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Authors: John Schettler

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“Stockhausen has set the bar high,” he told his men. “Taking Gibraltar was no small feat under his command. Now we get our chance in the desert.”

Volunteers to a man, his men and officers were ready. They had been selected from all over Germany to form an exemplary regiment, tall, physically fit, and with perfect eyesight as a requirement for service. There were no shirkers here, and this unit would continue to toughen in the cauldron of combat until it would one day earn the title of “The Führer’s Fireman,” a unit that could be rushed into broken positions on the crumbling east front to restore order and save the day, time and time again.

The word “elite” was not enough to describe these troops. From its early roots as the
Wacheregiment
Berlin and the
Kommando der Wachtruppe,
Grossdeutschland, or “Greater Germany” was an exemplary force on the battlefield, reliable, unyielding, and persevering in circumstances that would have broken any lesser unit. Hörnlein and the men he commanded would be asked to do the impossible many times before the war ended, and they would seldom fail in that charge. Yet now Rommel knew that they were going to face a challenge unlike any other, and he wanted to take the measure of Hörnlein and his men, and prepare them if he could.

The two men met in Hörnlein’s HQ tent, seated on simple folding canvass chairs before a shipping case that had been pressed into service as a makeshift table. It was not to be dinner and drinks that night, but serious talk about what they might be facing.

“The Korps is in fine spirits, as are my men,” said Hörnlein as they began.

“I am glad for that,” said Rommel. “But the fighting hasn’t started yet. I am more concerned with their morale after that happens than any bravado that might be displayed before a battle. Make no mistake here, Hörnlein. This will not be as easy as your service under Kleist in Fall Gelb. The desert is a hard place—no trees or rivers to cross, but dry stony wadis, salt pans, bare scrub that can hardly give a man any cover. It is an open field for battle, and one might think it perfect for maneuver with our fast moving formations, but here we must learn a different game. Every day in this desert, there will be just a little less of you and your men than the day before. You will see it in their faces in time, a lean, haggard look. My men have already fought here, and tasted both victory and defeat. Frankly I am still trying to decide which was worse.”

Hörnlein knew Rommel was trying to steel him for the combat ahead, but remained confident. “Your earlier setback was unavoidable,” he said. “I read the reports, particularly those from the Quartermasters, and the Korps was simply not adequately supplied. Frankly I am surprised you chose to attack at all given the situation you faced, and with only the 5th Light Division in hand. Yet now you have a Korps worthy of the name. There are fine troops here, well supplied this time, and I am not simply trumpeting the virtue of my own boys now.”

“Fair enough, General, but did you also note the comments concerning this new British armor?”

“Most surprising,” said Hörnlein. “A new heavy tank… How was it this tiger did not show us a whisker in France? We heard nothing of it. I am told the French had a few monster tanks, but they were more show pieces than any real asset in combat.”

“These tanks are different. The French Char 2C was a lumbering showpiece, just as you say, but not these new British tanks. They are dreadful, massive beasts, yet with a low profile and speed that would rival any tank we have. This is not a slow elephant, Hörnlein, but a dashing heavyweight. It can move like lightning, firing on the run, and from very long range. When we first encountered it, our tanks simply began to blow up before we ever knew what was hitting us. And when I saw them, even from a distance, I could simply not believe my eyes. Give me twenty of those tanks and I would be on the Suez Canal in two weeks. As it stands, however, they are fighting for the other side.”

Hörnlein nodded, accepting the warning evident in Rommel’s tone. “Yet from all accounts, there were not many,” he said. “And the few they have may still be in Syria and Lebanon.”

“Yes,” said Rommel, “the 9th Panzer Division made their acquaintance near the big aerodrome at Rayak there. The Recon battalion was out in front, and a formation of these tanks ripped it to pieces. When we faced them the armor fought as a discrete unit, but in Syria the British seem to have created combined arms
kampfgruppes
. They also have a new medium tank that doubles as an infantry carrier. It is equally fast, and with a gun in the range of our own 50cm gun on the Panzer IIIs. They have learned fast, Hörnlein. Believe me, this is not the British army we fought in France. At Bir el Khamsa they coordinated every element of their force to perfection, reconnaissance, artillery, armor, and fast moving infantry in this new carrier tank. It was extraordinary. They fight on the move, as I have said, stopping for nothing. It is blitzkrieg the like of which you have never seen, and we were taken completely by surprise.”

