Second Front

Chapter 19

Himmler had been very concerned with the German position in the West, and he had done several things to correct that perceived weakness. While all of his best divisions were with General Steiner in Russia, he had been feverishly working on establishing more forces that could be used in emergency situations which he clearly perceived on the near horizon. One of his pet projects in France was a unit he had formed that would later come to be called the 33rd Waffen SS Grenadier Division. Manpower was always an issue, for Halder was sweeping off all the best German troops to build more infantry divisions. But Himmler thought he could find a ready source of fighting men in France, and he knew exactly where he could start.

When the Vichy Regime had taken nominal control after the armistice, and formally signed an accord with Germany, the nation had been torn by conflicting alliances for some time. De Gaulle had fled to claim he represented the real French government in exile, denouncing Vichy rule as traitorous. An underground resistance movement had cropped up in France, but the Vichy regime had created small paramilitary units to counter it called the Milice. In Fedorov’s history, these units had not really been formed until 1942, but the close cooperation of French and Germany had seen them come into being much earlier now.

As his own SS had arisen from such units, Himmler was very interested in this development. He soon had the idea that he might recruit Frenchmen loyal to the Vichy regime, and to Germany, and use them as the building blocks for a stronger military formation. This was what he did, in the early spring of 1942 instead of doing it two years later in 1944, and the result was a mobile unit that he quietly called his “Charlemagne Brigade.” It was manned by 7,000 Frenchmen, with another 5000 good SS men leavening the dough.

Himmler had formed the unit in mid March, and it had been involved with extensive training on battlefield deployment, tactics and also counterinsurgency operations. He had also commandeered transport, and even armored fighting vehicles and armored cars siphoned from the production lines in Germany. His personal authority went very far in that regard, and he could get most everything he wanted without anyone daring to make an objection, at least outside the shadowed halls of OKW itself. Six months later, the Charlemagne Brigade was very well equipped, and it would become feared by friend and foe alike.

For the local Free French underground, it was feared even more than the Gestapo, for the men in the unit had knowledge of the language and culture that made them particularly effective in a counterinsurgency role. In many ways, they were harder on their own citizens than the Germans were, and this unit would remain fanatically loyal to Himmler’s SS, and by extension to Germany, throughout the war.

Their emblem was a divided shield, with a fleurs-de-lys on the left side (dexter) representing France, and an Imperial Eagle on the right side (sinister) representing Germany. The actual unit emblem had the two symbols in reversed positions, until someone pointed out that France was in the west, and its symbol should be on the dexter side of the shield. Together the dual symbolism represented the new combined Franco-German state that Himmler envisioned after the war was won, and he had just created its first official military unit.

Troops had been raised from French prisoners of war, the LVF, or Legion Volontaires Francais. Designated Infanterieregiment 638 by the Germans, it had fought with the 7th Infantry Division near Moscow, and was later returned to France for rehabilitation. Himmler seized upon it as a ready source of loyal, well trained combat veterans to throw into his stew. Another French regiment, La Légion Tricolore, was also incorporated.

All these troops were soon formed into the Waffen-Grenadier-Brigade der SS ‘Charlemagne,’ with two regiments, the 57th and 58th, consisting of two battalions each, and a third two battalion regiment raised from Himmler’s handpicked SS, known as the Sturmregiment, where most of the best equipment was concentrated. A full Assault Pioneer Battalion and a highly motorized Recon Battalion fleshed out the ground troops for the heavy brigade, and they were supported by a Panzerjager Battalion and an Artillery Battalion. The German born Gustav Krukenberg, fluent in French, was given overall command as Brigadeführer, also much earlier than in Fedorov’s history. He coordinated with Colonels Lacroix and Demessine who commanded the two French Regiments.

The signal Himmler had received, and all he secretly had gleaned from those trans-Atlantic cable telephone conversations, led him to firmly believe the information was not a ruse, but real and credible evidence of an imminent Allied invasion operation.

The Allies are finally kindling their torch, he thought. So we must have a ready bucket brigade waiting for them when they come to Spain. This is a perfect opportunity to utilize my new combined Franco-German unit—the ghosts of Charlemagne as they are sometimes called by the locals. I must get it moving at once, but in a way that may not cause undue alarm if the Allied reconnaissance sees the troops on the trains. So I will use my network to let it slip that a new Volunteer French unit is being sent to Tunisia. That would be on the back end of any Allied planning, and nothing they would concern themselves with for these initial landings.

Yes, I will cut orders to have the unit move to Toulon, but at the last minute I will re-route the trains through Montpellier and then along the coast to Barcelona. That is a good port where they could embark for French North Africa, or I could also just continue along the Spanish coast to Valencia, Cartagena, Malaga and then to Gibraltar. The final destination will depend on the outcome of these Allied landings.

