Stormtide Rising

Chapter 7

That evening the British 24th Armored Brigade began to arrive in a perfectly neat column behind the extreme left flank of the U.S. 3rd Infantry. The first thing they did was begin setting up their guns, and then an enterprising Colonel of the Artillery made a simple mistake. The rest of the division would take time to follow and assemble, and Monty had planned on a morning attack. But the Colonel took map reference points from the Americans and thought he might start registering his artillery. A Lieutenant in 1/I Panzergrenadier of the Herman Goring division was leaning on his halftrack, taking a moment to enjoy a smoke when the registration fires started.

“The British!” he said with some alarm to a nearby Sergeant. “Those are not American guns. I’d know the sound of a 25-Pounder anywhere. It’s the British. Get to the Captain and inform him of this. He’s likely to hear it just as I did, but let’s make no mistake.”

This astute officer had just provided battlefield intelligence in a way that could not have been obtained by other means. The bad weather that day, and the fact that the British had arrived well after sunset, meant that they might not have been detected until the following morning. But now General Conrath was soon informed that the enemy had brought in fresh reinforcements on his right flank, and he didn’t like it. He got on the phone to von Arnim at Souk Ahras, and the two men discussed the situation.

“What is there?” asked von Arnim.

“We won’t know that until morning,” said Conrath, but they have already started registering their artillery. The men up front tell me it’s 25-Pounders—the British.”

“They have also pulled out of the Charpinville sector and Huder sees a lot of force building up below the pass at Damous.”

“That is a new strong buildup on both flanks,” said Conrath. “Could they be planning a pincer operation?”

Von Arnim resisted the urge to dismiss that out of hand, believing it beneath the capabilities of their enemy. He was very close to his objective at Ain Beida, cutting the Americans off from the British, but now it seems that Montgomery had decided to act, not by positioning additional forces on defense, but apparently by planning a counterattack, which seemed to be coordinated with that buildup to the left of 10th Panzer at Damous. Patton and Montgomery… they were as different as night and day, but could they pull something like this off? And where was Rommel?

From all reports, 21st Panzer Division flowed through the pass at Kasserine largely unopposed, but now they were locked in a head butting duel with an American armored force. Then there was a report concerning an engagement at Sidi Bou Baker. 15th Panzer Division had run into an American infantry division there, which delayed Rommel’s move north through Feriana and Thelepte. Now the Luftwaffe reported it was seeing what looked to be a division sized formation coming up from the south at Tozeur, and this could only be the damnable French.

That has to be the Constantine Division, thought von Arnim. We believed it had retired south for good, intending to stay out of the fighting, but it seems the Allies have been courting new friends. The French… Well, we have their country, their navy, and to hell with the rest of them here. Yet now Rommel will have to look over his shoulder. These two incidents will give him all the excuses he needs if this operation fails. But what should I do?

“Conrath,” he said. “You’re the man on the scene. What do you advise in your sector?”

“I think we should be cautious here. I have a mind to strengthen my right flank, but to do so I will have to suspend the drive on Ain Beida until we see what we have in front of us. I must say, the Amis have not been the pushovers we thought they would be. And frankly, I smell Patton in this. Montgomery would have never planned such a counterattack.”

“Fisher tells me he needs fuel and ammo,” said von Arnim. “Very well. We will suspend for one day. Make any defensive arrangements you deem sufficient. I will speak with you again in the morning.”

When that morning came on the 6th of February, the entire complexion of the battle would change. The unexpected French threat to Ghasfa from the south, von Arnim’s need to adopt a defensive posture, Rommel being paired down to an attack with two divisions instead of all three, had all shifted the balance of the battle. Then one further development presented itself. Rommel was soon going to be looking over his shoulder in more than one direction. O’Connor’s British 8th Army had been consolidating at Ben Guerdane for some time, and now he was opening an offensive against the Mareth Line….

Rommel was pacing outside his field tent, a mix of frustration and anxiety. His grand vision of sweeping around the flank of the Amis with three Panzer divisions abreast was not going to happen. The sudden appearance of 34th Infantry Division in that meeting engagement on the road to Ghafsa had forced him to commit the whole of his 15th Panzer Division to drive it back. After inflicting that severe check, which nearly did become a rout, General Ryder managed to get his division deployed in a semi-circle and was trying to hold his own. Rommel could have completely smashed that position if he had committed von Funck’s 7th Panzer Division, but instead he sent it right up the road towards Feriana and Thelepte. That afternoon, he came up from Ghafsa to speak with General Randow.