“But we have had a good long while to think about that, yes?”

“Night after night,” said Rommel. “Paulus told me I had to start thinking like a commander from the last war, and fight my infantry units as hard as my panzers, and he may be correct.”

“This is why you have had us drilling in rapid field fortification and minefield deployment?”

“Exactly. Be advised—nothing stopped these tanks,” Rommel warned. “We hit them with 88s and yet could not hurt even one. As for the lighter AT guns, do not even bother with them. They may harm this new medium tank, but not the new main battle tank they have. It is impervious to any weapon we now possess, save perhaps heavy caliber artillery, which we may soon see. This is why I requested, and thank god, received, all those 150mm and 170mm guns! As I see it now, our only chance when these tanks appear is to deploy in a hedgehog formation, use fixed positions and mines, and then saturate the point of enemy attack with artillery fire—the first damn war all over again.”

“But not with the gas,” said Hörnlein. “No, not yet. If we were to use such a tactic the British would have no choice but to use it as well, and then we get that nightmare back again. This one looks to be bad enough as it stands.”

There was a moment of silence, and the two men seemed to dwell on memories of their time in the first war, before Rommel spoke again.

“General, I have placed your unit here on the southern flank for two reasons. The British will stand on the coast, as always. They are already digging in behind their bunkers at Tobruk, with three good divisions in the immediate vicinity of that fortress. It will have to be taken if we are to have any chance to move further east. So I will throw the Italians at them first, to make some use of their infantry divisions. If nothing else, they will force the enemy to expend ammunition and supplies in the defense. Eventually, however, it will take good German troops to punch through there. I’ve selected Goering’s troops for that attack, and will support them with armor.”

“And what if the British have these new heavy tanks there?”

“I do not think they will deploy them at Tobruk. No. That is their hammer, not their shield. They will use their armor to the south, perhaps in an enveloping maneuver, as I might. The open desert is endless there. You will never lack for room to maneuver in a wide sweeping envelopment. That is what they will probably expect from me, but I will not give them that fight this time. I’m leading the assault with the 90th Light, here…” Rommel unfolded a field map and pointed to a place south of Tobruk.

“El Adem,” he said. “That is their principle aerodrome here in the western desert. I’m going to lead with an infantry assault, infiltration tactics like those I used in the first war. Then we will see what they do with their armor.”

“You expect they will counterattack there?”

“No, I believe they will try to swing round my southern flank—around your flank, general Hörnlein, which is why I have placed you and your men here in this vital position. You are the flank, and you must not collapse, under any circumstances. But I plan on committing my tanks behind the 90th Light, so do not expect armor support here. I will try to keep something in reserve, but if they come with their heavy tanks, my armor will not be effective. You must fight them as I have described.”

“And if they simply swing around my infantry positions? What then?”

“That is exactly what I expect, and so we are planning a few little surprises for them.”

“Surprises? Do enlighten me, Herr General.”

“First off, the pioneer battalions from each formation are being grouped into a full regiment. I am going to select the ground carefully, and then set the men to digging out a good anti-tank ditch, mined and barbed. Behind it we will position a pakfront of 88s, all dug in well, as the enemy used artillery against us when we deployed them from the march at Bir el Khamsa. The 88s will screen our heavy artillery, including some new 150cm nebelwerfers. If they come around your flank I will wait for them to come up on that AT ditch and then saturate the ground there with heavy artillery fire. Scissors, paper, rock, Hörnlein. They have scissors too big and sharp for our own panzers to cope with now, so we must use a rock—your regiment holding firm, and then comes the artillery. I come to you here this evening because I believe you will be the men to face this enemy armor this time…” He did not need to say anything more on that account.

