Descriptions of modern battles are apt to lose the sense of drama because they are spread over wide spaces and often take weeks to decide, whereas on the famous fields of history the fate of nations and empires was decided on a few square miles of ground in a few hours. The conflicts of fast-moving armoured and motorised forces in the Desert present this contrast with the past in an extreme form.
Tanks had replaced the cavalry of former wars with a vastly more powerful and far-ranging weapon, and in many aspects their manœuvres resembled naval warfare, with seas of sand instead of salt water. The fighting quality of the armoured column, like that of a cruiser squadron, rather than the position where they met the enemy, or the part of the horizon on which he appeared, was the decisive feature. Tank divisions or brigades, and still more smaller units, could form fronts in any direction so swiftly that the perils of being outflanked or taken in rear or cut off had a greatly lessened significance. On the other hand, all depended from moment to moment upon fuel and ammunition, and the supply of both was far more complicated for armoured forces than for the self-contained ships and squadrons at sea. The principles on which the art of war is founded expressed themselves therefore in novel terms, and every encounter taught lessons of its own.
The magnitude of the war effort involved in these Desert struggles must not be underrated. Although only about ninety or a hundred thousand fighting troops were engaged in each of the armies, these needed masses of men and material two or three times as large to sustain them in their trial of strength. The fierce clash of Sidi Rezegh, which marked the opening of General Auchinleck’s offensive, when viewed as a whole, presents many of the most vivid features of war. The personal interventions of the two Commanders-in-Chief were as dominant and decisive and the stakes on both sides were as high as in the olden times.
Auchinleck’s task was first to recapture Cyrenaica, destroying in the process the enemy’s armour, and, secondly, if all went well, to capture Tripolitania. For these purposes General Cunningham was given command of the newly named Eighth Army, consisting of the XHIth and XXXth Corps, and comprising, with the Tobruk garrison, about six divisions, with three brigades in reserve, and 724 tanks. The Western Desert Air Force totalled 1,072 serviceable modern combat aircraft, in addition to ten squadrons operating from Malta. Seventy miles behind Rommel’s front lay the garrison of Tobruk, comprising five brigade groups and an armoured brigade. This fortress was his constant preoccupation, and had hitherto prevented by its strategic threat any advance upon Egypt. To eliminate Tobruk was the settled purpose of the German High Command, and all preparations possible had been made to begin the assault upon it on November 23. Rommel’s army comprised the formidable Afrika Korps, consisting of the 15th and 21st Panzer Divisions and the 90th Light Division, and seven Italian divisions, of which one was armoured. The enemy had 558 tanks. Of the medium and heavy, two-third were German and carried heavier guns than the 2-pounders of our tanks. The enemy were moreover markedly superior in anti-tank weapons. The Axis Air Force consisted of 120 German and about 200 Italian serviceable aircraft at the moment of attack.
Early on November 18, in heavy rain, the Eighth Army leapt forward, and for three days all went well. Part of XXX Corps’ British 7th Armoured Division took Sidi Rezegh, but it was then attacked by the Afrika Korps, whose armour had been kept more concentrated. During the whole of the 21st and 22nd a savage struggle raged, mainly around and upon the airfield. Into this arena virtually all the armour on both sides was drawn, and surged to and fro in violent struggles under the fire of rival batteries. The stronger armament of the German tanks and the larger numbers they brought to the points of collision gave them the advantage. In spite of the heroic and brilliant leadership of Brigadier Jock Campbell the Germans prevailed, and we suffered more heavily than they in tanks. On the night of the 22nd the Germans recaptured Sidi Rezegh. Our force lost two-thirds of its armour, and was ordered to withdraw about twenty miles in order to reorganise. This was a heavy setback.
