by Unknown
"On 31 August, the fuel was still not there; now Rommel had to start. Severe sandstorms prevented the superior RAF from being used (our own Messerschmidt fighters stood on the airfields with no fuel). On 2 September, a mere 900 tons of fuel arrived out of the 5,000 announced; 2,600 tons had been sunk, 1,500 were still in Italy.
"Next morning the storm had subsided. Now-almost in flyover forrnationhe RAF launched wave after wave against the Afrika Korps, which was thrusting north behind the Alamein position. A British division, which up to then had not been spotted, had occupied a range of hills with a front to the south. The two, together, brought the attack to a standstill.
"Because of the missing supplies and the almost 100 percent air superiority, the attack came to nothing. The reconnaissance group, which included your own battalion, had n sent east at the very beginning, in order to march at once on Cairo, about 100 kilometers further east, as soon as the Afrika Korps had reached the coast behind the British. The group was hit particularly badly by the air attacks and suffered heavy losses.
"In the night of 2 to 3 September, Rommel decided with a heavy heart, to break off the attack and withdraw from the rear of the British position. On this retreat, Brigadier Clifton of the New Zealand Division was taken prisoner and brought to Rommel. His fate was remarkable.
“Whenever possible,” Gause went on, "Rommel likes to talk to prominent opponents. so, too, with Clifton, to whom he first expressed his admiration for the fight his division had put up.
He did complain, however, about the atrocities that had been carried out on German prisoners. “That's the Maoris,” Clifton replied, 'original inhabitants of New Zealand, who fight as ferociously as the Sikhs from India. I deplore it.“ Clifton had fought against us in 1940 in France and said now that they were sure of victory in the end. Inwardly, Rommel, too, was already convinced of this. Shortly after, Clifton escaped through a lavatory and was picked up alone in the desert with only a water-bottle in his hand. Rommel couldn't meet his request to be sent into German captivity and not to the Italians. Rommel regretted that all prisoners in North Africa, at Mussolini's wish, had to be handed over to the Italians.” It became known later that Clifton, after making eight vain attempts to escape, managed to get to Switzerland on the ninthdespite being wounded.) "During his conversation with Clifton, Rommel mentioned that the Allies, too, would have to get used to the idea that the danger in the future would come from the east, from Russia.
“So, Luck, now you know why Rommel is so disappointed.” Weeks after Rommel's unsuccessful offensive, the rumor was still going around that an Italian general had betrayed Rommel's plan to the British. Admittedly, this had never been confirmed, but in 1985 Steve Ambrose introduced me to Mrs. Jean Howard at a lunch with General Sir Nigel Poett of the British 6th Airborne Division at the Army-Navy Club in London. Jean greeted me with enthusiasm.
"Hans von Luck, what a pleasure to meet you personally. I know all about you and your activities in North Africa. I was one of the team at Bletchley Park [then under the name of Jean Allington, Hut 3 BP] that managed to break the German code, in what we called the Ultra operation. We intercepted all radio messages on the German side, so that our command in London, and in Africa, had fairly complete information about German plans.
I knew you from 1942, when you first arrived in North Africa.
I'm pleased to meet the Major of those days personally.“ North Africa, 1942: Rommel, the Desert Fox 109 Only then did I realize why the British had always been so well informed about our actions and how convoys with supplies, or the activity of our Luftwaffe, could have been disrupted so accurately. Ultra was a godsend to the British, a catastrophe for us.) ”Rommel intends to see Hitler in Germany,“ Gause then went on, ”and make it clear to him, quite bluntly, that without adequate supplies, the war in North Africa cannot be won.
"In addition, we know from our sources that Churchill was in Cairo at the beginning of August and that on the twelfth, Montgomery took over command of the Eighth Army. A new wind seems to be blowing among our opponents. They will, undoubtedly, be working on an offensive, which this time could be decisive.
"For the moment, however, the British have consolidated their Alamein position firmly with over 800,000 mines, and with replenished divisions and strong tank divisions behind them.
