Even as he said that, he knew where they were—back on the air strips waiting to take off. The attack had come in well before dawn. I’m told the British put in artillery fire that was so accurate it obliterated most of our 88s before they ever had a chance to fire. It was Bir el Khamsa all over again. Now these tanks come through, and we simply cannot stop them. Come sunrise, let’s hope the Stukas have some good hunting, otherwise…. It is a long way back to Mersa Brega again.
This attack had completely reversed the situation that had looked so promising over the last three days. Now his plan had failed. He knew it in his bones, in spite of a stubborn streak that wanted to refuse to admit that. He was to be the German General beaten not only once, but twice, and that thought scalded him, reddening his neck and cheeks.
Yes, Tobruk was falling, but it would not be taken that day. He could not stay here. Herff knew what was necessary now, and when the Headquarters of the 90th Light reported enemy movement well behind his front line and coming north, Rommel’s worst fears were realized. He had to withdraw.
“Get a message to Herff and Hörnlein. They are to fall back on our depot at Bir Hacheim at once. As for our troops inside the fortress, get them out—now!”
“But Herr General, we have broken through. Our men can see the port!”
“Yes? Well I hope they enjoy the view, because if we are still here by noon, they’ll most likely be shipping out through that port—to a British prison camp! Now get them out I tell you!”
* * *
General Montgomery also had a good view of the harbor that morning, aghast to see the arrival of German armored cars! They had not come in strength, and could only put out harassing fire across the bay where he had his headquarters, but he knew that situation could change quickly.
If this lot is here, then they pushed through our blocking position at King’s Cross. I threw every man I could find on the line, flak units, air field service personnel, rail crews, medics and supply troops. I’ve trained every battery of artillery we had at them, but damn if they just keep coming.
He put down his binoculars, annoyed by the rattle of an enemy machinegun raking the quay. Then he spied that Martini-Enfield rifle the Sergeant Major had fetched for him, common with the Australian and New Zealand troops at this stage of the war, and decided enough was enough.
“Sir, best take cover. We’re under fire!”
“I can see that you blithering fool! And do you suppose I’m going to just sit here and take it?” Monty had that rifle up and was taking aim, his beady eye sighting down the long barrel, and his thin finger hard on the trigger. He fired three shots, more to quell his own frustration than to do any real harm to the enemy. Later he would lord over the moment, saying he had to take a rifle in hand himself to stop Rommel at Tobruk. At that time he knew nothing of Brigadier Kinlan’s attack, or that his own situation would soon find relief with Rommel’s order to pull his men out of the fortress.
As if those three rounds had marked the high water line of Rommel’s fortunes, and the low ebb of his own, word soon came that there were signs the Germans were pulling back. They had assault squads poised to make an attack on Fort Solano, and Montgomery fully expected his rifle might soon have to be put to use in earnest, but that moment never came. Rommel was pulling out. One report after another came in, as the Fallschirmjagers and troops of the Goering Brigade made a skillful withdrawal, much to the relief of the weary defenders on the last thin line of resistance.
By all rights, that staffer Rommel had promised to stew had been correct. He had, indeed, taken Tobruk, but he could not stay there long enough for that to become a fact of war, or to savor any sense of the victory. Instead he was now planning how he might get his army to some ground he could hold, and save what was left of his vaunted new Afrika Korps.
For his part, Montgomery would make the most of the heroic stand his reserve units had made, though most of the 1st Army Tank Brigade had been shredded and the Carpathians badly mauled as well. Yet he held, Montgomery of Tobruk, and that played well at home. But another name was soon in the papers as well, that of General O’Connor, and the story of his 7th Armored Brigade was also making the press.
The only rub was that the men of the real 7th Armored Brigade had nothing whatsoever to do with that attack, and when they heard the news later that they were being trumpeted back home, they simply scratched their heads. The bloody reporters got at least one thing correct—they had stopped Rommel again, and that was enough.
