—James C. Collins
Chapter 22
Every V-1 in Normandy fired on the night of May 28th, the missiles streaking up and over the Channel to strike at London. There were two large sites on the Cotentin Peninsula, on the scale of those in the Pas-de-Calais, and 21 ski sites had been identified. This was much lower than the 70 sites in the region of the Somme and Seine, and over 100 sites in the Pas-de-Calais, but it was enough to make that night a miserable event, the buzz bombs cruising in, their engines suddenly stopping, and then falling in the dreadful silence before the explosions. 300 missiles took to the skies that day, from this region alone. They were joined by hundreds more being fired from the Pas-de-Calais and the coast above Le Havre.
Where the missiles fell, the streets and city blocks were reduced to rubble. Roofs, walls, and church towers collapsed, bricks and shattered glass cascading into the narrow streets to make them completely impassable. Dust and soot rose over the stricken area, and soon there were fires, with the crews desperately trying to contain them before they could spread. Workers toiled for hours, knuckles to the stones, to dig out survivors. The hospitals within that district soon filled with the wounded, and the coroner’s tab tallied up and up.
All across the city, bewildered families were packing up their belongings on anything that would move and heading out to the country. Over a million would go, seeking shelter and survival in the English countryside. They would shun the major cities, never knowing when the terrible new weapons would find them there. Then it was over, at least for that day. The all clear sirens called out their wan reprieve. People struggled back up the stairways from the underground shelters and tubes. They stood, blinking in the haze of destruction, their eyes laden with fear.
All across Normandy, the last of the V-1 service crews and supply troops were taking to any truck or vehicle they could find and risking their lives on the roads. The thick hedgerows that had held up the Allied invaders in one telling of this history now stood in silence. There would be no fighting there. Omaha beach was still quiet, its sands unstained by blood, its shore batteries and concrete pill boxes empty and forsaken. The steel anti-landing obstacles could still be seen at low tide, like an invading herd of peculiar metal beasts, crawling their way ashore.
None of the battles fought there, so bitterly contested, would ever take place, operations Epson, Charnwood, Goodwood and Totalize to name but a few. There was no ‘mulberry’ darkening the beach to stand as an artificial harbor, and the PLUTO pipeline carrying gasoline was now connected to the port of Dunkerque. The seven divisions that had screened the way into Normandy were all moving now, marching in long sullen lines of grey.
Kluge was to learn things from Brigadier Berg that shook him that night. Even as he delivered his warning to von Rundstedt, recommending the withdrawal, he realized they were fortunate the Army was still maintaining a cohesive front. The enemy had concentrated all their armor at these two disparate points to make good inroads into the line, but by and large, it was still an Army, still fighting, still proud and determined in spite of all the losses it had sustained. There were over a million dead now, and even more reported as ‘missing.’ Those who had started the war with such bravado in 1939 were mostly gone.
“By the time the Allies in the West had built up to this level,” Berg had told him, “our Army had collapsed. There was a big pocket around Falaise, and if they had closed it, the war might have ended in August of 1944.”
Kluge could still not understand how the history would be different, but he was determined that there would be no pocket anywhere near Falaise on his watch.
“Well, if we don’t stop these two pincers, we are looking at a pocket forming at this very moment,” he said. “Falaise? That could be the west wing of the Army. It is dangerously exposed now that it is moving. I have spoken with von Rundstedt about a general withdrawal. In my opinion, I believe we must get back behind the Seine. Would you concur?”
“If you had a good mobile reserve,” said Berg, “and could move it without taking these losses from their fighters, then I think I would advise you to stand and fight. As I see things now, your best mobile units, my brigade included, are forced to act as firemen. We are reacting to the enemy at every turn, and must move from one threat to another, all under the wings of their fighters. My KG1 reports only a single Leopard operational. I have 28 in the field now, and one here under repair. These are heavy losses, and it is all coming from their massed artillery fires and those damn fighters. We are already out of our anti-aircraft missiles. If we could only counterattack as part of a much larger force, we could be much more effective. As it stands, when we have to hold the line ourselves, we become the target of these concentrated artillery barrages. Can we group our Panzer divisions to counterattack?”
