“Germans! It’s true Anand. I’m not trying to fool you this time. They came right over the border and took Aleppo. You can go and ask the Subedar if you don’t believe me. Come on! We’ve got orders to go to the rail station!”
Now here’s the Moonbird giving me orders, thought Anand. He often called the Private that in his mind, Pakshee, for the lad would sit under the full moon and sing in the late evening. He got up, straightened his uniform and cap, and fixed Private Kapoor with a level stare.
“Very well,” he said. “But please know what will happen to you if I go there and find you are singing me songs, Pakshee. I’ll boil you in the morning gruel!”
The Moonbird was not fooling him this time. By noon the entire Battalion had formed up on the rail line in the eastern quadrant of Damascus, and they were loading up, along with both the Motorized Infantry battalions, a cavalry unit, some light armored cars, and the division headquarters and staff.
The Germans, he thought. Back for more trouble again, are they? We’ll see about that. The Sergeant was all business now, sorting through his platoon, tightening the straps on backpacks, looking to see that the men all had their rifles and shovels, and always with one eye on Pakshee, watching him flit about from one squad to another, so excited to be getting a chance at combat for his very first time.
Anand had seen more than enough already, and there was a sadness in his heart as he watched the young man. He’s going to see the elephant, he thought. Right now he’s just one of the blind men taking hold of his tail and being led off to war, but soon he’ll see what it’s really all about. Something in him didn’t want that for the lad, and he wondered how the Private’s song would change after he endured the rigors, and the terrors, of real combat. For now, the Moonbird was still a young and happy man, and he inwardly hoped he would always stay that way.
Chapter 17
Brigadier Joe Kingstone was still the general warden of the Eastern Syrian Desert, and gritty and irascible as always. A veteran of the action during Operation Scimitar, his flying column had been dispatched from the Trans Jordan region in Palestine to cross 300 miles of desert and relieve the beleaguered garrison at the chief British base projecting air power in the central area, Habbaniyah. There, between Fallujah and Ramadi, northwest of Baghdad, they had come to find a legion of very strange soldiers had already held off the rebellious Iraqi troops, with equipment the like of which he had never seen before.
Kingstone had also fought for Palmyra, but found the German paratroopers there too much for his small column to handle. After that action he had left the Middle East briefly to help organize the new 30th Armored Brigade and his health had then seen him take quieter postings at home. But in this history, he remain robust and fit, and the lure of the desert still called him. He therefore requested, and was granted, a posting to the new British Mandate in Syria, back to his old command.
Now he had been reinforced, with newest armored cars replacing the old Whites and Lafeys. He had the new AEC III and Mark IV Humbers in three companies, and even a few Mark I Humber AA cars for protection against enemy aircraft. It was more fast mobile armor than he had ever seen in those halcyon early days of Habforce and Kingcol, and he admired the new AEC III for its durability, protection and hitting power with that QF 75mm gun. His force was now a proper brigade, with three battalions of motorized infantry, the 1st Essex, Wiltshire Yeomanry and Warwickshire Battalion. Now it was called simply ‘King Force,’ the wildcard in Wavell’s hand.
He had been posted on the Euphrates near Hadithah where the main pipeline came down from Baba Gurgur before splitting to service the two pipelines to Tripoli and Haifa. A tall, stocky officer with a burly build and rough disposition, Kingstone received the news about Aleppo with some surprise.
“We’re to move immediately to Dier es Zour,” he said to Colonel Albert Chambers, who was deputy commander of the force, otherwise known as ‘Big Al.’
“That’s Glubb Pasha’s beat,” said Chambers. “I’m not sure whether he’ll be happy to see us or not.”
Glubb Pasha was still hard at work writing his own legend as the leader of the Arab Legion, a force of about 300 men that scoured the desert looking for disgruntled locals still loyal to the old school governments in the region before the British came. There were many tribes who were also untethered to any flag, roving bands, brigands, desert raiders that had to be watched and kept in check. Though Glubb was not a British serving officer, he was deeply invested in their interests, the new Lawrence of Arabia in these parts, and he could move like the desert wind across shifting sands of this barren terrain, knowing it all like the back of his hand by now.
