Stormtide Rising

Chapter 4

Rommel’s retreat after the battle of Bir el Khamsa had been inevitable, or so he now believed. He had broken through British lines, sweeping south and east through the lonesome bir as he moved to reach Mersa Matruh on the coast. He had chased General Richard O’Connor’s Western Desert Force all the way from El Agheila after his final crushing blow to the hapless Italians at Beda Fomm. The time and tide of his fortune was running high.

Yet it was not to be. His able desert scout Lazlo Almasy, was out on the extreme southern flank of his turning maneuver when he reported an enemy force emerging from the south. First believed to be no more than a reconnaissance, it soon coalesced into a strong mechanized attack, lightning swift, and completely unstoppable. The enemy was said to have a brigade of heavy armor, the likes of which the world had never seen. The German Pak 50mm AT guns simply bounced right off the monster tanks, so massive that the German infantry deployed on defense literally could not believe what they were seeing.

Rommel could not know it at that moment, but he was under attack by warriors from a far flung future, in equipment so advanced that his forces would have no chance of ever defeating it. Even the superb 88mm flak gun, a weapon which he had used to savage British armor up until that point, was completely ineffective against these new enemy tanks. At point blank range it might penetrate between 100 and 120mm of armor, and it was striking a target with protection that could resist over ten times that in RHA Armor equivalent. When Rommel saw that, with his own eyes, he knew that his only recourse was a swift and hasty retreat to save his panzers from almost certain destruction.

Even after that shattering setback, he persisted after being heavily reinforced and resupplied, and set his mind on taking the vital port of Tobruk. In that action, he had come so close to success that at one point, General Montgomery had taken up a rifle himself and was firing at German troops near the harbor. Then, troops had arrived that threatened to push shut the gate he had broken down to gain entry to the British fortress, and his vaunted Hermann Goring Brigade had been forced to withdraw. His deep southern flank was again being threatened by that unstoppable heavy British armor. By now he had determined that it was a small force, perhaps one of a kind, a prototype unit being tested in this cauldron of war. He fell back, took up a line of defense near Gazala, and there he sat, impudent, bruised, sulking behind entrenched positions screened by wire, mines, and covered by all the artillery he could command.

The swift moving battles that had characterized his campaign had now returned to the morass of the first world war. Finally his enemy sought to push him west, and his last stubborn defense at Gazala was eventually broken again by that heavy armor threatening his deep southern flank. Back he went, all the way to Agheila, leaving most of the Italian infantry to defend the highlands of Cyrenaica and fall back on Benghazi. Again he set his men to digging their trenches. He was pushed out of Agheila, fell back to Mersa Brega, where Hitler had ordered him to stand to the very last, though his every instinct was to move west again, and get as far from those terrible enemy tanks as he could.

In that battle, he finally saw one up close. It had struck a mine, disabling its massive steel tracks, and for some reason, the British had chosen to gut it with explosives and leave it on the field, something they had never done before. In all his many actions against that brigade, only one of those tanks had been killed in the past, by a deadly Stuka pilot that had put his bomb right on target. This second death was a suicide, which seemed very strange to him. There it was, looming in the smoke of its own death, and Rommel just stood there, hands clasped behind his back, looking at the behemoth with a mixture of dread and awe. There it sat, the bane of the Desert Fox, seeming to mock him, even in the throes of its own death.

There was the demon that had stopped him from taking Egypt and reaching the Suez Canal as he had promised his Führer. There was the nightmare that had haunted him over hundreds of miles of empty desert, a nemesis so powerful that if his enemy had such a beast, he knew there would soon be no chance for Germany in this war.

But he never saw those tanks again. When O’Connor sought to break out through his defense at Mersa Brega, the attack was not led by the heavy brigade, but by the old clattering Matilda IIs and new American Grants. By comparison, they seemed like small toys, and he could not understand why the British had refused to use the hammer they had in hand. He had ordered his engineers to recover that last fallen beast, dragging its metal carcass back to Sirte, and then Tripoli for shipment to Toulon. He remembered one last night before he sent it on its way, just standing there, seeing the dull moonlight play over its rugged contours. The main gun had been spiked with a grenade or some other explosive, but it was still longer than any of his heavy artillery pieces, and more deadly.

He stopped O’Connor at Mersa Brega, the first time he had fought since Bir el Khamsa without being forced to yield the ground to save his army. He stopped the British, right in their tracks. Then, at his leisure, and still wary of his open flank to the south, he slowly withdrew to the Buerat line near Sirte. He did so more for logistical reasons than anything else, much to the chagrin of the Italians. All he would do is hand the enemy the empty desert, but he would shorten his supply line by hundreds of miles, while lengthening theirs. It was the same logic he used to justify his withdrawal from Buerat to Tarhuna, where he now stood on this cold night in February, looking up at the merciless steady fire of the stars.

He wondered where his nemesis had gone, until he got news that the brigade had withdrawn to Tobruk. Then came the unaccountable report of a massive explosion at that harbor, and he never saw the enemy that had defeated him again. After some months reorganizing and re-equipping, O’Connor finally came at his Tarhuna line. Rommel’s counterattack had been swift and bold, a complete success. And instead of trying to drive all the way north to the coast as he might have in the past, he simply smiled, held his lean panzer divisions by the reins, and consolidated his position while the British staggered back from the heavy blow he had delivered.

