Tigers East (Kirov Series Book 25)

by John Schettler

  Steiner’s SS Korps was easily half the size it once was in raw manpower, though its equipment had suffered perhaps only 25% attrition. The Germans now had much more infantry available after the demise of the Kirov Pocket, and it had helped to get Model and Hoth moving again, but none of that infantry had reached Steiner. He got one division that had been attached to the 48th Panzer Korps. The other went on the line of the Don. His plan to force open a corridor to the city and then feed in hordes of infantry for the street fighting was well behind schedule, and now the Germans were running out of time. The Rasputista was coming again, the thick endless sea of mud and grime. The high summer of the German offensive was fading, waning, and though they continued to push, it was clear to the Generals that the offensive was beginning to stall.

  But it was not clear to Hitler.

  All he could see was the ground gained by each new breakthrough, the latest being the startling and unexpected dash of Hermann Balck’s 11th Panzer Division and the rest of 48th Panzer Korps to the very doorstep of Rostov. This news had come on the very day that Rommel arrived at Werewolf HQ to seek permission for his withdrawal to Buerat, and he would find Hitler a happy man instead of the snarling beast that he had been in Fedorov’s history. The Führer had been brooding over the loss of the Hindenburg, ready to sack Admiral Raeder and order all building programs to convert to U-Boats. He was eyeing Doenitz for the new Fleet Commander, but then he was pulled into the drama unfolding on the east front, and his mood brightened considerably.

  “Rommel? What a surprise to find you here. Are you getting bored in the desert? I hear the British are pushing again.”

  “That is what I have come to discuss,” said Rommel. “Yes, they are pushing, and it will be a slow grind.”

  “That is all I hear from Manstein these days,” said Hitler. “He pushed over the Don three weeks ago, but he still hasn’t taken Volgograd. Yet have you heard the good news? Knobelsdorff has pushed all the way to Rostov. 11th Panzer has tanks in the city even now. This will cut off the entire Donets Basin, and isolate all the remaining resistance there from any support they might get from the Kuban. What, have you returned to celebrate your Birthday early? What is it you need?”

  “As always, tanks, fuel, weapons.”

  “7th Panzer Division wasn’t enough?”

  “Ah, that was a most welcome gift. I am assuming it will be sent to Tripoli, which is perfect for what I have planned. With that division, I can resume the offensive in a matter of a week or two.”

  “Offensive? I have not heard that word from you for a very long time. Frankly, after Gazala I was beginning to think you had lost your edge. What offensive?”

  Rommel cleared his voice, knowing this would be the moment of truth. Hearing the word “plan,” Halder and Keitel drifted over, standing by the map table.

  “My Führer,” said Rommel. “The point of all these operations in North Africa has always been one thing—to beat the British 8th Army. We have been at it like a pair of bulldogs for well over a year, and though the new tanks we are beginning to receive have helped a great deal, that British heavy tank is still unbeatable. But the British have grown overbold this time. Even though most of their veteran Commonwealth divisions have gone home to fight the Japanese, they have replaced them with three new divisions sent from England. O’Connor now has six infantry divisions and two armored, with an additional supporting armored brigade.”

  “That heavy brigade you fear so much?”

  “No my Führer, that is the good news. The Luftwaffe spotted that unit moving towards Tobruk. It is deep in reserve, and it appears O’Connor has a mind to attack without it. After losing 10th Panzer to von Arnim, and all of Goring’s troops, I still had no option other than to sit stubbornly on defense. I cannot fight eight British Divisions with four of my own, and we both know the four Italian divisions I still have would be useful on defense, but not in the attack. Their equipment is simply obsolete now. The British are fielding armored cars with better armor and guns than the Italian medium tanks!”

  “Yes, yes,” Hitler waved his hand. “No one ever expected to see the Italians leading the way to Alexandria. I had hope in your promise, Rommel, but instead you gave the British all of Cyrenaica.”