“I think he was scouting up the Khabur River towards Suwar,” said Kingstone. “Fuzzy Quack’s been milling about up there.” He was referring to the local guerilla fighter and Arab nationalist, Fawsi el Quwukji and his Bedouin raiders. “The clever little scallywag has been trying to get at the pipelines again, but Glubb is onto him—chased him halfway up that river.”
“Well now we’ve got bigger fish to fry,” said Chambers. “I thought we handed Jerry his hat here long ago, but it seems he’s a bone to pick.”
“That is does.” Kingstone put his field glasses into a light field pack and reached for the sandy desert cap he preferred. “Alright, the armored cars were down south. Let’s get them north. I’ll move out the infantry directly.”
“Well who’s going to mind the store here?” asked Chambers.
“10th Indian Division has marching orders too. They’ll be along shortly.”
“4th Cav is out at T1, should we leave them there?”
“No, I’ll need them up north, but they can leave that Ack Ack company at the pumping station. The RAF seems to have things under control, but it might help.”
* * *
Unbeknownst to either man, their lives were going to get very busy soon. When Adolf Hitler respawned his ambitions in the Middle East, he sent a secret request to Ivan Volkov, asking him to participate in the operation. Owing the Fuhrer a debt many times over, Volkov pulled together an army from his deep reserve forces in Turkmenistan. Two divisions were raised, the 1st and 2nd Turkomen Infantry, each composed of three Brigades , and they were mustering to sweep into Iran near Gorgon, just east of the Caspian sea. From there they would move to Tehran, finding themselves welcomed by the locals, who were leaning towards Germany all along.
That had been one reason why the British had mounted an invasion of Iran in conjunction with the Soviets in late 1941, but that was in Fedorov’s history. Since Volkov controlled that entire border zone, the Soviets could never join such an operation in this history, and the British had paid it little more than lip survive here. Now that oversight would come back to haunt them.
Hitler had opened his desk drawer and pulled out the same old plans he drafted long ago…. “The struggle against the British positions in the Mediterranean and in Western Asia will be continued by converging attacks launched from Libya through Egypt, from Bulgaria through Turkey, and in certain circumstances also from Transcaucasia through Iran…. If the collapse of the Soviet forces there has created the necessary conditions, preparations will be made for the dispatch of a motorized expeditionary force from Transcaucasia against Iraq, with the aim of further reinforcing the Vichy French position in Syria.”
That last bit was no longer possible, for there was no Vichy French force to reinforce. But the conditions he hoped for had finally presented themselves with the refurbishment of the Turkish rail lines from Istanbul to the Syrian border.
“Once we have obtained freedom of movement in Asia Minor, then the British will soon feel the full weight of German military power. The forces committed to Syria to stop the British offensives must be sustained and supported, but we cannot yet rely on sea communications to the Levant. Therefore the Luftwaffe must do everything possible to protect and preserve these rail lines of communications, should the British see Operation Phoenix as a pretext to violate Turkish neutrality.
<
br /> “Whether and in what way it may be possible to wreck finally the English position between the Mediterranean and the Persian Gulf, in conjunction with an offensive against Suez Canal, is still in the lap of the Gods…”
The Führer had amended that last phrase to read “a question that can only be answered after Barbarossa.” Now that operation was long over, and he returned to chew on this old bone, like a dog looking for meat wherever he might find it.
The appeal to Volkov was aimed at bolstering his forces when the operation finally reached Iraq, for his strategy was now far more reaching than the mere engagement of British forces in Syria and the Levant. Alexandria and Egypt were no longer the coveted final objectives. Now he was after the oil. Whether he could ever actually use any of it if he conquered the oil fields remained in the lap of the Gods, but he could at least deny its use to the enemy.