So here was a unit raised like the ghosts they were named after, born of men from fallen France in league with their former enemies. It was not even on the radar screen as far as Allied intelligence went. The various battalions had been dispersed all over France, but now Himmler gave orders for them to concentrate in rail yards north of Paris, and begin their journey south. Then he also strongly suggested to Hube that he get his 16th Panzer Division across the border and on the trains to Madrid as soon as possible. When the chief of the SS gives you that kind of advice, you act on it, and even without knowing the real reason for this move, Hube pushed his units along.

Elsewhere in France, the Germans had Dollman’s 7th Army in the south and along the Brittany and Normandy regions. 25th Korps had the 17th Infantry and 6th Panzer rebuilding with new equipment after the disastrous winter campaign in Russia. Three more static divisions fleshed out this Korps, the 333rd, 335th and 709th. The 84th Korps had another three static divisions, the 319th, 320th, and 716th. There were also five Fortress Regiments working on the Atlantic Wall fortifications, the 14th, 19th, 9th, 11th, and 17th.

Farther north, the 15th Army under General Haase had the 81st Korps with three static divisions, the 302nd, 332nd and 711th. The rest of his force was coastal artillery and the 21st Fortress Regiment. 82nd Korps had one mobile infantry division, the 106th, and three more static divisions, the 304th, 306th, and 321st, along with 12th and 21st Fortress Regiments. This force was mainly along the shores closest to England, covering the region from the Siene River at La Havre through Calais, Dunkirk and Ostend. It was supposed to have 10th Panzer Division as a strong mobile reserve, but that unit had been sent to Rommel early, along with the Hermann Goering Brigade.

This meant that in addition to Hube’s 16th Panzer Division now entering Spain, there were another 15 German divisions in France, though only three had the transport assets required to move anywhere efficiently, and all these troops were stretched out along the entire French coast, from Ostend to Bayonne. One other division, the 7th Panzer, was now being withdrawn from Russia for a planned movement to France. If the British had been more flexible, seeing the way TORCH had ballooned to a six division assault at two widely separated locations, they might have also seen that the concentration of all six of these divisions at one point on the coast of France, as Marshall proposed, might have had a very good chance of making a successful landing. But that was not to be—at least not yet.

Often thought of as a small preliminary operation, few realized the massive scale of TORCH. While not quite as big as OVERLORD, it was certainly in the same league. The question of whether or not it would be successful now was one part political, and three parts military. Neutral Portugal was none too happy to think that their nation would soon be a war zone, and Franco was none too happy to think his Army was now going to have to muster along the Portuguese frontier, and more German troops were already clogging his rail lines, bound for Madrid.

His regime might not survive a successful Allied invasion of Spain, and he knew that Don Carlos, the youngest child of the Duke of Tuscany, was waiting in the wings to re-establish the Monarchy. Even though he had three living older brothers who might also claim the throne, none expressed any interest in that adventure. As for the troops he might command, their loyalty was always questionable, and there was a strong Nationalist movement that was very much opposed to Franco’s flirtations with Hitler. All told, Franco had about 24 divisions by 1940, but of these he probably could count on no more than 12, with each division having the combat potential of a brigade, if even that. He clustered these into three Corps at Madrid, Seville and Valencia, and to these he added three armored regiments with old German hand me down Panzer IIs, a few Russian T-26s left over from the Civil War, and a few Pz IVDs, no more than ten per regiment. Franco had good reason to be nervous.

Nor were the French really happy now that the moment of promised retribution from their former Allies was at hand. Some had already begun to think over the consequences of their acquiescence in joining the Axis powers. The gallows cast a long cold shadow in their minds, and if Charlemagne’s Ghost could arise that hour and see the men and machines now marching in his name, he might have wept.

Yet there was plenty of gloom and doom to go around on all sides. The Americans were still disgruntled about the operation, and harbored many inner doubts that were often expressed in their war dairies. The overall ground commander, the irascible George Patton,. Privately wrote that: “The job I am going on is about as desperate a venture as has ever been undertaken by any force in the world’s history.” Yet outwardly he put on his war face, telling Eisenhower that he would get to the beaches one way or another, and not leave until the enemy had been vanquished, or he himself was dead. He told the same thing to the President in a private meeting before the convoy departed.

