by Scott Palter
Alistare-Smythe had name-dropped enough with Rommel to get them assigned a driver to see to their needs on Malta. Duffy and the brigadier’s Chinese servant, who turned out to speak excellent upper-class English, had been driven back to Duffy’s quarters – where, under his supervision, the servant had packed up his belongings for travel. Duffy hadn’t brought much to Malta and had acquired only a few odd items since, but as he had no idea what awaited him in captivity it was best to gather everything. The stranger part had been that he was allowed to withdraw funds from a Maltese bank against a check on his London bank. A check that couldn’t possibly clear until war’s end. The bank manager protested, but would not directly say no to a German Hauptmann willing to provide a written order to show to the bank’s auditors and the Italian occupation authorities.
On arrival at Gerbini, instead of the military police taking charge of them, they were welcomed by a Luftwaffe Major, a relative of some friend of Alistare-Smythe’s from Berlin. They all had dinner at a nice restaurant in the vicinity, and then were given lodgings at the transit officers’ facility on base, almost as if they were guests instead of prisoners. The next morning another German officer had taken charge of them. This one was an army officer from a mountain division, being sent on home leave to recuperate from a minor wound in the Malta fighting. The man had served as their minder as far as Vienna. Now they were taking their leave after a quick lunch. The two British officers, in uniform but with transit paperwork to show to various police, and their two servants plus luggage, had booked a first-class compartment to Berlin where they would be ‘staying with friends’. The station police had found the paperwork amusing, but as Austrians were prepared to believe all sorts of pig-headed idiocy from Prussians. Duffy had given the brigadier his ‘word of honor’ that he would not try ‘anything silly’. After seeing the letters the general had posted, Duffy was more than willing to do so. Sent out by regular German post to the British legation in Zurich, the old man had written notes taking full responsibility for the surrender of Malta to the War Ministry, seven undersecretaries, and nine members of parliament including two ex-ministers and the Tory chief whip. Whoever Alistare-Smythe was, he seemed to know important people all over. Clearly this was a man to earn the good opinion of. Besides, staying at a mansion in Berlin sounded ever more agreeable than in some fortress castle under guard.
1600 hours CET
29 August 1940
Hotel du Parc, Vichy, Unoccupied France
The cabinet meeting had been highly acrimonious. The Marshal and his immediate circle were obdurate. Petain’s version of collaboration was minimal collaboration at maximal price to Germany. Fine in theory. Insane after Oran and now Chad. Left to itself, all of Equatorial Africa would fall to Britain, using de Gaulle as a cat’s-paw. Indeed, there were rumors of a British expedition to Dakar. If West Africa fell as well, Britain could make peace with Germany, trading the Arab Empire she couldn’t hold for a formerly-French African Empire she could more easily defend. This would be an Anglo-German peace at French expense. The key had been the two service ministers, Weygand for the Army as Defense Minister and Darlan for the Fleet. Even the Marshal would not defy a united military.
Pierre Laval had gotten Petain’s consent to negotiate a new agreement with the Germans. Petain was head of state, but whether he was also head of government was still fluid. Laval, Weygand, and Darlan had the authority to make whatever concessions necessary to get Germany to allow rearmament in Africa. Laval saw this as an opening wedge. The Germans would, of course, want things. But as long as he could show progress in defending the Empire, he was now confident he could leverage a closer alliance. If the British or Americans wanted French neutrality, let them make offers. Until then, Laval’s strategy for France would be to make the best deal possible with reality. That reality seemed to be Reichsführer Heydrich. Perhaps four ruled, but so far only Heydrich seemed to pay attention to other nations.
1900 hours CET
29 August 1940
Conference room, SS Headquarters, Prinz-Albrecht-Straße, Berlin, Germany
Recently-promoted Generalmajor Theodor Busse sat silently in the room, letting his patron and superior General von Manstein give the presentation to Deputy Chancellor and Reichsführer Heydrich and his chief aide Schellenberg. The command situation was tricky by conventional army standards. Heydrich was one of four rulers – and in theory the lowest-ranking one. Yet the other three, including Führer Göring and War Minister Beck, had ignored invitations to the briefing. They and OKH commander Generaloberst Halder had refused all contact with the Southern Campaign. Strange, as it was the only active war the ground forces had.