“We’ve hurt them pretty bad, and stopped them cold,” said Randow.”

“Good,” said Rommel, “but now we have another matter to resolve—the French. They appear to have found some backbone and joined the Allies. The Constantine Division is advancing on Ghafsa from the south. I need to get up north and flank Tebessa, and I’ll be taking the Tiger Battalion with me, but I will leave the Korps artillery here with you. Make good use of it against that American infantry. As for the French, I’d like you to assemble a strong Kampfgruppe from your division as well. Retain enough here to keep that American infantry division edgy, but you need not over exert yourself. Send that KG south to cover Ghafsa.”

“Very well. I can send the recon battalion, a good tank battalion and some Panzergrenadiers.”

“That will do. Keep me informed if anything changes here.” Then Rommel was off in his command vehicle, racing up the road to Feriana, his mood already souring as he went. There had been a log jam at Dernalia and Bou Chebka where Blade Force had fought a very stubborn defense. They were eventually forced out of that position by 7th Panzer, and fell back to the high ground that shielded Tebessa from the south, where Patton had tapped General Allen’s shoulder and told him to send a full RCT to lend a hand.

This terrain is maddening, thought Rommel. No sooner do we fight our way through one tortuous mountain pass, when we are faced with another. This high country south of Tebessa sits there like a great stone wall, and if they are smart, they will get infantry dug in on those heights. Von Bismarck has made progress through Kasserine, and he is now 10 kilometers beyond the pass. But this terrain… The Americans just keep falling back from one ridge line to another. It’s no place for armor, and I had to leave both my infantry divisions at Mareth to backstop the Italians.

There’s another problem. O’Connor is stirring to life again. He’s already moving up two infantry divisions against the Italian lines at Medinine. Those defenses should hold for a while. I placed the three Italian motorized infantry divisions on the line at Medinine. If O’Connor breaks through, then I have my two infantry divisions on the Mareth Line. They’ll hold. My men are dug in deep. but for how long? Two weeks? Three? That doesn’t matter. This will be decided here in a matter of days.

Patton stood beneath the high stone arch abutting from an old stone wall in Tebessa. It was an ancient Roman artifice, one of many in the ‘city of a thousand gates,’ as Tebessa was called.

“Gaius Egrilianus built that,” he said, hands on his hips, his famous Ivory handled pistols close at hand. He had always worn one on each hip—ever since that foray into Mexico with General Pershing to get after that bandit Pancho Villa in May of 1914. Patton got into a close firefight during that action, armed with only one pistol, which he had to reload three times in that action. He ended up hitting Pancho’s number two commander, collecting his spurs as a souvenir, and after that encounter he always wore that second pistol for backup.

“He was Prefect of the 14th Roman Legion,” said Patton, “and he was born in this very same town. Went off to find his fate and joined the Roman Army to make something of himself. When he returned home, he built this triumphal arch and then marched his whole goddamned legion through it in celebration. And here I am, standing on that same hallowed ground.” He smiled.

“Old Magister Solomon incorporated this arch into the city wall there a couple hundred years later. His field works are all over this region, a real master of the art of fortification. He fought with the great General Belisarius here in Africa,” Patton nodded at Bradley still seated in the nearby jeep. “And I fought here with them….”

“George, that’s a wonderful history lesson, but the Germans are about to take that ridge and ruin all of Solomon’s work if we don’t do something about it. We’ve got this war to fight.”

“Well I’m your man for that, Brad. But it never hurts to remember you’re standing on the shoulders of other brave men who fought here before you. Alright. Let’s get moving. Take us on up to the artillery.”

Patton had ordered General Allen to send every battery of artillery he could spare, and now he had a full three battalions from 1st Infantry Division, and three more battalions from the armored forces. He planned to meet the German attack with a hailstorm of lead.

“Brad, after we look over the guns I want you to get up to Ain Beida. I ordered Fredendall’s Corps staff there this morning, and I want you to pull things together.”

“What about Fredendall?”

“I sent him to Oran.”

“You relieved him right in the middle of a fight like this?”

