“Brandenburg Division,” said Glubb.
“I thought they were just small commando units?”
“They have those too, but this is a full division—tough as nails. They were the shock troops that the Germans threw at Volgograd. This is some of the best infantry they have.”
“Well, the question now is whether or not we can hold this place. If they’ve already pushed as far east as Suwar on the Kahbur River, then what’s to stop them from swinging right down to Hadithah? If they take that, then they’ve effectively cut both pipelines.”
“Another runner came rushing in. “Sir! Jerry’s got the bridge at Al Busayrah! Armored cars and motorized infantry.”
“What?” Kingstone had a blank expression on his face. “That’s damn well 25 kilometers behind us! Where’s Blaxland and his bloody Indian Division?”
It was on that road, and heading for that very town and bridge over the Euphrates, at least a brigade was coming. The others were still strung out on the long road south, and one brigade had veered off and motored over to the T2 Pumping Station well west of the river. For all intents and purposes, King Force was virtually surrounded.
“They’ve thrown a bag over us. Glubb, can your people slow them down a bit? I think I’ll have to take King Force south and retake that bridge. We should meet 10th Indian down there, and then perhaps we can make a stand. If we stay here, we’ll be cut off and wanting ammo sooner than we think.”
“I’ll do whatever I can,” said Glubb, casting a wan glance at that truck. “In the meantime, I’ve a good many wounded out there. Can you look after them?”
He saluted, and was heading for the door, blowing out into the rising desert wind.
* * *
The T4 Station at Tiyas fell that afternoon, and the casualties were very heavy on the British side. Brigadier Lyne’s 169th Brigade lost two of its three infantry battalions, the rest of the brigade scattered south in a retreat that took it as far as Ain el Bards in the Jebel country. As Wavell had ordered, the 31st Indian Armored consolidated to begin its attack east along the pipeline, and this did force Guderian to halt 10th Motorized to stop them. While that was going on, the two panzer divisions pushed quickly onto Palmyra.
In modern times it came to be known as “The Bride of the Desert.” The old Roman ruins still remain, like the elegant Corinthian style colonnaded portico at the temple of Ba’al, dedicated to the storm god who might bring much needed rain to the parched desert around the settlement. A prominent trading site, the armies of the Romans, Sassanids, Muslims, Mamlukes, and eventually the Mongols all swept over the place as the centuries passed, each leaving some remains in the ruins that survived there.
In the early 21st Century, it was in the news yet again as the black flagged desert warriors of ISIS overran the place, with wanton brutality as they defaced more of the ancient artwork, especially the temple sites. The famous Temple of Ba’al would survive WWII, but not the ravages of ISIS in 2016. They would flatten all but one grand arch over the main entrance, destroying priceless ruins that had stood for centuries.
By the 1940s, the desire for exotic goods from the east had been distilled down to one primary thing—oil. The city sat right astride the long underground pipelines that carried the oil from Kirkuk, through Homs, to Tripoli and Banias on the Mediterranean coast. Fedorov and Troyak had once swept in on their helicopters to land upon the atop the high volcanic cone just west of the town, crowned by the old stone fortress of Fakhr-al-Din. Now it was manned by the 2nd London Irish. 10th Royal Berkshire Battalion held the old Roman tombs, and the 56th Royal engineers deployed just south of the Temple of Ba’al. They would not occupy it for fear that it might see the Germans resort to heavy weapons it.
The place was a small settlement, graced by shady groves of palm trees scattered amid the bleached skeletal bones of old fallen empires. Now the British Empire would strive with Huns of another sort, this time mounted in cold steel metal vehicles and tanks, their dark feldgrau uniforms blending into the evening shadows as they formed up west of the town. The history here was written in the sandstone, layered deep, and carved into the land over long millennia. Now another chapter would be written, the Second Battle of Palmyra.
