Tigers East

Chapter 22

O’Connor continued his advance, with the 44th Home Counties Division turning off the main coastal road and heading inland to Nofilia. He had intended that a stronger British Division would then move on up the Via Balbia, but he first sent the independent 1st Tank Brigade along the road, with the 44th Recon Battalion detached as a scouting unit. The 4th Indian Division was next in line, but it also turned off the main road, intending to eventually deploy south of the 44th near Nofilia. This meant the main advance would be little more than a road clearing operation by that 1st Tank Brigade until the 51st Highlanders came up.

Over the next several days, the 8th Army slowly flowed west into the land abandoned by the Germans. The advance up the Via Balbia saw 51st Highland Division reached As Sultan, just nine kilometers from the positions of the 164th Light in their blocking position along Wadi Hiran. O’Connor had finally found his enemy again and began formulating his plan of attack. The Highlanders would lead the assault on the coast, and right behind them, like a great steel battering ram, would come the infantry tanks of 1st Tank Brigade, with 46 Shermans and over 40 Matildas rigged out as special armored engineering tanks to breach wire and mines.

To their immediate left, General Leese posted the 50th Northumbrian on a twisted feature called Wadi Rakwah. This was XIII Corps, occupying the coastal strip extending about 12 kilometers inland in an area that was mostly desert, with scattered hummocks of low scrub. Then came the powerful 1st Armored Division. Fisher’s 2nd Armored Brigade was forward at Alam al Matan, where a road track ran due west along their intended line of advance. That was the inner circle of O’Connor’s planned envelopment, for if that division broke through, it would be just south of the 90th Light, which was dug in on the right shoulder of the 164th Light.

Behind 1st Armored, the 44th Home Counties Division was spread out in a wide arc along Wadi Harawah, and O’Connor put those two divisions under General Leese in XXX Corps. Further South, he had lined up the 7th Armored Division, with its nose at Sidi Azzab on the long Wadi Harawah, and the column extending east some 15 kilometers. Right behind it was the motorized 4th Indian Division, which had just come up after resupplying at the depot established at Nofilia. This was Horrocks and X Corps, the wide envelopment force. O’Connor planned to push it west into the open country of Alam Qarinah, then swing north in to the Al Hamrayah flats where they could find a road that ran north east of Wadi as Zaud towards Sirte.

It was exactly what Rommel expected him to do.

Hauptmann László Almásy was a very busy man that morning. He had been scouting on the extreme southern right flank of Rommel’s advance, with a Sonderkommando unit comprised if scout cars and a few squads of light infantry, all handpicked men from the Brandenburgers. They were Germany’s answer to men like Popski and the L.R.D.G., all specially trained veterans of desert fighting, and excellent scouts.

Yet his force was but the leading edge of a much larger formation called the Sonderverband 288, or ‘Special Formation 288.’ It consisted of 7 companies pulled from various units and initially disposed to screen and defend Benghazi before the Italians retreated there to meet their eventual fate. There were Brandenburg Commandos, a mountain rifle company, regular rifle company, machinegun company, AA units, a pioneer detachment and a Panzerjager unit that had Pak 50s and a few Sturmgeschuetz III self-propelled assault guns. Rommel had sent them well out ahead, or rather left them there when his forces withdrew towards the Buerat line. They were now assembling at the southern end of the long feature known as Wadi Faras, which extended north to meet Wadi Tilal reaching all the way to the coast.

Midway along that long dry riverbed, Rommel had assembled his two knights, the 15th and 7th Panzer Divisions. Two tracks ran southeast from the wadi, into the plain of Abu As Shawk, bending east to meet the long run of Wadi Harawah. This was where Rommel was sending his two knights, wanting them to cross that wadi, and drive for Alam Al Hunjah another 18 kilometers beyond. If they got there, all the roads and tracks favored a turn to the northeast, which would eventually be aimed at Nofilia, the British forward depot. It was a long way to go, about 85 to 100 kilometers depending on the route, but Rommel had stockpiled the fuel to get his panzers there, and true to his old habits, he believed he would then find plenty of fuel in the depot once he got there.

Hauptmann László Almásy had scouted the way forward across Abu As Shawk, finding it empty as far as Wadi Harawah. All Rommel was waiting for was O’Connor’s attack. It began on the 9th of October, right on the coast with 2nd and 5th Seaforth Highlanders supported by two companies of Royal Engineers and the 42nd RTR from 1st Tank Brigade. The initial attack was not coordinated well, and it was taking longer than expected to get through the wire. Slowly the sappers cleared lanes, and then Matilda dozers plowed through the wire, but the German line would not be pressed hard that morning due to these delays. At mid-day, an artillery duel developed, with the German 105s and 150cm guns answered by the British 25 Pounders.

At noon Rommel ordered 21st Panzer to stop the advance of the British 1st Armored, and both sides met where the road hit a feeder wadi before it continued west. The British had the 9th and 12th Lancers on point, mostly armored cars. The collision of the two sides brought all movement to a halt, with the Damliers and AEC IIIs firing away at the oncoming German tanks and Panzergrenadiers. The British fed in the infantry from 7th Motor Brigade, and the division artillery began to rain fire on the Germans, which had pushed into the wadi to use it as a blocking position.