“Well, he wasn’t even in the goddamned fight! The man was holed up in a rabbit hole over 75 kilometers behind the front! Look, this is just temporary. I’ll send someone up to take over there for you tomorrow. In the meantime, do what you can to keep II Corps from folding until I can coordinate this thing with Montgomery.”

“It was a miracle you got him to chip in on our side of the fence.”

“A little diplomacy at the right time never hurts,” said Patton. “Now let’s see if he can fight.”

“They say he did a damn good job stopping the Japanese at Singapore.”

“Yes, the ’Rock of the East.” The only problem was that he gave the place to the enemy two weeks later and skedaddled over to Java. Now he’s claiming the mantle of ‘Rock of the West’ as well for taking back Gibraltar.”

“Well the British need their heroes too, don’t they?”

An hour later the guns began firing, answering preliminary fires from the Germans. Massed artillery is one of the most fearsome displays on any battlefield. Ever since the first war, it had been the bane of infantry holding any defensive position, and was even worse for those having to attack under enemy defensive bombardment. The dark earth sprayed up with every impact, wet with the rain and laced with steel shrapnel. The earth itself shuddered with the impact of the rounds, and Patton stood with the gun crews, his riding crop in one hand, urging them on.

“Come on!” he shouted over the din of the guns. “Pour it on. Give it to the bastards!”

The Germans would see the first waves of their Panzergrenadiers grounded by that artillery, but the tanks lumbered on, a few stricken and overturned on the main road, and one lighter Leopard recon tank literally blown into the air by a heavy round.

Allen’s infantry had spent all morning climbing the heights of Hill 1545. By evening they were dug in there, with a fine view of the valley to the south, the road emerging from light woods and climbing the ridge shielding Tebessa. On and behind that ridge, Patton had lined up six more battalions of infantry, and at least three full battalions of tanks, backed by all that artillery. Now they were listening to it fire, and waiting for the inevitable response from the German guns. They knew they were on a hill the enemy would simply have to take if they wanted to use that road.

When Rommel came calling he would be taking the cream of his veteran Panzer Divisions and trying to use them as a battering ram against that wall. It was not the battle he expected, not the swirling duel of maneuver where he certainly hoped to best his enemy, but the ground had dictated the time and place of the fight, and his enemy had chosen the ground.

Something began prickling within his military mind by way of objection to what he was now obstinately doing here. His plan was to throw 21st Panzer against the lower ridge to the north of the main road, and use his old warhorse, the 7th Panzer, to push up the main road to Tebessa, right beneath the brow of Hill 1545. He could abandon the battle of attrition and still swing west around this high country, ignoring his objective and nominating another in its place. He could drive instead for far off Khelencheld, which was 80 kilometers east of Batna, the major American supply portal feeding Patton. At Khlencheld, he would be 45 kilometers south of Ain Beida, which was von Arnim’s main objective.

You do not have to fight here, he said to himself—not for Tebessa. The indirect approach is always best; the unexpected. Strike at their lines of communications, sever those road and rail connections! Yet if I do this, I could only take the 7th Panzer Division with me. Von Bismarck’s entire division would have to adopt a defensive posture here, and Randow’s troops are all tied up down south watching two divisions for me. Could I do this with only one division? That is not a question I would have ever asked myself in Libya—at least not in the beginning. I raced across all of Cyrenaica in a matter of days, and nearly all the way to the wire on the Egyptian border.

The sound of that artillery duel throbbed in his head like the onset of a migraine. His mood darkened with each pulsing report, and his military mind stubbornly answered the question he had been speculating over the last few minutes.

It’s no good trying to swing around to the left. If I had all of Randow’s 15th Panzer Division, I might contemplate such a move, but it is just not possible with Funck’s Division alone. It would be a mad dash into nowhere. I would have nothing to support it, and if this General Patton stands his ground, which I think he will, then I would have no recourse other than withdrawal. Unless…. Could von Arnim get to Ain Beida as planned? If so, the 7th could swing around Tebessa, and then turn north to link up. What was happening with von Arnim?

That was going to decide everything.

Yet now that stiff necked von Arnim tells me that Montgomery is sticking his nose in things. He says the Americans and British are planning a pincer attack aimed at cutting off his entire Korps. Ridiculous! I’m told he has paused his offensive pending further developments. Does he plan to renew it? I knew that weak-kneed aristocrat had no real stomach for a fight. He should have been at Ain Beida yesterday!