“We tried that,” said Kluge. “It was called Operation Valkyrie , and it was a good plan. We had collected the cream of our Panzers in the West, and though it started well, it failed. Like the Russians, the Americans simply have too much mass in their formations. Just one of their infantry divisions has the manpower of two of our own slimmed down formations. We’ll be lucky to field six or seven battalions in a division these days, and Panzer replacements are never adequate for those divisions. Hopefully, we’ve hurt them enough to stop this Patton for a while.”
“They will have fuel shortages soon, if they do not already,” said Berg. “Actually, that is what saved us, at least for a while. They raced to the Seine, fought for their bridgeheads, but then their offensive slowed. With virtually no organized resistance, they could have gone right through the Westwall, but they simply did not have the logistics to sustain all their Armies. That bought us a brief respite.”
“If Guderian and von Rundstedt agree with my recommendation,” said Kluge, “then it will have to go to OKW for approval. Assuming that happens, we will be looking at a war of movement for the next several weeks. It will be run and gun, with the infantry slogging along as best they can.”
“That will be the danger point,” said Berg. “There are a lot of relatively static divisions on the front now, units that were only built for coastal defense. A general withdrawal could be very risky. Perhaps a gradual withdrawal would be the better plan. Yet, if I am correct, and they are having supply difficulties, then we might just win the foot race to the Seine. We can fight delaying actions, hinder their advance, and an Army retreating over territory they control can always move faster than one advancing into ground formerly held by the other side.”
“Perhaps we will do this in stages,” said Kluge. “Von Rundstedt agreed and ordered our west wing to fold back yesterday. We will anchor that end of the front on Caen now, and thus far, that withdrawal has not been pressured by a strong pursuit. Only a single American infantry Korps follows, just three divisions. Patton persists with this drive to the northeast, but frankly, I do not think they have the strength to close their pincers.”
“Nor do we have the strength to really defeat those thrusts. Oh, I have stopped them again. They are licking their wounds tonight, but we cannot remain engaged like this. It will deplete our ammunition. I recommend we get my Brigade off the line immediately. If it does come to this run and gun withdrawal you speak of, you will need us rested and ready to operate. My unit excels in mobile combat.”
“We will be moving tonight,” said Kluge, “as part of the west wing when it makes this withdrawal. We’ll have to give them Argentan, but it will allow me to move 10th Panzer back in your direction. Yes, we’ll keep our high cards together now. 10th Panzer is the Queen of Spades, Panzer Lehr the King of Diamonds, and you, my friend, are my Ace. They’ve taken L’Aigle, but Panzer Lehr has blocked any further progress. Pull your men out, but watch the roads leading north from that city. There is a Luftwaffe field division coming down from Rouen. It will help us stich things back together, but for this, we give them all of Normandy.”
“All they really want there is Cherbourg,” said Berg. “At one point, it was able to sustain
twenty of their divisions before they took Antwerp. For them, at this moment, it is all about the ports. Soon they will be looking to Le Havre.”
“Don’t worry,” said Kluge. “I’m sure von Rundstedt has given orders to defend Cherbourg—assuming we can find the men.”
Von Rundstedt had, indeed, found the men to garrison the port, at Guderian’s suggestion, but they would rank among the most ill equipped and ineffective soldiers in the German Army—three Ost Battalions, the dregs of 7th Army left to guard what could become one of the greatest strategic prizes of the war….
* * *
OKW could see the same thing that Kluge saw—the massive pocket forming, with 17 divisions in the wide orbit of Chartres. Zeitzler believed that it was too soon for a general withdrawal order, but recommended, and then ordered, a gradual pullback. He would begin with the farthest planets in that orbit, the divisions on the line west of Orleans. From that city the line ran northwest for approximately 70 kilometers before bending almost due north. Seven divisions would move on the 29th, and the shortening of the line was enough to free up the Hermann Goring Panzergrenadier Division.