Meanwhile on November 21, the enemy armour being committed to battle, General Cunningham ordered the XIIIth Corps to advance. They captured the headquarters of the Afrika Korps, and on the 23rd nearly regained Sidi Rezegh, from which their comrades of the 7th Armoured Division had just been driven. On November 24 Freyberg concentrated the bulk of his New Zealanders five miles to the east of the airfield. A sortie from Tobruk had been launched, and was fighting hard against German infantry, but had not broken through. The New Zealand Division stood before Sidi Rezegh after a triumphant march. The enemy frontier garrisons had been cut off, but their armour had won its battle against the XXXth Corps. Very heavy blows and severe losses had been exchanged, and the battle hung in the balance.
There was now a dramatic episode which recalls “Jeb” Stuart’s ride round McClellan in 1862 on the York Town peninsula in the American Civil War. It was however executed with an armoured force which was an army in itself, and whose destruction would have doomed the rest of the Axis army. Rommel resolved to seize the tactical initiative and to force his way eastward to the frontier with his armour in the hope of creating so much chaos and causing so much alarm as to prevail upon our command to give up the struggle and withdraw. He may well have had in his mind the fortune which had rewarded his armoured incursion in the preceding Desert battle of June 15 and led to our retreat at the crucial moment. How nearly he succeeded this time will be apparent as the story proceeds.
He collected the greater part of the Afrika Korps, still the most formidable body in the field, and narrowly missing the headquarters of the XXXth Corps and two great dumps of supplies, without which we could not have continued the fight, he reached the frontier. Here he split his force into columns, some of which turned north and south, and others drove on twenty miles into Egyptian territory. He wrought havoc in our rearward areas and captured many prisoners. His columns however made no impression on the 4th Indian Division, and were pursued by hastily-organised detachments. Above all our Air Force, which had now gained a high degree of mastery in the air above the contending armies, harried him all the time and all the way. Rommel’s columns, virtually unsupported by their own Air, suffered the pangs our troops had known and endured when it was Germany who dominated the battle skies. On the 26th all the enemy’s armour turned northwards and sought haven in and near Bardia. Next day they hurried off to the west, back to Sidi Rezegh, whither they were urgently summoned. Rommel’s daring stroke had failed, but, as will now be seen, only one man—the opposing Commander-in-Chief—stopped him.
The heavy blows we had received and the impression of disorder behind our front, caused by Rommel’s raid, had led General Cunningham to represent to the Commander-in-Chief that a continuation of our offensive might result in the annihilation of our tank force, and so endanger the safety of Egypt. This would mean acknowledged defeat and failure of the whole operation. At this decisive moment General Auchinleck intervened personally. At Cunningham’s request he flew with Air Marshal Tedder to the Desert Headquarters on November 23, and, with full knowledge of all the dangers, ordered General Cunningham “to continue to press the offensive against the enemy”. By his personal action Auchinleck thus saved the battle and proved his outstanding qualities as a commander in the field.
On his return to Cairo on the 25th he decided to replace General Cunningham temporarily by General Ritchie, his Deputy Chief of Staff, “because I have reluctantly concluded that Cunningham, admirable as he has been up to date, has now begun to think defensively, mainly because of our large tank losses.” The Minister of State, Oliver Lyttelton, explained and strongly supported the Commander-in-Chief’s decision. To him I at once telegraphed our approval.
Here I shall leave this incident, so painful to the gallant officer concerned, to his brother the Naval Commander-in-Chief, and to General Auchinleck, who was a personal friend of both. I particularly admired General Auchinleck’s conduct in rising superior to all personal considerations and to all temptations to compromise or delay action.
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sp; Meanwhile, Freyberg and his New Zealanders, supported by the 1st Army Tank Brigade, pressed hard upon Sidi Rezegh. After two days of severe fighting they recaptured it. Simultaneously the garrison of Tobruk resumed its sortie and on the night of the 26th joined hands with the relieving force. Some units entered beleaguered Tobruk. This brought Rommel back from Bardia. He fought his way to Sidi Rezegh, attacked in flank by the reorganised 7th Armoured Division, now mustering 120 tanks. He recaptured Sidi Rezegh, and drove back the New Zealand Brigade with crippling loss. Most of them were withdrawn south-eastwards to the frontier, where the heroic division reformed after losing more than three thousand men. The Tobruk garrison, again isolated, held on by a bold decision to all the ground gained.