Further south 7th Armored was attempting its wider envelopment, its recon elements running into German AT guns along that same wadi as it wound into the open country. 2nd Derbyshire Armored cars found a way around the guns to the left, and led the way for 4/8th Hussars and the Greys Armored Battalion, with 14 Grants, 18 M5 Stuarts and five AEC III Armored Cars with that good 75mm main gun. This was Robert’s 4th Light Brigade, and it now believed it had found the enemy flank. 22nd Armored Brigade began to swing in behind it, but then a call came in from Popski on the flank, warning of trouble.

“I’m up on hill 482,” he said. “That’s the one southeast of your jumping off point at Sidi Azzab. There’s a big column of dust to my southwest, and I can make out tanks in the lead with my field glasses—maybe seven or eight klicks off. Look, there’s what passes for a road out there, and it leads all the way back to the main north south road to Sirte. I think Rommel’s on it, and he’s up to his old tricks again.”

“Good enough, Major,” said the Colonel back at HQ in response. “But we’ve already locked horns with Jerry’s 21st Panzer. We’re turning his flank right now.”

“That may be so, but what about the rest of the German armor? They’re about to turn your bloody flank, and that’s a fact. Now you get this to O’Connor, and fast, if you please Colonel.”

Popski would have a balcony seat to the drama that was now playing out on the plain below. He watched as his every fear began to materialize before his eyes, with long columns of tanks and vehicles emerging from that desert dust storm they were making as they came. With each passing moment his mood darkened. This wasn’t a single division—not simply the 15th Panzer which they knew Rommel had in hand. It was two divisions, and he watched as they split like the horns of an onrushing bull, one moving south of his position, the other turning northeast. He knew Lieutenant Reeves was a little to his southeast on the road back to Wadi Harawah.

“Lieutenant,” he called on the radio. “You’re about to have some nasty company.”

“We’ve seen them,” said Reeves. “Looks like a tank company up front. My boys can stop them.”

“No lad, it’s a good deal more than that. There’s a whole bloody Panzer Division coming your way, and you’d best get back to the Wadi. I’ll notify HQ, if I can get the damn Colonel there to understand what’s happening.” Then the sound of artillery fire could be clearly heard by Reeves over Popski’s radio link, and it added depth to that warning.

“Looks like they’ve seen us up here,” said Popski. “I’m heading east, and you do the same! Popski out.”

When the Colonel went to O’Connor, he found him already on the radio. It was Wavell, all the way from Alexandria on the special HF Radio set that Kinlan had given each high level HQ for better communications. He had just heard news that he found hard to believe. “Tobruk?” he said. “The whole bloody harbor?”

“Blasted to hell,” came Wavell’s voice in reply. “The bay is twice the size it was, and all the fuel bunkered on the south shore was completely destroyed. Every ship in the harbor was sunk, including two tankers, several gunboats, the monitor, and an American destroyer.”

“Destroyed? But we sent Kinlan’s Brigade there to top off. Can you reach him?”

“We’ve tried, but get no reply. This report came in from troops at Mersa Matruh that were moving to Tobruk this morning. If he was there, then Kinlan went the way of everything else. I’m told the whole area is completely devastated, for miles in all directions. They saw it light up the sky like a second sun when it hit. Planes were blown off the tarmac at El Adem, and the hangers caught fire there. That’s all of 13 miles south of the bay. It had to be one of those special warheads the Russians told us about.”

“Well who in God’s name fired the damn thing? Surely not the Germans—they can’t have such weapons.”

“We don’t know, but I’ve a message out to the Argos Fire, and to the Russians. Richie, you had better rethink this offensive. If Kinlan is gone, you’re on your own out there.” O’Connor looked over his shoulder, seeing the Colonel trying to get his attention.

“Damn it man, what is it?” he said, still shocked by Wavell’s news.

“Rommel sir,” said the Colonel. “That scout down on the southern flank says he seen a lot of movement. He’s reporting division sized forces on the deep left flank—two divisions, sir.”

O’Connor nodded. “General,” he said into his handset to Wavell. “I’ve got my hands full out here. Keep me advised if you learn anything more.”

He stormed over to the nearest map on a small field table set up outside his HQ tent. He had been all set to leave for the front to go and listen to the battle, but this news from Wavell was deeply shocking.

“Colonel,” he said, collaring the messenger. “Where was Popski when he reported that movement you spoke of?”

“He says he was on Hill 482, sir, southeast of Sidi Azzab.”

“Sir,” came another Lieutenant. “General Tuker with the 4th Indian reports the enemy is attacking Sidi Azzab. He’s had to turn his whole column 90 points to face what looks to be a full panzer division.”

“That was where Harding was with 7th Armored this morning when we jumped off,” said O’Connor. “Rommel’s got round my left flank!”

“This Popski fellow seems rather insistent about exactly that, sir,” said the Colonel.

“Well, why didn’t I hear about it sooner? Alright, where is Brigadier Richards with the 23rd Armored Brigade? Has he moved yet?”

“No sir,” said the Lieutenant. “He’s still laagered on the road leading up to Bir Qarinah, waiting for orders.”