* * *
The Germans and Italians fell back on Gazala, and the area near Mechili where an airfield and forward supply depot had been established. Rommel spent all the next day coordinating the withdrawal, taking stock of what he still had in hand, and trying to determine whether he could hold on. He screened the approach to Derna through the airfield at Timimi with the Italian formations, and consolidated his Afrika Korps further south, below Mechili, guarding the desert track that would cut across Cyrenaica to Agedabia, and eventually reach his starting point at Mersa Brega.
Back home in Germany, Hitler had been busy with the final preparations for Barbarossa, but had taken some interest when he learned Rommel had begun to advance again. The reports that he had swept over Cyrenaica, running the British and Australians out of the Jebel country, and capturing many airfields in the process had been encouraging. Then came the news that Tobruk had been invested, and an assault there was in the works. He was dining in Berlin when an aide came in with the report Rommel’s staffer had sent, that Tobruk had fallen.
“Good news,” he said over his wine. “Though it hardly matters now. It’s a little too late to have much of an effect on the real war. That comes in just a few days time, when Sergei Kirov gets more than a little surprise for picking the wrong side of this business. That said, send General Rommel my congratulations, and ask him how soon he plans to be at the Suez Canal this time.”
When Rommel got that message he was sitting in his tent at Mechili airfield, reviewing reports on the action that had thankfully concluded with nightfall on the 11th of May. He was taking stock of his forces, chastened again and forced on the defensive, with all thoughts of offensive operations long gone.
15th Panzers suffered 30% casualties, and lost a good deal of its flak elements, and some artillery as well. I/8th Panzer Battalion had 15 Pz IIs, 16 Pz IIIs and only 5 Pz IVs, a total of 36 tanks, losing another 40 during the three day battle. II/8th Battalion fared a little better, and still had 58 of its initial allotment of 80 tanks. The grenadier battalions had suffered equal losses in infantry and trucks. 90th Light division would again make that name more suitable. It had been built up to a full three regiments before the offensive commenced, but now could muster manpower only equivalent to two regiments. The vaunted Herman Goering Brigade had taken severe casualties as well. Only Hörnlein’s Regiment seems to have come off unscathed. Grossdeutschland is largely intact, he thought.
“It took us three months to build up forces and supplies for this attack,” he muttered to his Chief of Staff, “then just three days of fighting to wreck the entire Korps again. Where were all those Stukas I was promised? Where was the navy? They should have been off the coast pounding Tobruk the whole time!”
Colonel Klaus von dem Borne listened, his eyes on his report from the quartermaster. “It won’t be a question of supplies this time,” he said. “We still have plenty of fuel for our tanks and trucks.”
“Yes? Well it’s a pity we no longer have the tanks to use it.”
“It has been worse. That attack came in darkness. That is why you did not get your Stuka support. Once dawn came the planes were up, but by then the enemy had already achieved a breakthrough—and those rockets! They took a terrible toll on the air squadrons. We lost 18 planes before noon. As for the navy, the Hindenburg has been recalled to Gibraltar. We only just got the news. By now they will be in the Atlantic.”
Rommel shook his head. “They are pulling out, Borne. The navy took a beating in that last big e
ngagement, and they want nothing more to do with the Royal Navy here. We finally take Malta, and now control both the western and central Mediterranean, but we do not use this advantage to really move the forces here that will make a difference. One more division… If they had sent me the 1st Mountain Division as promised, then I would not have had to commit 5th Light to the action at Tobruk. Goering’s troops fought hard. In another six hours we would have taken that harbor. If I had Kübler’s troops assaulting behind them, then 5th Light would have been available in reserve when this enemy counterattack started. For that matter, 10th Panzer is just sitting in France doing nothing, and that division could have made all the difference here.”
“It’s the Russian operation, sir. Everything is being nailed down in readiness for Barbarossa. We were lucky to get the supplies and troops assigned in these last three months, particularly Grossdeutschland.”