Another gritty General, Ernest Harmon of the 2nd Armored Division, had been profoundly shocked to observe the results of a practice assault landing on the shores of Chesapeake Bay in Maryland. His troops and equipment ended up scattered all over the coast, taking the better part of a day to reorganize. This was an early morning landing, with good light, on a calm friendly shore, with no enemy present, and a lighthouse beacon there as a guidepost to boot. The thought that he would soon be landing at night, on hostile shores, possibly under enemy fire, was suddenly most disconcerting. Eisenhower had been treated to the same shock when he witnessed the mock landing of the 1st Infantry in Scotland—another disaster with troops clumped in groups on the shore, aimless, unable to form up and get underway towards their objectives. Now the wisdom of the British end of the plan, landing in a friendly port at Lisbon, became apparent.

The only thing that would counterbalance this raw inexperience on the part of the Americans, was an enemy that had languished in Morocco for years without so much as seeing a single enemy plane, the French. Their “divisions” were undermanned, ill equipped and led by officers with little wartime experience. Those that had seen combat had experienced the demoralization of defeat, seen their country occupied by the Germans, and then they had to wrestle with the fact that they were now “collaborators.” In 1940 and 1941, with Germany seeming invincible, they might have thought they had joined the winning side. Now, in the late summer of 1942, things were looking a little different. Rumors began to circulate that the entire American Army was coming, with thousands of ships, planes and tanks.

So no one was happy, on either side, and a most unusual battle was finally about to begin. The Second Front was opening in the West, not soon enough for the Soviets, not where the Americans had hoped to see it come, and not to anybody’s liking. It was an operation mounted because the Allies had decided that only one thing could be worse—idling through the last months of the year and failing to mount some challenge to the Axis powers that had ruled the day since the outbreak of the war.

Chapter 20

The battle for control of the Moroccan coast would first have to be fought on and over the seas that washed that forsaken shore. In this, the Allied navies would now show the tremendous naval power at their disposal. In the north, the Force H had fleet carriers Ark Royal and Victorious, escort carriers Argus and Avenger, three battleships, four heavy cruisers and scores of destroyers, with their primary role as covering force for the British landings at Lisbon. Force C in the Canaries had been thinned out, but it still had the carriers Glorious and Furious, two Knight Class heavy cruisers, backed by three more cruisers, Jamaica, Kenya and Bermuda, and a destroyer squadron.

In the south, the Americans would send the carrier Ranger, new escort carriers Sangamon, Santee, Suwanee, and Chenango, the battleships Texas, Massachusetts and New York, four heavy and two light cruisers, with over 40 pesky destroyers. Rather than being divided in to three groups as in the original plan, this substantial naval force sailed as one massive formation. The carriers had ceaselessly patrolled the skied to eliminate the U-Boat threat, and now the American troop convoy was approaching Casablanca, ready to strike all along the coast of Morocco in one mighty blow. It was this concentration of the American force that would make this attack so potent, and yet so prone to chaos and disorder as had already been seen in exercises and rehearsals.

For their part, the Axis naval forces seemed puny by comparison. Normandie was still needing repairs at Toulon, but the alarm sent by Himmler had convinced the French that it might be moved first to Algiers where the remaining work could be completed. Other than that ship, only the battleship Jean Bart remained operational at Casablanca, joined by two cruisers and five destroyers. The Germans then had their battlegroup at Gibraltar, consisting of Kaiser Wilhelm, Hindenburg, and the carriers Goeben and Prinz Heinrich. The Axis forces were therefore outnumbered six to two in battleships, eleven to two in carriers, and could simply never match the Allies in cruisers and destroyers. In spite of that, the French were at sea that morning, unaware of the storm of steel that was now blowing in from the west.

A supply operation for the Canaries was underway in the south with a group of Siebel ferries and six French transports escorted by the light cruiser Lannes and four destroyers. Further north Jean Bart had left Casablanca with what was left of the Force De Raid. Instead of being little more than a well armored moored shore battery as in the original history, that ship would now operate as a dangerous raider in what might now be the final act of the French Navy in the Atlantic.

The opening shots of the campaign were not fired by any of these ships. It was the eagle eyed Wernet Haupt in morning air flight Thor that would start the battle, spotting a British Sunderland over the Fuerteventura Channel and going in to shoot that plane down at a few minutes before ten on the 15th of September. When they heard the Sunderland’s ‘Mayday’ call, the British on Tenerife quickly scrambled a pair of Spitfires in Group Dogrose. They would be too late to save the Sunderland, but would instead find a German Kondor up, and straying uncomfortably close to Force C. The fighters vectored in, and saw the German plane turning and running for the safety of friendly islands. It was not known whether the plane had spotted the British force.

That Kondor would not see anything alarming, but a second plane out of Tangier was up at 11:00 and quickly detected something on radar to the southwest. It turned in the direction of the contact, sending a signal to Casablanca as to the suspected position, which in turn was relayed to Jean Bart. At 12:40. The French raiding group executed a 30 point turn to come about on a heading of 285, then came another 30 points to starboard to eventually assume a heading of 315 at a little after noon. They were sailing right into the outliers of the huge American invasion group.

