Hammer of God

Chapter 33

Von Wietersheim looked at the men he had summoned to this meeting at Korps headquarters in Homs, General Ritter von Hubicki of the 9th Panzer Division, Felix Steiner of the 5th SS Viking Motorized, and Graf von Sponeck of the 22nd Luftland Division. General Kubler, the overall commander of the Mountain Korps, had been scheduled to arrive, but was still on the trains at Hamah to the north.

“Well,” he began, looking at Hubicki first. “What in god’s name happened?”

“It wasn’t in god’s name,” said Hubicki. “It was something out of hell itself. The British hit my division just before dawn this morning, and practically destroyed my entire force.”

“Destroyed it? With what?”

“We all heard the rumors, the talk at OKW about these new British heavy tanks-well it is true! They are awesome! I thought I had seen everything when I saw that old French Char-2C tank we hauled off to Berlin- a real monster. Well these were just as big!”

The French Char-2C was actually the largest tank ever built, weighing in at 69 tons, it was over 33 feet long, and over thirteen feet wide, slightly bigger than the Challenger II, and about 9 tons heavier. The Germans would build a much heavier tank in the Maus at 188 tons, but it was not as long or tall as the Char-2C, giving it less overall volume. Only ten of the big French tanks were ever built, and a single Challenger would easily defeat all of them in combat, though they never really fired a shot in anger. Used mainly for propaganda movies as symbols of invincible tanks, they were being moved south of the action when the rail line was blocked, and so they were all destroyed but one-the vehicle named “Champagne.” That one was captured by the Germans and hauled off to Berlin as a trophy, and Hubicki had seen it in 1940.

“There weren’t very many of these big tanks, and thank god for that! They are operating with new fast moving medium tanks, about regimental strength, and they fight like demons. They hit the Panzergrenadiers and went right through them. Most of our AT gun positions were chopped up at long range by enemy fire, but even those that engaged were useless. Everything we have heard about this new British armor is true. I had my 1st tank battalion in reserve behind the main line, and so naturally I ordered it to counterattack. You would not want to look at what is left of them now. The second battalion suffered the same fate. Decimation is not enough of a word for what happened to those boys.”

Von Wietersheim’s eyes darkened, a troubled look on his face. “Steiner?”

“You know the trouble we had trying to cross the Turkish Straits,” said Steiner. “My division arrived too late to stop the breakthrough, and many of my supply units failed to arrive at all. They were on those ferries that went down with that U-boat attack.”

“How did the British manage to pull that off?”

“The British?” said Steiner. “They are still denying any involvement in the incident. But who else could it have been? The Russians? It hardly matters. The fact remains that we have a hundred tons of supplies and ammunition at the bottom of the Bosporus. Now we will have to fly those munitions to Turkish airfields, and then move them by rail, which is going to slow down the logistics. It will be at least another week before my division has adequate supplies. That said, I have posted two regiments at Rayak with the organic supplies we were carrying. We still hold the town, but the British have overrun the airfield to the south. What was left of 9th Panzer was able to move back through our lines and is reforming to the north. Believe me, it was not good for morale to see that.”

“Yes, and the British are attacking everywhere now. They are still pushing up the coast with the Australian division, but there has been no talk of unstoppable enemy tanks there. They are pushing to Nebek north of Damascus-and no unstoppable tanks lead that assault. Now we get word they are maneuvering in the east.”

“We stopped them at Palmyra,” said von Sponeck pointing to the map. “They seized the fortress overlooking the town four days ago, and used it to put mortar fire on the airfield. I’m afraid it’s useless for the moment. But we stopped their main column, and we still hold the town.”

“Yes? Well that is because the British have deliberately withdrawn, to move on Dier-ez-Zour. Their column was spotted and strafed by on e of our planes, and it is clear where they are headed now.” Von Wietersheim folded his arms, clearly unhappy.

“They have obviously committed their strongest units against us in the center,” said Hubicki.

“But the attack there has stopped,” Steiner put in. “In fact, British infantry has come up to occupy that line, and they are digging in. They seem to have pulled their armor back to regroup. What we need now is a good Pakfront. It is clear the 37mm guns are useless. We need something bigger.”

Now von Wietersheim remembered the warning he had been given by Manstein concerning these new British tanks. The reports from Rommel claimed that they were even impervious to a direct hit from an 88mm flak gun! “Something bigger,” he mused aloud. “Well, we don’t have anything bigger-not yet. So we will have to use what we do have, good troops, iron will, and proper tactics. Are you well dug in, Steiner?”

“Of course, but if we cannot stop this armor-”

“Then let it roll right over you and fight from your trenches. It is clear they have these tanks in small numbers, and use them in the schwerpunkt of their attack. So we must thicken the crust of our line, and defend in depth. I want minefields laid immediately, if you have not already done so. And the artillery must stand ready to saturate the point of enemy breakthrough. Be stubborn, gentlemen. And as for your remaining Panzers,” he looked at Hubicki now. “Disperse them into good hull down positions to support the infantry.”

