“I think that is where he will go.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because Highway 5 leads right to that town, and that is Patton’s road. Montgomery would like nothing more than to beat Patton to Medjez al Bab.”
“Well, that seems likely,” said von Arnim. “I put most of my available Tigers into the Highway 5 defense. They’ve been giving Patton fits, I’m sure.”
“Well, you must still do what you can to slow Montgomery down. General Nehring, any good news from you?”
“Only that there’s another breakthrough east of Highway 4 now, and I have nothing to send.”
“Isn’t the Italian Superga Mountain Division there?”
“For what it’s worth.”
“Then support them with the 164th.”
“Herr Feldmarschall, the 164th is gone. They were understrength when this all began, and still they fought like the Tigers, but the division is gone. I could not even scrape together a regimental Kampfgruppe from what’s left of them.”
“Then I think you must maneuver now,” Kesselring said definitively. “You’ll have to pull 15th and 21st Panzers together. They are our last effective mobile force.”
“Yes? And what do you want me to do with them?” Nehring was not optimistic.
“Use the Italians for fodder and see if they can delay on the coastal plain. Move your own HQ to Pont du Fahs. Highways 3 and 4 meet there. Then pull out your mobile divisions and screen that junction along this line of hills. But keep a tight fist.”
“O’Connor will just push right up Highway 1 on the coast,” said Nehring.
“Yes, but the Italians have been nursing their Centauro and Littorio Armored Divisions there.”
“You can’t rightfully call those divisions,” said Nehring. “They are little more than brigade strength units.”
“They will have to do,” said Kesselring. “At the very least, they may buy us a few days’ time. Have the Trento Division fall back to their position at Bou Fiche on the coast. I want your panzers off the line and ready to counterpunch in either direction. If O’Connor gets up the coast too fast, strike to cut him off. Do the same if the Americans get too far up Highway 4.”
“They are already in the hills east of that route with infantry. I’ve had to use a rail construction company to try and block a secondary road!”
“Yes, but they’ll have to take Pont du Fahs. One way or another, you’ll meet them there. Alright, I’m going to OKW to let them know what we’re facing.”
“What good will that do?” said von Arnim. “We can’t get out by sea.”
“No, but Goring still has a lot of transport planes. We might be able to try some night airlift operations with Auntie JU, and save some of our better troops to fight in Sicily.”
“Good luck convincing Hitler to permit that,” said Von Arnim.
“Well, it is only a matter of time before it becomes our only option. I plan on speaking directly with the Reichsmarschall . He’s about to see his pet division chewed up by Montgomery. Nothing can be done about the equipment, but perhaps saving a few good officers and the better troops would make it easier to rebuild that division in Italy. Let’s see if he has the backbone to do something, even if Hitler orders otherwise.”
“I wish there was something we could send,” said von Arnim. “Conrath has virtually nothing left in that division—the pioneers, artillery, and a few companies of infantry and panzers.”
“Better than nothing,” said Kesselring, always the optimist.
* * *
O’Connor was listening in the late evening, and the sound of the bagpipes echoing in the distant vale made him glad. It was, of course, his 51st Highland Division, advancing again up the coast from Sousse towards Enfidaville. The Italians had been making a steady retreat behind a rearguard put up by the 80th La Spezia Division.
My, he thought, how things change. Rommel vanished, and he took all the panzer divisions with him. They went off to fight against the Americans. Then those last two Germans infantry divisions pulled out, and the whole Italian line went pear shaped. I’m advancing faster now than I did when I had Briggs and Horrocks with me. Both those divisions have Rommel by the horns in Syria now, and damn if the old Fox hasn’t run all the way to Baghdad. So that leaves me the job of tidying up southern Tunisia, and pushing the Italians on up the road until I can link up with the French, Americans, and British. I’ll be a bit late to the party, but I expect they’ll be glad to see me.
