The only other action before dawn was in the neck of the city that extended up towards the mountains, There, Germania’s 1st Battalion had kept fighting, eventually overrunning a company of 1st Argyll & Sutherland, and flanking the Parliament building. That attack had been meant to try and flank resistance in Old Damascus on the main road north of the river, and it succeeded in doing exactly that. The two tattered platoons left in D Company of 1st Argyll & Sutherland Battalion huddled in the public works building and the heavy concrete walled city health building, their only company being French troops from the 11th Marche that had been sent up to guard the adjacent Parliament building. The road all these buildings were on led directly to the Presidential Compound, and come morning on the 31st of March, the Germans would shift the full weight of Germania’s attack in that direction.
General Gille had been studying the maps, getting position updates hourly, and he sensed that he had the makings of a breakthrough underway. So he did what any good commander would have done. He fed more wood into that fire. It would come from Westland Regiment in the north, which he ordered to suspend its attack against the 4th Royal Sussex Battalion and then send two of its battalions south towards the Parliament district. The road he was on was called Muhamad Ali El Abed, running from the new central bank on the outskirts of the main city, and straight past Parliament to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Presidential residence. If he could get there, he would cut off everything the British had on his left north of the river and canal, which was most of 44th Recon and the 2nd Highland Light Battalion that had taken the brunt of his attack the previous day.
Now the Stugs pulled out, shifting north to use that new avenue of approach, and the Germans were dancing like the fighter who would one day take the same name of that street—dancing into the center of the ring. Gille had attacked on a broad front, but now he wanted to concentrate as much force as possible on that breakthrough zone, all made possible when that single company had been overrun.
The German Stugs blasted away at the public works building, driving out the troops that had taken refuge there, and they would soon have the Parliament building nearly surrounded. The breakthrough was cutting right across the neck of the city extending north, where only a thin screen of French Gendarme patrols protected the embassy district, where nine countries had legations all within a 1 kilometer area on the back of that neck Gille was choking. There was a fire starting close to where the initial breakthrough had been made, and the growl and fire of those Stugs rattled the morning.
Brigadier Lyne was in a hotel on the main city canal when he saw the black smoke from that fire, and got the reports of what had happened. The Germans were breaking through, and if they went much farther, they would overrun the Presidential Compound, gardens and push all the way to the big ammo dumps. He rang up General Larminat at his Army HQ building.
“They’re getting through our lines,” he exclaimed. “Where are your men?”
“Don’t worry,” said Larminat. “I have troops guarding the Presidential Compound and residence.”
“Well there’s nothing to stop them from going right into the Embassy District. I’ll have to order all my men up north to fall back to the rail line. Is there anything you can send?”
Larminat had put his best men at the city prison, thinking to make a fortress of that place. It was the very place the Vichy Colonials had imprisoned him when he refused to capitulate in 1940. So he ordered the Foreign Legionnaires to move to the public works building with all speed, and then sent word to order the entire 13th Demi Brigade there as well. The icing on his cake was to tell his artillery to train all their guns on that breakthrough zone.
Lyne could not wait for them, rushing to the scene and crouching low with the men of 1st Argyll & Sutherland Battalion. Frustrated, to see his men hunkered down, he stood up, pulling out his pistol. “Damn their eyes! Here they come, but they don’t know who they’re dealing with. We’re the Thin Red Line!” Pride was always a way to stiffen the backbone of the men, and they were up and fighting again, shouting insults at the Germans as they came.
In the south, KG Krefeld continued its strong attack into the Al Aswad District, the tanks being difficult for the lightly armed Paras of Down’s brigade. Another breakthrough seemed imminent there, but another hero emerged to save the day. Mad Jack Churchill was just north of that area, and he drew out that broadsword, letting it catch a glint of afternoon sun.
“Come on lads!” he shouted. “Let’s have at them!”
He led the way, which was over ground used as a city cemetery, that sword in one hand and a submachinegun in the other, looking like a ghost rising up from the past, and woe betide any grenadier that dared block his path. The issue at Damascus was on as thin a razor’s edge as that sword he had in hand, and the next hours might end this battle, one way or the other….
