“Agreed,” said Fedorov. “But how would they attack if they decide to come?”
“The ground is too open to the east, and we have good fields of fire from all these towers. They would have to get north or south of us, and then try to come up that road that leads up here on the western flank of this hill. Even that is a long shot. With our firepower this fort is practically impregnable. You chose the position well. All they might do is try to put heavy weapons on us, if they have any artillery, and our mortars can answer that, or the KA-40. I think we can hold here.”
“Then the only question is how long it will be before we are relieved by the British, or Glubb Pasha’s men. He’s promised to come here as soon as possible. In the meantime, we’ve done what we came here to do so far, and shut down that airfield.”
* * *
The Germans would be denied the use of the field as long as the Marines held the fortress, but phones were already ringing in Mosul, where Fiegerführer Irak, Werner Junck, was trying to muster more aircraft to counter the British offensive. He commanded the Luftwaffe component of Sonderstab F, the first responders sent by Germany to aid the Iraqi rebellion. General der Flieger Hellmuth Felmy’s Brandenburger Commandos were the initial ground component, but plans had been made to use elements of the 22nd Luftland Air Landing Division, and deploy them through airfields in Syria. At present, Junck had only eight serviceable planes in Mosul, two Messerschmitts, four more Heinkels and a pair of Ju-52s that had ferried in the ground support crews. More planes were on the way, but at this critical moment, his force was not capable of preventing the British from undoing the Iraqi rebellion.
Junck had been briefed by Goering’s personal Chief of Staff on this mission. He was to assess the overall situation in Iraq, select the best airfields for future Luftwaffe operations, and harass the British offensive there as much as possible. Now his overlords were clearly not happy. Palmyra had been chosen as a way station for future Luftwaffe deployments, and word had come that the airfield was already under attack.
“The British are in Palmyra!” Came the voice on the phone. “They have taken the fortress there and they are shelling the airfield!”
“Impossible,” said Junck. “All our latest reports still have them at Habbaniyah. The Brandenburgers have taken their supply flotilla! There is no way they could have reached Palmyra.”
“Well they are there now! Do something about it!”
“Do something? With what? I have eight planes left, and two of those are transports. Where are the fighters and bombers I was promised? Where are the Fallschirmjagers?”
“They are coming. Just make sure the British know we are onto them. The French garrison at Palmyra is still holding the town and airfield. It must not fall. Understood?”
The ripples in the stream from the rock Fedorov had dropped on the Chateau had spread all the way to Berlin, where Hitler was none too happy to hear that the Iraqi government had collapsed, and that the situation in Syria was precarious, with the British now threatening both Damascus and Beirut. The only good news thus far had come from Cyprus, where Student’s veteran 7th Flieger Division had secured every facility of any value on the island, and was now consolidating positions there.
Goring clucked with this news, seeing his prestige notch higher after the humiliation he suffered in failing to subdue the RAF in the Battle of Britain. Now he seemed very pleased with the results his Luftwaffe were delivering. They had redeemed themselves by taking Malta, and now Cyprus, bypassing and isolating Crete as the Germans moved to implement the Führer’s plans. He had already sent his personal ‘Herman Goering Brigade’ to reinforce Rommel in North Africa, and now he was authorized to commit the 22nd Luftland Division to operations in Iraq and Syria.
The Reichsführer was taking a very personal interest in the campaign, as he had been one of the key men involved in the plans for Germany’s oil production and economic development. The four year plan devised in 1936 included a comprehensive strategy for increasing Germany’s oil production, and furthering access to new supplies. In 1938 the plan was revised in light of the wartime needs of the army, and renamed Plan Karinhall, after Goering’s spacious mansion. Reliance on the Rumanian oil of Ploesti, and domestic synthetic production, would not be enough. New sources had to be secured, and the rich fields of Baku were at the top of the list. When the Orenburg Federation joined the Axis, securing this much needed oil was no longer a military problem, but now the Soviet Union was preventing shipments across the Black Sea, and the reckoning was nigh at hand.