He shrugged, raising an eyebrow. And I should have been in Tebessa by now, he thought. That night, a hard rain began to fall, and Rommel huddled inside his command vehicle, feeling very despondent. He was tired of the cold now, which was hard on his body. His health had been in decline for some time, a factor which OKW attributed to his setbacks in Libya… until they finally saw the tank he had been facing in those battles.

Chapter 8

They stared at it with a mix of awe, respect, and sheer fright. The Challenger II recovered from the battlefield near Mersa Brega had been examined by technicians for many weeks now, but it was finally time for Hitler and the senior officers of OKW to visit the Henschel plant in Kessel where Hitler was to view a new prototype of the Tiger, but first he was taken to a secure area to view the captured tank. Its long 120mm gun was bowed from the spiking demolition, the interior completely destroyed, but even in death, it was a dour spectacle.

“This is the tank that stopped Rommel’s Panzers in Libya,” said the technician. We estimate its weight at approximately 62 tons, and heavier when fully combat loaded. Its main body is 3.5 meters in width, and 8.3 meters in length. This makes it a little bigger in all categories than our current Tiger and Lion series panzers. Yet size is not everything. We deduce its virtue can be attributed to two things, the exceptional design of the armor, and that monster of a gun, fully 120 mm. It is also reputed to be very fast for its size, which has everything to do with the engine and suspension.”

Hitler walked slowly up to the beast, hands clasped behind his back, then he reached out and touched the armored turret. Keitel actually shirked when he did so, as if the tank might suddenly reanimate and become the snarling nemesis that the men in the field had described in so many reports.

“What is exceptional about the armor? How thick?”

“My Führer, it is not merely the thickness, but the actual material from which this armor is made that is so baffling. This side of the tank is intact, but to convince ourselves of the veracity of the battle reports, we conducted fire tests against the armor on the other side. It stopped every weapon, every round that we fired at it. There was absolutely no penetration.”

“So Rommel was not belly aching about his fate in Libya after all,” said Keitel. Hitler looked at him over his shoulder, not appreciating the remark, and Keitel shrunk into silence.

“What is it made of?” asked Hitler.

“We are not entirely certain, but from our initial testing, it appears to be a mix of layered ceramic tiles.”

“What? You are telling me this is armored by material used in my teacups?”

“Not exactly. These are highly refined ceramics. Their compressive strength, shear strength, and tensile strength have been greatly enhanced. Each one may be a composite including other materials. We have already detected diamond in this armor, the hardest substance on earth. Then each tile is encased in a metal frame which we are presently analyzing. It is then bonded to another backing plate that includes some very elastic layers which allow this material to absorb shock from a high velocity weapon. The tiles can be damaged, but even so, this framework and bonding keeps them in place, and they still retain a great deal of stopping power against shaped charges. As for kinetic energy penetrators, the rounds simply shattered on impact.”

Hitler nodded in a sullen silence. “And the gun?”

“It is a 120mm rifled barrel, and its rounds completely penetrated any tank that faced it. We also estimate its range to be well beyond 3000 meters, and it was reportedly very accurate at that range.”

Now the Führer turned to regard the man for the first time, for his eyes had never left the tank from the moment he saw it. “I assume you have something to show me in the next room that will answer this?”

“We do, my Führer.” The technician extended his arm, leading the way. Hitler was about to view the first fully functioning production model for the newest Tiger tank, soon to be dubbed the Konigstiger, or Royal Tiger. The party moved slowly past the broken Challenger II, and through a large metal door.

“This is the series one model of this new design, now in competition with the Lion-90. As you can see, it is every bit as impressive in size as this new British tank, in fact, it is heavier at over 68 tons, and wider. The British design is just a little longer, and with a better gun.”

“What is that?” Hitler pointed to the main armament on the new tank.

“At the moment, we have mounted it with our best version of the 88mm gun. The new Lions will use a 90mm gun.”

“But I am told the Russians are building tanks with 122mm main guns. If they can do this, and the British, then we will do the same. Put a bigger gun on this tank. Now… What about the armor? I don’t suppose you are using diamond studded teacups?”

That got a ripple of laughter, which died out quickly. Then the Technician explained that the Tiger II would have armor in the range of 100mm made of welded maraging steel, known to produce superior strength and toughness. But Hitler simply raised a hand, stopping the man. “Can our existing weapons penetrate this armor?”

“Yes, that is possible. Our 88s can penetrate just over 150mm at 2000 meters.”

