by Bryn Hammond
The fighting around Tel el Eisa continued the next morning when at 0630hrs 2/24th Battalion with 44th RTR took the easternmost of the two ‘Point 24’ features and, once more, held it against repeated counter-attacks whilst another of Auchinleck’s ‘mobile artillery battle-groups’ termed ‘Daycol’, operating in the manner he and Dorman-Smith had envisaged, but reinforced by ‘infantry’ tanks, managed to capture a battalion of Italian infantry before encountering resistance and withdrawing. On 13 July an attack by 21. Panzer-Division intended to break into the Alamein Box and ‘supported by every gun and every aircraft’24 the Panzerarmee could muster, failed badly under heavy artillery fire from the Box. Information from Ultra had warned Eighth Army of Rommel’s intentions. Although Point 24 was lost on 14 July, the losses to the German forces were too heavy to sustain and the attack was broken off.
A major factor in the effective defence of the Alamein Box throughout the first half of July had been the successful use of centralized control of artillery to defeat specific threats. The value of the medium guns in this regard was recognized by Eighth Army and the power of 7th Medium Regiment was increased still further with the arrival of the South Nottinghamshire Hussars Yeomanry which had been overrun during Gazala and was now reconstituted as 107 Battery and the first to be equipped with the 5.5-inch medium gun. Lieutenant Charles Laborde, from 107 Battery, recalled:
We set to to learn how to operate these guns which of course were quite different. They were split-trail and the barrel had to be lowered so that the 100-pound shell could be put into it and rammed home and the charges and so on. Then it would be raised up again and then laid in the normal manner. When the men had learned sufficiently how to operate the guns, we then had to take all these guns out into the desert and calibrate them. It was then we discovered what wonderful guns they were because they proved to be quite extraordinarily accurate. We found that their ‘hundred per cent’ and their ‘fifty per cent’ zones were so small that we could really hardly believe it. On Charge One where the range wasn’t very great – only about 4,000 or 5,000 yards, the shells almost fell in the same hole. It was quite an extraordinarily accurate gun.25
The ‘five-fives’ not only brought greater accuracy, they also provided the gunners with more hitting power, as Charles Westlake found:
The reaction we had was that it packed a fairly healthy wallop. You did feel that if you dropped one of those shells near the enemy you were certainly going to do him some damage. In fact we knocked out quite a few tanks with these. Not by hitting the tank but by dropping the shell in proximity – you stunned the crew inside. A hundred pounds of explosive – well, it’s obviously four times the power of the 25-pounder. They were a very effective weapon.26
Towed by diesel-engined four-wheel drive AEC Matadors which later, after much fruitless manual toil, were found to be the best means to haul and push these enormous guns into their battery position, the battery came into the line on 15 July under the watchful eye of an important, and greatly admired, observer. Sergeant David Tickle, also of 107 Battery, recounted:
When we moved up into the line at Alamein, we pulled up on the roadside in the evening. The idea was to go and take up our positions in the dark and a staff car came down and lo and behold, who got out the staff car but Auchinleck. He stopped and he hadn’t seen anything of the five-five. He probably heard they were around, but he hadn’t seen them. He stopped and he came right down the line and I think he had a word with most of the people lined up then. I thought that was extremely good. I know he wanted to look at the five-fives but he took time out to come and talk to us. He was a good lad.27
These guns were the means to deliver Auchinleck’s vision of artillery power for his army.
During the Great War, a challenge for the high command of all armies had been to maintain ‘operational tempo’ through co-ordinated attacks in quick succession that ensured that different sectors of the enemy’s line were attacked and their opponent kept off balance. Auchinleck’s operations in the second half of July, beginning with the launch of Operation Bacon – an attempt to capture the Ruweisat Ridge in the centre of the Axis front – were seemingly intended for precisely this end: a succession of blows against the Panzerarmee coming on the heels of the fighting at Tel el Eisa to maintain the initiative and break his opponent’s resistance. All these operations were fatally compromised in conception and execution.