“Good for him. Now he’ll get them. Tell the General I want his Brigade here. He’s to swing southeast of Sidi Azzab. General Horrocks?” O’Connor looked over his shoulder for his X Corps Commander. “You had better get forward and sort things out. We may have to stop 7th Armored and get it turned around. I’m taking the AA park south and setting up a screen at Ulyam Ar Rimith. Both roads meet there if Rommel is doing what I think he pulled off here. Now… What’s this unit?”

“Those are the French Brigades attached to 44th Home Counties.”

“Good. Tell General Hughes I’ll be taking them into Army Reserve. And where is the 21st Indian Brigade?”

“They were at Nofilia, sir, but nobody’s heard from them for hours. Probably on the road somewhere.”

“Well someone bloody well find out where they are, and tell them they are to go here…” He leaned over his map, squinting. “Alam al Hunja,” he said. “Yes, that’s what the cheeky bastard wants. From there all the roads lead him right to the coast, and 50 kilometers behind our backsides! My God, that man does war justice. Who’s attacking who here? Rommel looks like he’s trying to bag the entire 8th Army!”

Chapter 23

All was not lost on the front simply because Rommel had out flanked O’Connor’s position. The wily General O’Connor had reacted quickly, reaching for any reserve he had at hand and sending them to precisely the right positions to stop what he believed his enemy was now doing. Meanwhile, further west, his own planned envelopment was still pushing hard. Horrocks did not get out there quickly enough to stop 7th Armored.

Now the planned two division thrust looked like a great arm swinging into an uppercut at Rommel’s defensive front. The long muscular forearm was the sturdy 4th Indian Division, most of which was now facing south against the threat of Rommel’s envelopment. The clenched fist was 7th Armored, and it was punching through Rommel’s screen of AT guns and light mobile Panzerjagers. And on the Via Balbia, the 51st Highland Division had forced two penetrations in the line against the German 164th Light Division. All was not lost. There was still a great deal of fight in the British 8th Army.

Moving swiftly through the night, with sandy fragments in their wake catching the moonlight, Sonderverband 288 raced towards their objective at Alam Hunjah. That was the place Rommel said he hoped to be standing by noon on the second day of the battle, and his troops were nearly there. 7th Panzer had crossed all the plain of Abu as Shawk that night, turning north. There, to its chagrin, it ran right into Brigadier Richards 23rd Armored Brigade.

This was O’Connor’s haymaker, the heaviest brigade he possessed in terms of sheer armored fighting power. 50th RTR had 36 Churchill IIIs, 36 Valentines and another 36 Crusader IIIs. The 46th and 8th RTRs were configured the same way. A fourth battalion, the 40th RTR had another 48 Valentines in reserve, placing over 350 tanks in this single brigade. 7th Panzer’s lead elements had just crossed Wadi Harawah when that wave of armor fell upon it like a hammer. O’Connor then ordered both the two Free French Brigades due south to Sidi Azzab, and they were to attack immediately. To the 4th Indian Division, he gave orders to push south with all its strength. His intention was to take hold of the German Tiger as it prowled east in the night, wrestle it to the ground and attempt to stop it, then and there. It remained to be seen whether he was taking a tiger by the tail or not, but this battle would decide the war on this front for months to come.

50th RTR drove on, pushing back the armored cars of the 7th Panzer Recon, and then trundling down into the wadi. Popski’s scout detachment was right there with them, and his AEC III was shot right out from under him. He only just barely managed to escape through the upper hatch before the vehicle ‘brewed up.’ There was a shrapnel wound on his left forearm, though the adrenaline of the moment was too great for him to notice. All he could think of was getting to the nearest cover, which in this case was a scout jeep. When he dragged himself under it, there were two other members of his team, Lance and Nelson.

“Whoa Nelly,” he breathed. “We’ve no business in the middle of this mess. Does that jeep above us still run?”

“Shot clean through the engine,” said Nelson. “Richards has all the rest of the group, back about 300 yards. Can’t see a thing in all this smoke and dust.”

“Then it’s belly work for us,” said Popski. “Stay low and we’ll head that way. We belong out on the flank, not here in the middle of the stew.”

“You’d best bandage that arm,” Corporal Lance pointed, and Popski noticed he was bleeding for the first time. He took the scarf from around his neck, and wrapped it as tightly as he could. Then they began to craw, like three fat snakes in the sand, making their way from one hummock of low growth to the next. Off to the south, Popski could see the tanks of 46th and 8th RTRs grinding towards the German Position, and the whole scene was masked with grey smoke, where the lightning of gunfire cracked out sharply as the tanks fired, the yellow orange fire marking their positions.

46th RTR ran straight into two companies of the II Battalion of Funck’s 25th Panzer Regiment. 8th RTR was dueling with the 3rd Company on the left of the British advance. The Germans would field about 120 tanks there, against 220 British, and it was a fearsome collision of armor. 46th RTR got the worst of things, taken in the flank as it charged by one of the two German companies. There were four Tigers there, and four Lions, their big turrets rotating, guns cracking out their fire. The 88mm gun on the Tigers took a heavy toll, and the 46th lost 16 Churchills, 15 Valentines and 20 Crusader IIIs, knocked out in twenty minutes of hard fighting. It began to back away, treads grinding in the sandy ground, guns still firing.

