Hammer of God (Kirov Series Book 14)

by John Schettler

“Then let’s propose this, if it will not unduly weaken his force. It would strengthen our situation in Palestine immeasurably until I can get a convoy of armor round the cape for you. It’s underway now, but will be some weeks in transit.”

  “At least you’ve given up on trying to send Tiger Convoy through the Mediterranean,” said Wavell. “That would have been a disaster.”

  “Yes, I’m a stubborn old bulldog at times, General, but I can be made to see reason on occasion.” Churchill smiled, taking another sip of his brandy. “Well then, let us see what General Kinlan can do for us in these operations. We’ll need a relief column for RAF Habbaniyah immediately, and then anything we can possibly put together for Operation Exporter. Do you agree with this, Captain Fedorov?”

  “Yes sir. I believe strengthening your eastern and northern flanks now is paramount. Rommel is in check for the moment. Now is the time to secure Iraq and Syria. You did so before, odd as that may sound to you, and without our help. Yet I think we can assist you here, and General Kinlan will cooperate at your request. In fact, remember that we have helicopters that can get some relief to Habbaniyah very quickly. I have a small Marine contingent on my ship, and what about the three helicopters on the Argos Fire? I’m told they have troops aboard as well.”

  “A capital idea,” said Churchill after Wavell translated. “I think we have the makings of a good breakfast here. We’ll provide the milk with everything General Wavell can spare—you stir in a little honey with any detachment that seems practical and suitable for this operation. But I’m not really happy about the name. Operation Exporter seems too pedestrian. What about the name of that tank we’ve been discussing—Scimitar! That has a bit of fire in it, yes? Let’s call this combined plan for Iraq and Syria Operation Scimitar.”

  And they did.

  Kinlan was brought in and it was soon decided that he could easily spare the Scimitar scout troops that were attached to his two mechanized infantry battalions.

  “It’s only two troops of eight tanks each, but I suppose I can take another troop from 12 Royal Lancers and beef this up a bit. That would make for a company sized force of light armor.”

  “Light to you,” said Churchill, “but I’m told those vehicles are every bit as good as our own medium tanks, and at the moment we have nothing to send into Syria. The French will have 90 tanks against us there, so this would be of great assistance.”

  “Consider it a plan,” said Kinlan. “And I can do you one more service if you need additional troops. Isn’t there an Indian brigade coming?”

  “The 5th,” said Wavell. “A good outfit, veterans from the fighting in East Africa.”

  “Well I have a full battalion of Gurkha Light Infantry here. They might be able to fit right in with that division, if we brief them appropriately.”

  “Excellent,” said Churchill. “On that note, I’m seeing what we can get from India. Auchinleck says he can get the 10th Indian Division to sea in short order. The first of its brigades was going to Malaya, but it can be diverted to Basra. There are good Gurkha battalions in those units as well.”

  Fedorov was listening to all this, as Wavell was kind enough to keep translating for him. One worrisome note entered his mind that he thought he should voice. “On the Gurkhas,” he said. “I wonder if any men in General Kinlan’s battalion might be related to those being sent in these Indian forces. It might be odd if they were to meet their great grandfathers, and heaven forbid if….” He hesitated for a moment, not sure of what he was saying here. “Well, I was just thinking that if one of these grandfathers were to be killed in these operations, what effect would it have on the men in Kinlan’s troops?” It was the grandfather paradox in full boom in Fedorov’s mind, but he knew they might not solve that here.

  “Interesting point,” said Churchill. “I might run that by our resident expert on time travel, Mister Wells, and see what he thinks. In the meantime, we could take a roll call of all troops assigned and see if any names match up. If we do find a match, it might be wise to see that those troops are assigned elsewhere, and leave their line of fate untouched by this business.”

  Yet Fedorov realized all this was entirely beyond their grasp. He knew this division, and others from India, had been sent to secure Iraq. If men were reassigned to other duty, that decision could change their fate, and this alone could introduce a variation that might have unforeseen consequences. What if one of these great grandfathers serves here and came through undaunted, but if he was transferred elsewhere and killed in action? What then? This thought passed darkly through his mind like a storm front, but he knew it was beyond his means to control.

