Hammer of God

Chapter 17

Palmyra had been an important stop on the long caravan routes to Persia and beyond for many centuries. Dating to the second millennium BC, it was reputed to have been built by King Solomon as a fortress outpost. Centuries later the Romans came, with Marc Antony raiding the place in 41 BC until it eventually became just another pearl on the necklace of conquests made by Rome. Yet its strategic position between the east and west saw its merchants thrive, controlling ships in the Mediterranean, and pulling goods from the Silk Road and markets in India. Roman Legions were billeted there under Diocletian, and the site was walled off by the Emperor Justinian, making the place a sturdy fortress town.

In modern times it came to be known as “The Bride of the Desert.” The old Roman ruins still remain, like the elegant Corinthian style colonnaded portico at the temple of Ba’al, dedicated to the storm god who might bring much needed rain to the parched desert around the settlement. There the litany of deities worshiped were inscribed on the walls… “for Bel and Baal Shamin, and for Aglibol, and for Malakbel, and for Astarte, and for Nemesis, and for Arsu, and for Abgal, the good and rewarding gods.…”

It was perhaps Rome’s appetite for exotic goods from the east that kept the city a thriving place, where spices, silk, ebony, and even slaves were traded in the town. Monumental arches, long columns, elegant tetrapylons, and the remnant of the old Roman aqueduct still remain on the well preserved site, even though the Romans themselves destroyed the place when Queen Zenobia, a descendant of Cleopatra, rebelled and thought to break away from the empire. After that it became a barracks and fortified camp for the legion of Diocletian, and the armies of the Sassanids, Muslims, Mamlukes, and eventually the Mongols all swept over the site as the centuries passed, each leaving some remains in the ruins.

By 1941 the desire for exotic goods from the east had been distilled down to one primary thing-oil. The city sat right astride the long underground pipelines that carried the oil from Kirkuk, through Homs, to Tripoli and Banias on the Mediterranean coast. All along that route the British had set up pumping stations to maintain the flow of that oil, labeled T1 through T4 on the “Tripoli” pipeline route. So now the armies of France and Great Britain would meet and struggle there, and men from a far distant future would watch from atop the high volcanic cone, crowned by the old stone fortress of Fakhr-al-Din.

At this time, Palmyra was a small settlement, graced by shady groves of palm trees. Fedorov was excited for a chance to see the ruins, which sat like the bleached skeletal bones of an old fallen empire. The history here was written in the sandstone, layered deep, and carved into the land over long millennia. Now the soldiers of another fading empire would come to do battle there beyond the ancient tomb sites, and remnants of the high stone walls of the old city. The coming of Troyak and his squads of Marines would be the first time the ancient site would hear the sound of Russian made assault rifles, but it would not be the last. Rebels clashed with the Syrian government in the years before Kirov first went to sea, and the blight of war would again leave its mark on the old ruins, which were also looted to provide artifacts for wealthy collectors when order broke down in Syria.

Now the ancient gods and goddesses would stir fitfully in the ruins of their temples. There slept Allat, the goddess of the underworld, and Nebo, the Mesopotamian god of oracles, who would hear again the din and rattle of war echoing through the weathered stone columns of Aswan granite. The Babylonians called him the Son of Marduke, Lord of Heaven and the scribe of the “Table of Destiny.” Today he would make a new entry in his ledger of fate, when the Russian Marines came thumping in from the south, emerging from the long shadowy ridges of Mount Atbar and Jabal al Khan, the ‘hill of the King.’

The KA-40 came in low, beneath the crests of hills rising over 500 meters just west of the palm groves. The chateau was situated on a high solitary hill overlooking the town, triangular in shape, with the longest wall facing west on the angle of approach. Surprise was complete, until the roar of the helo startled the observation teams settling in to sleep in the stony chambers beneath the towers. One man was bold enough to run up the stairs to the upper level, emerging to see a dark, shuddering shadow hovering in the sky. He had a brief moment of shock and awe before a sniper rifle in the hands of a Russian Marine cut him down.

Now the long ropes descended from the helo, and one by one the Marines slid down onto the hard stone roof of the fortress. Troyak led one team down the long west facing wall, seizing two towers there and leaving small two man teams to guard the ramparts. Zykov took another squad along the first of the two east facing walls, until he reached a position right above the single stone bridge that led to the gate. He fixed an assault rope to the upper wall and rappelled down to take the main gate from above, while other Marines worked their way down the stone stairways and into hidden chambers within the heart of the fortress. It was just as Popski had told Glubb Pasha, they had simply plopped down from above and taken the entire fortress by storm.

They found three other men from the garrison there, one Belgian and the others a pair of sharp eyed Bedouin tribesmen, but did not kill them. Fedorov questioned the men through Popski, who could manage both French and Arabic. He learned that the units assigned to the garrison here were much as the history recorded, two companies of the French Foreign Legion, and a single Bedu Desert Company.

