He had the bit between his teeth and he wanted to run, but after two days of hard fighting, his troops would need rest, fuel, supplies, tank replacements. Kinlan was correct. All he would find at the end of another 200 mile run across the desert would be an intransigent enemy in good positions for a stolid defense. They would need the infantry to sweep and secure the Jebel country, re-occupy all the airfields, and then they had to move their own planes forward, and relocate all the artillery, all the forward supply depots. Wavell had promised him another infantry division, the 51st, but it was still en-route.
“I suppose we should sit down with Monty and Wavell and sort this all out,” he said. “But I’ll still want to pony up a strong brigade to shepherd Rommel west. It can act as a screening force as the infantry closes in on Benghazi.”
“I’d agree with that,” said Kinlan, giving O’Connor a sympathetic look. “General, I know how you feel. The job isn’t finished and you want to get after it. But this was a victory here, even if we haven’t forced Rommel to fall back on Tripoli yet. Give it time, we’ll probably be ready to have a go at him again by May. Until then, count your feathers. You’ll soon secure a good many airfields up north, and the RAF is getting much stronger here now. That will matter. Trust me. You win that air duel over Benghazi, and then the Italians will just have to sit there and wither on the vine. We could afford to leave men in Tobruk when Rommel first bypassed that port, but only because the Royal Navy commanded the sea, and the Luftwaffe wasn’t really well established here at that time.”
O’Connor looked at him. “Funny to think you know how this all turns out, don’t you.”
“I know how it all turned out once upon a time,” said Kinlan. “I wasn’t here for that, but neither were you. So the fact that we are here means the book we’re writing now will be quite different. Let’s just count our blessings, and see to the road ahead.”
* * *
It was going to be a long road indeed, for Rommel as he looked over his shoulder, quietly picking his ground and planning his lines of defense, and for the British as they struggled to muster the resources to continue pushing him. The next few months would also see a lull in the fighting in Russia, and both weary armies counted their dead, and the Soviets dug in on the new front line won by their stunning offensive. Guderian returned to Berlin to look over production of more new tanks for the battered panzer divisions. Manstein stopped the Russian advance south of Kursk, and then waited for Halder to find him more infantry so he could pull the SS Panzer Korps off the line and get ready for his next big offensive.
There would be some discussion as to how best to proceed, with Halder arguing the bulge in the line near Kursk should be the first German operation after the ground firmed up, and Manstein still casting an eager eye towards Volgograd. That issue would soon be taken to Hitler for a decision, and the Führer would now begin to reset his hopes for a victory in Russia as these operations were planned and debated at OKW
. All the Generals were so busy thinking and planning, so caught up in the immediacy of what they were doing, that they failed to perceive what had actually happened, failed to clearly see that the war had reached a decided turning point, and the Allies were finally getting up off the mat and steeling themselves to come out fighting with the next bell.
Yet Kinlan’s remark to O’Connor would prove to be very true. It was all going to be very different now, though some things would still ring true to the history he and Fedorov knew. Half a world away, George C. Marshall was looking over a long list of nearly 400 senior officers in the Army, all arranged in order of seniority. They were all candidates for the position of Supreme Commander of Allied Forces in the west, which he wanted for an American General, in spite of the fact that Britain had carried the burden of the war there for years. His finger would settle on name number 367, a man named Dwight Eisenhower, and he sent him east across the Atlantic to the British forward outpost in the Azores to carry on with the planning for the first major counteroffensive by the unified Allied forces in the European Theater—Operation Gymnast.
The plan would involve the first daring leap by a combined Allied seaborne force, and its principal target would be Casablanca. That port was the only facility deemed as both vulnerable to Allied attack and also suitable as a base from which subsequent operations would be conducted. In the Allied planners mind, its capture would effectively cut the naval and air supply links the Germans were now struggling to build to the Canary Islands, rendering that outpost vulnerable to counterattack if the Germans did not withdraw of their own accord.
Turning Point (Kirov Series Book 22) Page 32