“Well as it was, I had no reserve,” Rommel complained. “Once they broke through we had no recourse. It was either withdraw or be cut off.”
“Even 5th Light may not have been enough…” Von Borne was a realist. He had collected the reports from the officers of 15th Panzers, and the flak units that faced the enemy counterattack. “It was those god awful heavy tanks again, same as before. That defense was hastily mounted. We did not expect them to hit us in the center. Down south Hörnlein stood his ground as ordered, but the center was weak, and I think that, even if you had 5th Light in hand to throw in, it would have been much the same.”
“This isn’t over,” said Rommel, stubbornly resisting the notion of defeat again. “We have withdrawn to better defensive positions here, that is all. We will get more tanks up from Tripoli and then consider what to do. Thank god the enemy doesn’t have the sense to get after us now. How do we stop these tanks!” The frustration in Rommel’s voice was apparent.
“One was damaged by our artillery fire.”
“One?”
“That night attack was difficult to cope with. The artillery fires were not as heavy as we planned, but yes, we stopped one, and after dawn the Stukas got it.”
“So they can be killed, if we get the air support. For now, we must assume a defensive posture again.”
“We’re safe for the moment,” said von Borne. “The British have not pursued us west. They seem content to consolidate around Tobruk, and that is another mystery. They used this new armor in Syria to stop 9th Panzer Division, then just pulled it off the line. And they have done the very same thing here. You would think they would exploit these breakthroughs, but each time the hammer falls they set it aside.”
“They don’t really have the strength to go on the offensive yet,” said Rommel. “Their infantry divisions can’t push us—only this new armored force. They aborted their offensive in Syria against 9th Panzer Division to send those tanks back here. So this tells me that they do not have them in any great numbers, possibly only this one brigade sized unit from what we’ve been able to piece together. They counterattack to hold the line, and thus far that has been enough, yes? Operations have ground to a halt in Syria, and now we have been stopped again here. This big strategy of squeezing the British in a pincer operation was doomed to fail from the very first. I needed Kübler’s troops here, and another good panzer division. And forces committed to Syria were also inadequate.”
“I’m afraid there will be no serious reinforcement here now for some time,” said von Borne. “Everything is going to Russia. I have even heard they are going to recall Steiner’s troops from Syria. In fact, I would not be surprised to find that Grossdeutschland is taken from us soon. You must prepare yourself for the worst.”
Rommel was pouring over those terrible loss reports von Borne had handed him, his mind searching the days ahead as he might peer out into this forsaken desert, seeing nothing there but endless, lifeless stretches of barren land. It was then that a staffer came in with the Führer’s congratulations on his capture of Tobruk. The man saluted as he handed off the note, his eyes bearing the weight of what had just happened to the Afrika Korps. Rommel gave him a wan look, returning his salute.
When Borne had left, and he was again alone, he quietly read the message, a grim smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then he slowly crumbled it in his clenched fist.
Part IX
Big Red
“And having once chosen, never seek to return to the crossroads of that decision, for even if one chooses wrongly, the choice cannot be unmade.”
― Jacqueline Carey
Chapter 25
Karpov watched as the Orenburg climbed for the safety of the advancing storm, risking the tempestuous wind there rather than face battle after having been caught by surprise.
The Orenburg, he thought. Volkov’s flagship! That would not have been committed here unless this was a major operation, just as Rudkin had it in that book. He thinks he is going to destroy my entire fleet, but so far my little surprise here has worked as I hoped. I was meant to be here, he thought. The line of my fate is simply too strong for time to disregard me, nor will I be marooned in the past as we were just now, even if that left me in a very interesting position to destroy Volkov in 1909. No, this is the way it should be, ship to ship, face to face, man to man, only it looks as though Volkov wants no part of this fight, if he’s aboard that ship. I have chosen, and there is no going back now.
“Radio room says there are three enemy airships at low elevation north of Ilanskiy,” said Tyrenkov, rushing in with the latest report.