  That was the dilemma they now faced. Once his ship and crew took up sides here, and now with Kinlan’s forces in this time, they were irrevocably committed to the here and now—this present war—and they were going to have to realize that the history they would write here might not look anything like the chapters in his books. They were again reaching a profound point of divergence here. Who knows what this operation could lead them to down the convoluted road ahead? He thought all this, but said nothing, his mind and heart still heavy.

  Then the quiet of the night was broken by the sound of a motor car or jeep rushing in to the village. It was an officer from the communications section with a message from Alexandria for Wavell. The man rushed in, saluting crisply, obviously in awe to see the Prime Minister sitting by the fire with his brandy and cigar. Wavell took the message, and leaned in to whisper something in the man’s ear.

  “The gentleman you have just seen is not here. In fact you’ve seen nothing at all, Sergeant. Understood?”

  “Yes sir. Of course.”

  Wavell sent him on his way, reading the message slowly in the dim light. “Gentlemen,” he said quietly. “These deliberations turn out to be very timely. The forces Rashid Ali has sent to overwatch our airfield at Habbaniyah have just begun shelling the base. There were over 40 casualties and twenty two planes were hit, mostly the Oxford trainers and a few old Hawker Hart light bombers. Many were not even in any shape to fly.”

  “I was expecting this,” said Churchill quietly. “In fact, I gave Air Vice Marshall Smart there an authorization to use all necessary force to move the Iraqi army off the plateau overlooking our base. Yet this should put the fire to our feet. Captain Fedorov, I should be grateful to take your offer and see troops ferried there as soon as possible.”

  “I’m sure I can get an order off within the hour, and Admiral Volsky will certainly agree. Our Sergeant Troyak is a most capable man, but perhaps we should send Popski along with that contingent given the language barrier.”

  “Popski?” Churchill did not know the man, but Wavell smiled, and soon explained who he was. The General had a love for these ad hoc detachments out on special operations like this, and now Wavell was getting fired up himself, his reluctance to take on all these other operations burning away like the log in the fireplace. So it was decided that Popski would go with the Scimitar company, and join up with Troyak and his Marines in Palestine. As for the X-3 Helicopters, they would have to contact the Argos Fire to make the arrangements.

  “Just how many Marines can you send us,” Churchill asked.

  “One platoon,” said Fedorov. “But it has firepower worth many times its number in men. The same could be said for any troops off the Argos Fire, and the helicopters also can have a dramatic impact.”

  “Helicopters, “said Churchill with a smile. “I should like to have a ride on one of those one day, but military necessities have the hour.”

  “There’s one more thing,” said Wavell, handing the message off to Churchill now. “It seems Bletchley Park is picking up a lot of chatter concerning new German troop movements. Several more divisions have moved to the Turkish frontier, and there appears to be a buildup of air units and troops on Rhodes.”

  “I can’t say as I like the sound of that,” said Churchill. “The Germans know full well what a prize they may be able to take in Iraq and Syria. Rashi
d Ali has already thrown in with them and is asking for German assistance. We must do all in our power to prevent that. The Germans must not be allowed to steal a march on us here. It’s time for bold action, gentlemen. We must strike now, or fail to live up to the victory Captain Fedorov indicated we should rightfully have.”

  “Agreed,” said Wavell. I thought we might reach a political solution that would precede the need to tap our already overstrained forces with a mission to Iraq, but I see now that we must liquidate this tiresome business there quickly. Yet what about Crete, Mister Prime Minister? And with this movement to Rhodes, what about Cyprus?”

  “Why would they reinforce the Italians on Rhodes, General?”

  “They may have gotten wind of our earlier plans to take that island. Then again, this could be a prelude to their planned operation against Crete, or even Cyprus.”

  “Cyprus was never attacked in the history I know,” said Fedorov.

  “Glad to hear it,” said Churchill. “Given this new plan of ours for Operation Scimitar, Cyprus may even be more important to our immediate success than Crete. In fact, it has better deep water ports than Crete, and from Rhodes wouldn’t the Germans be able to put fighters over that island?”