If Kinlan were here, I would have gone right through that line at Mareth, Rommel or no Rommel. Those were the glory days, when I could send in the thunder of that heavy brigade and smash right on through any defense the Germans could devise. Amazing what war becomes as the years roll on. I only wish I could live to see it. That was a sad fate Kinlan suffered at Tobruk…. But God almighty, that was no ammo ship explosion. It was one of those secret weapons the Russians spoke of once. Is that how they fight their battles now in Kinlan’s day? There’s no honor in that; no gallantry, and no amount of stiff upper lip on the field of battle makes a hair’s breadth difference.
Perhaps its best I fight my war here, now, and with the weapons and soldiers of our own time. I wonder how we might have fared if Kinlan had not come blundering into Rommel’s flank at Bir El Khamsa? The Desert Fox had us on the run, didn’t he? He might have run all the way to Cairo, just as he boasted. And yet, the terrain favored us with each additional mile we lost. The Qatarra Depression acted like a great stone funnel, narrowing the front as you move towards Alexandria. We would have picked a good spot in there somewhere to make a stand… Perhaps at El Alamein. Could we hold?
Thinking these things was useless, he knew. That was all history, but he wondered if future generations would ever know the whole story; the real truth, of how the British stopped Rommel at Bir el Khamsa, and how they really held Tobruk when the Desert Fox came knocking. Would they ever truly know exactly why the British Army finally pushed Rommel off his defensive front at Gazala?
After that, he thought, it’s all mine. Kinlan was gone, on his way to that horrible doom at Tobruk, and I was the man who hammered on Rommel at El Agheila. I was the man who held the line at Mersa Brega, and the man who pushed him back through Sirte to Tripoli. Oh, we got a black eye and broken nose for our trouble. But look here, it’s my 51st Highlanders pushing on up the road this evening, and the sound of those pipes tells that tale well enough.
Rommel is gone, beaten at his own game by that firebrand American General Patton. Now he’s in Syria tormenting General Alexander. Old reliable Wavell is gone too, off to sit as the Viceroy of all India. Monty’s got his finger in the pie up north, but I’m told he’s been stuck on the coast for months. So I’ve got to get on up there and sort things out. I’ve only the 23rd Armored Brigade left for a good heavy punch, and I managed to squirrel away some 400 tanks in that outfit. My infantry is second to none, and now I have the room to organize a proper offensive. I’m going to push hard, and by God, perhaps I’ll beat Monty to Tunis.
There came the distant sound of artillery, and he knew it was 25-pounders. The lads have found someone to get after this evening, he thought. Good for them. He leaned forward, tapping the driver’s shoulder with a smile on his face. “Come on, Johnny, let’s not miss the show.”
“Right, sir.”
* * *
General Buschenhagen of the 15th Infantry Division was waiting for a train from Tunis promising supplies. His men had been in action on the coast, fighting a stubborn withdrawal for months. They would fall back, dig in, hold the line until it was flanked inland, and then withdraw to the next position to the rear. He was sitting in his staff car by the rail line, his men enjoying a quiet smoke in the evening, waiting on that train, but it was very late.
“Sergeant,” he waved at a nearby man. “Send some men on motorcycles down the line and see what the problem is with this train, it is already an hour overdue.”
It was traveling at night, deliberately trying to avoid the att
ention of Allied night fighters, but they may have seen it. What he found out two hours later was even more alarming. British commandos had landed at dusk along the coast behind his lines. All the Marsch Battalions that had once been posted to coastwatcher duty had long ago been commandeered and sent into the fight near Bedja.
“How strong are they?”
“We saw what looked like battalion sized formations at two locations, in the old forts near Sidi Bermaga, and along the river coming down from Djebel Abiod.”
The General was not happy…. There were actually four Commandos that had put to sea out of Bone that evening, and they had already worked their way well inland. In effect, the General’s lines of communication back to Tunis had just been cut, and there would been no train arriving that night. The engine and two stock cars were derailed and burning in the otherwise quiet night along the coast.