Popski and his comrades made it to Richards, where they found three jeeps and motored away to the northeast. When they came up on the height of Ulayam ar Rimith, they saw O’Connor’s HQ vehicles below, and to their great surprise, a German recon unit was already flanking that hill to the east.

“Bloody hell,” said Popski. “The forward depot is just five klicks down this road. I hope the General down there knows what’s happened. Who’s got a radio?”

Up the far side of the hill they soon saw movement, crouching low, their fists tight on their weapons. Nelson pulled back the bolt on the machinegun mounted on the jeep, and took aim, but then he saw the red berets ahead, squinting through the blowing smoke.

“Hold your fire,” he shouted. “It’s the S.A.S!” O’Connor had sent the single company of commandos attached to his HQ up to that hill to have a look.

“You boys are a sight for sore eyes,” said Popski. “Hell of a fight back there. Rommel’s going all out to turn this flank! Is the General down there?”

“We Just came up from the HQ,” said a Lieutenant. “He’s there, alright. Threw in the Pretorian Guard half an hour ago when he unleashed the 23rd. There’s nothing else left but the AA Park units. He’s got them all dug in in front of the depot. We’re to hold this hill.”

Seven Kilometers south, Reese had been caught up in the sweeping battle with his 1/12th Royal Lancers. He was on the road east to Al Hunjah, and ran into the Panzer Fusilier Company from Sonderverband 288, which was quickly reinforced by a platoon of pioneers, and then, in the middle of the fight, up came II Battalion, 6th Panzergrenadiers. The three Challenger IIs formed a triangle, their 120mm guns blasting away and blowing up one halftrack after another. The Scimitars pumped out a lot of fire with their autocannons, yet Reeves saw two of his vehicles hit in rapid succession by a heavy caliber round, and their thinner aluminum armor was easily penetrated. There was too much enemy infantry. He could see them dismounting, moving forward in small groups, setting up mortars and machineguns, and their AT teams had the Panzerfaust that had ambushed one of his vehicles after Gazala. He knew he had to maneuver, and open the range.

“All units,” he ordered through his headset mike. “We move north to Ulyam ar Rimith. Challengers provide covering fire. Scimitars move now!”

Reese would lose one more Scimitar as they fell back. His other vehicles made it safely away, and the three Challengers remained invulnerable to any hits they took. Popski spotted them withdrawing toward his position, and raised Reeves on the radio. “Come on up and join the party,” he shouted over the din. “Our whole lot is up here with the S.A.S. company, and the General is right behind us.”

“This is going to get ugly,” said Reeves. “We spotted what looks like an entire battalion of armor swinging round your left and heading north. And there’s fighting at Alam al Hunjah. Hold on. I’m moving my unit to your position now.”

All over the field, the fortunes of battle were shifting, the balance teetering. The 4th Indian had swamped the German line, and was now heavily engaged with 15th Panzer Division, which acted like a good blocking linesman to allow the fullback, 7th Panzer, to race around the flank. The British 7th Armored pushed out onto the plain of Al Hamarayah, but then ran into a strong German blocking position at Wadi Daf’an. Ramcke had been listening to the battle back at Rommel’s old HQ at the airfield complex south of Sirte. The General was long gone, off to join his panzers, and Ramcke had no orders. Hearing the battle chatter on the radio, he knew there was trouble on the flank, and so he stepped out of the HQ tent, whistling for his Adjutant.

“Get the men up and ready to move,” he said. “The British are trying to come round the flank of 21st Panzer. We’re going to stop them!” He had five battalions of tough Falschirmjaegers, and they leapt aboard the reserve trucks pooled there, motoring off into the haze. When they reached the scene of 7th Armored’s turning maneuver, they could see that 21st Panzer was hard pressed, with the British 1st Armored to the east, and now the 7th Armored coming up from the south. The German Division had adopted a horseshoe defensive front, with the rugged ground of Wadi Daf’an in the center.

Ramcke knew that it would take tanks to stop that envelopment, so the thing to do was to get his battalions east to relieve the Panzer units on that line. Then they could swing south and engage the enemy armor. That battle was still raging, when another most unexpected arrival would shift the winds of fate in Rommel’s favor.

The 501st Heavy Panzer Battalion had landed at Tunis, and von Arnim had thought to put it on the trains to move west into Algeria, but Kesselring intervened.

“Those tanks are to go to Rommel,” he said. “Führer’s orders—direct from OKW this morning.”

So three companies of tanks were arriving, 27 Tigers with the lighter Lynx Recon tanks among them. Hitler had kept his promise, and now it was up to Rommel to keep his. The arrival of Ramcke’s five battalions had stabilized the situation. With this fresh force of heavy armor, the Germans would counterattack.

Harding’s attack was already slowing when he got a message from General Horrocks on the radio. “Look,” he said. “Rommel’s got 7th Panzer round our flank, and he’s already well east of Wadi Harawah. We’ve had to turn the whole of 4th Indian Division south to hold the flank, and so we’ve nothing to support you out there. O’Connor wants you to pull out, and now. Get back on the road to Bir Qarinah, and head due east. Jerry has turned north and he’s after the depot at Rimith!”