“You ask us to fight as we did in the last war,” said Hubicki. “What will we do next, string up the barbed wire and hit them with gas?”

“We haven’t either in hand,” von Wietersheim replied curtly. But it would be a good idea.” He allowed himself the hint of a smile, letting the men know he was humoring them. But soon the seriousness of the situation darkened his features again. “Steiner,” he said. “Can you hold Rayak?”

“To the last man, sir.”

“Good. Then I will send what remains of 9th Panzer to Nebek to backstop the French. I do not think you will find these British tanks there, Hubicki. In any case. Pull together what you can and get over there. Now then… Dier-ez-Zour,” he leaned over the map, tapping the small town on the Euphrates with his finger. “It is clear the British were attempting a double envelopment on our left. They tried us at Palmyra, and Wolff stopped them there. Good for him. He even sent me a present-some kind of new hand held anti-tank weapon. Lord knows we could use something like that now. Alright… What do we have at Dier-ez-Zour?”

“The 65th Regiment landed there two days ago,” said von Sponeck, “and elements of the Sturm Regiment came in by parachute on the north side of the river. The British have troops advancing from Mosul. Now we are getting reports of a full enemy division, the 10th Indian, and to that we can add this column that was at Palmyra. It will tip the balance there unfavorably.”

“Agreed,” said von Wietersheim. “We could hold, but the position is too exposed. How will we keep that force supplied?”

“We were using the airfield, but now they have that under artillery fire. We also have reports of more commando raids at Raqqah.”

“They are clearly trying to cut your overland supply route,” said von Wietersheim. “I don’t like it. What do you have in ready reserve that can move by air transport?”

“I have the 7th Machinegun battalion at the airfield now, Herr General. Student has also been landing troops from Cyprus at Hamrah to the north.”

“Good enough. Get that Machinegun battalion to Raqqah at once and see about these commandos. As for the troops you have at Dier-ez-Zour, I believe that position is untenable. It was a good blocking maneuver in the short run, but pull those units out and withdraw up river. That town is too easily outflanked, from both Mosul and now this column withdrawing from Palmyra.”

“I have two regiments at Palmyra, sir. We could follow right in the heels of that British column and give them something to think about.”

“And again, how would you keep your men supplied? We are already having difficulty finding enough trucks to get supplies to you at Palmyra. No. Do not move east-just hold Palmyra. 65th Regiment will fall back on Raqqah as I have instructed. In fact, I don’t think you will need two regiments at Palmyra now. Let the 16th relieve Colonel Wolff there, and send his 47th Regiment back to Homs. I will put it on the trains to garrison Aleppo. The main thing now is to screen and hold that town. That is where the principle rail connections through Turkey are, and undoubtedly the intended end point of this British operation. They will follow you up river as you withdraw, but it is not easy to outflank Raqqah, so we will fight them there. As they advance their lines of communications get longer, while ours shorten. Those are your orders, gentlemen. And as for the Luftwaffe, I want every JU-87 we can get our hands on here in Syria. The next time these British tanks appear, let us see how they like our Stukas!”

They took off at dusk, rising through the haze made red with the setting sun, a fat mother goose in the KA-40, but with three sleek eagles at her side. The helos climbed quickly into the crimson sky, moving swiftly north over the desert. On the way they overflew the long column of Habforce, now grown to over 700 vehicles strung out in the desert tracks below.

Fedorov had a feeling of real uncertainty in his gut now, particularly after seeing the consequences of his choices and decisions buried in the desert with Symkov. That is the least of it, he thought. God only knows how many other lives I’m responsible for. So where are you going now, he asked himself?

There was no fortress on a high hill at Raqqah, though the town itself did offer good prospects for defense. It sat on the north bank of the Euphrates, with two good bridges that they would have to control. To the east was hill 266, a good point to overlook the town itself, and the airfield was just north of this feature, on a low plateau bounded on the north by a canal and stream that reached down to the Euphrates.

Was the town defended? If so, how big was the garrison? They would be able to do an aerial reconnaissance, and if prospects looked good, they might put the men down and seize those bridges. There must be some German supply and logistics operation getting set up there. They had to make some arrangement to try and support those troops at Dier-ez-Zour. He shrugged, realizing that all his strategic and tactical advice came mostly from his extensive knowledge of the history, but now he was on a blank page of his own making.

I’m no more a General than I am a Captain. What was I thinking bringing the Marines out here? Yes, we’re trying to help out in any way we can, but I feel like I’m bumbling about, trying to find some lever on the history, some Pushpoint that might move events unfolding here. Yet, for all our meddling, what have we really accomplished? We stopped Rommel-Kinlan did that, though I had a hand in convincing him. Yet that theatre is far from decided. Rommel has had over a month to fatten up at Mersa Brega, and soon he may be tempted to go on the offensive again. Then what? Most of Kinlan’s Brigade is here in the Levant now. He cannot be everywhere. In some places the British will have to stand on their own. We thought the addition of Kinlan’s battalions here might quickly unhinge the French defense, but now it seems all we’ve done is bring down an avalanche of German troops to this theater.