* * *
If only to make himself feel that he did still have some fight in him. Nehring waited at Pont du Fahs to see which front would need his divisions. As it turned out, the open zone north of Enfidaville was much easier for O’Connor than the high country east of Highway 4. So on May 8th, he organized a counterattack, with all of 15th Panzer and most of 21st, save a small KG that he had to send to Highway 4. It hit elements of the French 3rd Algerian, battalions of US Rangers that had landed on the coast to flank Enfidaville two days earlier, and a battalion of the British 44th Home Counties Division, causing some disruption and driving to within 10 kilometers of Enfidaville again. At this time, the main effort with 51st Highland and 23rd Armor was already 18 kilometers north of the town, where the Italians attempted to keep them, by launching an attack with their Centauro and Littorio Armored brigades.
O’Connor could hear the German attack coming his way at Enfidaville, and looked to see what he had at hand to stop it. The 8th RTR was still there after mopping up some trapped units of the Trento Division, and it had about 70 tanks. He also had 1st and 7th Gordons, and all the division artillery from the 51st. So he immediately ordered those guns into action, and then sent those three battalions northwest to meet the German advance. As this counterattack developed, the remainder of the French 3rd Algerian came up Highway 2 where it joined the coast near the town, and they were able to get organized to quickly join the fight. Then O’Connor heard a distant rumble to his left, and knew that the guns of the 44th Home Counties Division had joined the action.
The Germans had thought to take the British 8th Army unawares, but O’Connor found he had ample resources to deal with the enemy attack. He also knew from dispatches that the American attack up Highway 4 was gathering steam, and might soon threaten to break out towards Pont du Fahs, so he was not concerned about the sudden German thrust. They’re making a good play, if they can, he thought, but we’ll stop them.
That attack by the US 45th Infantry Division was now the right pincer of what looked like an envelopment operation aimed at Pont du Fahs. The left Pincer was Monty pushing hard with 6th and 10th Armored for Bedja. Between them, the Germans had their most cohesive defensive line, with 334th, 337th and 90th Infantry Divisions, all backed by Tiger companies and KGs from 10th Panzer. That force had held off Patton’s 1st and 2nd Armored Divisions for days along Highway 5, but it was now being flanked on both sides along highways 4 and 6.
Nehring had no choice. He had to suspend his attack and reform a defensive line, but in doing so, he managed to extricate three battalions of Panzergrenadiers and two Panzer companies to form a regimental sized reserve Kampfgruppe. It would now stand as the only German mobile troops that were not on the line, and it would not be long before they would be needed elsewhere. One detachment was sent along the rail line from Tunis, west to Bou Arada. The second went to Medjez al Bab, the last remained at Pont Du Fahs.
As they started on their way, General von Bismarck wished them good luck. For a moment he thought of Rommel, wondering how his old commanding General was faring. Gone were the long days and nights in the Libyan Desert, and the hope that they had all carried west into Tunisia had vanished after Kasserine. He shook his head, sullen and dispirited. If Hitler allowed the British and Americans to run us out of North Africa like this, then the war was as good as lost. We had over 200 divisions on the Ostfront , and could spare only ten here. Why in God’s name did Hitler order Raeder into the Black Sea? The Sicilian Narrows were our life line to Tunis, and now getting supplies through is like trying to squeeze water out of a dry sponge. There goes the last of my mobile reserves.
Farewell, my soldiers. I expect we will all soon meet again at Tunis.
Chapter 6
Monty had Bedja on the 11th of May, and was now endeavoring to do exactly what Kesselring had predicted. He wanted to continue right up Highway 6 to Medjez al Bab, and he was using his tank battalions like battering rams against the enemy defense, smashing forward with one, then sending in another. The Germans were throwing everything they had in front of him, even HQ staff companies and support squads, but by the 12th of May the line was battered to the breaking point.
On Highway 5 as it approached the village of Testour, Patton had his 2nd Armored pushing with the 3rd Infantry division, now returned to his command by Montgomery. The British General had more forces than he could use, and his own 4th Infantry had been squeezed out of the line, waiting in reserve for the armor to make some decisive breakthrough.
For that, Monty and Patton were neck and neck, with both Highway 5 and 6 converging on Medjez al Bab, bringing their spearhead forces to a meeting point. In hard fighting, the Germans were forced to retreat towards the city, cobbling together another defensive line as they did so. When Patton learned that British troops were just a few kilometers north of “His” road, Highway 5, he deliberately barked an order at the commander of CCR of 2nd Armored.