It was another stubborn victory in his mind, and a reaffirmation that he could still fight, still win, and was not inevitably doomed to defeat here after all. Yet now the presence of two other Allied armies in Algeria to the west would complicate all his plans. He had already dispatched his 10th Panzer Division, and all the Hermann Goring troops. Now Kesselring wanted another panzer division to help bolster that front, where the aristocratic von Arnim was clearly overmatched.

If they think they are going to pick my army apart like this, and leave me sitting here defending Tripoli while von Arnim delights the Führer with his counterpunches, then they are sorely mistaken. There was a new army in the field there now, a new force—the Americans. From all accounts their troops were as arrogant as they were inexperienced, a slovenly raw green force that was succeeding only because von Arnim was so badly outnumbered.

So I will propose something else, he thought. If they want my veterans at their beck and call, then I will lead them. It will be my hand that delivers this attack on the Americans, and I will shatter them completely, teaching this impudent General Patton a lesson he will never forget.

At the meeting with Kesselring, he proposed he send not one panzer division west, but two, and that he would go with them. He believed he could fall back to Mareth, the best defensive position in North Africa, and hold there easily while he took his best troops west to deal with the Americans. It was the same decision the Germans had made in the old history, only this time they would be stronger when they came. It would be his last chance for glory here, perhaps his last dance in the desert. But he would restore his honor, reclaim the laurels of victory, and show the Führer that he was completely deserving of the Field Marshal’s baton that had been bestowed upon him.

Rommel was going to fight.

Somehow Kesselring had worked a miracle in persuading both Mussolini and Hitler to permit him to do what he was now about to undertake. With Tripoli no longer being visited by the supply ships, Kesselring argued that it made better logistical sense to focus the entire supply effort on Tunis and Bizerte, and allow Rommel to move to Mareth. When the Italians whined about the loss of their only colony in Africa, Kesselring’s proposal that Mussolini be promised Tunisia in compensation was accepted by Hitler. The one key word that had been the sugar in Kesselring’s tea had been “attack.”

Hitler’s mind was now entirely focused on the offensives he already had ordered into the Middle East. His Operation Phoenix was proceeding according to plan, with his fast moving Brandenburgers already on the Euphrates river and driving towards Haditha, the junction of the two vital pipelines that fed the British position in Egypt. Heinz Guderian and Hans Hube had taken Palmyra and they were now reorganizing to drive east to join this vanguard as Hitler ordered more elite troops into the campaign.

The 22nd Luftland Division had made the long journey from Tunisia to Toulon, and then went by rail to Italy and Greece with the rest of Student’s 7th Fliegerkorps to prepare for Operation Merkur, but now it was to be diverted to support the Brandenburgers. Everywhere the dazzling prospects of the German army on attack were now the apple of the Führer’s eye. So when Kesselring presented the plan to move Rommel’s panzers west into Tunisia, to attack the Americans and destroy them, to then swing north behind Montgomery and completely unhinge the Allied effort in Algeria, Hitler smiled and gave his approval.

The one condition he made was that Tripoli be held as a fortress city as long as humanly possible. As Tripolitania was the last Italian controlled province in North Africa, Rommel suggested they hold it. He would commit no German troops there, preferring to send them to Mareth where they would hold the line there indefinitely, or so he believed. Mussolini had been promising to send more troops to Tunisia, so let him make good on that and send them to Tripoli instead.

As he moved west, the British 8th Army at his back was not the force that had been flush with victory led by General Montgomery, but a twice chastened army that had just suffered a severe check on the Tarhuna line. O’Connor needed time to reorganize, haul fresh supplies and munitions up to the front, replace the many tanks that had been lost in that last battle with the Desert Fox. It would be weeks, perhaps even a long month before he would declare himself ready to again take to the offensive, and in that interval, he would see more and more of his armored force siphoned off to the campaign in Syria. Britain was now again fighting a two front war in the Middle East, and O’Connor knew that it might be some time before his losses, particularly to the armor, could be made good.

Rommel knew this, added his voice to Kesselring’s, and the weight of those two Field Marshals carried the day. The lion that had been stalking him all across North Africa, O’Connor’s 8th Army, would be sleeping in its den. And while the cat was away… He smiled to think his battle for Libya was finally over, and good riddance, or so he thought.

My bold promises to the Führer vanished at Bir el Khamsa, along with my dream of crossing the Nile. Now comes the battle for Tunisia, but I intend to go much farther if possible, deep into Algeria.

As he moved up the coast into Tunisia, Rommel’s spirits were buoyed by the green, verdant plenty of this new land. There were orchards, plantations, stands of trees that became forests as they rolled up the slopes of distant hills. He knew that in the south, the Chott country was every bit as barren and hostile as the terrain he had fought over in Libya, but along the central mountains and coast, Tunisia was a paradise compared to the Libyan desert. Here there was fresh water in natural wells virtually everywhere. The troops would be well fed, but a new challenge would present itself that they seldom had to deal with in Libya—rain. February was the wet season, and where there was dryness and dust in the warmer months, there would be mud now with the rain.

He would not let that stop him, riding up Highway 15 from Gabes and heading west with the 501st Schwerepanzer Battalion and his heavy artillery right behind him. Von Bismarck’s 21st Panzer Division was already heading west on another route. It had moved up the lush coast highway to Sfax, then turned west on the long road that would take it through the pass at Faid to Sbeitla and Kasserine, where an Italian garrison, the Superga Mountain Division, had been guarding supplies being delivered by rail from Tunis.

