Nexus Deep (Kirov Series Book 31)

by Schettler, John

  “The enemy must play his card,” said Mussolini. He has proclaimed high and low that he will invade the continent… otherwise he will face defeat even before fighting. Clearly this attempt will fail…. As soon as the enemy attempts to land, he will be frozen at the line the sailors call il Bagnasciuga , that line in the sand where the water stops and the land begins…. Having an iron, unshakable, and granite will, the Fascists will prevail.”

  Many listening on the radio looked at one another with a bemused expression, and some laughed when the dictator said this. For il Bagnasciuga was not the line in the sand as Mussolini believed, but the water line on the hull of a ship. The word he should have used was battigia.

  Something was clearly wrong with Il Duce. He had been suffering from abdominal pain for months, was often bedridden, and now he seemed to be off in his head. News of the landing on Sardinia was closely watched by the homeland population, and Mussolini’s boastful words were put to rout, even as his soldiers were when Patton took Cagliari. The general populace could not help but notice that the only defensive front that was holding the line on the island was the area occupied by German troops.

  For months, powerful forces had been circling the King, Emmanuel III, and pressing him to sanction a change of government. One Dino Grande, an intelligent and influential aristocrat, was the former Ambassador to the UK, well known to Churchill himself. Disenchanted with Mussolini, and believing that Fascism had run its course, he secretly, then openly, pressed for change. He had long opposed Italy’s entry into the war, and now his warnings of disaster seemed to be vindicated. It was largely his organization and planning that would soon lead to the fall of Mussolini’s Fascist regime, and the headlines Patton would make in the days ahead served to fan the flames of that entire process. A clock was ticking, the second hand harried on with every mile that Patton would gain in what would now become an unbridled romp through southern and central Sardinia.

  The 90th Panzergrenadier division had finally arrived in full, and every gain achieved by Montgomery was put in check with a fresh battalion coming to the front at just the right moment. Yet now the Germans had concentrated all their best troops in one area, two divisions opposing three under Montgomery.

  The first regiment of Student’s paratroopers had landed, but with little in the way of transport, von Senger decided to leave them in the north to prepare defenses where the island narrowed towards La Maddalena. With Allied air units now operating from Sardinia, bringing in the rest of the division by air transport was risky, so it was decided to move it by sea from La Spezia—but to Corsica instead of Sardinia. Von Senger was already hedging his bets. The chips he had on the table looked good at the moment, but his fortunes could reverse at a moment’s breath.

  Speaking with General Basso, he began to plan the defense in the north, asking the Italians to move the Calabria Division from its current post around Sassari, to the island’s Capitol at Nuoro. Aside from the retreating 203rd Coastal Division, there was nothing on that side of the island to stop the Americans if they pushed north in earnest. The Calabria Division would move by rail on the night of the 20th of June, even as the final cabinet meeting of the Fascist Regime was taking place in Italy, where Mussolini would get heavy pressure to find a way to exit the war.

  It was only a matter of time now before von Senger would have to order a general retreat to the north. While his line was holding, it had several liabilities. The Allied navy had returned, and they were pounding the western segment of the line near the coast, aiding the enemy’s strongest attack being put in by the 1st Canadian Division. Secondly, all of the 3rd Division had now come up from the south, and it was attempting to flank the position in the higher country to the east.

  Thirdly, there was Patton, moving without rest in the south and assembling task forces with his swift moving armored cav and mechanized infantry units. The ‘Goat Trails’ he had complained about were still usable for these tracked vehicles, narrow roads that would still allow him to move quickly north. The last straw on this camel’s back was the fact that the Allies still had an almost unlimited pool of resources to draw from in North Africa. The British 4th Mixed Division was the next in line to deploy, already boarding the ships for Cagliari.

  The Luftwaffe had tried, unsuccessfully, to interdict that port from Palermo, Trapani, and Marsala on the western tip of Sicily, but those fields were quite far off, 325 kilometers in the case of Trapani, and 380 for Palermo. Even the Allied fields at Bizerte and Tunis were closer.