In the meantime, the campaign in Syria and Iraq also afforded the Germans a dual opportunity. The French had already cut shipments from the terminal ports at Tripoli and Banias, and now German interest in Iraq was primarily focused on the oil facilities and airfields near Mosul and Kirkuk. In the short run, these objectives could not be held, but while Goering arranged for new reinforcements, at least some effort could be made at severing the pipeline from Haditha to Haifa. These were the facilities the British were desperately trying to secure with this offensive. Goering was under no illusions as to the real reasons for the British operation.
News that Palmyra was now a combat zone would make that airfield unsuitable for troop deployment, but Goering already had his staff busy with plans to heavily reinforce Junck. The British may have stolen a march on the Germans in Iraq, but the issue in Syria was far from decided. Prompt intervention by German troops was now Goering’s highest priority. Word had come that the British were approaching Mosul, and also assembling forces on the Euphrates. The vast eastern flank of Syria was wide open to their advance, but German planners knew there were only a very few routes they might take if they sought to move from Iraq.
Generalleutnant Hans Jeschonnek, Goering’s Chief of Staff, chaired the final meeting before operational orders would be issued. The key problem under discussion was the stores of available aviation fuel to sustain operations.
“The British will chase Junck out of Mosul in a few days,” he said. “In the short run he can redeploy to Dier ez Zour or Ar Rakkah on the Euphrates in Syria. We have the planes and pilots to reinforce him there, but what about the fuel? Most everything the French had is centered on their main aerodrome at Rayak. It may be possible to move something by train up through Homs and Aleppo, and we can use the airfields there as well. As for the troops, our initial deployment will be small enough to supply by air, but as we build up strength, it will take something more. We cannot rely on the French. So it comes down to either sea transit or overland rail,” he concluded. “The former faces the constant threat from the Royal Navy, and the latter is impossible unless we solve the problem of Turkey.”
“The Führer has plans for Turkey,” said Goering. “The 17th Army has been moved to the Turkish frontier in Bulgaria, and Von Pappen has been dispatched to make one final effort at convincing the Turks that their future will be far brighter as our ally than it will be as our enemy.”
“And if they remain adamant? What then? We already have the 5th Mountain Division in Syria, and we are about to sent the 22nd Luftland Division.”
“We should be able to supply those troops from the airfields in Syria.”
“Granted, but they will not be enough to settle this matter. The best we can hope for is a stalemate, and if we have to get those troops out of Syria, it will not be easy.”
“Do not lose heart,” said Goering. “I’ve told von Pappen that he can send a personal message from me to the Turkish Ambassador. We are in Bulgaria, Greece, Rhodes, Cyprus and now Syria. Soon we will be back in Iraq. There is a ring of steel around Turkey, and they must not think we will hesitate to use it if they do not cooperate. I will darken the skies over Turkey with my Luftwaffe in a massive show of force, and then my little message will tell them that if I have to send my planes there again, the next time they come with bombs. Begin moving elements of the Tenth Fliegerkorps at once.”
Chapter 18
Colonel Ferdinand Barre had the duty at Palmyra that
night, commanding the 4th battalion of the French Foreign Legion. He was sitting listening to radio reports in the barracks the Legion had built just east of the main town, when he heard the odd thumping sound in the air, like the rapid beating of massive wings. He set down his coffee, listening, then walked slowly to the nearest window, eyebrow raised as he peered into the thickening darkness.
The sound lingered for a time, west towards the old Roman ruins and the Chateau, then it diminished. Thinking it may have been nothing more than a wayward plane, he was just about to return to his radio when the first rounds came crashing in on the nearby airfield. Now he rushed to the door, shocked to see three neatly placed explosions rake across the landing strip, and one round hit one of the two German He-111s parked there, resulting in an enormous explosion. The planes had been overloaded when they landed earlier, and both had damage to their undercarriage, and flat tires. They had just been sitting there for several days now, waiting for German service troops to arrive and fix the problem. A minute later they were no more than hot burning wrecks.