"Now for you: your battalion has once again hit the jackpot.
It's lying in the Siwa Oasis, about 300 kilometers south of Mersa Matruh in the Qattara Depression. I was down there yesterday with Rommel and General Fritz Bayerlein. Truly a paradise, which is quite out of keeping with our battlefield here in the desert. But we must maintain a presence down there.
The danger of being outflanked to the south of the Alamein position is too great.
"I don't begrudge you this pleasant assignment, after the tough actions and heavy losses of the past months.
“You will have to fly there in a JU 87 (a dive bomber). The runway is too short for other machines and the distance too great for the Fieseler Stork.” (The Stuka crews vied with each other for these flights.) "You will come directly under me, so for the time being, you are detached from the units of the 21st Panzer Division. Captain Everth will brief you in detail before he has to go home, unfortunately also on health grounds.
“I wish you all the best. Enjoy your time down there, before the balloon goes up again.” With that, I was dismissed and taken at once to the airfield of the JU 87. The most interesting part of my time in Africa was about to begin.
I was taken to Captain Hamester, a squadron leader.
“I have the good fortune to be permitted to fly you to Siwa. We use these flights to try out our missions deep into the desert and to drop bombs or ward off British fighters, if we happen to 110 PANZER COMMANDER across British units. That's why we go in a flight of three machines. I'm sure you've heard of our nosedives and our demoralizing sirens. As a landlubber you should find it interesting.”
“I've heard from my friends,” I replied, “who flew Rommel to Siwa only yesterday, how lovely this oasis is and that for them, the highlight was to swim in Cleopatra's Bath.”
“We'll be flying down tomorrow morning,” Hamester went on.
“You'll have to fly as rear gunner. We only have a two-man crew. You'll know the 2cm cannon, of course, from your scout cars.” On 23 September 1942, Rommel flew to Germany to undergo treatment and to meet Hitler. On the same day, I boarded Captain Hamester's JU 87. I squeezed myself into the rear seat, with my tropical chest stowed vertically between the pilot and me. I donned headphones and microphone.
The flight lasted about an hour. We flew at a height of about 3,000 feet. The stony desert, with its little outcrops of rock and camel's thorn bushes, lay peacefully below us. If I turned round, I could see the sandy desert with its high dunes lying in the distance like a vast trough of the sea. Even camel paths were discernible and the tracks of our reconnaissance vehicles winding through the desert. Or were they the tracks of the Royal Dragoons or the Long Range Desert Group?
There, ahead, was the sharp drop to the Qattara Depression. In front, to the left, I could see the oasis, with only a single winding track leading down to it. (“That would be easy to block,” passed through my mind.) We landed and were directed to a group of palms, where the three machines found cover.
“Welcome to paradise!” I was greeted by Captain Everth, newly decorated with the Knight's Cross. “We're glad to see you back again, fully restored. One of those stupid tropical diseases has got me too, so I've got to go back to Germany sooner or later.” My battalion was quartered in tents, well dispersed under palms.
“We've deliberately kept ourselves somewhat apart from the Arabs, to avoid disturbing the daily life of these proud sons of the desert,” Everth told me. “May I suggest that we first do a tour of the oasis? In the course of it, I can tell you something about this lovely little spot and about our own task.” I agreed at once.
I felt as though I were in a fairy tale from the Thousand and One
Nights.- blue skies above me, hot sun, and endless groves of palms with ripening dates. Little water courses ran through the oasis. In North Africa, 1942: Rommel, the Desert Fox ill the south, right by the last palms, the huge white dunes heaved up like a sea of waves. In the north, the 150-foot high escarpment, which dropped vertically. In the east, the Qattara Depression, a dried-up salt lake, which stretched 300 kilometers to the east, to a point about 100 kilometers southeast of Alamein.