Chapter 17
The Germans would not stop for darkness or night. General Gille was intent on getting a quick decision, and he continued to push his attack across the neck of the city, primarily focused on two objectives, the Parliament building and Presidential residence on the north edge of that compound. The diversionary attack against Down’s Paras in the Al Aswad District on the Cat’s Tail would also continue, where the Germans were leaving a path of destruction in their wake as they burned their way from one building to the next.
All these attacks were successful. The Parliament building fell a little after midnight, and German troops stormed the President’s residence at 02:00. Then that battle spilled over into the Indian Embassy, which was occupied a half hour later. This attack cut off all of the 44th Recon Battalion and the stalwart 2nd Highland Light, which had been holding the line in Old Damascus. The Germans had reached the public gardens north of the canal near the university, effectively cutting the Provisional Brigade into two segments.
4th Royal Sussex was still in the northern part of the city, with the 1st Argyll & Sutherland, and Lyne had moved to the 2nd Highland Lt and 2nd Royal Sussex Battalions in the central city districts, on either side of the Barada River. Alexander telephoned Lyne direct to the hotel where he had set up his headquarters there.
‘What is your situation?” he asked grimly, and Lyne explained what had happened over two days of hard fighting.
“We’re holding out,” he finished. “But they’re using tanks and APCs in strong direct fire support, and once they get enough lined up on a strongpoint, they simply blast it to hell.”
“Well I’m sending you help,” said Alexander. “25th Armored Brigade is on the trains near Homs now, and heading south—two battalions of Churchills and one battalion of the 7th Motor Brigade. It’s all I can spare.”
“I’d be happy to get even as much as a service troop company, but those tanks sound marvelous. We’ll fight to keep the rail lines clear. I expect they’ll be coming thought Barada Gorge?”
“That’s the most direct route. There’s an auxiliary rail depot west of the city under Presidential administration. We’ll use that if you can hold the Germans at bay.”
Lyne’s next problem was what to do about his situation in Old Damascus. There was no point holding that sector any longer, and so he gave orders that his troops there should use the small foot bridges and reestablish their lines south of the canal. The French 13th Demi Brigade pulled out as well, and by 04:00, the old city center was abandoned.
The Germans quickly occupied the place, the sound of their boots echoing off the old stucco and brick walls as squads of troops swept through the district. Lyne had to give up a lot of ground, but now his line had the benefit of the canal, and could be anchored on the heavy concrete prison just south of the water barrier. He left the hotel before dawn, setting up half a kilometer to the south in the main city fire department building, which had good communications.
Just before sunrise on April 1st, the Germans were still fighting to secure the rest of the Presidential Compound, but they had reached the western edge of the city, and were now only 200 m
eters from the big ammo dump. The sound of aircraft overhead craned a few necks upwards, and set off some German 20mm AA fire, but it was not tactical support.
It was transports, all landing at the main airstrip under cover of darkness, and with the whole five companies of Lovat’s Number 4 Commando flown in from Haifa. Lovat walked calmly into the hangar, and put in a call to see where his men were needed. When Brigadier Lyne learned of their arrival, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Get to the Ammo depot, very near the military barracks. Jerry is right on top of it, and I don’t think the French can hold them off much longer.” So the Commandos fell in and marched up through the outlying town of Kafer Sousse, expecting to reach the barracks by sunrise. Lovat eventually found General Larminat at his HQ, his men arriving in the nick of time to take up positions at the Ammo Depot. The French had been hastily carting off crates of ammo to the Custom Sheds and warehouses further south, for they could not hold the depot with all that explosive material about. The arrival of those five companies of Number 4 Commando made all the difference. By mid-day, April Fool’s day, Gille called Rommel to inform him of the situation.
“We’ve cleared the old city and most of the government buildings. I’m afraid there isn’t much left of them now. But I had to focus most of my strength on that sector, so we haven’t been able to take the main rail yard in the south, or reach the airfield. They flew in another battalion last night.”