“Well what good is this tank then?” Hitler gave him a wide eyed look. “Unless you can armor it to resist the enemy’s weapons, it will be nothing more than a waste of good steel. Improve the armor! Put a larger gun on it, and that goes for the new Lions as well. Rommel told me he would be in Cairo by now if not for that new British tank, and finally seeing it, I fully believe him. You must do better than this. Make it stronger! Improve the main gun. I want panzers that can master any opponent encountered on the battlefield.”

He gave the Technician a level stare. “And do this quickly,” he said, turning and striding off with his officers in tow.

Montgomery was up early that morning, eager for news from 10th Armored. He had learned that O’Connor was back in the game, teeing up an offensive in the south. Now, as he considered the situation, he was forced to accept the fact that Patton was on to something. The real battle wasn’t with his position on the coast. The terrain was too constricted. He couldn’t use his armor in anything other than penny packet fashion. The infantry was slogging its way forward, but if the enemy flank could be turned in the south, this line would be forced to retreat.

At 10:00 he got on the phone to Eisenhower telling him what he and Patton had worked out. “It’s a gamble, but I’ll raise that bet,” he said. “I have it in mind to send my 6th Armored south right on the heels of the 10th. This fight on the coast is for the infantry, and I’ve enough tank support organic to those divisions as it stands. Patton wants Souk Ahras, and I rather tend to agree with him.”

That shocked Eisenhower for a moment, but with his two senior field commanders in actual agreement on something, and in the very process of carrying that plan out, he gladly gave the move his blessing.

“Oh by the way,” Monty finished. “I’m sure you’re aware that O’Connor’s back in it. Don’t worry Ike, we’ll handle things.”

Eisenhower gave that a wan smile, knowing that Monty was seeing this whole situation as the British Armies riding to the rescue of the Americans, but he said nothing.

O’Connor was definitely a factor now. Though his armored force was still not replenished after the battle at Tarhuna, he still had strong tank brigades at his disposal, and very good infantry divisions that were going to be more than a match for the Italians. He then consolidated his remaining tanks to flesh out 1st Armored Division, sending most of the 7th Armored Brigade units back to Benghazi for shipment to Haifa. They were needed more in Syria than they were here in Tunisia. He would retain 22nd Armored Brigade, and along with 1st Armored and the strong 23rd Armored Brigade, he would have more than enough to support his infantry.

That morning, he decided to throw his hardest punch right in the center of the enemy line, at Medinine. There he committed the remaining tanks of 1st Armored, and the 44th Home County Division, supported by lavish artillery bombardments. Right behind that attack, he brought up the tough 51st Highland Division, with 23rd Armored ready to make the exploitation upon breakthrough. He gave scant attention to the two Italian divisions on the flank of that attack, knowing that if he broke the center, they would have no choice other than to abandon their prepared positions and retreat.

The Pistoia was the division on the line at the point of that attack, and by the time Monty was having his chat with Eisenhower, it was already falling back. General Falugi did all he could, but faced with 200 British tanks backed by waves of infantry, his men simply could not stand. The Italians would answer mainly with their artillery, but it would not be enough, and their AT guns were inadequate, their own tanks far to the rear as a last ditch reserve behind the Germans.

In truth, Rommel had placed the Italian infantry there simply as a trip wire and delaying force, knowing it would not hold long against the 8th Army on its own. He had designed a layered defense in the south, with the first line at Medinine, the main central line along the wadi at Mareth, and a final line at Gabes. He reasoned that a clock would be ticking the minute O’Connor engaged the first line, and now he might have ten days to two weeks before that front would be critical.

He hadn’t counted on the Pistoia Division retiring completely to Mareth instead of trying to fight a defensive withdraw aimed at delaying the British advance. This was the same division that had thrown itself at the 8th Army in an attempt to unhinged Monty’s planned offensive against Mareth. It failed to do so in that history, and it would do no better in this one. The loss of that centermost division in the line did exactly what O’Connor knew it would, and compelled the other two on the flanks to withdraw as well.

There was, however, some advantage to this. The hasty withdrawal of the Italians would now add their strength to the main line at Mareth. O’Connor would not be able to trap those troops or force their surrender before they could escape. He surveyed the scene, realizing that he had a good battering ram right behind his main attack with the 51st Highland Division, and a solid hammer with 23rd Armored Brigade. He had every confidence that he would eventually break through.