The Americans were already probing at their positions. A recon operation had been mounted by Blade Force towards Thelepte, where the Luftwaffe had an important airfield. They had, in fact, been the first US troops to cross the Tunisian border near Bou Chebka, about 30 kilometers southwest of Kasserine Pass. Farther north, on the same road they had used, the fighting then underway was happening in and around the key German supply center at Tebessa. When it was clear that the Americans were driving for that town, Kesselring had managed to get most of Weber’s 334th Infantry Division there by rail—this while von Arnim fell back from the rail line that ran between Tebessa, through Ain Beida, and all the way to Constantine.

The British 43rd Wessex Division had finally cleared that city, and was now setting its engineers to the damaged bridges to open the roads for movement. That would be a very difficult job, and it was seen that many spans would have to be rebuilt in their entirety after the German demolitions. Rommel read Kesselring’s status report, smiling.

Montgomery was stuck on the coast, all bunched up in the difficult mountain country, while this American General Patton had his army strung out from Constantine to Tebessa. From all accounts, there were two American mobile divisions with armor. This Patton was trying to maintain contact with Montgomery as he continued to push farther south and east—to hold and take at the same time. It was time to show him what this war was all about.

Ernst Hell’s 15th Infantry Division was now in good positions on the coast, their line anchored at Philippeville by the 327th Infantry, so von Arnim had moved all of the Hermann Goring Division south to reinforce 10th Panzer. Those two divisions were now consolidating some 40 to 50 kilometers southwest of Souk Ahras, well supplied from the depot there, and covered by German fighters at that key airfield. That would be the right cross. Rommel was now hastening to bring up the rest of his mobile divisions, and they would be the left hook.

Even as 21st Panzer’s lead elements were reaching Faid Pass on the 3rd of February, Rommel was doubling down on his promise to Kesselring. He was bringing not two, but all three of his crack panzer divisions west on Highway 15 from Gabes. Randow’s 15th Panzer was in the lead, moving towards Ghafsa, and behind him came Funck’s 7th Panzers, the Ghost Division that Rommel loved so dearly. General George Patton was about to be on the receiving end of an attack that was much stronger than it had been in the old history—not three divisions, but five, and all of them panzers.

Yet Patton also had more in hand than the US fielded in the old history. Along with all of Ward’s 1st Armored, he had CCA of Harmon’s 2nd, and the other half of that division was now moving up to the front. This would double the number of American tanks on the field, balancing the odds.

The Americans seemed very intent on getting their hands on Tebessa, where the 334th was still putting up a stubborn defense. They had already pushed out patrols well north of that city, their lead elements approaching the Tunisian border at Charpinville. Rommel did not really want them crossing there, for that would cut the rail line to Tebessa from Tunis, about 30 kilometers east of Charpinville.

Just how far was this Patton intending to go? Did he really think he could advance so impudently into Tunisia like this? Did he perceive the two iron fists that were now clenching to strike him?

Chapter 5

On the late afternoon of February 4th, 1st Battalion of the 30th RCT, 3rd Infantry, climbed up the ragged slopes of a high hill that overlooked the terrain ahead, aghast to see what looked like an entire division of German troops assembling on the far side of the valley floor. The Lieutenant got on the radio and kicked it up to his Regiment, which then passed it on to Division. It would be another three hours, near the gloaming of sunset, before the reports would come to Bradley and Patton, where they had set up their HQ at the big airfield at Les Bains along the main road and rail line between Tebessa and Constantine.

“Hold on George,” said Bradley. “Have you read those recon reports from 33rd Fighter Group? This new information coming in from Anderson’s 3rd Infantry is singing the same tune. I don’t like it. We had reports of columns in the high country moving south three days ago. The Germans could be up to something here.”

“Souk Ahras,” said Patton. “That’s their big supply hub up there—that and Gulema. They’ve got forward airfields at both, and good rail connections all the way back to Tunis. If we get to Gulema, then their whole position on the coast is flanked.”

“Well, I ought to remind you that’s where you were supposed to be heading. Ike just found out how far south you’ve pushed, and he’s hopping mad.”

“Tell him something, Brad. Say it’s just a reconnaissance in force.”

“George, you and I both know that just isn’t true, and once he gets a map update, Eisenhower will know it too. I think we’d better slow things down.”

“Look,” said Patton. “They’ve just screened the approaches to Souk Ahras, that’s all. I’ll keep 3rd and 9th pushing that direction. They can hold the line.”

“But what if that’s a Panzer division in the latest report from Anderson? These other reports of a division on the road from Sfax give me the willies. If you want my opinion, I’d say Rommel’s heading our way, and with bad intent.”

“Rommel….” Patton gave Bradley a narrow eyed smile. “The old Desert Fox himself, chased all the way into Tunisia by O’Connor’s 8th Army. Now you think he wants to pick a fight with me?”

“It sure looks that way, George.” Bradley’s eyes held a warning that he hoped Patton would heed.

“Alright, alright. Get on the phone to General Eddy and the 9th. Tell him that instead of sending the 60th RCT up towards Mesoula as I advised him this morning, he can hold that regiment in reserve and screen Ain Beida. Now I just moved Harmon’s 2nd Armored through Meskiana, but if it will make you feel better, I’ll hold them where they are for the moment until we get a better idea what the Germans are up to.”

“What about Ward’s division? You’ve got CCB way off north of 2nd Armored, while CCA is down here in the fight for Tebessa.”