  The Allies had their first functioning port on Italian soil, and the Luftwaffe could not do anything about that, now or in any foreseeable future. What was once air superiority for the Allies, was rapidly becoming Air supremacy, and this was going to make a major difference in the conduct of all these operations.

  On the 21st Patton was already 30 klicks north of Cagliari, moving the 1st infantry up towards Monty’s right, and sending his armored spearheads to the east coast. There was little resistance as they advanced, but north of Capo Bellavista, the coast road turned inland and began to climb into the more rugged country that is the Orosei and Gennargentu National Park today, heavily wooded country with very few roads. It was here that the retreating Italians would attempt to set up blocking positions, cutting down trees and using any explosives they had to clog up the narrow roadways with rocks and tree trunks.

  “We’ve got only two roads worth the name there,” said Bradley. “One is state Route 69, through this high country here. It twists and turns like a snake. The other is through this heavy woodland farther east, and both are hell on earth for armor.”

  “General Truscott,” said Patton. “If I rustle up some landing craft, what do you say to a little end around to flank that position by hitting the coast further north?”

  “Well,” said Truscott. “The most we could lift would be a few battalions. Don’t forget the enemy still has subs in the Tyrrhenian Sea. How long would they be out there? It could take days for us to push through those mountains. What if the Germans come down from the north? Those boys could be chopped up on that coastline.”

  “Find the infantry,” said Patton. “Get it from Allen if you have to, but I want this ready to go when I give the word.” Delay was not a word in Patton’s vocabulary.

  “We’ve got 1st Infantry in the center of the island,” said Bradley. “What about Matt Ridgeway’s troops?”

  “Brad, that’s a great idea. We could even consider another small air landing. Hell, the British pulled that off on the first night of the invasion. If we get stuck, I want a way to get in behind their line and unhinge the defense. Let’s plan it.”

  * * *

  By the 22nd of June, 4th Mixed Division had landed at Cagliari and moved north to Oristano, giving Monty his four divisions. Now he began to plan his big “breakout” attack, intending to apply pressure all along the line, preceded by all his artillery. It was an attack of the sort he might have planned at El Alamein, a battle that was never fought in this history, thanks to Brigadier Kinlan’s strange and unexpected arrival.

  The plan would line up his divisions from the coast and east as far as Lake Tirso just east of Abbasanta: 1st Canadian, 51st Highland, 4th Mixed and then 3rd Infantry. Beyond his far right, Allen’s 1st US Infantry had come up near the mountain town of Sorgono. Monty at last thought he could get moving again.

  “Now Patton is hung up in the high country,” he said. “So we’ve simply got to break out and push north to settle this matter.”

  Monty had four divisions to Patton’s two, better terrain in front of him, and support from the navy along the coast. All he had to do was get through the Germans. It was the sheer weight of that attack that would do the job. The Germans had been fighting for a solid week, and many battalions were worn down. The heavy naval bombardment on the coast was as horrific as it was effective, with 15 inch shells plowing into the ground and sending up huge geysers of dirt and rock.

  The 3rd Division front was largely screened by Italia
n remnants in the high country, a few Sardinian cavalry battalions, the Isili CCNN Battalion, and some Blackshirt motorcycle troops. They could not hold the steady advance of the British infantry, held up more by fatigue and the hills they had to climb than by anything the Italians were doing. This had prompted von Senger to pull out five battalions of the 15th Division to backstop that segment of the front, which thinned out the entire German line. Two divisions were trying to cover over 50 kilometers, and it would not do.

  Monty’s attack had convinced von Senger that his game here was all but over.

  “We can no longer hold this line,” the General told 15th Division commander Buschenhagen. “If we continue to fight here, we’ll simply be overrun. So we must pull out, and things are about to get very fluid now. There is no way we can hold the remainder of the island, particularly the northwest around Sassari. Therefore, we will pull out under cover of darkness tonight, and fall back towards La Maddalena. Student moved two regiments there from Corsica, and the front narrows toward the tip of the island. This is our only option with the forces available, and we must also get our Luftwaffe squadrons to Corsica.”