Mid-day on the 7th of February, Patton had another call to make, this time to General Truscott, who was acting Corps commander for the two Armored divisions.

“Lucian? Look, I know I’ve been stepping all over your toes in this thing, but it’s just the old horse cavalry officer in me.” Patton’s domineering presence had reduced Truscott to a rubber stamp for his orders, and he knew the man was better than that. He apologized, then floated a proposal.

“I sent Bradley to roust Fredendall out of bed and kick his ass back to Oran. The man is no good. Brad was going to try and pull II Corps staff together at grid point G7, but I need him here. I was wondering if I can interest you in a new job, considering I’ve had my fingers in your pie all week. Do you think you could get out there and take over II Corps for the duration of this fight? If you want the Armored Corps back when we’ve finished, it’s still yours.”

“Alright,” said Truscott. “You owe me one, General.”

“Lucian, you’re a good man.”

“Well sir, it isn’t often that a three star General taps you on the shoulder at the ball. These are good troops here I’ve been dancing with. Ward’s a little shaky, but Robinette and Oliver can get the job done. Harmon is as solid as granite. You can rely on him.”

“And that I will. I’d like to keep 2nd Armored down here, but When this thing settles down I’m going to send you Ward’s whole division. That will flesh out II Corps, and I’ll create a Provisional Corps with the 1st, 34th and 2nd Armored. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough, General.”

Patton wanted Truscott to know that he valued him and saw him as essential to the future of the American war effort, which he was. Lucian Truscott would go on to become perhaps the toughest and finest US field commander of the war.

“Bradley says the line has stiffened up,” said Patton. “The Germans were forced to go defensive when Monty showed up. That’s another rabbit I managed to pull out of my hat, and it’s a miracle that man moved so quickly. I didn’t think we’d see him until next Tuesday. Now… Any word on the rest of Harmon’s outfit?”

“They arrived last night, sir, loaded for bear with all new tanks.”

“Magnificent! Can you put them on the road through Les Baines to Tebessa right away? The Huns are at the door down here, and Robinette’s boys have been fighting all week. I need a big steel shod boot to kick that door shut again.”

“You’ve got it, General. I’ll get word to Harmon on this for you, and tell him where he can find his CCR. Then I’ll leave for G7 right away.”

“Fair enough. I do owe you one for this. I know I can be a real pain in the ass at times, but you’ve done your job and done it well. Now go put some fire in the belly at II Corps. I want those two infantry divisions ready to attack in support of Monty’s move up there. As for Ryder. He plunked himself down in a defensive laager, well to the south, but I think he’s got Jerry worried about his flank. That’s at least good for something. Word is that a good chunk of 15th Panzer is still facing him down, which means I don’t have to kill those sons-of-bitches here.”

Truscott couldn’t see it, but he knew Patton was probably grinning ear to ear with that. Patton would find that CCR before Harmon even got word, and he had it moving exactly where he wanted it that same hour. He had been moving all the pieces on the board that he could get his hands on, amazed that he had managed to talk Montgomery into coming down to lend a hand.

Now he was at Tebessa to fight the gallant stand against Rommel’s two tough Panzer divisions. He had the ground, and he had reserves, and for that he was grateful. The sheer size of a US Heavy Armored Division was daunting. It had six tank battalions with 270 tanks organic to those units, and some 30 more scattered in other division elements and HQs. The two American Armored Divisions had started the campaign with 600 tanks, and a good 500 still remained active, with others in the shops or wrecked on the field of battle.

Harmon’s CCB had 300 of those, and Patton was marching it to his fortress wall to relieve the battered CCA of Ward’s 1st Armored. His other two Combat Commands were slowly bulling their way through the pass at Damous, forcing Fischer to pull more and more troops back to that sector. The daring plan Patton had conceived would have never dawned in the mind of lesser Generals. It was risky. He had mixed commands from both divisions instead of fighting them together as a whole, though this was largely forced on him by circumstances.

It had been his ability to go to Montgomery, hat in hand, that really made the difference, and to his credit, Monty had risen to the occasion in a way that Patton had never thought possible for the man. The swift and deliberate deployment of 10th Armored south from Constantine had changed everything. It had forced von Arnim’s attack to completely halt, giving Patton, Bradley and now Truscott time to pull together the two sagging US infantry divisions in II Corps.