It was therefore decided that the push south would move as far as practical to sustain a strong defensive front, while the main effort of the mobile divisions would be aimed at Iraq. This was why the bulk of the Brandenburg Division had turned east towards Ar Raqqah, and while Leutnant Gruber would now begin angling that direction as he continued southwest to approach Palmyra. Yet that town was well shielded on its northern front, by some of the most rugged highlands in the northeastern desert. The stony ground was unsuitable for vehicles, and there were few roads, except at the Tayyibah Pass, which opened near the small village of Al Kwam in the north, ran south through Tayyibah to As Sukhnah northeast of Palmyra. That last town was just a little northeast of the T3 Pumping station, which was the easternmost outpost of Lieutenant General Miles 56th Infantry Division. If the Brandenburgers reached that place, they would be in a perfect position to race southeast, cut the pipeline and flank the 56th.
At the same time, the Germans knew they needed to control the long winding course of the Euphrates, which ran from Ar Raqqah through Dier es Zour and then south to Hadithah and beyond. So as Wavell continued to develop his position, he was moving all his knights and bishops out into the center of the board. He gave a little ground on the coast, pulling the 13th Brigade of 5th Infantry back to Tartus. From there the pawns stretched inland, through the great castle fortress at Masyaf, (pronounced “Ma-sigh-aff”) and further inland to Hamah. That was the first big city he was prepared to fight for, and all the rest of 5th Division was deployed about 25 klicks to the north and west of that place. The first elements of the Indian 31st Armored Division, mostly infantry, would move out to extend the defense to the northeast, and the 32nd Madras Sappers were in the city itself, fresh off the trains.
Halvidar Anandsubramanian was counting his eggs as the men leapt off the train cars, looking for Moonbird. There he was, toting his pack, the canteen jangling, and his arms full of long tubing that the sappers would use to deploy Bangalore Torpedoes.
“Packshee! Be careful now,” he cautioned. “Don’t drop those.”
“I think we are going to attack an enemy bunker,” said the young Private. “If that is so, then let Private Kaling Kapoor be the first.” He smiled, already proud of himself.
“Don’t be hasty, Packshee. First we must see to putting those demolition charges on the city bridges. Weren’t you listening at the briefing?”
“Of course I was. But after that, we attack the bunkers—Yes?”
“No,” said Anand, shaking his head as he folded his arms. They are attacking us! It is our job to stop them first. Only then might they build field fortifications for us to attack. That is what we are doing now—preparing to stop them. So put those down over there by that road cart and go see to the demolition charges first. And don’t drop any of those either.” He frowned, shaking a finger at Moonbird, and struggling to keep from smiling as he watch the lad struggle to manage three Bangalore tubes and his field pack and rifle all at the same time.
There came the sound of distant artillery, and the young man turned his head, his eyes alight. Combat, the sound rolling in like thunder from the north. This was more excitement than he had had for many months, and he was very eager. The Sergeant winced as he saw him nearly drop a Bangalore tube, but he managed, and went clattering off towards the cart.
* * *
The sound they had heard were the 25 pounders of 156th Field Artillery Regiment, 17th Brigade, 5th Division. They were on the line due north of the city, and now the German 10th Motorized Division under General Schmidt had come up to begin the attack on Hamah. This would be the first relatively cohesive defense the Germans had faced, and their own forces were starting to deploy into a line of battle as they swerved left and right off the road.
On the coast, opposite 13th Brigade, the Germans were moving up the 6th Mountain Division, and the troops of the Prinz Eugen Mountain Division, all well suited to the rugged mountainous terrain in that sector. General Kubler himself, the commander of 49th Giebergs Korps had not even arrived yet with his own 1st Division, but he was coming. The Germans were now building up like water behind a thin dam north of Hamah, with 6th Mountain on the northwest flank, then Prinz Eugen, 10th Motorized, and finally the 3rd and 4th Panzer Divisions.
Guderian had finally arrived in force.