  It was a grim but realistic assessment of Axis prospects on the island. The Bari and Sabaouda Divisions were mostly destroyed, 203rd Coastal Division was in the woodland on the east coast waiting for Patton to clear the roads and reach their lines. The Calabria Division was at Nouro, and that night, the 15th Infantry slipped away, up the main road to that city. The Italians retreated as well, but with little transport, they were mostly on foot. That fact would see them fall well behind the German columns, and they would become the de facto rearguard, just enough of a nuisance to slow Montgomery’s pursuit down.

  Yet Monty did not have the same temperament that would have seen Patton fuming at his men to keep moving. Instead, he paused after dusk to ‘assess’ the situation, telling his division commanders that they would renew the big push at first light. This would give him time to freshen up the artillery and ‘sort things out,’ as he described the situation.

  The morning of the 23rd, his second attack seemed to hit thin air, blowing right through the remnants of the Italians, with 51st Highland storming into Abbasanta, and the Canadians pushing up the coast through Modolo. They eventually caught up with the Germans, and thought it wise to organize instead of trying to mount an attack from march.

  As for Patton, when he heard that Monty was launching a big push, he decided to play his trump card. At dawn on the 23rd, a reinforced regiment of Ridgeway’s 82nd Airborne would fly all the way from Tunis and Bizerte, intending to land in the rolling farmland between Dorgali and Orosei on State Highway 125. The paratroopers would come down all over the place, some landing on rooftops, barnyards, and bales of hay. At the same time, a battalion of Darby’s Rangers, and 1st and 2nd Battalions of the 101 Royal Marine Commandos, would hit the coast north of Orosei near Cala Liberotto.

  These landings were behind the headquarters of General Sardi’s 203rd Coastal Division, which was most alarming when he realized that his retreat and supply route up the coast was now cut. His men were still fighting to delay the American advance in the rugged woodland, but he soon learned that there was a long column retreating some 15 kilometers to the north… and they were Germans. He did not have to scratch his head too much longer to decide what to do. If the German 15th Infantry was retreating north, he had no desire to try and become a war hero here.

  The war itself had become hugely unpopular throughout Italy, particularly when Allied bombers staged raids on the harbor at Naples and on the outskirts of the Eternal City, Rome. With Matt Ridgeway’s tough paras behind him, and a snarling armored task force coming at him with dismounted infantry backed by tanks, he opted to try and seek terms. General Sardi chose to surrender, and all but one battalion of the 203rd Coastal Division simply evaporated, like mist in the woodland. Only the Logudoro CCNN and 2nd Blackshirt Battalion would fight on near Dorgali, and the intrepid Cagliari Commandos, now reduced to 10 squads, would try and hold on the river near Orosei with the help of the San Efiso CCNN Battalion.

  Now it was Monty’s turn to do some broken field running. With the Germans withdrawing, the way north was suddenly wide open. He ordered the divisional band of the 51st Highland to break out the fife and drums, and the skirl of the pipes could be heard in the streets of Macomer as his men marched through.

  The plan now was a simple one. 1st Canadian was tasked with driving up the coast and dealing with the 204th Coastal Division. They were to go all the way to the northwest segment of the island, and secure Alghero, Sassari and Porto Torres. 51st Highland would push through Macomer, but follow the rail line northeast to Chilivani and secure the airstrip there. They would then continue on the main road towards Olbia on the northeast coast. The other two British divisions would push due north to Chilivani and follow the 51st, or take parallel roads that made their way through the highland north of the Capitol at Nuoro. That objective would fall to Patton, as he had already cut the road to the east and west of that city.

  From Kesselring’s perspective in Italy, it seemed that the entire defense of Sardinia was suddenly collapsing. He called von Senger to find out what was happening, and the General assured him that this was a planned withdrawal.

  “We have to get to a position where they cannot turn our flanks. I will retrench on the line from Olbia to Porto Cruzitta, and hold that as long as possible to cover La Maddalena. As for the Italians, they are dissolving quickly. Quite frankly, this will likely have repercussions in Italy proper. You had better look over your shoulder.”

