by Scott Palter
“Thank you for the offer. I see them of use in Punjab and Sind, but fear adding to the tensions in Bengal or Bihar.” Auchinleck saw the nods around the table. “Any help in Afghanistan will be welcome. We are going to lose Kabul.” He paused, looking for shock. The table was nodding. Meant every faction’s private intelligence net was still working well. The Soviets and their Afghan hirelings could be stalled, but not really stopped in advance of Khandahar and the Khyber Pass. Right now, weather was delaying the Bolsheviks more than the actual fighting. The local Afghans were tribal bandits, not an army. The few Indian Army units, bulked up with Mujahideen, were simply too badly outgunned to do more.
It took five more minutes to get small offerings from the Princely forces, railway police, and private guards from the business sector. The Sikh who this day was representing the civil service, was the only one who had a real idea. “Sir, Britain is evacuating many people from Egypt to points east. From what we have heard the same will happen in Palestine, Iraq, perhaps some other places. This includes a lot of Europeans with prior military experience. Poles, Jews, French, whatever. Why not divert more of them here? Once upon a time, the East India Company Army had what they called European regiments. They were of mixed nationality, but served the Company in the manner of purely British or Indian battalions. These would be mostly Christians, with some Jews. That removes them from our conflicts of religion, caste, and regional languages. They need sanctuary someplace. They are in no position to ask British wages. As long as we feed them and shelter their dependents … ” He looked around the table. No one seemed to have a problem, except the Muslim League man.
“As we are all adults here, let us squarely face to what you are saying. If the British Arab Raj is coming to an end, the refugee flood will include Arabs, Muslim and Christian both. Why should we not make use of these as well? Those police and armies are British-trained. The ones who depart will not be local nationalists who find such officers repugnant.” He saw the looks around the table. “I’m not suggesting that the Muslims serve in Hindu regions or police around the Sikh Golden Temple. We need people who can carry a revolver, a riot shield, and a baton. Why not Muslims as well?”
The Hindu Subedar-Major representing the Army took this all in. “The Army can accept that Muslim units get Muslim officers. We cannot accept that European or Christian Arab units get only Christian ones. Will the League accept limiting the higher officers in such units to Hindus and Sikhs in the name of balance? This will give all three religions immediate slots for promotion to colonel and lieutenant colonel.” There were nods all around the table. A memo was quickly typed up and passed around for signatures. The formal agenda having ended, there was a break for tea, after which the real work began. This de facto national council of government ran on mutual exchange of favors. Everyone at the table had lists, and they began to dissolve into subgroups of two or three. Auchinleck was content to watch, intervening only when asked. His role was as peacemaker; and such refereeing was needed less and less, week by week. The interests represented here had discovered that having common enemies focused the mind on how much they had in common, instead of what divided them. A new India was taking shape. It was less unitary than the old Raj had been, but much less fragmented than what the British had found three centuries earlier. The Congress-dominated chaos zones in the ‘cow belt’ of massively Hindu provinces on the northern plains, focused the minds of every interest at this table on what the alternative was to the current arrangement.
0900 hours local; 0800 hours CET
19 October 1940
Headquarters Italian XXI Corps, north end of the Alamein position
In theory this was a meet-and-greet, a set of formalities for Lieutenant Colonel Di Salo to introduce himself to the senior Italian officer in the sector his Arditi battalion was assigned to. He was not under Generale di Corpo d'Armata Lorenzo Dalmazzo’s command, but such professional networking was normal enough that neither Gunter nor General Rommel was likely to see through the excuses.
Dalmazzo had been only vaguely aware that Strauss had an Italian battalion. He was aware that Rommel had been assigned one, but that unit was still working up back in Tuscany. He had been made known of Di Salo by mutual connections. Now, after coffee service, he waited to see what this was all really about.
“Thank you for seeing me, your excellency. I have information important for your command – but it must be conveyed orally.” The general was giving Di Salo his FULL attention. He found nothing unusual in the Germans not telling their Italian allies key things. “Generals Rommel and Strauss have a plan to breach the British lines.”
“And you are breaching their confidence by telling me this, because?”
“Because I am an Italian patriot.” This was the proper response, and Di Salo was making sure he got it on the record. “Also because we have mutual connections. This plan of theirs can make you look brilliant … if you are properly prepared. But also may make you look the inept fool if you have no awareness of what is intended. As I am involved in this operation, you would have every right to blame me, be angry with my family, the usual. I would rather we be friends. Everyone needs friends in life … ” Yes, friends were how one got promotions, assignments, contracts for one’s firm. Life ran on friendships, connections, exchanges of favors.
“What is required of me?” The Generale di Corpo d'Armata knew nothing came for free.