This day, when von Arnim looked at his latest situation map, things looked very bleak. He picked up the telephone to call Kesselring, convinced that this offensive was now over.

Chapter 9

The storm had reached its high tide, and the weather was changing. Off on the distant horizon, von Arnim could see new clouds forming dark ridges in the sky.

This should not be happening, he thought. This army should not be able to stop us here. I should have deployed my two divisions closer together, and formed one strong thrust. If I had an infantry division, I would not have had to cover such a broad front. Yet even so, I was pushing the Amis back just as I expected. Then Montgomery shows up—those damnable British.

“The situation has changed,” he explained to Kesselring. “I do not think I can occupy the ground I’ve already won in this offensive any longer. There is simply too much pressure on my flanks.”

“You know what Rommel will say.”

“Let him say anything he wants. He had the Lion’s share of the Panzers, quite literally, and most of the Tigers as well. Has he taken Tebessa yet? I think not. The fact remains that if I stay where I am, it is the same situation I faced earlier—two divisions trying to hold a 25 to 30 kilometer front, and now I am facing two British and three American division sized units.”

“Two British?”

“Montgomery has reinforced his attack with 10th Armored.”

“Interesting,” said Kesselring. “I didn’t think the man could move that quickly. He was tenacious on defense in Libya, but we haven’t seen how he conducts an offensive yet. Well, let me have a look at the latest situation map, and I’ll have a chat with Rommel tonight. Yet if things are as you say, then I think Sturmflut is over, a brief Spring rain instead of what Rommel had in mind. He won’t like it, and frankly, I think he will be recalled home to Germany after this. O’Connor took Tripoli from the Italian garrison he left there, and Mussolini is screaming that he again sacrificed those divisions like lambs to the slaughter.

O’Connor had indeed accomplished that, but with his 4th Indian and 1st South African Infantry Divisions, with a little tank support from the 7th Armored units he was sending back to Benghazi. With one hand he had closed the long arduous and often dramatic campaign in Libya, while with the other fist he was now knocking hard on the gateway to Tunisia.

“Albert,” said von Arnim. “I think we are finished here. It is only a matter of time now if we do not get at least two more divisions over here.”

“Perhaps. I am not prepared to say anything of the kind to Hitler yet, but I think we must put aside this will-o-the-wisp Spring Wind idea, and revert to a stubborn defense. Start looking over the maps of the terrain behind you. We will need to hold Gulema and Souk Ahras for as long as possible. I will also have to order the infantry on the coast back as far as Bone. Don’t worry, Tunis is still a long way off, and I think we will still have a good deal of fight in us.”

“I’ll still be operating with only four divisions,” said von Arnim. “It won’t be easy.”

“Given the fact that O’Connor has taken Medinine and is forming up to attack Mareth, I think Rommel will have to return there very soon. But I don’t think he will need three Panzer divisions. I’ll see about getting one of his units transferred to your command.”

“That would help,” said von Arnim, the tone of dejection evident in his voice. “This should not have happened. We should have kicked the Amis all the way back to Algiers, just as Rommel boasted.”

“We should have done many things that never happened in this war,” said Kesselring, “and we are doing many things that never should have happened. There are some things I think you should know, von Arnim. We will speak again on this at another time….”

Kesselring sounded somewhat cryptic with that, but von Arnim would never imagine just how strange that conversation would be one day, and what it would portend.

Smiling Al’s call to Rommel at mid-day on the 8th was just more bad news for the old desert warrior. O’Connor had smashed the Italians at Medinine in a single attack, the French Constantine Division was putting pressure south of Ghafsa, forcing Randow to send two more tank companies south to stabilize that sector. The American 34th Division stubbornly refused to retreat, and now it was merely being watched by the rest of 15th Panzer and parts of the Superga Mountain Division.

Then he broke the news of his discussion with von Arnim. “He does not think he can continue, or even hold the ground he’s taken thus far.”

“I warned you about this,” said Rommel. “He hasn’t the temperament for this sort of action.”

“It’s Montgomery,” Kesselring explained. “He’s sent a very strong armored group to that flank, and there is another one flanking 10th Panzer at Damous. I have ordered him to begin a fighting withdrawal.”

“Well then what am I wasting my time here battering my way through these mountain passes?” Rommel was more than annoyed. “I told you that von Arnim would not be aggressive enough. He cannot take the calculated risk!”