“I was going to send Oliver and CCB on to Charpinville on the border. That flanks this whole defense at Tebessa. If they hang on there any longer, Oliver can swing down and kick them right in the ass. I plan on pushing hard for Tebessa—all night if we have to. Once the Huns find out Oliver has Charpinville, they’ll pull out lickety-split. Hell, Blade Force reported they had a platoon up near Le Kouf an hour ago. If the Germans don’t make a run for it, I’ll have them in the bag by morning.”

“Well I hope that’s the case. Ike didn’t want you down here until we had cleared Constantine and moved on to Gulema.”

“So I’m here early,” Patton smiled. “I’ll take the damn place tomorrow, Brad. Then you can call him and ask him if he wants me to give it back to the Germans.”

It was vintage Patton, headstrong, confident, and brash. One day someone would make a movie about that man….

That night the head of 15th Panzer Division reached Sbeitla, 30 kilometers east of Kasserine. That single platoon from the 82nd Recon sent a shock through General Weber of the 334th Infantry Division. When he learned the Americans were about to cut him off, he did exactly what Patton said he would, and packed up shop. He gave up Tebessa and then moved northwest toward the border, intending to use his division to screen and defend that airfield at Le Kouf. Rommel wasn’t happy about that, and he telephoned von Arnim and asked him to order that division to stay put.

“It’s too late,” said von Arnim. “The Luftwaffe gave up that field at Tebessa three days ago, but they want to hold on at Le Kouf. Weber did what was necessary. Furthermore, you are late. I have both my divisions formed up and ready. We can go right back to Ain Beida on the main road to Constantine.”

“Not yet,” said Rommel. “It takes time to get my divisions up from Gabes. I’ll need another day, and just be thankful I’m coming, General. Otherwise you would be right back in the stew. Has Montgomery taken Philippeville?”

“Not yet. He’ll try again tomorrow. We gave the British a little ground on the road to Constantine, but the line is in a much better position now. Kesselring is watching that sector for me.”

“Good enough. What about the road to Gulema?”

“The 756th Regiment of Weber’s division was detached to watch that sector. The Americans have been probing the passes east of Constantine, but there is no serious threat. I sent KG Hauer south through Clairfontaine. There’s a good hill there, and he says there’s a lot of armor south of that position. They’ve pushed a column all the way to the Tunisian border at Charpinville.”

“Alright, our battleship will be along shortly.” He was referring to von Bismarck’s 21st Panzer Division. “I will be there tomorrow with the rest of the fleet. Then we’ll talk again and decide how to coordinate things. And by the way… I’ve brought the Tiger battalion with me. That should be a nice surprise for the Americans.”

For once, the other side was going to experience the dismay of tank shock.

Terry Allen’s 1st Infantry spent the morning clearing out Tebessa, quite literally. They rooted out the last of the Germans, and then quickly looked for any bar or restaurant they could find to source out their wergild, alcohol in any guise. There had been many complaints about the division, but thus far, Patton had given them a long leash because he loved Allen’s guts and fighting spirit.

Once he had his prize, Patton seemed to have no intention of stopping. He told Allen to set up his HQ in Tebessa, and then moved Robinette’s CCA of 1st Armored right on through the town on the road to Kasserine, in a triumphant parade. The locals hooted at the arrival of the big American Shermans, easily switching sides in this campaign, and seeing the American troops as much better sources of looting, for their units seemed plush with supplies and other excess material.

Blade Force had been down near Thelepte in a scrap with the Italian Superga Division for the last two days, and they were asking for some help. So Patton sent 2/6th Armored Infantry Battalion, with a company of M5’s and some tank destroyers down that road to lend a hand. He was also finally bringing up the 34th Infantry Division under General Ryder. They had moved well south and east of Batna, and were now coming up on a road that would take them down to Ghafsa. As Allen’s infantry cleared the town and pushed on north in the wake of the retreating Germans, Patton ordered Ward to roll on for Kasserine Pass. Then he got into a jeep and headed for Tebessa himself, tired of the accommodations at the airfield. Along the way, he pulled out a cigar, letting the aromatic smoke trail away behind him, a satisfied grin on his face as he went.

General Bradley had again cautioned him, still worried about the concentration of German armor north of Eddy’s 9th Infantry. So to mollify him, Patton told Harmon to sit tight for the second straight day. This way he could also say that the bold movements he had ordered with Old Ironsides were nothing more than reconnaissance operations. After all, it was only a single combat command. The rest of Harmon’s division would not arrive for several days. He had to make amends with Eisenhower one day, but for now, he was feeling that saddle leather under him, still an old cavalryman at heart.

That same day, the recon battalion of 21st Panzer Division came up from Kasserine and scouted the road through the pass towards Tebessa. It reached the village of Chekir before it suddenly took small arms and mortar fire from well concealed enemy positions. They had run up on the Ranger battalion under Colonel Darby, which had scouted that area, operating well north of Blade Force. The Germans decided to flush out their enemy, and swept off the road with their armored cars and halftracks, moving into the attack. The rest of the division wasn’t far behind them, and within that hour, II Battalion, 125th Panzergrenadiers, came up in support. A flight of American P-40s swooped low for moral support, their machineguns strafing the road near the town.

When the Germans started also ranging in artillery from a battalion of mobile guns, Darby and his men had had enough. He knew he was up against much more than a recon force here. There was power on that road, and he could see dust in the air being kicked up in the pass to the southeast. So he got on the radio to Robinette, knowing that CCA was on this very same road and heading for his position.