General Ritchie now regrouped his army and Rommel made a final thrust to rescue his frontier garrisons. It was repulsed. The general retreat of the Axis army to the Gazala line then began.
On December 1 Auchinleck went himself to the Advanced Headquarters, and remained for ten days with General Ritchie. He did not assume the command himself, but closely supervised his subordinate. This did not seem to me the best arrangement for either of them. However, the power of the Eighth Army was now predominant, and on December 10 the Commander-in-Chief could tell me: “Enemy is apparently in full retreat towards the west … I think it now permissible to claim that the siege of Tobruk has been raised. We are pursuing -vigorously in fullest co-operation with the Royal Air Force.” We now know from German records that the enemy losses in the battle were about 33,000 men and 300 tanks. The comparable British and Imperial Army losses in the same period were about half, together with 278 tanks. Nine-tenths of this loss occurred in the first month of the offensive. Here then we reached a moment of relief, and indeed of rejoicing, about the Desert war.
But at this crucial moment our naval power in the Eastern Mediterranean was virtually destroyed by a series of disasters. Our interval of immunity and advantage came to its end. The U-boats arrived upon the scene. On November 12, while returning to Gibraltar after flying more aircraft into Malta, the Ark Royal had been struck by a torpedo from a German U-boat. All attempts to save the ship failed, and this famous veteran, which had played such a distinguished part in so many of our affairs, sank when only twenty-five miles from Gibraltar. A fortnight later the Barham was struck by three torpedoes and capsized in as many minutes with the loss of over 500 men. More was to follow. On the night of December 18 an Italian submarine approached Alexandria and launched three “human torpedoes”, each controlled by two men. They penetrated the harbour while the boom gate was open for the passage of ships. They fixed time-bombs, which detonated early next morning under the battleships Queen Elizabeth and Valiant. Both ships were heavily injured and became a useless burden for months. We were successful in concealing the damage to the battle fleet for some time, but Force “K” was also stricken. On the very day of the Alexandria disaster news reached Malta of an important enemy convoy heading for Tripoli. Three cruisers and four destroyers at once went out to catch them. Approaching Tripoli our ships ran into a new minefield. Two of the cruisers were damaged, but were able to steam away. The third, drifting in the minefield, struck two more mines and sank. Only one man of her crew of over 700 survived—and he as a prisoner of war after four days on a raft, on which his captain, R. C. O’Connor, and thirteen others perished. All that remained of the British Eastern Mediterranean Fleet was a few destroyers and three cruisers of Admiral Vian’s squadron.
On December 5 Hitler, realising at last Rommel’s mortal peril, ordered the transfer of a whole Air Corps from Russia to Sicily and North Africa. A new air offensive against Malta was launched under General Kesselring’s direction. The attacks on the island reached a new peak, and Malta could do no more than struggle for life. By the end of the year it was the Luftwaffe who held the mastery over the sea routes to Tripoli, and thus made possible the refit of Rommel’s armies after their defeat. Seldom has the interaction of sea, air, and land warfare been so strikingly illustrated as in the events of these few months.
But now all paled under the stroke of world events.
CHAPTER IV
PEARL HARBOUR!
IT was Sunday evening, December 7, 1941. Winant and Averell Harriman were alone with me at the table at Chequers. I turned on my small wireless set shortly after the nine o’clock news had started. There were a number of items about the fighting on the Russian front and on the British front in Libya, at the end of which some few sentences were spoken regarding an attack by the Japanese on American shipping at Hawaii, and also Japanese attacks on British vessels in the Dutch East Indies. There followed a statement that after the news Mr. Somebody would make a commentary, and that the Brains Trust programme would then begin, or something like this. I did not personally sustain any direct impression, but Averell said there was something about the Japanese attacking the Americans, and, in spite of being tired and resting, we all sat up. By now the butler, Sawyers, who had heard what had passed, came into the room, saying, “It’s quite true. We heard it ourselves outside. The Japanese have attacked the Americans.” There was a silence. At the Mansion House luncheon on November 11 I had said that if Japan attacked the United States a British declaration of war would follow “within the hour”. I got up from the table and walked through the hall to the office, which was always at work. I asked for a call to the President. The Ambassador followed me out, and, imagining I was about to take some irrevocable step, said, “Don’t you think you’d better get confirmation first?”