Those orders were easily given, but they would be very difficult to carry out. About half the division was able to disengage and get back to the road. The other half was still locked in close range firefights with the German 21st Panzer Division. As Harding’s column headed east in the gloom, they could hear the sounds of battle off their right shoulders, the line of the 4th Indian still fighting with 15th Panzer Division. At Sidi Azzab, a patchwork of machine gun units, engineer field companies, and the Free French troops were battling to hold that crossing point over Wadi Harawah.

O’Connor could see that he had been outmaneuvered. His attack toward the wadi to try and stop 7th Panzer in that massive tank battle involving 23rd Armored Brigade was a gamble, but the Germans had held with most of their division while sending that battalion of tanks right on around the flank. He needed armor, and quickly, reluctantly giving the order to Brigadier Richards to pull his brigade out and return to Ulyam ar Rimith, the site of the HQ AA park and forward depot. It was all the fuel the British had brought forward to sustain their planned envelopment, and it had to be saved.

8th RTR was able to disengage and move northeast, but it would not get there in time. 46th RTR took a route south of the hill where Popski and the others watched, and ran into a recon company from Sonderverband 288. But Reeves had been listening to all this radio traffic and knew now what he could do. He gave the order to move to full battle speed, and his fast AFVs moved like the desert wind, racing north around Popski’s position and then swinging up to Ar Rimith to arrive there just as the first of three companies of German panzers began their attack. The light flak batteries with their 40mm Bofors were trying to hold the line, but now they would get some most welcome relief.

Reeves hit the 1st Company of I 25th Panzer, which had 12 VK-55 Lions, three of the new bigger versions, the VK-76, 21 Leopards medium tanks and 9 of the speedy Lynx Pz II recon tanks. The Challengers opened fire, knocking out two Lions and three Leopards, which forced the Germans to fall back and regroup. There were two more companies, equally configured, and they were continuing to flank the position to the right. Then the Germans organized another tank rush with 1st and 2nd Companies, and Reeves was all that stood in their way. Behind them the Germans, II Battalion of 6th Panzergrenadier was coming up in support.

Rommel had been on the scene, racing in his staff car from one unit of the 7th Panzer to another. He pulled together any scattered unit he found, a few flack guns on halftracks, two towed AT guns, a company of motorcycle troops. Building small kampfgruppes like this, he sent them east and north, and battalion by battalion, he had directed the masterful sweep of the 7th Panzer Division in that envelopment. He had reached Al Hunjah just a few hours after he said he would, a testament to the amazing skill he possessed, the ability to see ahead in a battle like a good chess player, judge the terrain, and know what his units could do, where they could go, and how fast. Now he wanted that fuel depot.

46th RTR brushed the recon company it encountered aside and was now assembling just northeast of Popski’s hill. 8th RTR was 2 kilometers to the northwest, moving towards the depot, and 50th RTR was still on the road, another 5 kilometers west near Sidi Azzab. The 4th Indian had been slowly extricating itself from the lines of 15th Panzer Division, falling back north again. Reeves had stopped one company of German tanks, and was hotly engaged by the reinforcing battalion arriving.

The tanks we can handle, he thought. Our Challengers can pick them off one by one if they persist, though I’m down to four scimitars now, and the three Warriors. His own Dragon-90 had taken a glancing blow from a lighter gun, most likely from one of the German Leopards, which still had the 50mm gun. It failed to penetrate at the angle it hit, and Cobb saw the enemy tank, pivoting and blasting it with that 90mm gun. The arrival of 8th RTR was a welcome sight, and when it engaged, he decided to pull his Squadron out, shifting northeast to an ancient cemetery site where the road crossed a wadi bed. When he arrived he could see the Army transport pool truck reserve heading north.

O’Connor now had a most difficult decision to make. The Germans had reached the depot, overrunning the stores and barrels of fuel stockpiled there with two companies of tanks. They now had the bulk of the entire 25th Panzer Regiment on the scene, reinforced by two Panzergrenadier battalions and two battalions from the recon force, which were already bypassing the site, speeding east past hill 430 towards Nofilia some 26 kilometers on. The only thing that could try and stop them was the RAF. The 21st Indian Brigade was still dueling with elements of Sonderverband 288 near Alam al Hunjah, very near the place where Rommel was at that moment. O’Connor ordered the Brigade to withdraw towards Nofilia the way it had come.

As for the rest of his 8th Army, it was clear to O’Connor that he was not going to beat Rommel that day, nor was he going to break the defensive front his nemesis had established here. On the coast, the 51st had broken through the line of the wadi, but then up came the Italian Giovanti Fascisti Brigade, just in time to stop them. Called “Mussolini’s Boys” by the Germans, the Young Fascist unit was fanatical and very stubborn when it went into combat. It was an odd moment, with an Italian unit coming to the rescue of the German 164th Division, and they were enough to hold the Via Balbia closed to further British advance. 50th Northumberland could not break the well-fortified lines of the 90th Light, and so everywhere, the British were on defense.