Equally unusual, von Manstein was both head of OKW, and thus Busse’s boss, and the field commander of a subordinate corps reporting to Busse as Deputy Head of OKW. Heydrich seemed to have his own quite strange ideas on proper organization.
Reichsführer Heydrich let von Manstein, assisted by his new OKW liaison officer Major von Stauffenberg, finish. He wanted to be sure he had all his facts before replying. “So let me sum up. You have 80% of your corps-level troops. Enough for combat, but not for perfect function. Hausser’s SS division is 75% or so in Libya and ready for action. He is somewhat short of field artillery, and missing a good number of his AFV’s, but he’s got an oversized functional combat division. Rommel is a little less complete, say 70%. General Steiner’s Afrika Division effectively isn’t there. You’ve got stray bits and pieces plus one regiment of Balts who will be complete in another week or so. Strauss has two companies being upgraded to battalions. You have five of your nine 88mm battalions, the miracle weapon we are counting on against the British heavy tanks. Ramcke is back on Malta doing a full rebuild. He has one of Jodl’s regiments, and the other is just being formed in Sicily. The Air Force has 8th Air Corps, the ground support specialists, in Libya, but nothing else so far. The Italian motorization and armor upgrade is a work in progress, but the deputy Rome assigned to actually command the Prince’s nominal army, this General Carlo Geloso, seems a competent professional. You are asking for another month for deployment?”
General von Manstein knew this was not what his ruler wanted to hear. However, he was a trained general staff professional, not some lackey as Keitel had been. “You want victories. I understand the delays are annoying, but in a month I can have Hausser, Rommel, and the corps troops relatively complete. Air Force General Keller says he can have the bulk of 2nd Air Fleet in Libya by then. Steiner’s division won’t be ready, but he’ll have a brigade-sized battle group to command.”
Heydrich was aware that the two iron rules of bureaucratic work were that nothing gets done on time and nothing gets finished on budget. He also knew that, absent constant pushback from the top, the delays never cease and the cost overruns escalate endlessly. “Two weeks and you send light forces forward. Rommel with whatever of his 7th Panzer Division has arrived. Strauss’s two battalions or however many men he has. Two of the 88mm battalions. Whatever of Steiner’s troops have arrived, and the reconnaissance and motorcycle troops from Hausser. You give Rommel saddle orders to swing out into the desert beyond the British flank, brush aside their light forces, and see what develops.” Heydrich was aware this was too vague for a formal operations order. That is what one had staff Generals for. The important part was to force action at some point. Two weeks might turn into three, but at least it wouldn’t be one month turning into a whole season.
Von Manstein wanted to grimace. He was visualizing a real terrain map, and reviewing second- and third-order moves and counters. A German move in divisional strength would have to provoke a British reply. A reply in almost certainly corps strength, which would require an Axis counter of similar strength.
He and Heydrich both knew what a wild card Rommel was. Given saddle orders, he would be even more impossible to control than usual. The man was a storm officer at heart. Staff logic didn’t appeal to him. Boring things like logistics and the other preparatory work needed for an arm
y-level offensive in a major theater, were matters Rommel chose to ignore, to leave to others to handle. “A suggestion, Reichsführer. Add Hausser’s anti-tank battalions and two battalions of heavy guns from my corps troops, to the two battalions of 88mm multipurpose guns. Put the six battalions of guns under Jodl’s command. This would provide a mature, adult presence to offset Rommel’s impetuosity.”
Heydrich smiled and nodded yes. Von Manstein knew he couldn’t relieve Rommel. Heydrich had made that clear when he first gave von Manstein command of the Afrika Korps. Having an older, wiser head along to keep Rommel somewhat in check satisfied both men. Jodl had rank on Rommel, for however little that was worth with such a prima donna. Besides, Heydrich remembered that they had managed to work well together at Gerbini during the Malta campaign.