“What about Fawsi al Qawuqji?” Popski pressed them. “Are he and his men nearby?”

At this the captives pleaded their ignorance, and Fedorov could see that they really knew very little.

“And the Germans? Do they have planes on that airfield?”

They learned what Fedorov already seemed to know, that the leading planes to arrive here were from Zerstorergeschwader 76, which had been using the base as a transit stop en route to bases in northern Iraq.

“Two planes,” said the Belgian. “Only two.” He held up two fingers, his other hand over his heart to profess his oath of truth in what he was saying, eyes wide with fear.

“Two planes,” said Fedorov to Troyak. “They’ll be on the ground there now, so get your mortar teams in action right away. I’m afraid we’re going to have to wake up the rest of the French garrison, if the helo hasn’t already done that.”

“Kolnov,” Troyak barked. “Set up one 82 on the south tower, the other to the north. Use your map and register that fire as we trained.”

Fedorov had been able to give them a detailed map of Palmyra, but they could clearly see the airbase there between the hill and the town itself. In later years after the war, another airfield would be built well east of the town, but in 1941 it was just above the Roman ruins, over watched by the high Chateau. They could simply register the fire right on the field, and easily shut it down. The prisoners were taken to a chamber below the main courtyard, and the KA-40 sent down the last of the supply and weapons canisters in heavy canvass satchels. Then the pilot saluted, and the dark noisome mass of the helo began to lift away, swooping down into the valley behind the high volcanic hill, and off to the north, all running lights dark.

There was no place big enough to land the helo on the fortress, and so it had been decided to move it to the gnarled hills to the north, where it could set down at elevation, unseen in a furrowed gorge. The advantage of having Google satellite maps of the whole region, and detailed navigation pilotage charts made the selection of an appropriate LZ for the helo easy enough. It would be out of sight and harm’s way, but conveniently at hand should they need its minigun and missile fire support.

Ten minutes later the new masters of the Castle of Fakhr-al-Din began to put well aimed 82mm mortar fire down on the airfield, and there was a bright explosion and fire there when they hit one of the twin engine He-111 bombers that had been left their when their tires were damaged on landing earlier.

They soon heard the distant call of a bugle as the French Foreign Legion was called to arms. Troyak was on a high tower, surveying the mortar fire, and he peered through his hand held night vision field glasses, watching the scene. There he saw the movement of men on the ground, and they could hear the sound of trucks. Soon they saw several truckloads of infantry arriving at the edge of the town and spreading out in the palm groves near the ruins.

“They know they have uninvited visitors,” said Troyak. “It looks to be two platoons at this point, about 40 or 50 men. They’ll look us over first to try and determine who we are, and in what strength, but I doubt if they’ll be foolish enough to try and attack this fort tonight.”

“Agreed,” said Fedorov. “But how would they attack if they decide to come?”

“The ground is too open to the east, and we have good fields of fire from all these towers. They would have to get north or south of us, and then try to come up that road that leads up here on the western flank of this hill. Even that is a long shot. With our firepower this fort is practically impregnable. You chose the position well. All they might do is try to put heavy weapons on us, if they have any artillery, and our mortars can answer that, or the KA-40. I think we can hold here.”

“Then the only question is how long it will be before we are relieved by the British, or Glubb Pasha’s men. He’s promised to come here as soon as possible. In the meantime, we’ve done what we came here to do so far, and shut down that airfield.”

The Germans would be denied the use of the field as long as the Marines held the fortress, but phones were already ringing in Mosul, where Fiegerfuhrer Irak, Werner Junck, was trying to muster more aircraft to counter the British offensive. He commanded the Luftwaffe component of Sonderstab F, the first responders sent by Germany to aid the Iraqi rebellion. General der Flieger Hellmuth Felmy’s Brandenburger Commandos were the initial ground component, but plans had been made to use elements of the 22nd Luftland Air Landing Division, and deploy them through airfields in Syria. At present, Junck had only eight serviceable planes in Mosul, two Messerschmitts, four more Heinkels and a pair of Ju-52s that had ferried in the ground support crews. More planes were on the way, but at this critical moment, his force was not capable of preventing the British from undoing the Iraqi rebellion.

Junck had been briefed by Goering’s personal Chief of Staff on this mission. He was to assess the overall situation in Iraq, select the best airfields for future Luftwaffe operations, and harass the British offensive there as much as possible. Now his overlords were clearly not happy. Palmyra had been chosen as a way station for future Luftwaffe deployments, and word had come that the airfield was already under attack.

“The British are in Palmyra!” Came the voice on the phone. “They have taken the fortress there and they are shelling the airfield!”

“Impossible,” said Junck. “All our latest reports still have them at Habbaniyah. The Brandenburgers have taken their supply flotilla! There is no way they could have reached Palmyra.”

“Well they are there now! Do something about it!”