O’Connor turned to a staffer. “We’ve lost the forward dump, and now the stocks at Nofilia are exposed. Send word to the 1st South African Division at Agedabia. I want then to move west into the bottleneck at once. All units west of Wadi Harawah will disengage and return to their starting positions. This battle is over—unless Rommel persists on this flank. I can’t imagine he can push much farther east, but I’ve been wrong before. I want all of Tenth Corps to retire through Bir Qarinah. We’ll just have to pull ourselves together and try again another time.”

Tobruk gone, and now this, he thought heavily. The whole army is out here, and deflating like a great balloon. If I have to fall back, that’s exactly what it would be like, getting all the air out of that bloody balloon. I’ve a single good road passing through the bottleneck, and the whole area is just four kilometers wide. On the other side, we can’t be bothered. Rommel simply cannot push through the mass of this army as long as I still hold that defile. But something tells me he has no intention of ever trying. No. He’s forsaken Cyrenaica for good now, and while it looked like he was giving us half of Tripolitania with his withdrawal, he snookered me good. He was just luring me out into good ground for a fight. Yes, he can’t fight on the ropes, so he wanted to dance in the middle of the ring again, a weary old champion looking for one last victory. Well, he’s got one now. But we aren’t beaten yet. We’ll fall back, consolidate, hold the bottleneck in tight if we have to. Then it’s simply a matter of replacing our losses before we try again.

That evening he would learn that 2 battalions of 22nd Armored Brigade had been cut off and destroyed, almost to a man. War was hell.

Chapter 24

As night fell, O’Connor realized that any further retreat by the Army as a whole would likely end up in a complete mess. Units would get lost, intermingled, equipment would be abandoned, and worse, morale would ooze out of the Army like air from that balloon. So he issued a stand fast order to all the infantry divisions. They were to consolidate behind a defensive front, begin moving their artillery and local stores, but would make no retreat that night. He did not think the German infantry divisions could threaten or move them in any case. The infantry when well deployed on defense was a sturdy shield.

For his shattered sword, the armored force, he knew that he needed to keep moving. Behind Ulyam ar Rimith, there was a track that ran due east for a little over 20 kilometers. It would parallel the road the German recon units had taken to Nofilia, and so that was where he wanted his armor. He sent Popski on ahead that night, telling him to report in hourly as to the condition of the track, and any enemy movement that might be attempting to cut that route. Then he assembled his Brigadiers and got them all on the same page, telling them what he wanted them to do.

“Nofilia,” he said. “We’ve lost the fuel at Rimith, but there’s a good deal more at Nofilia. Rommel’s headed that way, but he has a long flank to watch, and it gets longer with each mile he moves east. We’ve got the inside track, and so we move east with him, right along this road. It passes the hill at Ras at Tarqui, then crosses the highland here at Ras Kubar. At that point, the Via Balbia is just seven or eight klicks north, and Nofilia no more than fifteen klicks east. We need that ground. We’ve got to block any move by the Germans to the north and secure the depot at Nofilia. Gentlemen, how are your brigades looking after this fight?”

Roberts of 22nd Armored spoke up, a dejected look on his face. “I’m afraid our lot took quite a beating. Jerry got up the paras to hold the line we were fighting with 21st Panzer. Then the mobile units shifted south and caught my brigade in the flank. I’ve lost the whole of 1st and 5th RTRs, nearly a 100 tanks gone there. I managed to save the Yeomanry, and the infantry battalion and artillery.”

“Bad throw there,” said O’Connor. “Let it be a lesson to us. Even the mighty shall fall. These sands cover the heads of kings and warlords who thought they would rule here forever. We’re just the latest to come along.”

4th Light Brigade was in better shape, except for the Household Cavalry. 23rd Armored Brigade still had plenty of tanks on hand, some still fighting down near the lost depot. Ironically, they were low on fuel. O’Connor continued to count his eggs, then gave orders to each Brigade commander, suiting the condition of the forces he had. While 51st still held on the north coast, he withdrew the 1st Tank Brigade, and started it east on the fast road surface of the Via Balbia

“Gentlemen,” he said. “We thought we’d give the Germans a surprise with our Churchills and the new American tanks. But I’m told they did the same to us. He’s taking his Tigers east, but we’ve got a lot of fight left in us yet.”

“Yes sir, those new heavy tanks really are Tigers—well named. But our heavies can stop them, wherever they are.”

The men looked at O’Connor with expectant eyes. They had seen, time and time again, the swift moving mass of Kinlan’s 7th Heavy Brigade riding to the rescue, and O’Connor could see that they were wondering where it was.

“Brigadier Kinlan was at Tobruk,” he said. “And I’m afraid I have some bad news about the place….”

Lieutenant Reeves had a problem. That night one of his three Challenger IIs hit a mine as he was withdrawing up the road from the cemetery. It completely blew off a segment of the left track and damaged two wheels, though the interior of the tank was not compromised and no one was injured. Under normal circumstances in operating with the Brigade, an incident like this would not have been a problem. They would have just called for engineers to come and tow the tank, or even effect a field repair, and it would have been back in operation within hours. That was not possible now, not with two battalions of German tanks and infantry three kilometers behind him, and nothing but a thin screen of light flak holding them—that and the darkness. He huddled with Sergeant Williams.