Meanwhile, the 501st Schwerepanzer Battalion had been out in front with Rommel on the road to Ghafsa, which was almost a hundred kilometers south of Kasserine. They reached a defile at El Guettar, and rumbled on through. Just where the highway was about to meet the rail line that branched off to the phosphate mines and other destinations south, they ran into the head of the US 34th Infantry Division in a long column of march. General Ryder had been ordered to Ghafsa, but he had not sent out much in the way of recon. What happened next would give the American infantry a real taste of tank shock, to be sure.

The three companies of Tigers deployed abreast, one on the road flanked by two others on either side. Then they began a charge, like heavy cavalry thundering into the American column, those murderous long 88mm guns blasting away as they came. William Blake could have been writing about this very attack if he had been there to see it when he penned those now famous lines of poetry: Tiger, tiger, burning bright, In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

3rd Battalion, 135th RCT was about to find out.

Seven trucks, some fully loaded with infantry, were blown to pieces as the Tigers started to fire at long range. Then they thundered on, and within ten minutes, they had completely overrun and destroyed A-Company of that battalion. Most of the US AT guns were still being towed, so it was just the infantry, leaping from burning trucks, still lucky to find themselves alive, and running for any cover they could find. A few Bazooka teams bravely tried to get into position to fire, and the troopers raked the heavy tanks with machineguns, but to no avail. One team took aim and put a bazooka round right onto one of the Tigers, but they might have been throwing mud balls. When nothing happened, they threw the bazooka down, turned tail, and ran like hell.

The 60mm rocket in the bazooka was supposed to be able to penetrate between 90 and 100mm of armor at a 90 degree angle, but in actual practice it rarely achieved that performance. As late as the Korean War, it was even found to be ineffective against the enemy T-34s. It wasn’t until later in the war, when the US developed the “Super Bazooka,” that the weapon really came into its own against tanks. That could penetrate 280mm of armor, more than enough to kill most anything it could hit out to 300 meters. But the 34th Division had no M20 Super Bazookas at hand, nor would they for at least 18 months.

The alarm raised, the remaining two battalions of the 135th RCT began to deploy out of road column and moved to either flank. They finally brought up their AT gun support, a company with nine 37mm guns that they also found to be completely useless against those German Tigers. The US infantry watched, aghast, as one gun put round after round on an advancing enemy tank, not impeding its advance in the least. Then it stopped, the infantry cheering with the thought that they had finally knocked it out. Seconds later, they saw that big armored turret turn slowly, and fire blazed from the muzzle of that long 88. The AT gunners simply turned and ran, the infantry following them soon after.

The encounter there that would come to be known as the battle of Sidi Bou Baker had not started well for the Americans. The whole of A-Company was lost, and elsewhere, Colonel Darby had also lost fully half his battalion by the time he beat a hasty retreat south into heavily wooded country, hoping to save the rest of his Rangers with stealth, where force of arms had failed. He reached a platoon of armored engineers from Blade Force, warning the sergeant there that the Germans might be right on his heels. They got on their radio and sent the word back to Colonel Semms, and as it happened, that task force Patton had sent down towards Thelepte came rattling up the road to the junction at Bou Chebka.

“I understand you fellas are having an argument with the Italians?” said the Lieutenant.

“What of it?” said the tough looking Sergeant. “We can hold ‘em. But our Rangers say there’s Germans right up that road. You better go have a look.”

The Lieutenant gave him a nod, then turned his column onto the smaller road north, which soon ran into those heavy woods. When he finally emerged, getting up round a spur from the hills to the south east, he saw the Germans massed near that hamlet where Colonel Darby had fought his battle and lost. At that same time, the rest of Robinette’s CCA came down the road to Kasserine and began to hit the town from that direction. It was as if the Americans had planned the ambush, and now the Lieutenant eagerly began to shake his column into some order for battle, and moved to join that attack on the flank.

The battle for Kasserine Pass had finally begun.

Bradley found Patton at his headquarters in Tebessa, coming down from 1st Infantry’s lines to the north. “George,” he said, with a tone in his voice that said ‘I told you so.’ “Both 3rd and 9th Infantry report a heavy attack underway up north. Von Arnim is throwing everything he has at them—two panzer divisions.”

“Well you’re just in time, Brad, because Rommel has finally made his appearance on the road to Kasserine. Robinette ran right into his 21st Panzer Division there. And Ryder down south says he’s also got a fight on his hands north of Ghafsa.”

“Ghafsa?” Bradley rushed over to the map table. “The Germans must have brought in another unit through the pass at El Guettar. George, this is damn serious. That makes four German Panzer Divisions, and now getting over that border into Tunisia isn’t the issue any longer. This is a major counteroffensive, and here we are strung out all the way from Ryder’s division to as far north as Ain Fakrour.”

“I’ve already spoken with Montgomery,” said Patton. “He says he can easily watch the passes near Constantine so we can reclaim Macon’s 7th Regiment for 3rd Division. I’ve already given him orders to support the front line north of Ain Beida.”

“I hope it will be enough,” said Bradley. “The reports I picked up on the way down here didn’t sound too encouraging. Thank God you left 2nd Armored where it was. At least we have something in hand to hit them back. What about Oliver with CCB?”

“He’s just crossed the border at Charpinville, and I’m sending him right on down to Thala.”

“What? You’re going into Tunisia with that unit? Talk about sticking your head in the lion’s mouth. What’ll they do at Thala? By the time they get there the Germans might be here!”