Operation Bacon began on the night of 14 July when 5th Indian Brigade (part of XXX Corps, but under XIII Corps orders) and 4th and 5th New Zealand Brigades attacked. The New Zealand division was temporarily under the command of Brigadier Lindsay Inglis, who appeared exceptionally keen to prove his own mettle as a divisional commander in Freyberg’s absence. Two brigades of 1st Armoured Division were ordered to be ready to fight off Axis counter-attacks and, if possible, exploit any success the infantry units achieved. The attack was to be made at night with the New Zealanders advancing nearly six miles to seize their objective and the Indian brigade on their right flank. The objectives were known to be held by 27a Divisione Autotrasportabile ‘Brescia’ and 17a Divisione Autotrasportabile ‘Pavia’. Once again Italian non-armoured formations were being targeted.
Problems in the planning, preparation and delivery of this operation did a great deal of harm in Eighth Army, reflecting badly on Auchinleck and Gott. It was later criticized as being ‘hastily conceived, loosely coordinated, and abound[ing] in examples of poor staff work on matters which might be supposed to be within the knowledge and experience of those responsible.’28 It featured many flaws – the first being the repeated cancellations (three all told) which seriously prejudiced men like Brigadier Howard Kippenberger, commanding 5th New Zealand Infantry Brigade, against both the High Command and the British armour commanders. Kippenberger explained the background to the attack as he saw it:
Ruweisat Ridge, a long, bare, narrow ridge of an average height of 180 feet, ran east and west into the centre of the army position and gave enough command to make it of great tactical importance. Apparently [XIII] Corps thought we might seize it by something in the nature of a coup de main… The plan was a daring one and looked well on paper, or rather on the map, for there were no written orders. It was asking a great deal of the infantry. Two brigades were to move in trucks two and a half miles under fire to an assembly position, easily marked on the map but not so easily located on the ground. Then they were to form up and make a night attack without artillery support on an objective five miles distant. There was no time for co-ordination with the armour, through which we were advancing at right angles to the way it was looking and thinking.29
Kippenberger’s doubts grew with the cancellation of the attack on 12 July and after discussion of the plans:
We had a conference about the projected attack and heard with some scepticism that when we had taken the ridge our tanks would go through and exploit. I do not think anyone then realized how much training and care and forethought are required to get good co-operation between infantry and tanks. We merely cursed one another when it was not achieved. Nor was the problem of command dealt with: the tank brigadiers naturally and emphatically intended to keep their regiments under their own command and to act merely ‘in support’. In the absence of any clear direction from Army they had to be left with their way. We knew there were minefields to be passed but I do not remember any particular plan for clearing and marking gaps: at least there is no mention of the matter in 5 Brigade Orders. Fortunately the Italians had left some gaps on their own initiative and had also gone to the trouble of marking them.30
Many of Kippenberger’s criticisms have the benefit of hindsight but other errors are obvious – especially the failure of Gott and XIII Corps to understand and convey the purpose of the operations. Their orders only stated: ‘XIII Corps will secure Point 64.’31 This objective (elsewhere termed Point 63) was not mentioned as a bridgehead from which the armour would then operate. Kippenberger had other frustrations too:
There was no t
ime to do any proper reconnaissance – or any at all for that matter – to circulate orders, to let the men know what they had to do. I spoke to several company officers during the advance and found that they had not the faintest idea of the intention. There was no time to make proper arrangements for bringing up antitank guns or clearing and marking any minefields we might encounter or ensuring artillery support in the morning. In fact these matters were not very clearly thought about by anybody in those days. The whole operation was typical of Eighth Army’s methods and ideas while it was dominated by what I heard one very senior officer describe as ‘the vested interests of the British cavalry’.32
British armour was to become Kippenberger’s particular bête noir, so his critique needs to be treated with caution. It was, however, based on the events of Operation Bacon where, clearly, infantry and armoured co-operation went seriously awry. What was also clear was that the prior reconnaissance for the advance was not performed and that XIII Corps’ approach was at the root of many of Kippenberger’s complaints:
We heard that 4 Indian Division, advancing on a converging bearing, would be on our right, but there was no more liaison with the Indians than with the tanks. The affair was a Corps attack delivered by one armoured and two infantry divisions, but there was no Corps conference for lower than divisional commanders and none of us had much idea what the other divisions were to do.33