“Willie,” he said, “that’s a huge chunk of our firepower sitting there, and I hate to leave it, but I don’t see there’s anything we can do. We either leave it there as a pill box and have it fight to the last round, or we cut our losses and save the ammo. Let’s get every round out and distribute them to the other two tanks. The crew can ride in the Warriors.”

“We’re going to just leave it sitting there for the Germans?”

“Hell no! Rig up a demolition charge and place it inside the tank. Another goes down the barrel. That’s the best we can do. It will blow the interior equipment and electronics to bloody hell. Before we do that, strip off any external equipment we can use for the other two, and scour the damn thing for anything that shouldn’t be left behind. Let’s be quick. The Germans could move this way any minute, and we’ll find ourselves in another firefight.”

So there it went, one of the last three Challengers on the field of battle. An hour later Reeves was following in the footsteps of Popski, heading east on the road to Ras at Tarqui, and leading the long column of 23rd Armored Brigade in a slow procession of steel. Along the way they passed a Muslim shrine, and then the broken column of an old Roman ruin. When he saw them, Reeves could not help but think of the empires that had swept over these sands, each thinking it was the epitome of power, there to bend the hand of fate to its will. The thought of that Challenger II he was leaving behind nagged at him—all glory was fleeting. Now it would be just another derelict ruin in the desert, and a monument to the folly of man’s pride, and of war.

Come dawn on the 3rd day, October 12th, O’Connor gave the order for the infantry to withdraw, with 51st Highland on the coastal road, and 50th Northumbrian taking a parallel track through the desert. 4th Indian and the two French brigades continued to screen the withdrawal of the armor. A single battalion of the Indian 21st Independent Brigade reached Nofilia as ordered. One was still hung up near Alam al Hunjah, surrounded by German troops of the 7th Panzer Division. The other was strung out on the roads, dogged by elements of Sonderverband 288.

Rommel was standing exactly where he had planned to be, but the chaos of war saw his panzer divisions scattered all over the desert, on ground spanning over 40 kilometers. What he needed now was infantry, a force to screen his flank if he continued to push the panzers east. The heavy Tigers in the 501st arrived, and he immediately sent them east in a shock column build around two Panzergrenadier battalions of the 15th Panzer Division, and a battalion of armor that had been operating with those Tigers.

“Are the Italians coming up as I ordered?” he asked his new Chief of staff Fritz Bayerlein. He was now working with von Thoma to help coordinate the movement.

“Mussolini’s Boys have already reached the 164th, and the Trieste Motorized Division is right behind them, along with what’s left of the Ariete Division, which isn’t much.”

“Good, that will free up the 164th. And the 90th?”

“Trento Division should relieve them on the line, but not until very late today. They might reach the front by nightfall.”

“The British have pulled their infantry out,” said Rommel. “Tell Marcks to begin moving the 90th this way immediately, and 15th Panzer should continue east to join us here.”

“You mean to continue the attack?” asked von Thoma.

“You object?” Rommel looked at him.

“Well sir, the troops are scattered all over the desert; the divisions all intermingled with one another.”

“Then it is up to us to sort things out. We’ve sent the British packing, but they’ve left a lot of luggage behind as well. Don’t be fooled. They aren’t beaten yet. But if we can get to Nofilia in strength, they will be in a bad way. That is only 35 kilometers from where we stand now.”

“I can have the bulk of my division at Sidi Azzab by sunset,” said von Bismarck of the 21st Panzer.

“Then we will move with 15th Panzer taking the lead. The 7th will reorganize here and be ready to follow in the morning, with your division right behind it, Herr von Bismarck.”

“Do you really think you can cut off the entire 8th Army?” said von Thoma.

“I will certainly try,” said Rommel, somewhat irritated. “If we sit on our thumbs now, so will O’Connor. He’ll secure Nofilia, bring up reserves, and we’ll be back at it again in no time. If, however, I press him hard now, threaten to cut his route back through Mersa Brega, then I may compel him to withdraw through the defile. Then we put the cork back in the bottle again.”

“But we were just sitting there two weeks ago,” said von Thoma. “It was you that popped that cork with this withdrawal to Buerat.”

“That was then, this is now,” said Rommel, his cheeks flushed red with the cold desert air. “If the British do withdraw through the bottleneck, then we look for other options.”

“Another flanking attack—through the badlands near Marada?”

“O’Connor came that way when he thought he was pushing us out a few weeks ago.”

“You want Cyrenaica again?”

Now Rommel turned on him. “What I want is the choice to do what I wish,” he said sharply. “Appearances matter in war. Whether I want Cyrenaica is not the point. I must demonstrate that I can go there nonetheless. The fact that I might be able to take it if I choose is the entirety of it. O’Connor will look at my dispositions and then he will be forced to plan accordingly. We’ve gained at least a month with this battle. Now I want to make that two months. Tonight the Führer will have some more good news, just as I promised him. He will hear O’Connor was beaten, that the British are retreating, that the Afrika Korps is on the move east. For the next few days, let him enjoy the headlines.”

Now an officer came in with three messages, saluting and handing them off to Bayerlein. “Well,” he said, “scanning the pages, and looking over a photograph, which he now handed to Rommel. “This is most unusual. Something has happened at Tobruk.”