4th South African Air Force Fighter Squadron had been operating there, but as the Germans approached, the pilots had leapt to their Kittyhawks and taken off. They howled overhead for a time, making a few strafing runs on the enemy columns and dueling with the German flak guns. Then they flew off east to the small landing strip at T2. Seeing the Brandenburgers disappear to the east, Brigadier Birch sent the bulk of his brigade west to reinforce the defense of Palmyra. It was there that General Miles and his 56th London Infantry Division would make their gallant stand.
Wavell was gambling that they could hold, or at the very least delay the German move east for a few more days. 46th Infantry Division had arrived, right on schedule at Suez, and he was already getting them onto the trains for the move into Palestine. That was a mixed division, and he would have a full Brigade of good armor when they arrived. Now what he wanted was one more mailed fist, and then he thought he might have a fighting chance at going on the offensive.
Time to pay a visit to General O’Connor, he thought. As much as he hated to do so, it was time to make good his threat to pick his pocket.
Chapter 21
New cards were dealt to both sides in the wild campaign now underway. The British received their 46th Mixed Division, with that brigade of much needed armor, and now Wavell flew all the way to Benghazi to meet with O’Connor.
“I know this is a lot to ask of you, particularly since we lost the brigade in that tragic accident. But we’ve two panzer divisions to contend with in Syria, and if we don’t do something about that, they’ll be in Iraq before we can finish our next cup of tea. Is there anything at all that you can send me?”
“Well I can’t touch 7th Armored. I’ve positioned it well to the south. 23rd Armored Brigade has just deployed on the coast with 51st Highland Division. That’s my hammer, and I really can’t proceed without it. That leaves 1st Armored Division, if we can call it that. It’s really only two brigades, the 2nd Armored and the 7th Motorized. I have it between the other two groups as a ready reserve, but I suppose I could detach 2nd Armored Brigade. That will mean I’ll have to bring up 44th Home County. I was going to rest them, but there’s nothing else for it. I don’t suppose I could interest you in a South African Division? They’re at the back end of the line, way south of Misrata.”
“It’s armor we need now,” said Wavell. “Jerry is boxing our ears with those panzer divisions, and I’ve only two tank battalions in play, at least until I get 46th Infantry up. With one more tank brigade, I can counterattack. Otherwise, we just sit and try to parry what the other fellow does.”
“Well General, you can have the 2nd Armored, but realize it’s presently sitting some 700 miles from the railhead near Tobruk. That’s a long slog, and I wouldn’t vouch for that unit in combat after a march like that. Things fall apart, if you understand my meaning. It will take them five days to get to your trains, another day to load up, and then another on the rail lines into Palestine. After that they unload, get sorted out, and the maintenance operations can begin. Figure to have them in hand where you might want them to fight in two weeks.”
“I see…” Wavell had hoped he might get something much sooner. He had been so preoccupied with the situation in Syria that he completely overlooked what O’Connor was doing, assuming 8th Army was in good hands. Now he found that he had left no armored units in his rear areas, and the distances involved were daunting.
“You might trim off a few days if you can get shipping to Benghazi,” said O’Connor. “That’s just 500 miles on the road then, and then they could go by sea to Haifa. You’ll have to see about Cunningham covering that move, but I’m sure it could be done.”
He saw the weariness in Wavell now, and knew the burden of command was laying on him heavier than ever. By this time in the w
ar, Wavell had long since been replaced in Fedorov’s history. He was hanging on because he was “in the know,” and Churchill wanted that circle to be a most exclusive club.
“I suppose we might use the shipping delivering the 46th Division. There should be enough there to lift tanks. But that 500 mile road march to Benghazi has me worried. I know what you say about the wear and tear on the vehicles. I just didn’t realize you had everything so far forward. We might find nothing more than a maintenance nightmare by the time they get to Benghazi.”
“Have you thought to pass the cup to Monty?”
“Montgomery? It never occurred to me.”
“Well he’s been getting regular convoys every other week, and one is due in to Algiers today.”
“Even if he had a thousand knights in silver armor, we’d never get them past Tunis and Sicily. That’s the heart of German air power on that front, and those straits are infested with enemy submarines.”