It is interesting however to note that in his description of the final New Zealand divisional conference on 14 July, he unwittingly brings criticism on his own acting commander, Inglis, in noting the absence of any representative of the armour or of the Indian brigade there – something which the New Zealanders themselves could have ensured.34 Finally, he concluded:
Odd things always go wrong in the preparations for a battle and the only course is to be patient, correct them as far as possible, and remember them for future reference. More than usual went wrong in the preparations for this unlucky battle.35
The New Zealand advance began at 2300hrs on 15 July. The advance first met opposition soon after midnight. Private Richard Hewitt of 22nd Battalion, 5th New Zealand Brigade, remembered:
It was all quiet and orderly, we just trudged along over the sand. I can’t say I was very excited or even very scared. One felt that one had been at that sort of thing all one’s life. As we moved in closer the Jerries and Ites started up the odd bursts of machine-gun fire as if they were a bit uneasy about things. Then the fire became more prolonged and after a few flares had been put up they started giving us all they had. Big mortars came whistling over to land with nasty bumps and shattering explosions beside us in the dark, while at times the night was lit up with flares and tracers from different types of shells and bullets, also a burning truck or two.36
Both New Zealand brigades had problems from the start with wireless communications and frequently lost touch with their battalions. The battalions themselves could not maintain inter-company contact when they got involved in the fighting. The heavy and temperamental No. 18 infantry pack set was not robust enough and the sets did not stay adjusted to the correct ‘net’ and interference made renetting on the move impossible. The wireless vehicle for 4th New Zealand Brigade was hit early in the fighting. Communications also broke down in Kippenberger’s brigade and, in the darkness, units got dispersed and fragmented.
Nevertheless, the advance went into the heart of Divisione ‘Brescia’ and ‘Pavia’ and, indeed, through to the rear areas of the Panzerarmee. There was panic amongst the Italian troops. In fact, however, the night advance meant many German and Italian positions were not tackled. Therefore, on their final objective, the infantry’s problems came to a head. Second Lieutenant Roy Johnston, also of 22nd Battalion, recounted:
Dawn found us on a slight feature looking down to a shallow basin. In daylight we moved into the basin. We were halted. We were told to dig in. No one could inform us as to our front, or direction of anticipated counter-attack. We were told to dig in anywhere. The men were being very philosophical about it all but there was confusion. Soldiers trained to do what they were told ‘dug in anywhere’.37
The brigade’s anti-tank guns had got lost in the advance so 22nd Battalion had no protection except four guns under Captain Mick Ollivier. Operating beyond the range of their field guns, the New Zealanders needed armoured support but the orders to Major-General Herbert Lumsden’s 1st Armoured Division did not make clear this need and no provision had been made for close support by Valentines or Matildas from 1st Army Tank Brigade. Consequently, the Grants and Crusaders of 2nd and 22nd Armoured Brigades waited well to the south of Ruweisat Ridge. Richard Hewitt described the scene:
Those with shovels and picks started digging while the ‘diggers’ who had nothing to dig with built up rough little shelters of stone. I had a few rocks in front of me and even one or two on each side which was better than nothing. Suddenly there was an ear-splitting crack and a fiery projectile flashed past a few feet above ground and got a direct hit on a truck in front of us which promptly went up in flames.38
Eight tanks from Panzer-Regiment 8 which had not been dealt with during the night advance had arrived to attack the vulnerable 22nd Battalion from the rear. They made shrewd use of natural cover, light and a dust haze. Ollivier’s four anti-tank guns opened up, but were soon overwhelmed. Most infantry had been expecting British armour to appear and mistook the Panzers for this armoured support. Too late, they realized their mistake, as Hewitt recalled:
One platoon on our right that was near a bit of a ridge got up and made a run for it, they had of course to run a hell of a gauntlet of machine-gun bullets, and it was pretty grim to see these men running with dust being kicked up all round them as they fell or dived to the ground and then up and on again.39
This was Sergeant Keith Elliott and 11 Platoon, who successfully escaped the debacle. As they began running, men shouted: ‘What the hell are you running for – they are our tanks.’ Elliott’s adventures had only just begun. Although wounded, he subsequently led a growing party of men from three New Zealand battalions against various parties of Italians, capturing five posts and returning with over 200 prisoners. He was later awarded the Victoria Cross.