“Get up there and give them your left shoulder. Montgomery isn’t going to horn in on my road to Tunis. Let him find his own way there.”
Angered at what he saw as Patton’s “impudence,” Montgomery ordered three battalions of tanks to swing over the open country just south of Highway 6, where they pushed back a thin screen of Tigers and raced for the city. The Germans had seven AP rounds left, in a company of an equal number of tanks, and were little more than ominous looking mobile pill boxes now, their machineguns being the only real weapon they could use. So by dusk that day, elements of 8th and 10th Armored Brigades of the 10th Division were just outside Medjez al Bab.
Not to be outdone, Patton ordered the Armored Cavalry tanks of CCA’s, 2nd Armored, to race past an outlying fort still held by the Germans, and get to Medjez al Bab come hell or high water. They would face a little of both as they advanced. First a red face British Lieutenant from 3rd RTR was spitting invectives at the troops of light M5s when they scooted right in front of his own tanks forming up for the attack.
“Look,” shouted an American Sergeant. “You’re sitting there in our goddamned Grants and Shermans. We thought you were ours, and it’s our job to scout ahead of the medium armor.” That was a convenient lie, but it was already too late to do anything much about the incident. The American Stuarts, like the old swashbuckling cavalry officer they were named for, were already in the van. “Come on after us,” shouted the Sergeant. “We’ll show you the way.” Then he whistled, rapped on the top of his M5, and it sped off in a cloud of dust.
“Bloody Americans,” said the Lieutenant. “Thought we were yours, is it? Where were you in ’41 when we had the whole war on our shoulders. Come on lads, get after them!”
It wasn’t entirely clear who the British tanks were supposed to “get after” with that order, the upstart Americans or the Germans.
The American M5’s overran the airfield near Medjez al Bab, but the Germans were deeply nested in the city, about 2 kilometers to the east. To their north, the British 43rd RTR was right on the finish line with the Americans, nose to nose. Both sides had reached the town at the same time, but neither had taken it. The British were breaking through to the north, and
the US 2nd Armored was pushing past the town to the south, heading for the old Roman Road that led directly to Tunis, no more than 60 kilometers to the northeast.
The Germans held on to Medjez al Bab until the 16th of May. On the 17th Montgomery was organizing one final blow, massing his artillery to pound the city, when 2nd Armored broke through the crumbling German resistance to the south, and raced up the old Roman Road. They went all the way to Bourg Amri, the headquarters of General von Arnim, the mass of the column so great that the General took one look at it, and then sent a messenger out to seek terms. Tanks, halftracks and other vehicles were grinding past the airfield to the north and south even as he surrendered.
That breakthrough by Hell on Wheels was the decisive moment of the campaign, wide and deep on either side of the Old Roman Road. Its spearheads would find themselves no more than ten kilometers from Tunis on the night of the 17th of May, effectively cutting off Nehring’s entire command to the south. Patton was elated.
“While old Montgomery is lining up his guns to pound Medjez al Bab, my boys went right for the jugular—right down the road to Tunis. I told you I would beat that ‘gentleman’ to the punch. Now’ we’ll have those two panzer divisions south of the city in a vise, and I intend to squeeze them.”
The hour was lost.
The British 43rd Wessex Division had also pushed through an unguarded hole north of Medjez al Bab, and was driving on Bizerte, taking the vital road and rail junction at Mateur. This would cut off the 327th and 15th Infantry on the northern coast, and they now began a hasty retreat to Bizerte. General Conrath, his division largely destroyed, fled as fast as he could to that city, thinking to get himself to Sicily on a plane.
Walther Nehring had other ideas. He had been trying to get through to von Arnim on the telephone, but the lines were suddenly cut. Kesselring was in Berlin, and though Nehring did not yet know it, he was now the senior Commanding officer on the field in Tunisia. News quickly claimed that the Americans had broken through and were on the old road to Tunis, which set Nehring in motion.
Nexus Deep (Kirov Series Book 31) Page 5