The three contacts that had been detected were the biggest ships in the American covering force, three battleships sailing with an escort of four destroyers from Desron 4. That bold German Kondor then overflew Desron 15, reporting three destroyers before Santee ordered a pair of Wildcats to get after it. Its radar was now picking up contacts all over the sea, and it flashed the urgent warning: Large convoy spotted – 13:00 hours, heading 100 degrees East—many warships.

The jig was up.

Desron 4 soon spotted a pair of destroyers to the south, and they turned to engage. At 2:11 local time, DD Wainright was the first ship to score a hit, straddling the French destroyer Fougueux with its deck guns. The French ship was badly hit, losing a 130mm gun, a pair of its AA guns and with minor flooding on the bow. Its speed fell off dramatically when the water reached the boiler room amidships and swamped the propulsion plant. Fougueux was soon dead in the water, and now the destroyer Boulonnaise was also taking a pasting from Wainright, which had turned over its initial prey to the able hands of DD Mayrant.

The remaining five ships in the French group has formed a wide battle line and fanned out to the northeast. The two destroyers, Milan and Simoun, rushed to engage the US DDs. Next came Jean Bart, deciding to weigh in with her secondary batteries when it was clear that Fougueux was sinking. The battleship opened fire on DD Jenkins, and that ship would take severe damage, along with Myrant, which prompted the remaining two US destroyers to wheel south. They thought they would fare better if they could put the French destroyers between their position and that battleship, and in the ensuing action, Milan would go down on the French side, joining Fougueux and Boulonnaise, and Myrant would sink, ending the little destroyer duel when the remaining US destroyers slowed to pick up survivors. Now it was time for the heavy metal.

Jean Bart saw her real foe, the tall silhouette of the leading American battleship, the Massachusetts under Captain Whiting. The entire French squadron, only four ships remaining, executed a sharp turn to the north, intending to cross the enemy’s T, and Jean Bart opened up with her 15-inch guns. Massachusetts returned fire, and the first US battleship engagement in the Atlantic was now underway. The French maneuver was correct, but it would be easily countered by the Americans when Whiting ordered his ship to come to 080 degrees northeast. Now he would be able to bring all those big 16-inch guns to bear. Undaunted, Jean Bart held her course, and the two supporting cruisers Gloire and Tourville, increased speed to engage the second tall silhouette, which was the battleship Texas. Their smaller guns would be no match for the ten 14-inch guns on the American ship, and Texas also had heavy armor, 300mm amidships, with 250mm bulkheads, and 360mm on the face armor of those turrets.

New York was last to arrive, almost due north of the Massachusetts. Captain Whiting could see that his faster ship would cut the New York off, blocking her sighting of the enemy if he continued on his present course. He therefore ordered an immediate hard turn to starboard, intending to come due south. This would give New York a crack at Jean Bart, and the Americans could double team this dangerous ship. He could already see the Texas engaging the leading French heavy cruiser, Tourville, and now he had every hope that he would prevail in this hot action.

Both sides went at it for another 30 minutes, with the range slowly closing until it was about 6 nautical miles from Jean Bart to New York. With most of her guns forward, Jean Bart shifted fire to the newcomer, as Massachusetts was now running southeast, attempting to come around the French ship’s stern at about 8 nautical miles. Captain Barthes thought he had hit the American battleship several times, and when he saw it slowing down he hoped one of those hits had penetrated to do some serious damage. In reality, Whiting had only slowed to stabilize his ship after that hard turn, and now increased to 21 knots. Most of his damage was to the twin secondary batteries, and 40mm Bofors. His engineering plant was sound, and all main guns were operational.

That would not be the case for the French ship soon. Massachusetts scored a heavy blow amidships, penetrating to the boilers and seriously compromising the steam plant. Jean Bart fell off to 12 then 8 knots, taking on water and with heavy damage, as one of the rounds had fallen short, exploding underwater and reaching an unprotected segment of the hull. To make matter worse, Tourville had met a similar fate at the hands of the battleship Texas. The cruiser was struck by two 14-inch rounds right on her superstructure near the stacks, but more serious damage from an earlier hit beneath the waterline had put her into a list. The cruiser keeled over, foundering in the moderate swells under a heavy pall of black smoke.

Now heavily outgunned, Jean Bart would not survive. Captain Barthes felt his ship taking one heavy blow after another, and at three PM local time, he finally gave the order to abandon ship. Eighteen minutes later, the brave French battleship began to sink, and seeing this, both light cruiser Gloire and the destroyer Simoun broke off, running for the safety of Casablanca. They would later make a run for Gibraltar and the safety of the Med, along with the few French destroyers that remained in the Atlantic.