The first probing attack by 10th Motorized had been held off, the 25 Pounders timely and spot on with their defensive fires. But that single British division, even reinforced by 31st Indian Armored, was not going to be anywhere near enough to hold for any length of time. Speed and concentration of force were the hallmarks of Guderian’s approach, and he was demonstrating the same mercurial skills in the art of maneuver warfare as he had in Russia, his spirits revitalized after those desperate frozen months in the drive on Moscow.
“What is in front of us?” he asked Schmidt of 10th Motorized when he reached the scene.
“A mixed force. It looks to be a regular British Infantry Brigade, and now we’ve seen Indian motorized infantry coming up to support their right flank. But my division is in good order.”
“Well, if you were moving fast enough that would not be the case!” said Guderian. “Alright, you can cover Schneider’s move around their flank.” Now the General looked at the commander of 4th Panzer.
“I’m already executing a wide envelopment to the east,” said Schneider. “I have infantry and the recon battalion south of Hamah! There’s nothing there. We can bypass and go right into Homs if you wish.”
“I do not wish that,” said Guderian. “We don’t want Homs, or even Hamah. They deployed much too far forward, so now we’ll make them pay for that. We can get the mountain divisions up much quicker to establish their defensive front. Then we move all of Hube’s 14th Panzer Korps east. Westhoven’s 3rd Panzer is just coming in by rail. I’ll have them follow your tracks. Herr Schmidt, continue with your envelopment, but be ready to pull out on a moment’s notice to move east. Kubler’s divisions will fix them in place, but I want the Panzer Divisions to push right into this gap here—right astride that pipeline that runs from Homs east to Palmyra.”
“What about the Brandenburgers?” asked Hube.
“Forget about them for the time being. I sent them to Ar Raqqah and the Euphrates. Once we get in to position, then your division moves on Palmyra. When we do so, speed will be of the essence. Leading units should bypass enemy strong points and push on. Be relentless.”
The Brandenburgers were already moving on their first big objective at Ar Raqqah. They had raced east, below the bend of the Euphrates, where Langen’s 4th Regiment crossed to approach the city from the north. Konrad’s Lehr Regiment and Duren’s 3rd Regiment then moved along the south bank of the river. Most of the city sat on the north bank of the Euphrates, with two good bridges over the river. To the east was hill 266, a good point to overlook the town itself, and the airfield was just north of this feature, on a low plateau bounded on the north by a canal and stream that reached down to the Euphrates. There was higher ground south of those bridges, the heights of Tell Assaad, Qaret el Beit, and Qaret Hajana. Beckermann wanted that high ground, for it
would not only serve to cut off the enemy garrison from any retreat south, but he could also post his artillery there.
Those three regiments should be enough to take the city, or so he believed. The 1st and 2nd Regiments were already well to the south, racing for that gap in the rugged highlands, Tayyibah Pass.
Chapter 18
“What’s the situation?” asked Wavell. He had flown in to the airfield at Homs, and was shocked to learn that German recon units were already feeling their way around the position north of Hamah. 10th Army commander, General Quinan, was there along with his III Corps commander, General Anderson, and the newly arrived General Walter Clutterbuck of the 1st Infantry Division. That unit had been the Palestine garrison force, but Wavell had already sent two of its brigades north to meet the enemy, one to reinforce the coast against the German mountain troops, and the second right there at Homs, arriving at a most opportune time.
“Jerry’s got round our right,” said Quinan. “Ficklin is too far forward. Remember what happened to Percival in Malaya,” he admonished. “We’ve gone and done the same thing—too far forward, and the Germans are simply bypassing our line at Hamah.”
“Well where’s the bloody Indian Armored Division?” asked Wavell, somewhat irritated.
“Half of it went on up to Hamah, mostly the infantry and engineers. The other half is right here where we need them.”
“What have we identified on the other side?” Wavell leaned over the map.
“4th Panzer is moving in here, just east of our position where we stand. 10th Motorized is on the line facing off with Ficklin. The rest are the mountain troops, west to the coast at Tartus.”
“What about the Brandenburgers?”
Lions at Dawn (Kirov Series Book 28) Page 15