  “What about the Luftwaffe?” asked Kesselring.

  “What about them? We have lost all the good fields in the south, and so most of the squadrons have flown off to Corsica. The fields there are limited, so some have even had to return to Italy. They will have complete air supremacy now. We couldn’t even stop the movement of a reinforcing division into Cagliari. That is what is going to lose us this war—the enemy air power.”

  “Very well,” said Kesselring. “Hold on as long as you can. The Führer needs toughness now, not another quick defeat.”

  “We weren’t ready,” said von Senger. “The 15th had only just arrived, and by the time the 90th got here, it was already too late. We would be better off getting over to Corsica while we can.”

  “That may end up being the order,” said Kesselring, “but I must consult Hitler. Collapse has a way of cascading from one front to another, so do whatever you can to hold on there.”

  Kesselring was beginning to feel like the patron saint of lost causes. Ever since the Allies had landed at Casablanca, it had been one backward step after another, and now, with Corsica coming into the Allied crosshairs, Rome or even Southern France were now possible targets. After seeing this, he would spend a very long night re-thinking his position on Sicily.

  Chapter 30

  The young Lieutenant Colonel Creighton Abrams was right out in front with the men of his Task Force as it motored up the main road to Nuoro. First built by the ancient Romans, it wound through a narrow valley, with occasional vineyards and orchards crowding the base of the hills, until it reached the town, situated on the slopes of Monte Ortobene. Over the centuries, it’s stone streets had heard the footfalls of Roman Legions, The Vandals, and soldiers of the Byzantine Empire. Now it would hear the rattle and grind of heavy tank tracks, and the soldiers of General Casula’s Calabrian Division crouched behind makeshift field works, waiting in the tense evening of June 24th.

  Abrams had rolled up with two companies of the 753rd Armor Battalion, three Mech Infantry Battalions, Armored Engineers, and Armored Cav. In all, he had 53 tanks and the power of a full brigade at his disposal, including a battalion of tracked artillery.

  He stopped in the cool evening, and then sent word to bring up the interpreter and a squad with a white flag. Those men were sent forward, the interpreter shouting that they wanted to parley with the local commander, and would guarantee his safety if he would agree to mee
t with Abrams.

  “General,” he said after giving Casula a formal salute. “I am only a Lieutenant Colonel, but my country has seen fit to give me the means of making war here, in this quiet valley, and doing so with terrible power. I have sixty tanks with me.” A little exaggeration could not hurt, thought Abrams. “Not 15 kilometers to the south on this mountain road, there is yet another Combat Command—fully mechanized—and behind that the entire 1st US Infantry Division. To your north, the British 3rd Infantry Division is assembling in force, three full brigades there as well. The road behind you is already cut off, so there can be no further retreat. Is there any reason for us to destroy this beautiful city tomorrow? Won’t you consider that you and your men have done all that you could to serve honor, and stand for your nation. But now this fight should be over.”

  General Casula nodded gravely as the interpreter finished. “You have driven us from our North African colonies,” he said, “and now you come to our homeland. What else can I do but oppose you?”

  “You can live,” said Abrams bluntly. “You can consider that your allegiance to Hitler was a grave mistake, and one that brought me here with orders to plow right through this town in the morning. Rest assured, I can do that, but I would much rather see you and your men live on after this, because if I have to come in here tomorrow, a lot of good young men will die, and needlessly so. Do you realize yours is the only Italian Division still under arms south of La Maddalena?”

  The General did not realize that, for he had heard no news of what was happening. “The Germans have already abandoned you. They retreated towards Olbia and they are many miles north of you by now. What purpose does it serve for us to destroy this place, when you can do so much more by coming to terms—you can save it from the ravages of this war. Look around you, sir. Fight, and this city will die tomorrow. Shake my hand now instead, and it lives on, you and your men live on as well, and perhaps you would even consider joining us so that we can chase the Nazis out of your homeland altogether, because that is exactly what we are going to do. Now… If you need time to consider this, I can wait until 04:00 hours. After that…. Well, I have my orders.”