This hard fought action by the US Navy would prove their mettle, and metal as well. For the loss of the destroyer Myrant, with minor damage on the three US battleships and destroyer Jenkins, they had savaged the French DDs, sinking three of the four—then the battleships had finished the job. It would be the only serious challenge at sea to the Allied fleets, and the death knell of the Force de Raid. Once the combined Franco-German fleet had been powerful enough to match and hurt the best the Royal Navy could throw at them, but the heavy losses they sustained off Fuerteventura had seriously reduced their fighting power.

The news of the defeat would fall heavily on Vice Admiral Michelier, the naval commander ashore at Casablanca. It would ripple through the wires to reach Admiral Laborde aboard the Normandie at Algiers, now the last of the once proud line of French battleships. Dark thoughts entered his mind about what was now underway, and the same shadow fell heavily on the thoughts of the German Admiral Raeder.

A battle was coming that now threatened to collapse the entire Axis position in the Atlantic and Western Med, everything Raeder had labored to build. He had seized Gibraltar, driving the Royal Navy before him. He had faced them down in one engagement after another, his ships wreaking havoc and also delivering a glittering prize that he had yet to fully measure. But now, the Allies were striking directly at the two vital naval bases that allowed him to sustain operations, Gibraltar and Casablanca.

Without those ports, he would be driven into the Central Med, and forced to operate out of Toulon. As reports came in on the movements of Force H, he realized that his remaining operational ships, those two precious carriers and his prized Kaiser Wilhelm and Hindenburg, would now be in a fight for their lives against the whole of the combined Anglo-American fleet.

Should I withdraw to Toulon, he asked himself? Should I keep these ships here in the Med, join the Normandie, and anything left in the Italian Navy to make sure we can defend the sea lanes to Rommel? That would be the only course I could set to defend my overall strategy, but that leaves our hard won position in the Canary Islands a lost cause.

He shrugged, a heaviness of heart settling on him now. A storm was coming, he could feel it impending on him like bad weather, and it would be a wall of steel ships, drawing ever nearer with each passing moment. His own battlegroup had sortied from Gibraltar, charging out through the narrow straits like knights emerging from a castle, but soon that castle would be under siege. He had little doubt as to where the invasion was heading—Casablanca. And the French division there wasn’t going to stop it, he realized. There was only one German division close enough to matter, near Marrakesh, just getting off the trains to head south to reinforce Operation Condor.

Yet they will never get there now, he knew. They will have to be sent to Casablanca, and even then, the Americans could land north of the city, cutting those troops off, and we have nothing to really stop them from sweeping up the coast to Tangier. And the British have landed in Portugal!

Damn, he thought, we knew this was coming, but now that the hour is upon us, look how badly positioned we are to defend against this attack. Damn Hitler and his obsession with Russia. He’s left Rommel with five divisions, and Kesselring here with five more to defend all of Spain, and North Africa. How many divisions are they coming with? Is this a raid, or is it a heavy landing with the intention of knocking the French out of this war. Yes… the French. They were already waffling after the heavy losses at Fuerteventura. I asked for the Normandie, and Admiral Laborde delayed just long enough to keep that ship out of play here. Can he be relied on? And what about the remaining French ships at Toulon?

So do I stay here, and fight for my Mediterranean strategy, or do I send the Hindenburg group home… assuming they could even reach a German port safely? That would at least give me a superb naval force in the north to operate out of Nordstern. It would be enough to stop those convoys to Murmansk and strangle Soviet Russia. But if I do that, I leave another orphan in Toulon, the Bismarck. She will be laid up for many more months, and if the French collapse….

Which is the stronger play? Should I use our remaining naval assets to choke the sea lanes feeding the Soviets, or use them instead to make certain we can hold our own sea lanes open for Rommel? Which battle matters more? If I stand a watch here, we might delay the Allied movement into the Western Med, keep the French fighting for Algeria and Tunisia, and protect Rommel’s back, because I know what the British will want next—Malta. Yes, they’ll want Malta and Oran, and Algiers and Bizerte and Tunis. They’ll want to run the table and sweep us right out of the game. If they do that, Rommel is doomed. He will either lose his entire army or be forced to withdraw to Sicily. Then that is where the Allies will come next, to get after Italy. Either that or they will land in Southern France to knock the Vichy Government out of the war. My God, that’s a lot to lose to close those convoy routes in the north.

That decided his mind.

With Jean Bart lost, he thought, and Casablanca under imminent attack, my only strategy would be to fight here in the Med. If we run for home now, it will only undermine the morale of the French further. So we stay, and we fight. I will issue recall orders for the Hindenburg Group immediately. They will return—but not to Gibraltar. I will want them move quickly to Oran, and from there, we may have enough to keep the Allies from thinking about a sortie into the Western Med.