That division had been sitting in a quiet segment of the line for the last two weeks, with little combat. Goring had been fattening up his goose, finding equipment and personnel to send it on private shipments. Even after that, its battalions were still at about 65% strength, but it jealously held on to those two companies of Tigers, 24 in all.
The danger point now remained in the British sector, where enemy armor had surged into Pithviers the previous day, getting there before the disparate battalions of the Brandenburgers could muster there, but they were coming, marching all night. By 02:00, the six remaining battalions in the east had arrived, heartened to learn that five more battalions had come down the road from Chartres. The division, separated and parceled out long ago out of necessity, was now slowly reassembling, and just in time to contest the British breakthrough.
Both Monty and O’Connor were quite pleased with what they had accomplished. The assault divisions were tiring and low on supply now, but O’Connor had rested both the 10th and 6th Armored Divisions for this phase of the operation.
“We’ve got Pithviers,” said O’Connor, “but it looks like the Brandenburgers got reinforced tonight. They mean to make a fight of it there.”
“Then fight we will,” said Monty. “Now that we’re through those damn woodlands, we’ve excellent ground for the armored divisions. We can roll up your 6th tomorrow.”
“Yes,” said O’Connor. “But their line south from Pithviers to the forest must be stretched thin. I suggest we commit 6th Armored there in the morning. A good attack to the west might just lever them right out of Orleans. If we can get hold of these Brandenburgers with a good infantry division, then that will free up our armor for some hard punching elsewhere.”
O’Connor thought instinctively like an armored commander. The last thing he wanted was to get entangled with a hard fighting division like the Brandenburgers . If he could tie it up with his own infantry, then he had free reign to hit the enemy where they were weaker.
“That woodland fighting has worn out my two divisions,” said Monty. “They’ll need rest, and resupply.”
“I think my 3rd Infantry is in the best shape,” said O’Connor. “Let’s bring it to Pithviers, and then shift both the 6th and 10th Armored west. We have the advantage of interior lines now. We can punch in any direction, and they can’t be strong everywhere.”
“Good enough,” said Monty. “We’ll rest Erskine’s 7th today, and the 7th Armored Brigade. Then they’ll be ready tomorrow to keep the momentum going.”
O’Connor’s plan was to be complicated by moves being made on the German side that night. They had been jealously clinging to the pearl of Orleans, with elements of Student’s Korps being the last troops still defending anywhere on the Loire. Now von Rundstedt was considering it a liability, and he could see no further reason why it should be held. There were considerable supplies in depots there, and he ordered student to try and move as much as possible to Chartres. Then he wanted his divisions to begin a phased withdrawal, his intention being to eliminate the bulge in the front, and redraw the line of defense between the two points of the enemy incursions. That saw the bulk of 2nd Fallschirmjager Division pull out and move north the night of June 1st. They were moving to link up with the Brandenburgers , and taking up position right in the area O’Connor wanted to test the following morning.
The attack went in with great strength, first falling on the scattered detachments of the 111th Division, and driving them back with little difficulty. But they were retreating into the welcome lines of two very tough German Divisions, and neither the Brandenburgers , nor the 2nd Paras were going to give an inch that morning.
The British would hammer at that line for two days before Montgomery suggested that they bring up all the artillery they could pool and put in some heavy thunder. With all that power directed on the western shoulder of their penetration, an odd thing happened. O’Connor’s infantry (3rd, 5th, and 43rd Wessex), all on the right, staged good attacks and made a dramatic breakthrough between the German 319th and 272nd Divisions. The 226th was also penetrated, allowing the recon battalion of 3rd Division to get all the way to Montarois. While all the armor was growling away as it watched that artillery barrage, the ground pounders had ruled the hour behind their backs.