“But you have the city center?”
“Most everything above the main canal is ours, except for the districts up near the Jebel. That means Barada Gorge is still open, and I can’t get anything back there to put a cork in the bottle. Can you send me anything more of 2nd Panzer?”
“Not likely,” said Rommel. “I thought this thrust at Damascus would break their nerve and send them retreating south from Homs, but they’ve held on. They broke off their offensive at T4, but a lot of those troops have pulled out to deploy along our flank from Palmyra to Damascus. Yet we are masters of the old city, so run up our flag over parliament and get me a photo for the Führer. This was one promise I needed to keep, and I am going to tell him we have Damascus.”
“This fight isn’t over,” said Gille. “The city is likely to remain contested for days. I don’t think I can clear them all out with just my division.”
“Not necessary,” said Rommel “Eisenfall was a success. I’m counting my chickens, even if they haven’t all hatched. Hitler can use a little the good news, eh? Guderian has Baghdad. Now we’re in Damascus!”
“But where do we go from here?” asked Gille.
There was a moment of silence from Rommel. “A good question,” he said at last. “Carry on Gille. You did not let me down.”
Gille looked at the phone receiver when the line went dead. Rommel had not answered his question, and that would be hanging in the air now, waiting for some resolution. They had come all this way, some 225 kilometers, a little more than half way to Jerusalem, but the British refused to budge. They would not give up Lebanon or Palestine without being pushed out, mile by mile, and that was going to be the deciding factor in this battle—sheer intransigence.
Before dusk, Lyne ordered his engineers to blow every bridge over the canal near the public gardens, and he concentrated the 44th Recon battalion at the university. Word came that 25th Armored Brigade would be through Barada Gorge by dusk. The British had hung on by the skin of their teeth, and Lyne and his Provisional Brigade would be commended. He was “Mentioned in Dispatches,” and given a promotion to Major General acquitting himself completely after the loss of his brigade earlier in the fighting. In the old history, he would go on to command the 59th Infantry Division, and then take over the 50th Northumbrian Division at a most important time and place—Normandy, in June of 1944.
Boseville’s tanks, the 25th Armored Brigade, would reach the reserve rail yard and move into the upper city through the embassy district, massing to prepare for an attack back across the upper neck of the city, which would cut off the German push near the Ammo Dump. Gille had to send word to KG Krefeld in the south that he now needed all his panzers, and so the infantry there fell back on defense. That was going to end the German assault towards the airfield, and they detached the Panzer Battalion, which joined the Wiking Recon battalion to form a hard hitting mobile group.
The result would soon become a stalemate. Gille had the center of the board, bit could not find checkmate at Damascus, nor could he push any of his pawns to the 8th rank. So he, like Rommel, would accept the situation as a pyrrhic victory. Rommel would get his soon to be famous photograph of the Nazi flag flying over the ruin of the Parliament building in Old Damascus. Hitler would get his bragging rights, but little more. The road to Damascus was a road to nowhere….
* * *
Where would Rommel go from here? That was the question of the hour. Eisenfall had theoretically reached its principle objective at Damascus. Just as Guderian had taken Baghdad. But the intractable British simply refused to see their situation as one of an army in retreat, and least of all, an army that had been defeated. It was just another battle, another temporary setback they were pledging to redress in good time. And as far as Lyne was concerned at Damascus, Rommel wasn’t going anywhere, save over his dead body.
The Desert Fox had outfoxed Alexander with his sudden flank attack, but found the ‘Law of Overstretch’ would now constrain any further moves south. It was another 160 Kilometers to Amman in Jordan on that flank, and 250 to Jerusalem. Gille’s Wiking Division did not have the strength to fully reduce Damascus, let alone those other distant objectives.
Rommel came down himself to see Gille and evaluate his prospects on the night of April 1st, April Fool’s Day. As he stared out into the marshlands southeast of the city, he thought he could see the shimmering glow there that was known as Ignis Fatuus in the old Latin, “Foolish fire,” the night mirage that tempted wayward travelers on. It was called many things in different cultures. The British called the phenomenon “Pixy Light,” the work of Fairies, but it was nothing more than luminescent marsh gas that night.