“The Qattara Depression is impassable,” explained Everth. “Only in the dry season is there a little track which can be used by light vehicles. We have to watch out there, in case Tommy tries to surprise us with his Long Range Desert Group. We are lying about 300 kilometers south of Mersa Matruh. Only 50 to 70 kilometers of the Alamein line are manned. In between, is No Man's Land, hence, an open field of operations for both sides.” I had already heard of Siwa at school, of its palace and Cleopatra's Bath (51 to 30 B.C.). In former times, an “Oracle” was said to be in Siwa, and visited, besides others, by Alexander the Great. Siwa, originally called Ammonion, came under Egyptian rule in 1820. This was now represented by three officials: the doctor, the commissioner, and the postmaster.
The inhabitants, numbering about 5,000, were originally Bedouins who became settled there, and since that time, have no longer mixed with other tribes. Despite inbreeding, they are healthy.
Because of this, the Senussi, on their flight from the Italians out of Libya, were allowed to stay in Siwa only for a short while and then had to move on further east. Every extended family had a sheik at its head, the greatest family, a chief sheik, a primus inter pares.
While the Egyptian doctor had his raison d'etre, the commissioner was less popular, as he was responsible for tax collecting. The postmaster was completely useless, for no one there could read or write. So he found himself a lucrative sideline, as a trader. He had his moment of glory when Rommel visited Siwa a few days earlier and the sheiks presented him with an envelope bearing a set of Siwa stamps, duly cancelled, a philatelic rarity.
We came to Cleopatra's Bath, in which the crews of the Stukas were amusing themselves. I found myself before a well with a diameter of about 30 feet. The water was so clear tfiat one could see the bottom some 20 feet below. There, several carbonated springs bubbled forth. The water had a constant temperature of 18* C and promised to be wonderfully refreshing.
Everth invited me to come with him that evening: “We had to draw up a timetable so that all the men could enjoy this treat.” Not far away stood Cloopatra's former palace, where she is supposed to have spent some time every year in relaxation. One could still see the remains of the great blocks of stone; how they got there no one knows. The water from Cleopatra's well, and from some smaller wells in the neighborhood, was led by an ingenious system into the gardens of the sheiks, which were thus kept watered throughout the year.
“Now we'll go into the 'town' as we call it. I must first introduce you, by Arab custom, to the chief sheik, who will bid you welcome as a guest,” Everth explained.
On arriving in the “town,” we went through a gate in the high wall of the garden of the chief sheik. The sight took my breath away. Here the greenery and the flowers made one forget one was in the desert. Innumerable little ducts ran through the luxuriant garden. Gorgeous vines and bougainvillacas climbed up the mud walls. Between exotic plants were little beds a yard square, led Chinese beds, in which corn and vegetables were planted, to produce tenfold yields. In between stood citms, pomegranate, and olive trees. And towering over all, were the date palms.
Hans Von Luck - Panzer Commander
At the end of the garden stood the low, whitewashed house of the chief sheik, who greeted us with a deep bow. We returned his salaam" and asked to be received by him. He led us into the inner courtyard, which was spread with valuable carpets. By Arab custorn, no women were to be seen. We squatted, cross-legged, on the carpets, which very soon gave me cramps in the calves, as I was not used to this way of sitting. The sons offered us cooled fruit juices, for alcohol was strictly forbidden. Besides, we were still in Ramadan, the month of fasting, in which nothing was eaten during the day.
“Welcome to you, Germans,” the chief sheik greeted us. “Having had the great honor, a few days ago, of a visit from your famous Marshal Rommel, I now bid you welcome, Major, as the new commander of our oasis. You know that we admire you Germans and wish you success in this war. I have asked Rommel to greet the great sheik, Bismarck, highly honored by us (thank goodness he didn't mention Hitler). Unfortunately, the war cuts us off from Cairo and Alexandria. We can't sell our produce or, buy necessities, so that tea, our main drink, has gradually run out.” The chief sheik was an imposing figure, tall, with a dark face and fine-cut features. A white beard gave him a dignified appearance. His burnoose was of the finest white material.