“I’ll alert you when the operation is about to begin, and where. If the Germans fail, you do precisely nothing. It’s their operation, and therefore the defeat is theirs. But I think there is a good chance this will succeed. I’ve taken several trial patrols through the British lines without incident. It’s all a set of tricks, a ruse de guerre. But the British opposite us are sloppy and somewhat complacent. What you need to do is have your staff planning all done. This planning should presume that Brigade Strauss will force an operational-level breach in the British lines. Strauss plans to leave a holding force behind to remain in his current staging area. The rest of his brigade pours through in the direction of Alexandria. Rommel will enlarge the breach and then roll up the British line south of here, plus exploiting the British rear area. That will leave the British north of the breach for your corps. These troops will likely be backpedaling, trying to safeguard their rear and reestablish contact to the south. One and a half to two brigades of British troops. Not the best they have, as you are aware. Plus a battalion or so of this Palestinian raiding force.”
“I take it that Army command is unaware of this?” Dalmazzo was sure Army knew nothing about it, but wanted to draw out this upstart junior officer.
“Yes, your excellency. More important is that Afrika Korps is also clueless. This violates direct orders. Strauss feels safe to do so. His brigade is some special project of Reichsführer Heydrich. Rommel will justify what he does as an exploitation of whatever Strauss does. Just the sort of operational opportunity German officers are trained to pounce on.” Di Salo felt no loyalty to any of these Germans. He had his own country and his own career to see to.
“It will be obvious he was fully prepared for this surprise.”
“Yes, sir. To me that’s a fight among Germans. I just seek for you and Italy not to be surprised.”
Dalmazzo paused, digesting this all. “And for this advance information you wish me as a future sponsor of your career.” There was no questioning tone. It was an obvious statement.
Di Salo gave a small smile. “Of course, your excellency. Everyone needs friends. Spain showed me that arms was my proper profession, not finance. My battalion has sponsors at the highest level. I myself do not. It seemed foolish not to use this chance to start a relationship between us.”
“And those stupid flamethrower tankettes you have been rounding up?”
“Two of the German advance guard battalion commanders have some silly plan to use them. Finding the machines made friendships with them. More important, it will be exploited from Rome as propaganda. Elite German t
roops using Italian equipment. The right people in Rome are aware. They are sending a movie team to film these in action. While they are here, they can of course dramatize your units and yourself.” Di Salo was the junior here. He had to show the general how useful he could be.
The general sent for a bottle of scotch to toast this enterprise. His toast was, “This may be the start of a beautiful friendship.” Both men understood the game and how to play it.
1900 hours local; 1800 hours CET
19 October 1940
Captain Morgan’s House of Rare Treasures, Alexandria
The shop was several blocks off the main commercial district of the European quarter of Alexandria. It was just within the heavily patrolled section of the city that the police kept safe for tourists, had there been any such in wartime. With the war on, the shoppers needing personal security were mostly British rear-echelon personnel with a few days leave. The shop’s trade in this period of wartime uncertainty was mostly in precious metals. Anything gold or silver sold at a premium to people afraid of paper money when Egypt could quickly change hands. It rated even more of a premium to those looking to escape down the Red Sea to safer climes.
Captain Morgan bought objects with paper currency, but wouldn’t take paper for the monetary metals except at a large and growing discount. Golda Meir had been warned that this man and his shop were seedier than she was used to, but a valuable connection in Zionist circles. Captain Morgan also sold passports, travel documents, and many things of use getting Jews out of Egypt. Equally so providing Christian fronts to Jews wishing to journey to Israel, circumventing the British restrictions on new Jews in Palestine.
The proprietor had greeted her with a quite good British accent that didn’t precisely jibe with his supposed Canadian identity. It wasn’t Oxbridge but could definitely pass for a country squire or Midlands solicitor, at least to Golda’s untrained ear. “Welcome, Mrs. Meir. I was advised of your probable arrival by several of the people you visited with in Cairo. How may I be of assistance?”
They were seated in his warehouse behind the shop. A quick scan showed an amazing variety of odd items, cartons, shipping crates, and general merchandise. She wondered where the photographic studio and art supplies were. Both were needed for document forgery. “Are you really Canadian?”
“I have papers that say I am. I have others making me an American from your own fine city of Milwaukee. You needn’t know about the rest of my documents. Let us say I have proper documents to fit in with the new authorities when the Italians take the city. My history isn’t what brings you here. You need papers and funds. Both can be provided in return for dollars deposited in an account I keep in Havana. My banking agent there can still get telegraph messages here. Do you have photos for those needing instant Americanization?”
“Not yet. Everyone is hesitating. They have homes, businesses, assets to liquidate. The market is down. This makes delay seem wise.”
Captain Henry Morgan was a middle-aged nondescript man. Well kept brown hair, brown eyes, hornrimmed spectacles, a good manicure. The face looked pleasant. The eyes seemed hard. “Isn’t it fun trying to educate fools? My smarter customers have been fleeing since Malta. The wisest left with the fall of France. Even the idiots are beginning to look for the exit now. We all have enough contacts with British forces. Your Ben Gurion may deal with generals and cabinet ministers. I know majors and lieutenant commanders, executive assistants to senior civil service and the like. The rats all know the game is up. Residential properties are going at 50 and 60 percent discounts. Commercial properties and inventories at still higher discounts. The rumor mill has Lower Egypt gone by year’s end. Now, they could all be wrong ... but then why has the entire Fleet run away? Even retired navy people are gone. The port’s civilian contractors have all decamped with their inventories and extended families. There’s been a British fleet in the Mediterranean since the Glorious Revolution. Now there’s nothing east of Gibraltar till you reach Aden.” He looked the Zionist lady over with an almost pitying expression. “The first thing we do is get you registered with the US consulate. That’s your only protection if you are trapped here. The US will get its citizens out when the disaster hits.”