In two or three minutes Mr. Roosevelt came through. “Mr. President, what’s this about Japan?” “It’s quite true,” he replied. “They have attacked us at Pearl Harbour. We are all in the same boat now.” I put Winant on to the line and some interchanges took place, the Ambassador at first saying, “Good,” “Good”—and then, apparently graver, “Ah!”. I got on again and said, “This certainly simplifies things. God be with you,” or words to that effect. We then went back into the hall and tried to adjust our thoughts to the supreme world event which had occurred, which was of so startling a nature as to make even those who were near the centre gasp. My two American friends took the shock with admirable fortitude. We had no idea that any serious losses had been inflicted on the United States Navy. They did not wail or lament that their country was at war. They wasted no words in reproach or sorrow. In fact, one might almost have thought they had been delivered from a long pain.
Parliament would not have met till Tuesday, and the Members were scattered about the Island, with all the existing difficulties of communication. I set the office to work to ring up the Speaker, the Whips, and others concerned, to call both Houses together next day. I rang the Foreign Office to prepare to implement without a moment’s delay a declaration of war upon Japan, about which there were some formalities, in time for the meeting of the House, and to make sure all members of the War Cabinet were called up and informed, and also the Chiefs of Staff and the Service Ministers, who, I rightly assumed, had had the news.
No American will think it wrong of me if I proclaim that to have the United States at our side was to me the greatest joy. I could not foretell the course of events. I do not pretend to have measured accurately the martial might of Japan, but now at this very moment I knew the United States was in the war, up to the neck and in to the death. So we had won after all! Yes, after Dunkirk; after the fall of France; after the horrible episode of Oran; after the threat of invasion, when, apart from the Air and the Navy, we were an almost unarmed people; after the deadly struggle of the U-boat war—the first Battle of the Atlantic, gained by a hand’s-breadth; after seventeen months of lonely fighting and nineteen months of my responsibility in dire stress. We had won the war. England would live; Britain would live; the Commonwealth of Nations and the Empire would live. How long the war would last or in what fashion it would end no man could tell, nor did I at this moment care. Once again in our long Island history we should emerge, however mauled or mutilated, safe and victor
ious. We should not be wiped out. Our history would not come to an end. We might not even have to die as individuals. Hitler’s fate was sealed. Mussolini’s fate was sealed. As for the Japanese, they would be ground to powder. All the rest was merely the proper application of overwhelming force. The British Empire, the Soviet Union, and now the United States, bound together with every scrap of their life and strength, were, according to my lights, twice or even thrice the force of their antagonists. No doubt it would take a long time. I expected terrible forfeits in the East; but all this would be merely a passing phase. United we could subdue everybody else in the world. Many disasters, immeasurable cost and tribulation lay ahead, but there was no more doubt about the end.
Silly people, and there were many, not only in enemy countries, might discount the force of the United States. Some said they were soft, others that they would never be united. They would fool around at a distance. They would never come to grips. They would never stand blood-letting. Their democracy and system of recurrent elections would paralyse their war effort. They would be just a vague blur on the horizon to friend or foe. Now we should see the weakness of this numerous but remote, wealthy, and talkative people. But I had studied the American Civil War, fought out to the last desperate inch. American blood flowed in my veins. I thought of a remark which Edward Grey had made to me more than thirty years before—that the United States is like “a gigantic boiler. Once the fire is lighted under it there is no limit to the power it can generate”. Being saturated and satiated with emotion and sensation, I went to bed and slept the sleep of the saved and thankful.
As soon as I woke I decided to go over at once to see Roosevelt. I put the matter to the Cabinet when we met at noon. On obtaining their approval I wrote to the King, and his Majesty gave his Assent.
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