He heard shouts as Sergeants roused the men, and a bugle call summoned the Legionnaires to arms. Now the sound he had heard earlier became a plane in his mind, and he could only think that the British had staged a daring night bombing raid on the airfield to get at those two planes. Yet something did not click with that in his mind. No. Those rounds were too small to be bombs in the range of 250 to 500 pounds. They might have been 100 pounders, but his instincts, long honed by years of service to the Legion, told him this was mortar fire! What was going on?
He ran outside, collaring the first Sergeant Major he saw. “What is happening?”
“We don’t know, sir. But that fire seems to be coming from the west—from the chateau!”
At that moment a man came riding up on a braying camel, one of the Mehariste Cavalry in the Bedouin Camel Company that had been billeted near the Roman ruins. His headdress spilled down onto his broad shoulders, tied tightly about his neck to ward off the growing chill of the desert. Now he pointed. “The fortress!” he said breathlessly. “The Castle of Fakhr-al-Din! Men came from the sky! They have taken the place!” He thumped the flanks of his camel and the animal bolted before Colonel Barre could get another word from the man.
Filthy animals, he thought. Men from the sky? What did this crazy Bedouin mean by that? “Sergeant Major,” he said briskly. “Assemble your platoon and get over there to see about this. The British might be up to something. This could be a commando raid. I thought I heard an aircraft earlier. See about it and send a runner to my headquarters to report. I’ll send 2nd platoon after you.”
“Sir!” The Sergeant saluted crisply, and turned to his men assembling outside the barracks. “Alright you miserable scum, you heard the Colonel. Form up!”
The Colonel wanted to have a look at the airfield and find a working vehicle from the truck park. He had three platoons, two in the city, and one at the airfield. A couple of useless light desert camel patrols provided his only ranged reconnaissance, and those men were far from reliable. Occasionally Fawsi el Quwukji, the irascible desert guerilla, would appear with troops of his Bedouin raiders, but he had no news of him for some time. He had been listening to reports of the fighting around Damascus, growing more concerned each passing day as the British offensive continued. Now the war had come with sudden surprise out of the dark night, and his legionnaires were hastening west towards the Roman ruins.
Men from the sky? That could only mean paratroopers. Would the British be daring and foolish enough to launch such a raid here? The sound of the bugle calls roused his blood, and he stormed back into his headquarters to find his aide de camp.
“Get second platoon assembled and be ready to support Sergeant DuPois at once. I don’t like the looks of this.”
He soon learned that his suspicions, and the crazy Bedouin camel trooper, had both been correct. A runner came in with news that there were enemy soldiers in the high fortress of the Chateau, just as the Bedu rider had claimed!
* * *
News of the attack traveled quickly. The telephone line to Homs was still open, and Colonel Barre reported the situation to his superiors there. The Regimental Commander was not present, as he had taken the train south through Rayak and then east through the Barada Gorge to Damascus several days ago, but word of the incident soon filtered through to French Operations HQ where General Henri Dentz was coordinating the defense from Beirut. An attack on Palmyra was the last thing he needed to hear about. The news that it had been made by an airborne force was equally disturbing.
He quickly concluded it must be a small raiding force sent in advance of a large ground movement, and reports from the southwest frontier soon confirmed this assessment. News came in that a column of British and Arab Legion forces had left Rutbah and were heading north into the desert. A second column had been sighted far to the east, advancing along the pipeline route from the vicinity of Abu Kemal on the Euphrates. Now he knew where they were going—Palmyra.
They want to secure the pipeline and pumping stations, he thought grimly. They think they are going to push us right out of Lebanon and open that line to Tripoli again. I was a fool not to establish a stronger garrison out east. A regiment posted at Dier Zour on the Euphrates could have gone south to Abu Kemal in this instance, and made certain the British would not get oil from their Haifa pipeline as well. Both the Tripoli and Haifa pipelines meet south of there. That is a principle reason for this business in Iraq, isn’t it? The British need to protect their airfields and oil interests there. They could care less about Baghdad or anything else in the country, as long as the oil keeps flowing west.