“Are you registered?”
“That would be unwise of me. They know me as Canadian. As I said, I have other papers that should be acceptable to the Italian occupation authorities. My American papers will be later, after I pass out of the war zone. For right now, I’ll probably try my luck as a subject of the Italian Crown. The dollars in Havana are an insurance policy, should I prove to be optimistic about how the occupation will go for one such as myself.”
Meir wanted to show her disgust at this character. He was everything she had hated about the money-obsessed, eye-to-the-main-chance culture of America. The man would sell her papers, and likely sell the passport numbers to the Gestapo later if the price were right. She had her orders. She had worked with worse. The Egyptian Jews would panic when the British military lines started to go. At that point it would be about saving lives, and lost property be damned. It was her job to save who and what she could.
0730 hours local; 0630 hours CET
20 October 1940
8th Army Headquarters, 12 miles west of the Alamein lines
The three-man inspection commission from London had arrived back in Egypt during the overnight hours. One member of Commons each from the Tories, Labor, and National Liberals. Three men with staff experience from the Great War. Facing them were the same three British generals: Wavell as theater commander, and his two army commanders, Cunningham and O’Connor.
Wavell gave a briefing, trying to put the best possible spin on things. Cunningham went second, backing up his boss. He portrayed the situation as serious but not hopeless. Wavell pointedly did not ask O’Connor to speak. He had only invited him on direct orders from London. The wayward 9th Army commander had been instructed by Wavell to volunteer nothing, and answer direct questions as narrowly as possible. London was already having a fit over O’Connor’s preemptive actions in Iraq. So O’Connor stayed seated and silent while Wavell asked the three parliamentarians if they had questions.
The Laborite solicitor replied, “Why no briefing from General O’Connor?”
The named general stayed seated and silent while Wavell replied that, as O’Connor’s commander, he could answer any questions concerning 9th Army. The Tory squire outright laughed at that. “Been told to keep silent and shut up?” O’Connor sat silently with as close to a blank face as he could attempt. “I was given that honor a few times when briefing Haig during the Third Ypres debacle. My Corps Commander was ever so much better at mouthing expedient lies than we staff Johnnies were.” He waited for the expected round of laughter. “I’m not a blockhead like Haig. We three have written authority from the War Cabinet which you all have seen. I want General O’Connor’s report now. I want it without whatever limitations your orders from General Wavell contained. We have this tradition of parliamentary supremacy. General Wavell, do you seriously want a constitutional test? I’ll be happy to send the precis of this dispute to London to get formal orders requiring specific and candid answers to all our questions. We know it’s bad. If we didn’t think there was a problem, why did we just go through an unpleasant air flight from Home by way of Gibraltar? How bad is it? No fudges. No polite straddles.”
O’Connor now finally answered. “Would you please give me that order in writing?” As the Tory wrote out the order, O’Connor asked for another sheet of paper. He was handed the order, read it, and put it in his carry case. He then handed his own sheet to Wavell. It was his resignation as Commander of 9th Army, and a request to retire from active duty. As the five men in the room looked among each other in shock, O’Connor slumped in his seat. “Now ask your questions. I’m not going to stab these two men in the back. My career is over and I’ll give you my opinions. As a retired has-been they won’t mean bollocks, but ask away.”
The three parliamentarians exch
anged glances. The Laborite was silently chosen as the interrogator. “How bad is your army’s situation?”
“Former army.”
“London may have something to say about that, and right now we speak for London. Your army. Neither resignation has yet been accepted. You are a King’s officer on active service. How bad is 9th Army’s position?”
“Hopeless but not serious. Yet.” He saw the shock and confusion. “As long as Egypt holds, I still have a supply line. I don’t expect Egypt to hold for long, but it will hold long enough for me to reestablish a line of communications back to Basra. The Iraqi Army has numbers but limited combat capacity. Between 2nd New Zealand Division, and the odds and sods we are dignifying with the name 10th Indian Division, I will break the Iraqis. Indeed, some of their formations may defect back to us. The rebellion there is a clique of higher officers, not a full nationalist rising. The rank and file enlisted for steady pay and some prestige. They had more years of British command than independence. They remember us beating the Turks in Mesopotamia in the Great War. The Poles are a rolling disaster, but the Jews, when mobilized, will fight, at least for a time. Any other questions?”
“What’s wrong with the Poles?”
“Legalisms. They signed up to fight the Germans, and only the Germans. They raise legal questions of Poland not being at war with Italy or Iraq. If our war with Vichy migrates to the Levant, they will surely refuse to attack Syria. These quibbles come from their London government, and had best be addressed there.”
The National Liberal spoke up. “Legalisms. At a time like this?” O’Connor nodded firmly. The Liberal was a chartered accountant and had been a supply planner. “You speak of marching the New Zealanders to Iraq. Do you have the supplies to get them back?”