0600 hours
30 August 1940 (2300 hours, 29 August CET)
Chinese Eastern Railway (6 kilometers beyond the frontier in the direction of Harbin), Manchuria
The Red Army colonel had initially been elated. The thirty-minute saturation bombardment had caught the Japanese by surprise. The razvedrota had secured the crossing points behind heavy direct fire from cannons and machine-guns. The heavy howitzers had plastered targets starting 300 meters back and extending out to three kilometers. There had been more than enough prewar commercial traffic for GRU’s agents to have had plausible cover to have pinpointed all likely targets with exact ranges.
His regiment of T-28 tanks, with a small battalion of the superheavy KV’s as a late add-on, had easily breached the border defenses and been advancing on both sides of the railroad in the face of only very minor opposition. He had been told that most of what he would be facing for the first day or two would be Manchurian and Mongol puppet forces with low morale and little training. He was a young man in his late 20’s. He had been a major fourteen months ago. Between the purges and the rapid expansion of Soviet forces, promotions had come swiftly for many young men such as himself. Command of a tank regiment with an attached infantry battalion was a huge increase in responsibilities. He coped by relying on his briefings, and strictly following orders. The orders had stressed that for an operational maneuver group such as this, momentum mattered more than casualties.
Now he had encountered artillery fire. Heavy cannons had taken out five of his KV tanks by direct fire. It would take a mighty weapon to penetrate their armor. From his briefings he remembered that Japanese had a 15cm cannon, the type 89. It was probably a battery of those. He pulled back his tanks, deploying his accompanying infantry battalion to flush out the guns. It was almost dawn. The Japanese would be backlit by the rising sun, while his soldiers would be stalking forward in the shadows. That should work. If not, he would just take his losses and charge the battery. Losses were less important than gaining ground before the Japanese could bring up reserves. The Soviet state produced more tanks than anyone in the world, and his KV’s were the best heavy tanks on the planet. Someday he would command a regiment made up solely of these behemoths, or perhaps a brigade if he performed well. The Red Army was on the march and he was its vanguard.
0300 hours CET
30 August 1940
Praha Hlavni Nadrazi (Prague Main Railroad Station)
Protectorate of Bohemia-Moravia (modern Czech Republic)
Colonel Duffy was finding Gestapo custody considerably less comfortable than his first class compartment on the Vienna-Prague express had been. Three Gestapo agents in their signature black leather trenchcoats had been waiting for them on the platform when the train arrived from Vienna. Alistare-Smythe saw them and walked right up to them. This nonplussed them. They found his documents equally bewildering. It was a set of Wehrmacht travel orders directing Alistare-Smythe, as senior officer, to move a POW party of four, specified by name and including Alistare-Smythe himself, to a particular Berlin address which was labeled the place of internment. There was even a helpful phone number at the War Ministry to call to confirm the documents. Also, a list of personal references who could confirm that Alistare-Smythe was in fact the man in question. Ten references, including their ranks, titles, and prewar contact information. Other persons noted as approving this arrangement included General Rommel and two senior Luftwaffe officers in Sicily.
The Gestapo found this absurd. Alistare-Smythe’s German was excellent. He pointed out that one couldn’t be a spy in full British uniform. Prisoners are required to follow lawful orders, and there was nothing unlawful in sending them to Berlin. The senior Gestapo officer tried to trip Alistare-Smythe up, badgering him on why this address in Berlin. Alistare-Smythe’s cheerful answer was that this was reciprocal hospitality. He was to be the guest of an aristocrat he had entertained several times, for multiweek vacations on Malta in years past. Alistare-Smythe apologized for one of his servants not being in uniform, but pleaded exigencies of war. British resistance on Malta had collapsed too quickly for him to change, but both were retired military. Senior officers were entitled to having their batmen along to see to them. Surely it was obvious that Alistare-Smythe had too much luggage to carry by himself at his age.