  “Useless sand,” said Rommel. “If you want it, I can give it back to you after 7th Panzer arrives, but as I said at the beginning, that is not the point of these operations. If I ever have a chance to win through to Egypt again, I must first beat the British 8th Army, and decisively.”

  “Yes, but the opposite has been true,” said Keitel.

  “None of those so called British victories was ever decisive,” said Rommel quickly. “But I did not come here to fight those battles again with OKW staff. When I got the news of 7th Panzer Division, I knew everything had changed. I don’t have to sit behind my minefields and wire any longer, taking a pounding day after day from the British artillery and the RAF.”

  “You plan to attack?” said Halder, crossing his arms.

  “Of course, but certainly not from where I sit now. I need room to fight a mobile battle, not a grinding battle of attrition. So this is what I plan to do. The British have all that useless sand in Cyrenaica, and they are flushed with what they perceive as a victory. That was nothing. I gave them that to preserve the Afrika Korps. That was the only important thing that happened at Gazala. I preserved the bulk of the Army entrusted to my command—so we could fight again another day. And now I believe that day has come. Look here,” he pointed to the map. “That is some of the worst ground for mobile operations in all of North Africa. Now look here—Tripolitania has good terrain for such a battle. There I can put the maxims of Truppenführung to good use—combined arms, maneuver, speed in the attack. On such ground I can dance around the British Army and chop it to pieces. When I have done that, then they will give all the useless sand in that desert behind them back to me, and my Führer, I will pass it on to you.”

  “Exactly where do you propose to fight this battle?” asked Halder.

  “In Tripolitania. The exact place does not matter, and the time will be the right moment of opportunity as I see it. A battle of maneuver needs room, and good footing for the panzers. That is the only place I will find it now, because I will certainly not waste my forces trying to push through the narrow defile where I presently sit. So this is what I plan.”

  He leaned over the map, pointing as he spoke, indicating where he had positioned his reserve fuel at Buerat, telling them how he would lure O’Connor forward, thinking he had won yet another victory at Mersa Brega, stressing how the British might feed only one or two infantry divisions through that bottleneck at a time, making them vulnerable to defeat in detail. Nowhere in his discourse did he ever use the word ‘withdrawal,’ and certainly not its surly brother, ‘retreat.’ Instead he said I will redeploy here, maneuver there, command the ground on the enemy flank, envelop, enfilade, engage, crush. They were just the sort of words the Führer liked to hear, and to finish it all off, he seized upon the startling progress made by Knobelsdorff’s 48th Panzer Korps in the last few days.

  “Look what Knobelsdorff has done in just 48 hours when he can fight a battle of maneuver—Blitzkreig! Angreifen! He has gained more ground than all of Steiner’s SS has in the last three weeks. Let me do this, my Führer, and I promise you I will smash the 8th Army, and eliminate the threat of further advance from the east. Then we can turn and smash the Americans in the west, and when we have finished with them, Kesselring and I will turn and chase O’Connor all the way to the Nile.”

  Hitler stood in silence for a moment, his eyes looking over the map. Neither Halder nor Keitel said anything, as they expected the plan to be immediately rejected, because it required the abandonment of the Mersa Brega Line. To their great surprise, Hitler straightened, clasped his arms behind his back, looked his favorite General in the eye, and smiled.

  “Herr Rommel,” he said. “I have heard such boastful talk from you before, and the Nile River is still ver
y far away. That said, you have my permission to fight your battle. The Italians will squeal a bit, but I will settle them down. I will tell Mussolini that we are reinforcing the Afrika Korps and planning this big new offensive, because that is what we will do. In addition to the 7th Panzer Division, you will receive the best weapons; the best new tanks we have, and adequate air support. Did you get a close look at the new Tigers? You can have the pick of the litter as they come out of the factories. Take all the 88s you need. But if I give you this latitude, all this new equipment, you must not let me down. Take these new tanks and kick the British back into Egypt. Earn that Field Marshall’s baton I have just given you. General Rommel, take your Tigers east!”

  Part VII

  Falling Star

  “Unseen in the background, Fate was quietly

  slipping lead into the boxing-glove.”