Chapter 23
The Battle for L’Agile had been costly for both sides. Patton learned that he had only 45 of his 75 new M-26 Pershing tanks left after the Germans pulled out. His men were dead tired, with some tank companies stalled for lack of gasoline. The next morning he would get some most welcome news. As the Germans fell back in the west, the hasty retreat saw considerable stocks of German gasoline that were left behind. His G-4, Muller, walked in beaming on the morning of the 30th.
“By god, general. We’ve just hit the jackpot. The krauts pulled out of Argentan so fast that they left what looks to me like 100,000 gallons of gasoline behind. A troop of cavalry caught a few stay-behinders in there trying to set up a demolition, and chased their asses right out of town. We’re back in business!”
“Outstanding,” said Patton, reaching into his pocket and handing Muller a cigar. “I was going to smoke that in L’Aigle this morning. It’s yours. There’s a lot of movement out west, and we’re going to need all the fuel we can get our hands on.”
That amount of fuel could keep a division like Old Ironsides fighting for one day, but it might be parceled out to three divisions to at least keep moving that day. It was better than nothing, and Patton was already considering how to spend the quarter Muller had found on the pavement, eager for news from his aerial recon boys. Bradley usually fed him the recon photos first thing in the morning, and he was right on time.
“George, it looks like they’re pulling out. The whole west wing of their 7th Army is on the move, all heading north for the coast. Ike wants you to get a division rolling into Normandy and take Cherbourg. Should I give this to Collins? He’s still got fuel.”
“Yes, and I was just going to have Muller here pilfer it. But with his little discovery this morning, and this news, everything changes. Tell Collins I’m sending him the 94th Infantry. They just came up from Bilbao. Any news on getting that rail line open to Le Mans?”
“Not yet, but they’re rounding up locals to work on it.”
“Good,” said Patton. “Logistics, Brad. We had just enough in the tank to kick this door open, but pushing through from this point on won’t be easy. Goddammit, we need more gasoline. I gave Muller here a cigar for finding me 100,000 gallons this morning, but I’ll kiss the son-of-a-bitch that can get 7th Army topped off again. Where’s Lee?”
“Jesus Christ Himself?” said Bradley. They were referring to General John Clifford Hughes Lee, his first three initials lending him that nickname, along with an imperious, fastidious, overly pious, and demanding temperament. He was head Quartermaster of the entire European Th
eater of Operations. “Last I heard he was at St. Nazaire, looking over the Brittany ports.”
“I wonder if I could persuade his lordship to motor on up to Le Mans and have a little talk. See if you can arrange it, Brad, and get the Army band and an honor guard ready in case he accepts my invitation. I’ve got a bottle of Cognac and a few more of those cigars I might tempt him with for some gasoline.”
“You’d do better with a copy of the King James Bible,” said Bradley.
Patton smiled.
When he had that meeting, it went off with all the pomp and splendor he could devise. He greeted General Lee with the Army band, then had a nice well cleaned car available to take a brief guided tour of the Gallo-Roman walls and towers that surrounded the city.
“We took the place without having to fire a shot,” he said. “That’s what your gasoline delivers. I was able to operate both my armored corps to enfilade the place, and the Germans just packed up and ran. Now…. Wait till you get a look at the Cathedral of St. Julien. It’s marvelous.”
He had accommodations for Lee in the finest hotel, and the two men dined sumptuously. Throughout the meal, not one single word of complaint was uttered by Patton. His patented scowl was stowed away, and that broad smile was in liberal use. He spoke of the history of the city with great knowledge, and the two men ended the visit sitting quietly in the cathedral, bathed in the colorful light of the stained glass windows.
“General, I’d offer you a cigar, but I gave the last one I had to my G-4 for scratching together some gasoline so I could move on Caen. I’m going to do everything in my power to make your job a little easier. I’ll deliver Cherbourg and Le Havre, and that’s a promise.”
Before he left, Patton made a point of taking a knee near the altar for a moment, in seeming prayer, his helmet tucked under one arm, his riding crop and gloves in the other.
Breakout (Kirov Series Book 38) Page 19