Most of his battalion was captured that morning, however. Hewitt’s narrative continued:
The tanks having knocked out our guns came rumbling and clanking towards us with nothing to stop them. We could do nothing but keep hoping some of our own tanks would turn up to the rescue. A big Mark IV was only about 70 yards off me by this time and I was … wondering what the hell to do next. Some of our chaps were right under the damned monster, and I can still see clearly the silly little bits of white paper they waved for a white flag. Then all seemed to rise up out of the desert with their hands up.40
Fourteen officers and 261 other ranks were ‘in the bag’, including four wounded who were considerately treated. Apart from these prisoners, the entire Ruweisat action had cost 22nd Battalion one killed and eighteen wounded (two of whom died later). The men went into captivity feeling bitterly let down by the British armour.
When 22nd Battalion was overwhelmed, Kippenberger had trekked to find the British armour to ask for help for his men on the ridge. Eventually he reached Brigadier Harold Briggs’ 2nd Armoured Brigade:
In every turret someone was standing gazing through glasses at the smoke rising from Ruweisat Ridge four miles and more away. I found and spoke to a regimental commander, who referred me to his Brigadier. The Brigadier received me coolly. I did my best not to appear agitated, said that I was Commander of 5 New Zealand Infantry Brigade, that we were on Ruweisat Ridge and were being attacked in the rear by tanks when I left an hour before. Would he move up and help? He said he would send a reconnaissance tank. I said there was no time. Would he move his whole brigade?41
Lumsden’s arrival did nothing to placate the increasingly frustrated Kippenberger:
I gave him exactly the same information. Without answering he walked round to the back of his car, unfa
stened a shovel and with it killed a scorpion with several blows. Then he climbed up beside the Brigadier, who was sitting on the turret of his tank… The General asked where we were and the Brigadier pointed out the place on the map. ‘But I told you to be there at first light,’ General Lumsden then said, placing his finger on Point 63. I jumped down and did not hear the rest of the conversation but in a few minutes the General got down and in a soothing manner which I resented said that the Brigade would move as soon as possible.42
In fact, this was only confirmation that the tanks could now go forward in the manner envisaged in XIII Corps’ plans but never adequately explained to the New Zealanders. This incident assumed greater importance when at 1700hrs General der Panzertruppen Walther Nehring launched his first counter-attack. When Eighth Army’s attack was recognized by Panzerarmee as more than a raid, Panzer-Aufklärungs-Abteilung 3 and part of 21. Panzer-Division were sent against the ridge from the north and Panzer-Aufklärungs-Abteilung 33 and the Baade Gruppe43 from the south. These units took time to gather and organize but now they counter-attacked through the late afternoon haze and the dust and smoke of the battlefield. The New Zealanders had frequently used their 2-pounder anti-tank guns mounted on the lorries that transported them. But these ‘portees’, as they were termed, were dangerously exposed on the bare ridge and were targeted by the German tanks and armoured cars. The headquarters of 4th New Zealand Brigade was overrun and Brigadier James Burrows was captured, but subsequently managed to escape. The tanks of 2nd Armoured, operating in hull down positions, then stopped any further German advance and the Panzers soon broke off the action as night descended.