Hörnlein knew he was being warned, prepared for a shock that was soon to be upon him, and Rommel was sizing him up, wanting to know how he would endure, or if he could endure at all.

“Let me be frank,” he said at last. “I’m told your men are the best we have. Make me believe that to a certainty. If you can hold this flank, then I have a chance to throw three divisions right through the center of the enemy defense, here just south of el Adem.”

“This feature here,” said Hörnlein. “Is it passable?”

“That is a deep wadi. We’ve been working on ways to get over them. You’ve seen me drilling the men. Once we do, I want to punch through with my tanks, and then turn north for the coast. But to succeed, I need the enemy to send these new tanks of theirs somewhere else…”

“Against me,” said Hörnlein, knowing what Rommel was saying now. “So we are to be your sacrificial lamb.”

“Correct. But do not think I am sending you to the slaughter, Hörnlein. If I know you are the best, then the enemy will know it as well. So I’ll want you to feed that fire, and demonstrate on this flank as if we were planning a wide southern envelopment. I’ll send you a battalion of tanks to make a good show. But yes, I want the enemy armor here, against Grossdeutschland, squaring off with the best we have. I realize I’m asking a great deal of you; of your men.”

“Have no worry, General Rommel, you can rely on us. We’ll dig into any ground you choose, and by god, we’ll hold it, even if there is nothing we can do against these new enemy tanks but curse at them.”

“That is what I will need from you. Be tough, General. Be stubborn. I know you have a particular fondness for your men, and that asking them to stand there and thump their chests at the enemy is a hard thing, but this is where the British will send their best units, and so I have chosen you and your men to face them. There is one other little surprise we have for the enemy—the
Stukas
.”

“Good air support is always welcome.”

“Yes, well I have been promised liberal support by Goering, and three squadrons will be assigned to direct support for your regiment. If the enemy does attempt to turn your flank, then the crows will darken their skies. Just use the code word Valkyrie. This is all we can do, General, fixed positions with good men holding them, mined, Anti-tank guns, for all they are worth, liberal artillery with every gun we can spare, and then a good pounding from the air.”

“And the timing of these operations?”

“We’ve just come 500 kilometers from Agedabia, so rest now, dig in here where I have indicated on this map. In a few days time there will be some real fireworks, but you have that interval to prepare. I will keep you informed.”

Rommel stood, returning Hörnlein’s salute, and then turned to catch a glimpse of the setting sun. It was always a rising sun that I loved most, he thought, yet now we must learn to love the dusk as well, and the darkness of night. I have risen from my long sleep at Mersa Brega. The enemy knows I’m here, and is probably out there tonight in their own tents, thinking how to stop the flanking maneuver they believe I am planning here. I will hate to disappoint them, but a good commander must never be predictable. Destiny may have forgiven me for my lapse at Bir el Khamsa. This time I will be ready.

 

 

 
Part V
 
Day Of Reckoning
 
“The Lord Almighty will come with thunder and earthquake and great noise, with windstorm and tempest and flames of a devouring fire.”
 

Isaiah 29:6

 

 

Chapter 13

 

Admiral
Raeder was beside himself. The news of the cancelation of the third
Hindenburg
Class battleship, the
Brandenburg
, had been a hard enough blow. Now this! He stared at the order he had in hand, signed by the Führer himself, and realized that his naval Plan Z was now doomed.

“In light of the fact that our capital ships have made no significant contribution to the war effort, and with the necessity of utilizing every resource possible, all further construction on new ships under Plan Z is to be halted, effective immediately. Ships presently in yards that are less that 80% complete, and not scheduled for sea trials before January 1942 are to be summarily scrapped. U-Boat construction is exempt from this order and shall proceed as planned, as is any conversion of captured enemy vessels deemed to be seaworthy within the allotted time period. Steel recovered from the shipyard cancellations is to be redirected to the Reichsminister for employment in construction of our new heavy tank programs, and to support continued production for the Luftwaffe.”

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