North Africa, 1942: Rommel, the Desert Fox 113 “When we celebrate the end of Ramadan in a few weeks' time,” he said, dismissing us, “you must be our guest.” We drove to the airfield to say good-bye to the Stuka crews, who disappeared to the north in a great arc and with a waggle of wings, to return again to their hard service on the Alamein front.
Everth and I went back to the command post, to the cleverly outfitted Opel Blitz, which was comparable to a modern motor caravan. Everth then gave me a detailed account of the battalion's tasks and equipment.
"Supplies for the battalion seldom come by land, since, for that, convoys have to be assembled to guard against British patrols or raiding parties. Supplies of things like food, fuel, and ammunition, are usually dropped by Stukas or Heinkels, which at the same time make use of these flights for reconnaissance.
Since we can buy cereals here in the oasis, Rommel has given us a bakery platoon, which bakes our bread and also fresh rolls sometimes on Sundays.
“A few days ago, we were sent an Italian Ghibli, comparable to our Fieseler Stork, with a- nice pilot and the necessary spare parts. This aircraft saves us costly patrolling trips either to the north, out of the Qattara Depression, or in the direction of the Giarabub oasis in Libya, the only tracks leading out of the oasis.” I now had a rough idea of what was to be done and resolved to make the most of what would probably be our short time in Siwa.
Next morning, my dip in Cleopatra's Bath was wonderful; and on a trip through the oasis, Everth told me more of its special features.
“A few decades ago, King Faid decided to make the unique beauty of the oasis accessible to tourists and to organize appropriate safaris. At that time, Siwa was so infested by millions of mosquitoes of a dangerous variety, that no one could visit the oasis without at once coming down with malaria. By order of King Faid, scientists developed an insecticide, which was put in the water channels and so prevented them from breeding. Within a few years, the mosquitoes were eradicated.” Meanwhile, the day was drawing to a close and we were being offered a natural spectacle: the setting sun coldred the steep slope of the Qattara Depression blood-red and plunged the whole oasis into a blue-green light. The sight was overwhelming.
Next day, I made my first round-flight in the Ghibli. I then realized the extent of the oasis, saw the vast, untouched dunes beneath me, in the north, the escarpment, and in the east, the marked track through the dried-up salt lake, which was no longer frequented by the camel caravans.
In the course of the next two weeks-we had, as usual, no contact with the enemyme of our ned officers left us: Captain Everth flew to Germany, sick, and would not be coming back; von Fallois, my predecessor's adjutant, was replaced. Captain Kiehl had already been leading Rommel's “battle group” successfully for some time.
Except for a few of the old hands, who remained to the end, there were new company commanders, platoon leaders, and orderly officers. Among them was Lieutenant Ruediger von Wechmar, my predemsor's son, today the German ambassador in London. Captain Meyer became a new company commander; until 1983, he was the German ambassador in Luxembourg. Lieutenant von Mutius was new.
Later he was to br
ing off an adventurous escape from Tunisia.
He is living today in Brazil. As reserve officer, we received Lieutenant Wenzel Luedecke, who was cheerful and always ready for some fun; up to then, he had been an assistant director with UFA film producers, and today, he is the proprietor of an audio,synchronizing firm in Berlin. I would have much to thank him for later.
Left to me of the old stock, were Captain Bangemann and-as my ever calm and reliable adjutant-First-Lieutenant Bernhardt. We managed this drastic change in the corps of officers without difficulty, thanks to the marvellous team spirit and tolerance characteristic of this unusual battalion and all its men.
After about a week, General Stumme announced that be would be visiting us. He, too, wished to “satisfy” himself about our mission, but no doubt wished also to see something of the paradise of Siwa. Accompanied by my corps of officers I greeted Stumme on the runway. While the aircrews were taken to Cleopatra's Bath, we went through the usual program for visitors: trip around the oasis to the Queen's Bath and former palace, followed by a call on the chief sheik and the postmaster.