“Now don’t get your feathers ruffled so easily,” said Patton. “This army has a lot of fight in it. I’ve seen to that personally. While Monty was ‘dumping’ for the last thirty days, I’ve had our boys drilling every day. We’ve fought the Germans earlier south of Oran and gave a good account of ourselves.”

“But that was only two divisions,” said Bradley. “And you know damn well that they were just trying to fight a delaying action while they pulled out those paratroopers. God only knows where they’ll end up. This time we’ve got four divisions heading our way, and this is no spoiling attack.”

“Then we’ll fight them,” said Patton sharply. “If I stop Rommel here, he’s finished. Understand? Now that’s exactly what I intend to do. Once Oliver gets to Thala, he’ll be in a good position to flank that German attack through the pass at Kasserine. We’ll have them bottled up.”

“What about Ryder? He’s all on his own down there.”

“Well, he’s got his whole goddamned division, and he ought to be able to hold. If things get bad I can use Allen’s reserve to hold Bou Chebka and then send Blade Force down there to lend him a hand.”

“Then you’ll be able to use 2nd Armored to backstop the 3rd and 9th Divisions.” Bradley pointed at the map.

“I’m not going to backstop anything. I’ve got a perfectly good road that will take Harmon’s Division right on up to Souk Ahras.”

“You’re going to attack?”

“The best defense is a good offense,” said Patton. “Napoleon proved that time and time again. Look, this is a classic German pincer attack. They’ve pulled this crap in Russia since 1941, but I’ve been reading Rommel’s book. If he thinks he’s going to push through my lines here and link up with that northern pincer under von Arnim, he’s flat out wrong. You’ll see.”

“Well the Germans have practically cut that road. I was just up there. They’ve got a kampfgruppe right here, at Soufia.”

“Then get orders to Harmon to clear them out.” Patton gave Bradley a look that said he meant business.

Chapter 6

Having detached its recon battalion, Hermann Goring Panzer Division wasn’t quite up to full strength that day, but you could not tell that to the American infantry that faced and fled from its wrath. The road from Souk Ahras wound its way through the highlands, with one spur following the rail line south through Clairfontaine to Tebessa, and a second branching west through the village of El Beida, to Sedrata, and then down past Medkour and Raba to the broad lowland plain where the Amis waited. The division came barreling right down either side of that road, which was right at the seam between the US 9th and 3rd Infantry Divisions.

II Battalion of the HG Panzer Regiment smashed into 3/47th RCT and sent all three companies of that battalion into a headlong retreat. The “Old Reliables” of the 9th were anything but that in the face of those tanks. Troops abandoned mortars and heavy MGs in the field, some even throwing away their rifles as they fled south before they ran into a scowling Lt. Colonel George E. Pickett, directly related to the famous general that fought for the Confederacy in the Civil War. He was standing there with a drawn pistol held high over his head, and he meant to use it on any man that failed to obey his orders to stand and rally.

Pickett collared a squad Sergeant, sent him to round up two others, and then found a Lieutenant trying to desperately start his jeep to retreat south. He told the man, in no uncertain terms, that if his jeep moved one foot, he would shoot him dead on the spot. “Now see that 50 on the back of that mother? You get on that gun and hold right where you are!”

“But sir,” said the hapless Lieutenant. “They’re coming with heavy armor. What good will that do?”

“Aim low. Hit their goddamn tracks! Take the head off of any smart ass tank commander that opens his hatch. You may get killed, but at least you’ll die fighting like a man. It’s either that or you can die right now as a coward, and good riddance.”

It was exactly the sort of talk Patton would have leveled at the man, and the Lieutenant stiffened his backbone, and settled in behind that machinegun. Slowly, Pickett rallied that battalion, and then took heart when he learned that the entire 7th Regiment of the 3rd Infantry Division under Colonel Macon had just come up on his left.

The road the Germans were on led south to Ain Beida, a prominent settlement along the rail line from Constantine to Tebessa. That’s where General Eddy had planted his HQ flag for the 9th Infantry, and when he learned the Germans were no more than 12 kilometers to the north, he called Major General Anderson of the 3rd Infantry and asked ‘The Rock of the Marne” for some help. That division had been engaged with a part of the Hermann Goring Division on Eddy’s left, coming down from Constantine after being relieved by the British.

“Look,” said Anderson. “I’ve got my entire 7th RCT on the road heading your way right now, and with three engineer battalions. Hold on. We’ll get there. But if this thing is as big as everyone seems to think, we may have to get on the phone to Montgomery soon.”

“Patton won’t like that,” said Eddy.

“Then let him come over here and hold this goddamn line! We need armor here and it’s all well east and south of us now. The Germans pulled a fast one on us. They want that road back to cut us off from the Brits, and Monty ought to hear about it.”

He did hear about it, just as he was bringing up 10th Armored Division through the newly constructed bridges at Constantine. He had his engineers working for days to open a route through that city. His 43rd Wessex Division had followed the Germans north and east, where the fighting was now around Gastonville. 10th Armored was taken out of Army reserve and ordered to move through Constantine and turn north behind the 43rd. General Anderson decided to be the one to gently suggest to Monty that he might want to hold that division where it was. The American line had been hit hard, buckled, even collapsed along one or two battalion fronts, but for the most part it was still holding in that sector.