Wavell was quite discouraged when he left O’Connor, but bit his lip and resolved to do what he could with the single armored brigade attached to 46th Infantry. When he arrived back at Alexandria, eager to get the latest report on the situation he was facing, a clerk handed him a shipping schedule, which he nearly put aside to get at the latest combat reports. But he gave it a passing glance, seeing a most unexpected delivery was due in another two days.
“See here,” he said to the clerk. “What’s this about another Winston Special arriving on Monday? I haven’t heard a word about it.”
“Sorry sir. It was in the daily file, but you’ve been away at the front, and then off to Benghazi.”
“Has it been scheduled for debarkation?”
“Yes sir, all right and proper. But it will only need a day, as the Convoy Master signaled that the unit was all combat loaded.”
“Combat loaded? What unit?”
“Why it’s right there, sir. 25th Tank.”
Wavell flipped a page, squinting with that one good eye. There it was, the answer to his dilemma lost in a sheaf of paper in a plain manila folder on his desk!
“25th Tank Brigade?”
“A territorial unit sir, or at least it was.”
Not everything leaving England in the last month was bound for Montgomery. A week after 46th Infantry Division departed for the Middle East, another unit that had been schedule for Montgomery was hung up on the docks because there would be no immediate need for it in North Africa. Monty had all the armor he could use on his front, and if it had been sent, he would have only put it into reserve for training while he advanced with his veteran units.
In late December of 1942, the 25th Tank had mustered at Liverpool, intended for deployment to Algeria. It was an old brigade with a new name, once a second line territorial unit in the UK, and now getting all new equipment for its first real foray into the war. The unit was composed of three tank ‘Regiments,’ which were really battalion sized formations with three squadrons of 18 tanks each. HQ troops with AA and support tanks fleshed it out a bit, and a battalion of twelve self-propelled ‘Bishop’ 25-Pounders was added, with a company of armored engineers. The main battle tanks in this unit were the Churchill IV, with an improved 75mm gun.
This TO& E would make it the most powerful armored force east of Suez, at least for the British. Wavell was flabbergasted. It was all right there, authorized by Churchill himself, and Wavell would later learn that it had been sent to try and fill the void when another brigade had been mysteriously lost in that terrible event at Tobruk. The Prime Minister knew that would likely effect things, and he wanted no further timidity on the part of his commanders. So instead of letting the 25th languish on the docks at Liverpool, he teed up a Winston Special and simply sent it to Wavell.
Wavell was beaming as he read the details. “The drunken Dutchess,” he said with a smile. “Good for her.”
One of the troopships assigned to carry the personnel in that convoy was the former Canadian steamship liner the Dutchess of York, often called the “Drunken Dutchess,” a nickname given to the liner for its remarkable stability in heavy seas. It would roll heavily, but always stay on its feet. All the tanks were spread over twelve other merchantmen, and the convoy would be in Suez in another two days. There was his second mailed fist, and now he could face the Germans with two hands in the fight.
“Splendid!” he said to the clerk. “I want expedited offloading on that convoy, understand? Pull anyone needed, but I want it on the trains to Haifa the same day it arrives.”
A little gift from Churchill, thought Wavell, but little did he know that the gift giver was very close at hand, and would soon be paying him a most unexpected visit, to collect on the bill.
* * *
At that very moment, Churchill was meeting with President Roosevelt in the newly liberated port city of Casablanca to iron out the wrinkles in plans laid for 1943. Among other things, the two leaders agreed on a policy of absolute victory that would grant no terms to the enemy and insist upon unconditional surrender. In spite of Marshall’s push for a decision on the invasion of France, the British successfully argued that it was still far too early, and that operations in North Africa must be concluded first. They then suggested Sicily as the next target, aimed at knocking Italy out of the war.
When the Germans crossed the border into northern Syria, the news was met with some chagrin and growing alarm, especially by Churchill. He had it in mind to make a secret visit to Turkey that very month to press her hand in marriage, but now that seemed to be an impossible undertaking. Churchill was greatly offended, for the plans for the meeting had been arranged with the Turkish government for some time, and now he realized that, all the while, Turkey had remained a wayward bride, her infidelity glaringly revealed as German combat units had been moving on Turkish rails for the last week.