And yet, this is the key battlefield right now. There are hundreds of desert kilometers between Rommel and the Egyptian border, and enough British troops there to hold him, or at least delay his advance again. Now, with German troops here in Syria, they simply must be stopped. If they were to break through and drive south into Palestine, that would be a disaster. And what about Iraq?

Even as he thought that, he realized that the Germans would have problems of their own. They would have to find the means of sustaining these forces in the field. Though the French could provide them with transport, petrol, food and water, they would have to bring in all of their own ammunition. A move on Iraq would not be easy for them at this stage. It’s a long way to the lower Euphrates from places like Aleppo and Homs, and the British had significant forces in theater now with the arrival of the Indian divisions.

But that will be all, he knew. Unless Churchill has been planning another of his Winston Special convoys, the last Indian Division, the 5th, will be all they will have for some time-that and a couple brigades of the 1st South African Division. How many divisions do the German have in Syria now? How many more might they send? He realized that he could not see the road ahead any longer. The near prescient advantage he had in the past had slipped from him in the slow twisting gyre of these altered states.

He realized that if the Germans wished, they could continue to send more and more troops, but they would need those rail lines to do this, and to keep them supplied. Yes! Here he was flitting about like another Lawrence of Arabia. He thought he could use the mobility and firepower of his helicopters to have a dramatic effect-and he could! I’m simply picking the wrong targets, he thought. Yes, shutting down that airfield at Palmyra helped, and this reconnaissance is well planned, but what did Lawrence spend most of his time doing? He hit the Hejaz railroad the Turks needed to sustain their operations against Allenby. He tore up the tracks every chance he could get. The British can’t do that here, because they can’t get to the rail lines effectively. Look what happened to their commandos at Rayak. But I can! I can move like lightning and cut that line from Aleppo to Homs, and that is exactly what we will do after we see about Raqqah.

He was ruminating on all of this when a radio came in on the secure channel from Kirov. It was Admiral Volsky, probably checking up on me, he thought as he took the headset and slipped it into place. A stab of anxiety rose in his chest. He would have to tell the Admiral about Symkov.

“Mister Fedorov? Glad to know you are alive and well. Was your mission successful?”

“Good day, Admiral. We had some success in shutting down the airfield as planned, but the Germans moved in too many troops, and the British could not take the town. I made the decision to extract the men and we are presently on aerial reconnaissance out ahead of the British advance on the Euphrates. I hope this is alright, sir.”

“I have no objection, Fedorov. Use your best judgment. We have not been idle here ourselves. I took the ship out with the Argos Fire and we kept watch on the French fleet. There was a flotilla thinking to slip through the strait above Cyprus, but Gromyko discouraged them. They had several fast cruisers and destroyers, and were not worried about submarines. Now they are worried. They have made the wise decision to turn about and return to Taranto, but there are signs that there may be bigger fish in the sea soon. I will keep you informed, but that aside, I do have some news for you, and it concerns Karpov. It seems he arranged a meeting with Sergei Kirov, and the two men came to some understanding.”

That sounded like good news, and Fedorov said as much, until the Admiral continued. “But then something happened. His airship overflew Germany, and he even had the audacity to bomb Berlin! That man will never change his stripes. Yet now Admiral Tovey tells me that he made arrangements to fly to London and conference with the British, but he never arrived. There was a bad storm over the channel as he was crossing, and they now believe his airship went down.”

“Crashed? In the English Channel?”

“This is what we believe. The British have been searching, but there has been no sign of the airship, or any wreckage on the sea.”

Fedorov sat with that a moment, then asked the Admiral to keep him informed. “I’m afraid I have a little bad news myself, sir. We lost a man in that last action during the extraction. Symkov…”

Volsky waited, then came back. “I am sorry to hear that. Very well, Mister Fedorov. So we both have shared our bad news. Let us hope something good comes of this whole affair in the end. Yes? Please let me know when you plan to conclude your mission there and return to the ship. We will be at Alexandria with the British fleet-Volsky over and out.”

As he removed the headset Fedorov had a strange feeling about the news he had received. We believed he was gone once, he thought, yet that was not so. I can think of no reason, but something tells me Karpov is not dead this time either. If there is any man among us who might be thought of as a Prime Mover on all these events, it is Karpov. Yes, I mustn’t shoulder all the blame. Something tells me he’ll turn up somewhere again, and get himself into trouble.

He did not know whether the Admiral’s news was good or bad at this point, but he was deeply troubled about it, and decided to say nothing of the matter to the others.