“Do something? With what? I have eight planes left, and two of those are transports. Where are the fighters and bombers I was promised? Where are the Fallschirmjagers?”

“They are coming. Just make sure the British know we are onto them. The French garrison at Palmyra is still holding the town and airfield. It must not fall. Understood?”

The ripples in the stream from the rock Fedorov had dropped on the Chateau had spread all the way to Berlin, where Hitler was none too happy to hear that the Iraqi government had collapsed, and that the situation in Syria was precarious, with the British now threatening both Damascus and Beirut. The only good news thus far had come from Cyprus, where Student’s veteran 7th Flieger Division had secured every facility of any value on the island, and was now consolidating positions there.

Goring clucked with this news, seeing his prestige notch higher after the humiliation he suffered in failing to subdue the RAF in the Battle of Britain. Now he seemed very pleased with the results his Luftwaffe were delivering. They had redeemed themselves by taking Malta, and now Cyprus, bypassing and isolating Crete as the Germans moved to implement the Fuhrer’s plans. He had already sent his personal ‘Herman Goering Brigade’ to reinforce Rommel in North Africa, and now he was authorized to commit the 22nd Luftland Division to operations in Iraq and Syria.

The Reichsfuhrer was taking a very personal interest in the campaign, as he had been one of the key men involved in the plans for Germany’s oil production and economic development. The four year plan devised in 1936 included a comprehensive strategy for increasing Germany’s oil production, and furthering access to new supplies. In 1938 the plan was revised in light of the wartime needs of the army, and renamed Plan Karinhall, after Goering’s spacious mansion. Reliance on the Rumanian oil of Ploesti, and domestic synthetic production, would not be enough. New sources had to be secured, and the rich fields of Baku were at the top of the list. When the Orenburg Federation joined the Axis, securing this much needed oil was no longer a military problem, but now the Soviet Union was preventing shipments across the Black Sea, and the reckoning was nigh at hand.

In the meantime, the campaign in Syria and Iraq also afforded the Germans a dual opportunity. The French had already cut shipments from the terminal ports at Tripoli and Banias, and now German interest in Iraq was primarily focused on the oil facilities and airfields near Mosul and Kirkuk. In the short run, these objectives could not be held, but while Goering arranged for new reinforcements, at least some effort could be made at severing the pipeline from Haditha to Haifa. These were the facilities the British were desperately trying to secure with this offensive. Goering was under no illusions as to the real reasons for the British operation.

News that Palmyra was now a combat zone would make that airfield unsuitable for troop deployment, but Goering already had his staff busy with plans to heavily reinforce Junck. The British may have stolen a march on the Germans in Iraq, but the issue in Syria was far from decided. Prompt intervention by German troops was now Goering’s highest priority. Word had come that the British were approaching Mosul, and also assembling forces on the Euphrates. The vast eastern flank of Syria was wide open to their advance, but German planners knew there were only a very few routes they might take if they sought to move from Iraq.

Generalleutnant Hans Jeschonnek, Goering’s Chief of Staff, chaired the final meeting before operational orders would be issued. The key problem under discussion was the stores of available aviation fuel to sustain operations.

“The British will chase Junck out of Mosul in a few days,” he said. “In the short run he can redeploy to Dier ez Zour or Ar Rakkah on the Euphrates in Syria. We have the planes and pilots to reinforce him there, but what about the fuel? Most everything the French had is centered on their main aerodrome at Rayak. It may be possible to move something by train up through Homs and Aleppo, and we can use the airfields there as well. As for the troops, our initial deployment will be small enough to supply by air, but as we build up strength, it will take something more. We cannot rely on the French. So it comes down to either sea transit or overland rail,” he concluded. “The former faces the constant threat from the Royal Navy, and the latter is impossible unless we solve the problem of Turkey.”

“The Fuhrer has plans for Turkey,” said Goering. “The 17th Army has been moved to the Turkish frontier in Bulgaria, and Von Pappen has been dispatched to make one final effort at convincing the Turks that their future will be far brighter as our ally than it will be as our enemy.”

“And if they remain adamant? What then? We already have the 5th Mountain Division in Syria, and we are about to sent the 22nd Luftland Division.”

“We should be able to supply those troops from the airfields in Syria.”

“Granted, but they will not be enough to settle this matter. The best we can hope for is a stalemate, and if we have to get those troops out of Syria, it will not be easy.”

“Do not lose heart,” said Goering. “I’ve told von Pappen that he can send a personal message from me to the Turkish Ambassador. We are in Bulgaria, Greece, Rhodes, Cyprus and now Syria. Soon we will be back in Iraq. There is a ring of steel around Turkey, and they must not think we will hesitate to use it if they do not cooperate. I will darken the skies over Turkey with my Luftwaffe in a massive show of force, and then my little message will tell them that if I have to send my planes there again, the next time they come with bombs. Begin moving elements of the Tenth Fliegerkorps at once.”