It was then that the telephone rang on his desk. He lifted the receiver, wondering, and heard a dry cold voice that he recognized all too well—Himmler. “Admiral Raeder,” it said.

“Yes, this is Raeder.”

“Anton is coming to dinner. Lila should be there to meet him.”

That was all he said, hanging up the phone before Raeder could speak a single word.

My God, he thought. It is far worse than I imagined.

He knew exactly what Himmler was referring to. Case Anton was the German plan to seize Vichy France in the event of French cooperation with the Allies overseas. Operation Lila was the plan to seize all that was left of the French Navy at Toulon. Himmler was warning him these operations were now to be put in motion. It was all collapsing, everything he had striven for. It was all twisting in the wind now.

It suddenly occurred to him that the subtle movement of the Normandie from Toulon to Algiers might have darker implications. What was Laborde up to? All the eggs had been safe in the nest at Toulon, save one, the pride of the French Navy. He picked up the telephone again.

“Get me Kapitan Adler on the Hindenburg.”

Chapter 21

The British had no difficulties at all in their landings at Lisbon. It was only a question of how fast the dockyards could receive the men and equipment. As this wing of the Torch plan was never tried in the real history, it received a new commander as well, a General very eager to continue writing his name in the record books. After saving Tobruk from Rommel, and saving Singapore from the Japanese, if only for a few crucial weeks, Montgomery had returned to the 8th Army, chafing to get more than the infantry under his command. When he learned that his old 3rd Division had been selected to take part in the Torch operation, he put in a request with Brooke to see about a posting to that action. It would be the order of the day, get him back in the limelight, and out of the considerable shadow that General O’Connor cast in the 8th Army order of battle. So his old post was given to General Alexander, and off he went.

The plan was for the heavy armor to land at Lisbon, then quickly commandeer trains that the Portuguese had been quietly moving to the outskirts of the city. A cover story about work on a bridge causing a backlog was put out to mask the buildup, and it fooled everyone except Himmler. Unfortunately, Himmler could not convince Goring that he should violate neutral Portuguese airspace and bomb those valuable train cars and engines, and Goring would not act unless he received specific orders from Hitler. So 6th Armored Division was going to get ashore, and by the time they arrived, the skies above the port were seething with every fighter the British could bring on their aircraft carriers, with hundreds more landing on Portuguese airfields.

One thing the British had mastered in the early years of the war was the art of rapid forward deployment for the RAF squadrons assigned to support the campaign. They realized that fighters would govern the front, and a preponderance of fighter aircraft was an absolute necessity. The ratio would be at least four for every bomber, and preferably six. The initial cover would be provided by the FAA, but as soon as possible, Spitfire squadrons would be rushed to Portuguese airfields from England. Number 322 and 324 Squadrons would be the first to arrive, and where they could operate from good bases, the Stuka was dead. Those two groups brought in 72 Spitfires, and soon they ruled the roost over Lisbon.

The 43rd Wessex landed quickly with the armor, and advanced up the rail lines towards Madrid. There they would be opposed by the first of three German divisions that would react to the invasion, the 337th Infantry. It had been assigned to 7th Army headquartered in Bordeaux for some time, but was about to get its first real combat experience, at least for most of the men in the division at that time. The man in charge, however, General Eric Marcks, had been blooded in Russia, commanding the 101st Light Division, so he knew what he was doing. He left a leg in Russia, replaced with a wooden prosthesis, and it seemed like he was put out to pasture with the 337th. Now he was front and center in the war on the emerging “Second Front.”

Coming from Madrid by rail, the 337th detrained near the Portuguese border and sent its recon battalion across to scout out the situation. There it ran into Montgomery, who had come forward to look over the ground near the border, and with him he had the whole of 129th Brigade, including a battalion of the new Churchill tanks from the 34th Armored Brigade attached to the Wessex Division. He was spoiling for a fight, and determined to be the man who returned Gibraltar to the Crown. True to form, he waited to deploy two regiments of the division artillery before he launched a full brigade assault on the German 327th Recon Battalion.

The Germans there had a high proportion of veterans that had rotated in from the Soviet front, and those men held their ground tenaciously, then began a well coordinated and very stubborn withdrawal. It was typical Monty, using the mass of his brigade as a weapon of attrition, but the Germans had fought on much more difficult ground in Russia, and they acquitted themselves well.