  — P.G. Woodhouse

  Chapter 19

  The fighting in North Africa was beginning to heat up. In the west, the British had begun to move more naval forces through the Straits of Gibraltar to cover the port of Oran. The 43rd Wessex Division would move there, and move by road to support the American attack on Algiers. Patton had no intention of making a direct attack on the city. His part was to cover the approaches from the west, which he did with the 34th Division. They had tried to take the town and airfield of Blida from the Germans, but 327th Infantry would not budge, and 34th division commander General Ryder suspended his attack to wait for the British.

  When they arrived, General Thomas looked the situation over and then quickly sent in his 5th Duke of Cornwall Battalion supported by the 43rd Royal Armored Cars and a battalion of tanks, Wilson’s 153rd RAC from the 34th Armored Brigade. This was enough to push the Germans out of the coastal town of Fouka, and that was what prompted them to abandon their positions at Blida, for fear of being cut off. The inexperienced US 34th were only too happy to finally enter that town, but they had not really earned the privilege, and it was dawning on them that the enemy they were facing was tougher than they realized.

  Further south, Patton sent the 3rd Infantry Division, and one RCT from the 9th into the mountain country to cover that long flank as he sent the remainder of his forces east towards M’sila. They were to probe for an access route to the coast, but found every pass and road through the mountains blocked and manned by German Falschirmjaegers and Kubler’s Mountain troops.

  Meanwhile, the battle for M’sila became a see-saw affair. Blade Force and 1st Armored tried a wide envelopment, but the arrival of 10th Panzer Division stopped them cold. The more experienced German tankers were pushing back the US forces, which were struggling to understand just how to really fight as a combined arms unit. The arrival of 2nd Armored changed the situation dramatically, and Patton now had sheer mass to throw at the Germans. He began to rage about the battlefield, directing artillery fires, staring down Lieutenants and getting them moving where he wanted. One RCT from 3rd Infantry Division supported the advance of the US armor, and the combined weight of two reinforced divisions was enough to convince Fischer that his attack could not proceed.

  At one point, II Battalion of the 69th Panzergrenadier Regiment was hit by 1st and 3rd Battalions of the 30th RCT, supported by 3/67th Armored Battalion of the 2nd Armored Division. The US also had tank destroyers and a fist full of scout tanks in that attack, and the Germans were running low on ammunition. The Panzergrenadiers bravely held their ground, their MG teams chopping out suppressive fire supported by three mobile flak guns, but when they finally stopped that attack there were only seven of eighteen squads left in the battalion. The Recce sections had died to a man. Late in the day, two motorcycle squads from division reserve arrived to offer support, and brought good news. They were to be relieved by I Battalion, 104th Regiment, and to their right, where the Americans had been attempting to climb the hill country to get behind them, the Luftland 47th Regiment was coming up from the rail line further north.

  Fischer’s problem was that his division had been low on equipment and supplies before it was even detached. It had been the strongest of Rommel’s three Panzer Divisions, with three battalions of tanks, but when he learned it was going west, he cherry picked some flak guns, and even a few tanks to strengthen his remaining two Panzer Divisions. So 10th Panzer was operating at about 60% of its normal strength, but it still had nearly 100 tanks left and had been able to stop and hold the reinforced 1st US Armored Division. Now, however, the combined weight of Patton’s growing force at M’sila was becoming too much. Fischer got on the radio to von Arnim, advising him of the situation.

  “I have the tanks, but not the fuel and ammunition,” he said. “And I’m up against two Armored Divisions supported by a lot of infantry. I’ve pulled in the 47th Luftland Regiment from its position on the rail line at Ain Defra, but I can’t counterattack to seal off this flank under these circumstances. If they get through to Barika, they will have your whole position at Algiers well flanked.”

  “Look over your shoulder,” said von Arnim. “KG Hauer and Huder’s tanks from the 190th just arrived at Barika rail head. You can use them to plug that flank. In the meantime, I’ll see what Conrath can do. His division is down on the coast near Algiers, but he is fully supplied.”