The policemen were curious as to why so much luggage? Alistare-Smythe’s reply was, why so little? He’d given his hunting shotgun to General Rommel on the surrender of Malta. It was in the propaganda film. Surely their agency could find a copy to confirm this. He had left his golf clubs, tennis racket, and other sports equipment with the general’s staff for their use on Malta or after that in Libya. It was only hospitable. Gentlemen needed their leisure activities. He had left his riding horse and tack with the Italian command, as Malta was to become Italian. In reverse, he’d had to take his formal clothing. His hosts would expect him to dress for dinner.
The Gestapo operatives were most curious as to how he knew General Rommel and his command were going to Libya. Alistare-Smythe had laughed at them. Asked if they could read a map? One takes Malta to secure the sea route to Libya so one can conquer Egypt. Told them this was not a military secret, just common sense. Assured them that Germany had excellent staff officers who could read maps.
Both servants spoke excellent German, and provided Duffy with a running translation. Each had identified himself to the Gestapo by name, rank, and serial number. The Sikh had been Indian Army and was uniformed as such. The Chinese was in civilian attire but claimed to have been Hong Kong special police, which he asserted was a paramilitary unit. Now the four of them and the juniormost Gestapo agent, detailed as a minder, were waiting for the War Ministry morning shift to come on duty so the papers could be confirmed. The Gestapo office at the rail station had unpleasant older chairs and was a bit stuffy. However, the real inconvenience was the Ersatz coffee they were served. It was bitter brown water. Duffy hoped his Red Cross parcels would catch up with him. The beverage was vile. He looked forward to getting back to real coffee and proper tea.
0630 hours CET
30 August 1940
KG Strauss encampment, Bari, Italy
Major Gregor Voss stood at the head of the three companies he was leading to Libya. Two were Romanian Betar forwarded after his pal Gunter had already left for Malta. Someone back in Romania seem to have decided that if this unit had taken one company of Betar Revisionist Zionist Militia, it really meant they wanted all of them. Or at least an excuse could be made. A sufficiently plausible justification to dump piles of unwanted Jews on someone somewhere outside Romania.
The third company was a product of Gunter’s little Hungarian adventure. He had left an NL garrison behind in one otherwise insignificant railway town, while transiting that chaos-plagued land. The new Italian-installed regime had brought quiet to Budapest and a few major cities. Also to the Carpathian frontier districts. Those were now occupied by mixed corps, each centered on an Italian alpine or cavalry division. The Germans had in turn secured the main roads, the railways, the Danube and the budding oil district in Hungary’s west near Nagykanizsa. Gunter’s Magyars from Ploiesti were by now part of this presence. They differed from the rest
of the German presence in speaking Magyar. This had led to the other German garrisons seeing them as a convenient receptacle to dump refugees fleeing the depredations of the lunatic Arrow Cross fanatics. The Arrow Cross’s protector, SS General Gestapo Müller, was gone. His successor, SS Gruppenführer Kaltenbrunner, was slowly trying to create order out of the prior armed anarchy; but the focus was on districts deemed vital to the Reich economy, not on the rural interior per se. The garrison was deluged with refugees, and decided to solve the problem by shipping them off to their former parent unit, which was in Bari, not in Taranto as they had thought. Gregor had had to go to Taranto each time to sign for the new group and guide them back. It was getting both familiar and annoying.
Either way, the encampment was stuck with these people. Gregor had sensibly conscripted the military-age males and started drilling them. When the demand from Bari Transit Command came for a new contingent for Libya, he just added the best of the Magyars to the two Betar companies to reach the required head count. He then added himself and his ‘nephew’ Hans. He was tired of being mayor of an encampment of civilians whose only daily activity was running a bar and brothel for Adolph and Wanda. He chuckled to himself. For Wanda. The Polack witch ran the place, and led Adolph around by the little head. The rest of the encampment pretty much ran itself. The Jewish Council of Elders Gunter had set up before he left, had simply expanded itself to be a more generalized Elders Council. They interfaced well with higher administration. They included enough former Habsburg or Romanov field officers to serve as their messengers. Gregor wanted more to life, a more active role to justify his Major’s rank. Time to rejoin the active part of the unit, and the real war. In the meantime, he stood at proper attention for the farewell photos that were being taken.