Meanwhile, the British 6th Armored Division had taken the trains from Lisbon south, along the rail that passed east of Lagos and then ran along the southern coast towards the border. It was here that Hube’s 16th Panzer Division had arrived on the scene after a long rail march along the eastern coast of Spain, through Barcelona, Valencia, Murcia to Malaga and thence through Cordoba to Seville and the Portuguese border on the southern coast just west of the small port of Huelva. The rapidity of this move was due to well practiced experience on the dismal rail net in Russia, and in making it, the Germans had successfully covered Cadiz, and the airfield at Rota.

The bulk of Hube’s division concentrated near the coast road and rail. He deployed all four of his Panzergrenadier battalions there, with both his Panzer battalions, and they ran head on into the entire British 6th Armored Division coming up the coast by both road and rail. The action was fought for the coastal town of Villa Real, and extended some 15 kilometers to the north, and it was like two knights jousting in armor, with both striking telling blows, and both sides would have dented shields and armor before it would be decided.

In the south, the US landings were every bit the fine mess that men like Patton, Harmon and others expected. The plan had been altered to lead with the 1st US Infantry, perhaps the best trained unit in the army. It was going to put its 18th and 26th regimental Combat Teams ashore to seize Rabat and Port Lyautey some 80 kilometers northeast of Casablanca. The 26th landed at Mehdia, stormed inland and took its objective. The 18th, however, came in hard at Rabat, took that town, driving out the 2nd Zouave Regiment in the process, and then milled about, trying to sort through crates of weapons and supplies, re-assemble mixed up companies, while one battalion was still foundering about in the high surf. The regiment was leaderless, because its commanding officer, had landed somewhere else.

The naval transport he was on got fouled up with elements of the 16th RCT, which had been tasked with taking Port Lasfar and El Jadida, nearly 100 kilometers southwest of Casablanca. Colonel Greer had been squinting at the shoreline, then staring at his map. He should be seeing the river mouth near Rabat, but the only report of an estuary was indicating it was 20 kilometers farther north.

“That can’t be right,” he growled. “The goddamn town is right there. Just put us ashore.” It wasn’t until he slogged off his LVT, waded ashore, and made his way into that town, that he learned where he was. To his great surprise, he bumped into soldier wearing the shoulder patch of the 16th RCT. He was 180 kilometers southeast of his regiment, and when Patton found him, coming ashore at El Jadida, he read him the riot act, ordered him to get back on anything that would float, and get his ass up to Rabat on the double.

Those two small ports were just big enough to get elements of Task Force Red ashore, with much needed supporting armor. With Patton there, this “mess,” as he first saw it, was quickly sorted out, and he was personally directing traffic with his riding crop pointing out where he wanted the units to go—northeast, to Casablanca.

It was then that a fateful decision was made on the part of the defending forces. Reports had been coming in to Kesselring all morning, and now he had a fairly good idea of where the main landings were, to either side of Casablanca. But there was one other raid mounted much farther south at Safi. There Lt. Colonel Rosenfeld had made a pre-dawn assault to seize the small port and the airfield about 4 kilometers north at Sidi Bou Zid.

This port had two direct rail lines coming to it, one from Marrakech to the southeast, and another spur to the north from the main rail line from that city to Casablanca. It was there, at Marrakech, that a French Division was posted as a standing garrison unit, but the German 327th Division had just arrived the day before the invasion. It was to wait there for its supplies arriving the next day before moving to the coast with orders to eventually be transported by sea to take over garrison duty on the three German held islands in the Canaries. This would allow General Kubler to then mount his next offensive move against the British bastion of Tenerife.

But that would never happen now.

When word came in of the landing at Safi, the immediate reaction was for the 327th to move there, but Kesselring intervened. “No,” he said to a staff adjutant. “From all reports, there is only a single regiment landed at Safi. The French Marrakech Division can go there by road and retake those ports. Send orders for the 327th to get back on those trains and head north for Casablanca. I will see that the division supplies are re-routed as well.”

This intervention was going to give the Axis forces their only chance at making a credible defense at the vital Atlantic port. Even as Patton was lashing trucks and armored cars with his riding crop, pushing them northeast, the Germans were riding the rails north, and the two forces would have a meeting engagement when the Americans finally had pushed up to approach the rail line to Marrakech.

The 327th Division had been formed in Bavaria in 1940 and was sent to France as a garrison unit, quartered near La Rochelle before it was tapped for deployment to Morocco. It moved through Vichy France to Toulon, embarked there and landed at Oran. From there it had moved by rail through Fez to Marrakech. Equipped as a second tier division, it was deemed ready for defensive actions, looking forward to the balmy Canary Island posting when the new orders came in. Major General Theodore Fischer had just taken command, and now he was to find his unit thrust into the crucible of Patton’s “desperate venture.” When light tanks were reported approaching the rail line, Fischer stopped the train and immediately ordered his division to deploy. The troops were literally jumping from the train cars as the American forces approached.