“Low elevation? That can only mean they are landing troops. Any word as to what is happening on the ground?”
“There was some scattered fighting east of Kansk, sir. It looks like some of Volkov’s troops landed there, but they have withdrawn.”
“For Ilanskiy,” said Karpov quickly. “He thought he was going to catch us all napping here, and he must have brought troops on every airship, but it still won’t be enough. We have the entire 11th Siberian Division there. Kolchak wanted to know why it wasn’t sent to the Ob river line? Now he knows. Speaking of Kolchak, what about Irkutsk and Novosibirsk?” Karpov was hoping his last two airships might be heading west.
“Last report still had both airships over Lake Baikal. Kolchak is wary of giving up his only heavy air support on the Japanese frontier.”
“Damn the Japanese, they haven’t even entered the war yet! The fight is here. Signal Kolchak again. Tell him I am here now, and I need those damn ships! What about Talmenka?” That was his last ship, another T-Class heavy cruiser like the stricken Tomsk.
“At least six hours away, sir. She was the only ship patrolling the Ob River line, and is re-provisioning at Chemororsk.”
“Tell them to get here as soon as possible, and any troops at Kansk as well.”
“Nothing there but light garrison troops and three squadrons of Tartar Cavalry.”
“Send the cavalry after those troops Volkov landed east of that city. If they cannot make contact, then they are to follow the main rail line and come to Ilanskiy.”
Karpov was pacing, his footfalls hard on the metal plated deck of the main gondola. He had this ship designed with a wide central walkway there just so he could do this, an old habit when things got hot on the bridge of any ship he commanded, and his field glasses hung from a clip on a nearby bulkhead beam, just as they did aboard Kirov.
So I can’t count on help from Kolchak, he thought. I’ll only have Abakan and Angara, already hovering over Ilanskiy, and if Volkov can pull his surviving ships together we could still be in for a tough fight. No matter, that was what I was sent here for. Yes?
“Signal Big Red,” he said confidently. “Tell Captain Alenin that Admiral Karpov sends his regards. Well done! Have him forward a report on his ship as soon as they can control their fires. Now let us steer directly to the fight at Ilanskiy! All ahead full!”
“All engines ahead full sir,” said Bogrov.
It was then that a runner handed Tyrenkov the report he had been waiting for, and he re
ad it with some misgivings. “Sir,” he began. “We may not have the full 11th Siberian Division after all.”
Karpov spun on his heels, a flash of anger in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve just received word from Colonel Ivanov on the ground. He tells me that two rifle regiments were sent west by rail three days ago when the enemy opened that offensive on the Ob River line. He has only his regiment at Ilanskiy, and the Motor Rifle battalion was recalled to Irkutsk yesterday.”
“On who’s order?”
“Kolchak, sir. He was the only one who could have cut those orders.”
“Damn that man! I gave specific orders that the 11th was to stand here at Ilanskiy.”
“It seems the confusion caused by our recent absence resulted in some alarm here sir. When that big offensive started, Kolchak tried to assume command from Irkutsk.”
“That idiot!” Karpov did not mince words, not even in front of Bogrov and the other men on the bridge. “Doesn’t he realize what’s happening here? Volkov started that offensive three days ago to try and compel us to do exactly what Kolchak ordered—weaken the garrison at Ilanskiy. He knows damn well that his troops out west will never break through and get 700 kilometers east to have anything to do with this battle. Kolchak is a fool! He played right into Volkov’s hands. I should have dealt with him long ago—before I left for that conference with the Soviets.”
He steamed with the news, his eyes searching this way and that, driven by the fever of his mind. “Very well,” he said at last. “Then we get our troops on the ground as soon as possible. Were there any men aboard our other airships?”
“No sir, they were all rigged for air operations.”
“Then get your men into their parachutes on the double.”
Crescendo Of Doom (Kirov Series Book 15) Page 21