Yet there was nothing he could do about that now. Most of the units from his Northern Syrian command had already been transferred south, and had been pulled onto the line. The situation was becoming serious around Damascus. That damn de Gaulle and his so called “Free French” brigades were taking up arms against their countrymen in a dishonorable attack south of the city. The British also had a strong force on his right, Gurkhas by all accounts, but they were well equipped, strong machinegun units, and they had been pushing relentlessly up the valley from Aartouz after storming that town in a night attack two days ago.
Thank God for the Germans arriving on that flank, he thought. Mountain troops had come in through the Barada Gorge by rail and taken up positions to screen the main road and rail lines to Rayak and Beirut. The fighting there had been rather intense. The British had some new aircraft, not a plane, but a stealthy helicopter by all reports. There were not many, but they had been making devastating attacks, always at night, with accurate and lethal gunfire and a short range rocket weapon. There were tanks there too, and that had been a surprise.
He thought he could trump the British attack by sending in his Chasseurs, the units of the 6th and 7th Battalions, which he had distributed along the line to bolster his colonial infantry. Many times they had made all the difference in the defense when they appeared. The old Renault 35 tanks had a good 37mm gun, decent armor, and the British 2 Pounder AT Guns and AT rifles could not harm them. When they appeared, the enemy had to simply hole up in any trench or building they could find, and his Renaults could operate as they pleased, impervious to enemy fire.
But no longer. Now the British had tanks as well, some new vehicles with a fast firing main gun in the same range as his Renaults. Were these the fearsome new tanks that had been the undoing of Rommel in the Western Deserts of Egypt? From all accounts they were not the invincible warriors he had heard about, but they were very good. In a brief, hot action outside the main Damascus airfields northeast of Aartouz, the two sides had fought a pitched battle.
2nd Company 1/6th African Chasseurs had the old PT-17 tanks, relics from WWI, and had lost three in rapid succession, along with three White armored cars and two Panhards. A second troop of six PT-17s came lumbering up and they were cut to pieces, with all six tanks knocked out in a matter of minutes. The enemy had a gun that ripped out thre
e quick rounds when it fired, and they were deadly accurate, with superb night optics from all accounts. This advantage, and the relentless night attacks made by companies of fierce Gurkhas, saw the defense in that sector crumbling.
Two battalions of Senegalese Rifles had been badly pummeled by these “Night Devils,” as the men now called them. They moved like shadows, until they opened fire with blistering automatic weapons, and some new kind of hand-held heavy weapon that was demolishing bunkers, block houses, gun positions and machinegun nests. A near panic ensued after Aartouz fell, and the airfield was hastily abandoned, the last of the planes taking off to flee north even as the enemy infantry swept over the airfield, their guns nipping at the tails of the lumbering Bloch 210 bombers. The only positions that had held were those of the 2/6th and 3/6th Foreign Legion, on the heights of Jebel Madani. They fell back through the Chasseurs and joined another battalion of legionnaires already organizing a defense at the edge of Damascus.
South of the airfield, the 63rd Battalion of the 7th African Chasseurs was in strength, with 45 Renault-35 tanks. The firefight there had seen the first kills on this new British tank, with one hit by three successive 37mm rounds from the Renaults, and another damaged and forced to withdraw. That success had cost the battalion five Renault-35s, but it appeared the enemy was simply standing by now, in good hull down positions, and daring the French tanks to advance on the airfield.
The local commander had seen enough. With the bridge south at Kisawah taken, and the enemy in the heights beyond, this daring and persistent attack by the Gurkhas in the north would now force a general withdrawal to Damascus. The flank had been turned, but the German Mountain troops were still screening the entrance to the vital Barada Gorge. Reluctantly, General Dentz sent the order to fall back and consolidate in the suburbs of the city.
Hammer of God (Kirov Series Book 14) Page 16