Tireless, Fischer simply deployed his battalions from the march and ordered them to attack west. They ran right into the 16th RCT with its supporting light tanks and mechanized forces from Task forces Green and Red. These were all forces that would have made the landing at Oran in the old history. Now they were writing it all anew.

The presence of that division was a saving grace to the defenders of Casablanca, for it looked as though Patton would simply sweep up and take the city from the south until the Americans ran into that line of feldgrau deployed all along the rail line leading south.

Now a decision had to be made as to what would happen with the German position in the Canary Islands. Admiral Raeder had already made his choice as to where he would put his remaining naval assets, and he knew that unless this invasion at Casablanca was soundly defeated, Operation Condor was now doomed.

“A second American infantry division is now landing north of Casablanca near Fedala,” he told Kesselring. “The 327th arrived just in time to hold off the attack from the south, but I do not think they will stop this invasion alone. That being the case, what do we do about Operation Condor? I can tell you right now, that I can no longer supply those troops. The delivery being made this morning will probably be the last, and I do not think Goring will be able to use his transports to airlift supplies either. The British are moving in Spitfires, and our control of the air is now well contested. If Casablanca falls, that entire position falls with it.”

“Then we must get the troops out now,” said Kesselring. “Kubler was organizing for an attack on Tenerife, but that must be cancelled immediately. Instead, he can mount those troops on the ships you just sent to deliver supplies, and withdraw to Morocco. The same for all the air transports now mustered on those islands.”

“The airlift to Morocco would be a dangerous move.”

“We will simply have to risk it.”

“And Hitler?” said Raeder, his message obvious.

“Damn Hitler,” said Kesselring. “If we ask for permission, you know what he will say. But those troops are elite fighting forces, the only air mobile divisions in the army. To leave them to wither on the vine out there would be criminal! If, however, we can move them quickly to Morocco, then they can strike north. We will leave a small garrison on the islands. Hitler does not need to know we have withdrawn the bulk of those troops. We will merely say that certain elements have been dispatched to retake Safi. But I want the 2nd Luftland Division, and 7th Flieger, out of there—now. Kubler’s mountain regiment will go by sea, and we will leave it to him as to what garrison he can leave behind.”

“The British will take them all back in short order,” said Raeder dejectedly. “Everything we fought for.”

“In time,” said Kesselring. “But not until the outcome of this big invasion is determined. They won’t have the shipping to conduct landing in Portugal, Morocco and the Canaries as well. So we will hold those islands long enough to keep the Führer from exploding, and when the British do take them back, that will be the fortunes of war.”

“There is no rail connection north from the southern airfields. The nearest rail line will be at Safi.”

“Then that is our first objective.” Kesselring took off his gloves, leaning over the map. Then he offered up his patented smile. “So the war in the West has finally begun.”

With that decision, Raeder’s dream of holding that knife at the jugular of the British convoy routes to Freetown and beyond would now evaporate. Döenitz would no longer be able to slip his U-boats quietly into Fuerteventura to refuel under the reassuring umbrella of German air cover. Instead, the FAA and RAF would roost on those islands, and make all the waters in every direction a no man’s land for the wolfpacks. That was a major strategic loss insofar as the battle for the Atlantic was concerned.

The loss of Gibraltar certainly stung, but in its place, the British now had a growing military presence in the Azores, on Madeira at Funchal Harbor, and in the Canaries where two Brigades of the 78th Division were still digging in on Tenerife and La Palma.

Soon FAA recon operations would begin to spot the German withdrawals. General Kubler was at the Grand Harbor when he got the order to get his men out. The small supply convoy was already in the harbor, but the boats would never be unloaded. Raeder’s little supply fleet had been making night runs out to the islands, mostly using Siebel ferries from Tan Tan and Tarfaya. But these were larger ships provided by the French and Italians, and the Germans needed to get them moving fast if they wanted to be safely away before dawn. Frustrated and angry, he reluctantly passed the order on to his three battalion commanders.

We fight like hell for these islands, he thought, never get the naval support promised, and only half the air support we need, I take the lion’s share here, and now I must throw all that red meat back to the British. So now we go back to Morocco, back to the desert, and this news of an Allied landing at Casablanca is behind all this. Something tells me we will be fighting our way north soon, and through some of the worst terrain in Africa.

Ordered to leave some garrison capable of defending the island, he gave the assignment to his Pioneer battalion, knowing he would probably never see any of those men again. They had come here, flush with victory, but as Kubler made his last rounds on Gran Canaria, driving the entire coast road to look over the defensive positions, he had the haunting thought that, with this withdrawal, his men would now move from one defensive fight to another.

The Americans, he thought. Now that they have come, this war will look very much different. Now we fight not simply to win, but to survive.