Sir Alan Brooke, Chief of the Imperial General Staff, was with him, along with General Maitland Wilson, getting ready to take over in Iraq so that Alexander could be moved elsewhere. Churchill had planned to fly to Cairo from Casablanca to complete that move, which would come as yet another surprise for Wavell.
Deep down, the General could sense that something was up. The fact that he had not been asked to attend the Casablanca Conference was one clue. He thought that fortuitous at first, for that left him in Alexandria when the Germans crossed the Syrian border, but now he was to learn there was something more behind it. Churchill was planning to kill two birds with one stone in his visit to the Middle East. Now that the first had flown before he could take aim, he would settle for the bird he still had in hand, and meet with Wavell.
“General,” he said with as much warmth as he could muster, for he had found relations with Wavell somewhat strained at times. The two men retired to a secure room, but a moment later, Alan Brook came in through the back door, and greeted them both.
“Archie,” he said. “Good to see you.”
“And you, Sir Alan.”
“I’m afraid this won’t be a social call,” said Churchill. “And given the bad news we received with the opening of this new front, I thought, since I was close at hand, that I should come and see you about it.”
“Of course, sir,” said Wavell. “And oh yes, I must tell you that when I learned you had put the 25th Tank Brigade to sea for us I was most gratified. It will arrive in two days, and in the nick of time.”
“General,” said Brooke. “Just how bad is this new incursion? We’ve been locked away in smoke filled rooms at Casablanca.”
“It’s quite serious. They’ve hoodwinked us with this move through Turkey, and on that note, I suppose you received my messages concerning Turkish neutrality.”
Churchill had them in hand, but he had hoped to take no action on that until he had his visit with the Turkish government. That wasn’t going to happen now.
“That will be high on our agenda,” he said. “In fact, I hoped to be meeting with Ismet Inonii in just a few weeks, and this puts that in some jeopardy.”
“I should think
so,” said Wavell. “Quite honestly, the Turkish frontier is a war zone now. It would be impossible to arrange security for such a visit, unless, of course, the Turkish officials might agree to come here.”
“They won’t,” said Churchill. “I proposed as much, and got a very cold shoulder. General, I think we’ve lost her, and that becomes a matter of the gravest concern. We sent a strongly worded reply to the Turks, but received nothing in response. I might understand their position, what with the Germans sitting a stone’s throw from Istanbul, and Ivan Volkov poised on their eastern borders. Everyone has to pick a side in this damn war, and it seems that the Turks have done so. Whether they formalize it or not, they’ve allowed German units to transit their territory, and on more than one occasion. Our patience has finally run out.”
“Yes, and German aircraft are flying from Iskenderun and Gaziantep, and we’ve not been able to lift a finger against them.”
“That will not be the case for long,” said Churchill. “So lay it out for us. How many divisions are involved in this dirty business?”
“Four light infantry divisions, mostly mountain troops, but also four more mobile divisions—two of them panzers.”
“I see… That’s a full army, and more than we expected. Is it true that they’ve already reached the Euphrates?”
“Unfortunately so,” said Wavell. “Quite frankly, I think they mean to push into Iraq.”
“As we feared,” said Brooke. “Well, can they?”
“At the moment, I’ve one mobile brigade under Brigadier Kingstone out there, and the 10th Indian Division under Baxland is only just arriving from Baghdad. There’s also fighting for Palmyra. That’s where the two panzer divisions went. Up until now, we’ve had just the infantry divisions, and the one Indian Armored Division, but it only has two battalions of tanks. So we’ve had to be stubborn with our infantry. We’ve got a fairly solid line inland from the coast at Tartus through Homs, but that’s a very wide flank to the east, and the enemy has moved with alarming speed.”
Lions at Dawn (Kirov Series Book 28) Page 18