  “Send him out here and we can counterattack,” said Fischer, and that was what von Arnim would do. Yet this was the mobile reserve for the fight at Algiers itself, so he decided to send only the 2nd Panzergrenadier Regiment, supported by II Battalion from his Panzer Regiment, and the Führer Flak Battalion, which was heavy on 88s. The US 9th Infantry Division had been flanking M’sila on the left in the foothills of the high country, and they were about to get some most unwelcome guests when Conrath arrived.

  At the town itself, 1/6th Armored Infantry had pushed into M’sila, with 13 M3 Lee tanks and a single Sherman SPG. Strengthened by these arriving reinforcements, Fischer sent in II Battalion of 104th Panzergrenadier Regiment to retake the town. With Conrath and the 22nd Luftland Regiment relieving his units on the right, he was able to shift considerable force south to this engagement, including the Pioneer Battalion and I Battalion of 7th Panzer Regiment. The ensuing fight was sharp, cruel and decisive, with the German grenadiers storming the American positions, sending shattered squads of US infantry retreating south.

  Patton was at Bir el Caid, some 60 Kilometers west of M’sila where he was consulting with Generals Harmon and Truscott. When he got the news he exploded with anger.

  “Goddammit! Where the hell is Terry Allen and the 1st Infantry Division? You don’t send an armored division into battle like that without adequate infantry support.”

  “Sir, said Truscott. “The last I heard his 18th RCT had just pulled in to Bel Aroug. They’re still 90 Kilometers west of M’sila. The rest of the division is de-training at the railheads, Hassi Bahbah and Ain Ossera.”

  “Well they better damn well pull into M’sila, and fast! Get someone on the radio and tell the colonel in charge that I will personally see his ass kicked if he doesn’t get his outfit up to the front, and I mean now! As for you, we need to get up there and pull 2nd Armored together again. I won’t have it said that the American Army came off second best against the Germans the first time we went nose to nose with their panzers. We need to start breathing some fire!”

  “Well the good news,” said Harmon, “is that the British 43rd came up and opened that coast road at Fouka. They’re just 15 kilometers from Algiers.”

  “The British? I’m not going to let them steal the headlines here. I want to punch through these Heinies, cut that goddamned rail line at Ain Defra, and then push all the way to the coast. We’ll bag the whole lot of them if we do that.”

  Truscott gave Harmon a look, but said nothing. What Patton wanted, Patton would get, and after telling his armored warriors what he wanted, he was off in a jeep to look for Terry Allen. When he found him, he gave the man an earful.

  Allen was a respected general who had the 90th Regiment in the First War. He had always s
poken with a stutter before that. Then the Germans put a bullet through his jaw and when it finally healed, his speech had healed with it.

  “Hell General,” he said. “You don’t have to rattle my cage. Just open the door and give me my orders. My boys will tear those lousy Germans to pieces.”

  “That’s what I want to hear, but the Germans are 90 kilometers east of here.” Patton pointed with his riding crop. He didn’t have to say another word. Allen was a roughhewn fighter, tough on his men, but not one to parade about with the niceties of formal command. He slept on the bare ground, was often unshaven, never wore a tie if he could avoid it, yet he demanded his men toe the line when it came to uniform regulations, and more importantly, training and fitness for battle. He was no slacker, had a warrior’s soul, and it was no surprise that he wound up at the top of the best infantry division in the Army at that time, the Big Red 1. He had heard all he needed from Patton, and now he was out to get his men fired up for battle.

  His division was now badly needed. With the equivalent of a fresh strong brigade arriving from Conrath, Fischer attacked. He had taken M’sila back, repulsed an American counterattack, and then went right back on the offensive, sending KG Huder and the tanks of the 190th Panzer against the ad hoc scout group dubbed Blade Force. That blade was about to be severely dented, and now it was the Germans who were turning the flank, attacking just north of an impassible terrain labeled Chott el Hodna on the maps. It was covering their left as they came on, scattering Blade Force as it drove through the dry desert landscape.