The real danger was in the center of von Arnim’s main attack, where his 10th Panzer Division had sent its infantry against Eddy’s Division, then swept its Panzer Regiment around its flank, heading for La Meskiana on that road between General Eddy’s HQ at Ain Beida, and Tebessa. Harmon’s CCA had been lingering near Meskiana, but Patton had ordered him to push it towards Clairfontaine to reach the main road north to Souk Ahras. It was that “perfectly good road” that the fiery American leader wanted to use to pull a Napoleon on the Germans, but it had not been overlooked by his enemy.

Von Arnim had sent one battalion of tanks there, just south of the mountain town of Damous. The rest of his panzers had pushed 9th Infantry south and west, and their lead elements were now also about 15 kilometers from Harmon’s HQ at Meskiana.

“Patton wants me to go where? To Souk Ahras?” Harmon could not believe the orders he had just received. “Well does he know the Germans are coming here?”

Harmon was a big man, broad shouldered, stout of heart, and with a voice so gruff that it could take the paint off the side of a house. His division, old Hell on Wheels, had been the reserve formation for the American mobile forces, while Ward had divided his 1st Armored into two strong combat commands to make the push for Tebessa. Now he would be forced to divide his own command, for Patton wanted him to attack to the north while he clearly had to arrange some defense to the south at Meskiana. That would be easy if he had his whole division up, but at present, he only had CCA.

Thankfully, Harmon was up to the task. He had been the man tapped by Eisenhower himself in the real history to go and backstop General Fredendall, the acting commander of II Corps, and even relieve him if necessary. He had found Fredendall in a drunken stupor, hidden away in an underground headquarters up an isolated ravine, some 80 miles behind the front. There he had been drawling orders over the field phone and radio, trying to run the battle from a map, not once visiting the actual front to see what Eddy or Anderson were contending with.

In this history, Harmon was going to be the man to rescue Fredendall’s Corps again, which had nominal command of both the 3rd and 9th Infantry Divisions. And yes, Fredendall was nowhere to be found at the front. He had established his HQ at Ain Malila, 75 Kilometers from the nearest unit he theoretically commanded, and on the road north to Constantine from Batna. That was, after all, where Fredendall thought he was to take his two infantry divisions, before Patton changed the plan and ordered them to move east and south, along the road to Tebessa.

Fredendall was perturbed at that, for now he had to move his HQ, but three days after the order, he had not yet accomplished that small task. His staff had suggested Ain Fakrour, a town now about 40 kilometers from the front line of action, but Fredendall didn’t think it had facilities he could use, even though it was right on the main rail line from Constantine.

“There’s no air field there,” Fredendall had complained.

“But sir, there isn’t one here either,” said his G2.

“Well we’ve got a good rail line here.”

“Yes sir, and there’s a rail line at Ain Fakrour too.”

“Aw hell,” said Fredendall in his southern drawl. “Patton went through there, and those damn tanks of his probably tore those tracks up real good. Nuthin’s comin’ down that line for at least two weeks. We ought’a stay right where we are.”

So Fredendall didn’t move, both his divisions were now under heavy enemy pressure, and 2nd Armored was the only reserve that might have a chance at saving the situation.

Up on that road to Souk Ahras, elements of Harmon’s CCA ran right into that German tank battalion. Brigadier Gaffey was the man leading the attack, and he had three companies of Shermans totaling some 39 tanks, and two more companies of M5 Stuarts all backed up by two batteries of 75mm guns mounted on halftracks, the American T30 HMC. Not sure what he was up against, he sent his armor in until it was hotly engaged by the combined arms of KG Huder, (190th Pz Battalion), with 18 PzKfw IVF2’s, 12 Marders, three of the new 88mm Nashorns, and two Tigers. This force also had two platoons of motorcycle infantry, which had been acting as its recon element.

Damous was in a mountain pass on the rail line between Souk Ahras and Tebessa. The Germans opened fire, the five 88mm guns on those Nashorns and Tigers doing immediate harm. The hard crack of the gun, and its high velocity, raised the hackles of the men in the lead Shermans, which were hit and easily penetrated. Three were knocked out almost immediately, and when the men in those M5s saw what had happened to them, they quickly lost their ardor for the fight.

“Damn!” said one driver. “Did you see what those kraut guns did to the lead platoon? If one of those hits us, it’ll go right through one side and out the other.”

“Tigers,” said the tank commander. “You just use our pop gun on that infantry, but get us into good defilade. Maybe they won’t see us.”

The Germans did see them, but it was a IV-F2 that put an end to that tank as the driver tried to maneuver into a nearby gulley to get hull down. The Germans had a slight elevation advantage, so they were actually depressing their gun barrels to hit the American tanks on the turrets. Huder didn’t like that American artillery, so he called for support from a nearby artillery unit, and would get fires from eleven 105mm guns in reprisal.

When Patton learned about the blocking position on the road he wanted north, he acted without a second thought. Major General Oliver’s CCB of 1st Armored had pushed through Charpinville to the east and had been sparring with elements of the German 334th. He reasoned that fight could wait, and the German infantry did not pose any immediate threat to his flank. He got on the radio to Oliver.

“Bug?” He said, calling Oliver by the name he often went by. “George Patton. Be sure you leave something to cover the road to Bou Khadra, but otherwise, I want you to pull out of that business at Charpinville and take your whole combat command back west to Grid 4C. Gaffey’s there with a group from 2nd Armored and he’s got a fight on his hands. You’ll be the cavalry arriving to settle it. Now move fast, and hit ‘em hard. This will mean everything.”