  “They would,” said Wavell.

  “And here I’ve let it sit with no more than a token garrison all these months.” Churchill shook his head. “I can see more in this message than I want to for the moment,” he said with a somber tone. “The Germans are moving troops to the Turkish frontier, and to Rhodes. Cyprus is a pearl for Turkey. It could be that they are trying to put pressure on the Turks to submit. Heaven knows we’ve been courting them for months now. I’ve even considered ceding them territory in northern Syria in exchange for active cooperation with us.”

  “Don’t let De Gaulle hear of that,” said Wavell. “He’s been talking about making Syria independent as a carrot to try and persuade them to our side and avoid having to fight the Vichy forces there.”

  “De Gaulle will have to stay in line and leave off ceding territories he has yet to conquer,” said Churchill.

  “We need the Free French, sir,” Wavell cautioned.

  “Indeed, but at the moment, we need the Turks even more. Gentlemen, I think we had better launch this operation like a bolt of lightning. Time to draw our curved steel and settle the issue of Syria once and for all. Because if we do not act swiftly, I fear we may lose an even greater prize—Turkey.”

  Part III

  Forgotten Few

  “The tale must be told of the 'Forgotten Few',

  of the Pupils, Pilots and Planes that flew…

  Of intrepid deeds and a lonesome stand,

  to 'Hold Habbaniya' in Hostile Land.”

  -- Maurice Skeet, RAF Habbaniyah

  Chapter 7

  The first of the oil wars that would end civilization in the year 2021 began soon after its discovery, and even this early action in WWII saw both sides maneuvering to control its supply and delivery. Sergie Kirov had already sent his army through the ‘Rostov Gate,’ into the Caucasus, where they were now besieging the Black Sea port of Novorossiysk, and battling to secure the oil fields at Maykop. Now the British heard the growing dissent in Iraq and saw the rise of Rashid Ali and his Golden Square.

  Rashid Ali al-Gaylani was born in Baghdad, of a wealthy secular family, and was active in politics as Minister of Justice, and eventually Prime Minister in 1933. A staunch nationalist, he resisted British efforts to make Iraq an oil protectorate, again becoming Prime Minister in 1940, where he defied the pro-British Regent Abdul Illah, and secretly began to negotiate with both Italy and Germany. Forced to resign, he soon staged a coup to regain power in 1941, and again attempted to rid Iraq of the British pestilence.

  Seeking military support, his vision was to now create a combined Islamic state that comprised both Syria and Iraq, wiping out the artificial boundaries Britain had imposed after WWI in the Sykes–Picot agreement. It was that declaration, which drew national boundaries for Lebanon, Syria, Jordan and Iraq without regard to ethnic, religious or tribal loyalties, that would lead to a century of conflict in the Middle East. After the Arab Spring in 2010 and beyond, groups like the radical Islamic fighters of ISIS would again reach for this vision, a Grand Caliphate embracing both Syria and Iraq. Now Rashid Ali hoped to achieve that with the support of the Axis powers, and he thought to trade access to Syrian ports at Tartus and Latakia as part of the deal he was brokering.

  For their part, the British Petroleum concerns near Basra had to be protected. And so even as Brigadier Kinlan had been sent to Sultan Apache in 2020, the British already had established bases in Iraq to protect their oil interests there, and guard the facilities and pipelines. It was an experiment put forward by Churchill to hold the country through the application of air power alone. The British had no permanent forces in Iraq, except two R.A.F bases and small detachments of local Assyrian troops to guard them. Yet now they had lost control of the long pipelines extending from the oil fields at Kirkuk, through Syria to Tripoli and Lebanon, and they intended to get them back.

  The Anglo-Iraq war that resulted now would not be the last time Western military forces fought for the black gold beneath the sands of a hostile desert. One of the ancestors of a most troublesome man was even now numbered among the conspirators—Talifah Khairailah, the uncle of Saddam Hussein, who was then only a young four year old boy. He and his clan would continue to bedevil the Western thirst for Iraqi oil for decades to come.