That surprised Rommel, for the port was just a backwaters outpost now, with most British supplies being routed into Benghazi. He glanced at the aerial recon photo, and the surprise deepened to real mystery. “That isn’t Tobruk,” he said. “The shape of the bay is all wrong. The pilot must have made an error.”

“It says here Tobruk was overflown at noon today and found to be completely destroyed.” Bayerlein handed Rommel the message.

“I tell you it’s wrong. If that’s Tobruk, I’ll eat my hat.”

“Then what about this?” The second message was handed over, and Rommel saw that it was coming direct from OKW. “Confirm massive detonation at the port of Tobruk. Forward latest aerial recon imaging at earliest opportunity.” Rommel looked up at the others.

“Someone at OKW wants me to have this dusty old cap for breakfast,” he said with a smile. “Very well, confirm it. Yet if that photograph is accurate, it must have been a truly massive explosion. What could cause such damage? Look at the southern edge of the bay, the sea is well inland there now, all the way to the escarpment near the airfield at Fort Marcucci. And look where the town should be. You can’t even make out the roads in this photo!” The more he looked at the image, the more he began to feel an uneasy sensation of fear.

Rommel had studied maps of that area for hours on end. He knew every landform and feature of the terrain, and how all the roads connected. He had given it a cursory glance earlier, but now he looked closer, seeing it was indeed Tobruk. There was the hill at Ras Belgamel, the Solaro Escarpment, Fort Pilastrino, some 10 kilometers from the bay. But the harbor, the town, even Fort Marcucci, were completely gone. What could have caused such tremendous devastation? Could they have had ships there, packed to the gills with ammunition and gasoline? Even that could not cause this destruction. He was deeply troubled. It didn’t seem like OKW had any clue as to what had happened. They were looking for more information from his Luftwaffe assets here. Very strange indeed.

“And here’s the last message,” said Bayerlein. “It seems we’ve finally got our hands on one of those monster tanks the British have been beating us with. They found one abandoned just beyond the cemetery at Ar Rimith.”

“Where is that?” Rommel was reaching for a map. “Here, about ten kilometers north. Let’s get moving, gentlemen. Off to your duties. As for me, I’m off to see this tank!”

He would jump into the nearest vehicle, and was off in a column of dust, with von Thoma staring stupidly after him. The British rearguards were still fighting near the cemetery when Rommel arrived a half hour later. His appearance energized the local commanders, where a mixed regimental sized force from 7th Panzer was cleaning up the remnants of light flak guns, some still firing with their 40mm Bofors. Rommel was impatient, and he looked at his watch.

“I want this area cleared in fifteen minutes!” he ordered, and that was done.

When he reached the cemetery, he passed among the dry graves, the buried bones of generations past. There were few headstones, and those that remained were now scored by bullet wounds and the flash and powder burns of shells and grenades. There, north of the cemetery on a thin desert track, he saw the tilted mass of the largest tank he had ever laid eyes on.

The German Tiger I weighed in at 54 tons, with a body length of 20 feet plus 8 inches. Gun forward it measured out to 27 feet, 9 inches. And it was just under 12 feet wide. The Challenger II was ten tons heavier, its body seven feet longer, and when gun forward it measured 44 feet with that long 120mm barrel. Only the width was about the same as the German tank. Even the later model King Tiger would not be as big as the Challenger II. Rommel could see the damaged track and wheels, the crater in the earth where the mine had gone off to hobble this vehicle. The long gun was bent and broken by an internal explosive, obviously deliberate. This spoke volumes to him.

The unit that fielded this tank was just a detachment, he thought. They had no engineering support, because our intelligence was correct. This heavy brigade was not here today, only a few vehicles. The ground around me still holds the imprint of their tank tracks, and I can read it very well. They couldn’t save it, so they stripped it and then tried to demolish it with charges.

He climbed up onto it, his hand flat against the heavy turret armor. The solidity and power that feeling gave him was something he never forgot. This was the monster that had stopped him from taking Egypt, the beast that had brought him to the shame of defeat. He had tried to explain that shame away with all his talk of strategic withdrawal and saving the army to fight another day, but the bile of defeat was still bitter taste, no matter how much honey he stirred into that tea. Peering down through the top hatch, he was struck by the roomy turret, impressed by its flat design, nearly the width of the vehicle body itself. Everything there was wrecked and blackened by fire, but he gave orders that the Division tractors be brought forward and the tank was to be hauled off; transported to Sirte at once.

“I want it on a ship bound for Toulon within two weeks,” he said. “Someone back home will be very pleased to have a look at that beast. How the British could have built it remains a mystery to me. And if they could build it, then why do they persist with that.” He pointed to the wreck of a Crusader III, which seemed a feeble excuse for a tank beside the great mass of the Challenger II.

It was a most unexpected dividend from his little victory, like the errant RPG round that had been left behind at Palmyra, and the windfall delivered by Kapitan Heinrich when he captured the Norton Sound. There had been so little time to rig the demolition, and though the electronics were totally destroyed, someone was going to get a very good look at the composition of that Chobham armor, the powerful Perkins CV-12 engine, the David Brown TN-54 transmission, the Hydropneumatic suspension. This little gift of the Magi would have a dramatic effect on the future course of the war.