Then even though it galled him to do so, Patton got on the phone to Montgomery. “Monty? Look we’ve got a bit of a situation here. The Krauts are hitting us pretty hard. So far we’ve identified five Panzer divisions, two up north hitting Fredendall’s Corps, and three more coming up through Kasserine and Thelepte. Now I think they’re trying to pinch my whole outfit off and isolate us from communications with your army. Well, I’m not going to stand for that. What’s your situation on the coast.”

“Rather thick,” said Montgomery. “They’ve two divisions dug in on very good ground, and it’s been tooth and nail. I’ve just moved up 10th Armored from Army Reserve. I was hoping to send it up behind 43rd Wessex, but the 133rd Motor Brigade was sent in earlier to probe through the passes toward Gulema. I don’t need to remind you that was where your infantry should be.”

“Right…” said Patton, not wanting to get into a tiff here, as he was coming with hat in hand and needed Montgomery’s support. “Look Monty, II Corps is getting hit hard, but they’re fighting. They’re holding. Now this is the main event down here. If you swing 10th Armored down you could clip the Hermann Goring Panzer Division right on the flank. I’m building a strong armored force further east at grid C4. I want to go to Souk Ahras and bag this entire northern pincer. Once we kick the Germans in the ass, you’d be free to roll right on up to Gulema. Hell, you could even go right up to Bone on the coast. That’ll put the fear of the lord into those two Jerry divisions you’re up against. So what do you say? Are you up for a fight here? Come on down and have a go at the big fellas. If we stop this attack, the Germans are finished. They’ll have to pull back into Tunisia.”

Monty was looking at his map. It was an audacious plan, but one much better suited to a mobile division like 10th Armored than commitment to the fight on the coast. He might break through there, but then again, he might find the Germans remain a stubborn foe, and would not have it said that he was stuck like a bug in a rug along that coastline. “Very well, Patton. I’ll issue the order, but mind you… 10th Armored will remain under British control.”

The division Monty was sending was very strong, with two large armored brigades, the 8th and 24th, each with a mix of Churchills, Valentines and some Crusader IIIs. Both tank brigades had a single battalion of infantry attached, and there was the 133rd Infantry Brigade, already engaged near Ain Regada with the German 756th Mountain Regiment. The armor would take the road through Ain Fakrour, which would bring it down behind the US 3rd Infantry.

The key element in this battle was that the American infantry was fighting more than running. It was not like the rout Rommel and von Arnim had inflicted on the Americans in the real history. The GI’s had landed at Casablanca, and then fought their way all the way through Morocco and Algeria to reach this position. They were still not the resilient force that they would be later in the war, but they had been toughening up, and Patton had been instrumental in imposing strict discipline, in spite of Fredendall’s slovenly displays.

Even as Patton and Montgomery were planning their counterattack, Fredendall was sleeping in his bunk, his edgy staff officers eyeing him with some chagrin from time to time. So it wasn’t Fredendall that was holding that vital flank, but Eddy and Anderson. When Patton then put in a call to Fredendall’s HQ, learning first where it was, and then hearing that the General had to be wakened, he went through the roof. He found General Bradley and a small section of fast jeeps and told him to go up to Ain Beida and take over command of II Corps. Fredendall’s staff was to go there directly as well, and the old General himself was ordered to report to Eisenhower.

About 4pm that day, the German attack began to falter. Tank losses were not heavy, but the Germans had attacked over the valley floor, crossing two wadis in the process, and now fuel and ammunition were becoming a problem. Two of the panzer battalions were down to 30%, a minimum reserve, and so Fisher was reluctantly forced to pause. In doing so, he ordered II Battalion, 104th Panzergrenadiers, to Damous Pass to reinforce Huber’s defense. He had lost four of his 18 IV-F2’s, a pair of Marder III’s and one Nashorn, but inflicted far worse harm on Gaffey’s CCA.

This move by Patton, though not yet the successful breakthrough and envelopment he wanted, had already done much to unhinge von Arnim’s entire operation, and some of it was pure happenstance. A Lieutenant in 3rd Company of the 81st Recon Battalion in Oliver’s CCB had been scouting well north of Charpinville when the order came to withdraw to Damous Pass.

“Well hell,” he said, squinting at a map. “It looks like the General wants to go right up the main road to Souk Ahras. This road we’re on now will take us right on up there—about 20 klicks. If we backtrack, it’s at least that far to get to Damous, and then another 18 klicks to Souk Ahras from there.”

“But Lieutenant. Everyone else will be on that other main road. We’ll be out here all on our own.”

“Look around, Sergeant. See anyone else out here but us? We’re recon. This is the shit we’re supposed to be doing. The Brass might want to know if this damn road is passable.”

And that was that. The company started up that road and when it reached the village of Taoura it stopped for a rest. A Luftwaffe fighter taking off from the airfield at Souk Ahras spotted them, and raised the alarm—American light mechanized forces on the road, just nine kilometers from Korps HQ at Souk Ahras.

Von Arnim went ballistic. He got on the phone to Fischer, a man already a week into an all new life, for he had avoided that mine that killed him in the old history on the 1st of Feb near Mareth. He had to quickly detach half his recon battalion and a company of tanks from the defense he had been building up at the pass. His entire drive south had come to a complete halt, and the division was now in a defensive posture.

The first elements of Bug Oliver’s CCB from 1st Armored were beginning to arrive near Damous, and late in the day that much needed reserve would form up just below the pass.