  The French had already closed the pipelines through their territory, except for local use. Only the long line through the Trans-Jordan, known as the ‘Haifa Line,’ was still bringing oil to the British in Palestine. It was there, at one of the pumping stations labeled H4, (Haifa 4) that the makings of a relief column was being assembled. It was going to cross 300 miles of desert to the Euphrates, a Flying Column of British Cavalry, the 1st Essex Battalion, and some Royal Air Force armored cars that came to be known as Kingcol after its irascible, Brigadier Joe Kingstone. A tall, stocky officer with a burly build and rough disposition, Kingstone was the perfect man for the job. He would drive his force through relentless heat, over barely marked desert tracks, to reach his beleaguered British comrades, but he was about to get some very unexpected help.

  The chief British base projecting air power in the central area was at Habbaniyah, between Fallujah and Ramadi, northwest of Baghdad. As such it was also an important air link on the route to British India. Fedorov knew these events were happening a few months earlier than they did in his history, as the whole war seemed slightly off its kilter. He wanted to brief Troyak and the Marines, and let them know what they might be facing.

  “The air base is just south of the Euphrates River,” he said, and it is overlooked by a high plateau where the Iraqi army has taken up positions. They have a large force, at least a brigade in strength, and artillery. The base itself is now being held by no more than 2200 men, mostly RAF service personnel, with some British troops and Assyrian and Kurdish levees. Your mission will be to support the British garrison in securing that base.”

  “Then we will want to take out that artillery immediately,” said Troyak.

  “Agreed,” said Fedorov. “As we will also be getting help from the Argos Fire, they will have three more helicopters. The British also have aircraft, mostly obsolete, but they might suppress those guns.”

  “The helicopters should be enough,” said Troyak. “Then we should take that plateau as soon as possible.”

  “You’ll have to work with the security detachment from Argos Fire,” said Fedorov with a note of caution in his voice. They call them Argonauts, a 40 man team to augment yours, all well armed. These are ex-British SAS and commandos from our day, so they will know their business. But will this be a problem?”

  “No problem,” said Troyak flatly “as long as they are fighting with us, and not against us.”

  “Let’s be certain we keep things that way, Sergeant. I want no incidents here. We l
eft the last war behind us when we came here, and we’re fighting this one now to see that it never happens.” He looked at all the Marines now. “Understood?”

  “Aye sir.”

  “Once the situation is secure, we will arrange to move your force into the main offensive against the Vichy French. At that point you can operate with an ad-hoc force we’re putting together—code named Sabre Force. Brigadier Kinlan has provided three troops of British Scimitar tanks, 24 in all. There will be trucks supplied by the British, and even a few AFVs and light scout vehicles, so you will be mobile. We’ll move supplies of ammo for you in the KA-40, and the food and water will come from the Brits. I don’t need to tell you how important that helicopter is, so keep it safe. What weapons loadout would you recommend for this mission, Sergeant?”

  “The 12.7mm Minigun on the gun pod, the 30mm Shipunov autocannon, air-to-air defense missiles, and the 9K114 Shturm pods for some AT defense.”

  “I’ll see that it is done. The X-3 helos from the Argos Fire will have good weaponry as well, and that force should be all we need to silence that artillery. After Habbaniyah, you will join with the Argonauts, and become part of Sabre Force. One other thing… Popski will be with you from the outset to act as liaison with the British and serve as an interpreter. He will be regarded as your senior officer, and report directly to me. Any questions?”

  “None sir,”

  “Very good then.” Fedorov smiled. “Go secure that airbase.”

  The Marines were more than ready. After having to sit about in an old truck for nearly 48 hours in Egypt, they were finally getting what they really lived for, a hot combat mission. Troyak selected the weapons, adding auto-grenade launchers, two 82mm Podnos mortars, and the deadly RPGs to the team’s inventory. Kirov put out to sea on the night of March 10, 1941, moving from Alexandria to a point due east of Jerusalem, just off the coast. They lifted off on the 11th of March, making an in flight rendezvous with the three X-3s over the Mediterranean before heading inland. This would cut over 400 kilometers from the distance the helos had to fly, which was considerable. From there it was still another 875 kilometers to Habbaniyah, and the KA-40 could only range out 1200 kilometers.