Yet seeing it, Rommel thought of the legend of the will-o’-the-wisp, and he now knew that Cairo, that other foolish fire that had always haunted his dreams, was still nearly 700 kilometers away, over unfought desert sands, ragged hills, and barren lava beds the old fox would never tread upon.
So I won’t get to Egypt on this road either, he knew. The only question now was whether the Führer would realize this any time soon. Rommel knew that his entire position in Syria was now nothing more than a flank guard for Guderian in Iraq. He kicked the British out of Baghdad weeks ago, consolidated for ten to 12 days, and then pushed south. But Guderian had a long way to go as well. The British are fighting a very stubborn delaying action there, and I know for a fact that an army in retreat can always outpace one on the advance by simply throwing out small blocking forces in the rear guard.
It is 500 kilometers from Baghdad to Basra and Abadan. That is another will-o’-the-wisp fantasy in the Führer’s mind. Guderian has the force to get there, but even if he does, what then? The British will be waiting there in a good strong defensive line, and Guderian will look over his shoulder and realize his ammunition must now come 1000 kilometers from the Turkish frontier, and that is after it has already traveled 1500 kilometers through Turkey to Istanbul. A supply line 2500 kilometers long! That is the same distance as the road from Tunis all the way to Cairo and the Suez Canal in North Africa.
To think that I could reach Cairo with three mobile divisions was simply foolish. To think Hitler could do anything with the oil in Abadan, even if Guderian could take the place, was also foolish. We are both out in the deserts to simply annoy the British… And how long will it be before things heat up again on the Ostfront , and Hitler comes calling for his Wikings and Brandenburgers?
Manstein is also out chasing the shimmering fire of the Führer’s dreams. He had to fight like a tiger last winter to keep Zhukov at bay along the Don
sector. Has he forgotten that? What in the world is Manstein doing in the Caucasus now? He cleared out the Kuban, and then went right on through Volkov’s troops to get after Maykop. Unfortunately, for this he gets war with the Orenburg Federation. The Führer’s choices boggle the mind at times. Yes, they will be a real headache for Ivan Volkov, and a most unexpected gift for Sergei Kirov.
* * *
The man with that headache was pacing, the heat of his anger and distress becoming a visible sheen of sweat on his brow. Things had gone from bad to worse. Volkov had been moving unit after unit into the Caucasus to build up the mass he knew he would need to have any chance of stopping the Germans. His 3rd Kazakh Army was all but destroyed, but 3rd Regular Army, and troops from the 7th and 5th Armies, had managed to fall back and deploy in a wide arc centered on Mineralne Vody and Pyatigorsk. The left was anchored on the mountain country to the south, and the right on the thickening course of the Kuma River as it wound its way towards the Caspian Sea. As that line firmed up, it was beginning to look like it would finally hold, and well west of the Terek. But the Germans had other ideas.
The German infantry of 11th and 17th Armies pressed doggedly behind the retreating enemy, slowly taking up portions of the line that had been held by the German Panzer Divisions. Then, almost overnight, all those mobile formations swung rapidly north and east, along the line of the Kuma River. There were few crossing points there, with poor wooden bridges, but the Germans had several bridging regiments, and pioneers organic to their Panzer Divisions that could also facilitate a river crossing. The Kuma would be no more of an obstacle than any of the other rivers they had crossed to come to this place, much to Volkov’s chagrin.
When they did cross, the following day near Budennovosk, they did so with swift, well-practiced precision. The Kazakh troops had been relying on the river itself to hold the greatest portion of that line, but now the Grossdeutschland Division lead the way, with 17th and 18th Panzers to either side, and the 29th Motorized in reserve. By the 18th of April they had created a bridgehead 30 kilometers deep, and Volkov’s generals were frantically detaching every mobile of mechanized unit they had from the armies on the front and sending them east to try and stop that advance.
Ironfall (Kirov Series Book 30) Page 15