“To be fair,” said Kesselring, “you both fought with two divisions in your main offensive, and we have not yet taken either of our first two primary objectives—Ain Beida for von Arnim, and Tebessa for you.”

“The appearance of that American infantry division northwest of Ghafsa changed everything,” said Rommel. “I could not use 15th Panzer in the envelopment maneuver I planned, and it required both of the other two divisions together to break this stone wall south of Tebessa. The terrain here is maddening—nothing like the deserts of Libya. These ridges and ravines make natural defensive positions, and frankly, we underestimated the Americans here.”

“Then I think we must revert to the defense for the time being,” said Kesselring. “This General Patton was more audacious than anyone expected. Now that Montgomery has sent most of his armor against von Arnim, we must rethink our strategy here. Trying to hold an extended front from the coast to Ghafsa will simply not do. So I am ordering the 327th and 15th Infantry to fall back on Bone today. In the short run, we’ll hold there, at Gulema, Souk Ahras, and I think we’ll need Le Kef.”

“Hitler will be enraged,” said Rommel. “We made him a lot of promises with Sturmflut.”

“The plan was sound,” said Kesselring, but yes, one must not blame the song when he cannot dance. We should have done better with this, but it is all water under the bridge now. Let me handle Hitler. We will say that, given the shift of the British Armor south, it became necessary to combine the Panzer divisions rather than using them in two separate commands.”

“I argued that all along,” said Rommel dejectedly. “If I had those two extra divisions, I would show you how they should be used. I will show you how to dance.”

“I must remind you that you were the senior officer in the field for Sturmflut, and yet von Arnim says he received no directives or orders from you whatsoever. One cannot have it both ways, Herr Rommel. If you wish to command, you must do so. And yet, I cannot help but agree with you. We should have beaten these Americans, of that I have little doubt. This time it was Patton who took that calculated risk by attacking at Damous, but he could not have done so without support from Montgomery. It was O’Connor’s offensive in the south, and Montgomery, that really changed the big strategic picture here, though I suppose this General Patton will want his share of the laurels.”

Rommel was silent for some time, his mood darkening, a quiet inner rage consuming him. “What now, Herr Field Marshal?”

“You must first make sure the Mareth line is secure. Sturmflut is over. Now we transition to the broader plan, as we discussed with theFrühlingwind operation. We must first discover the enemy’s real intentions. Was Patton meant to push this far south and move for the coast at Sfax and Sousse? If so, we must plan accordingly. As they come forward, we must be very skillful on the dance floor. Otherwise, this may be our Swan Song.”

What had first been conceived in Rommel’s mind as a bold gamble, staking everything on one throw of the dice, had now been called a Swan Song. When Kesselring had approved his plan, he said that he felt like an old cavalry horse that had again heard the bugle call of battle. All of this can be found in his diaries and letters to Lucie. Then they suddenly stopped. There he was, huddled in his armored command vehicle, listening to the rain and the jangle of field phones, his mind beset by the demons of despair that had harangued him ever since Bir El Khamsa.

Outside, the rain fell on the cold metal hulks of the 501st Tiger Battalion. One company had been sent forward to support the afternoon attack, but the other two sat, as Rommel sat, cold, silent, sullen. They were unrealized victory, glory ungrasped, power harnessed and held in check, like great war elephants waiting for battle that might never come.

News came that 10th Panzer was already beginning its withdrawal, mustering north of the Damous pass, where the Americans had finally forced their way through. Conrath followed suit, withdrawing back through Medkour along the river and road to Souk Ahras. This meant that the battle in the north had already been decided. Von Arnim was not going to attack any longer, and so anything he did her now was pointless—nothing more than a waste of lives, equipment, fuel and ammunition.

In the old history, this clearly manic flip from the fervor of battle to the deep despair he felt now had prompted him to be the first to call off the offensive. Kesselring had spent some time trying to bolster his morale and urged him to continue, but it was Rommel who had lost his will to fight. That was not so in this history. His will to fight was as hard and keen as ever, but now he saw everyone around him, Kesselring, von Arnim, the Luftwaffe, the Italians, as part of a grand conspiracy to undermine his plan.

Yet, as he stared at the map, the unfeeling assessment of his cool military mind could now clearly see the futility of trying to continue here. This Patton is a man to be reckoned with, he thought. He fought this stubborn delaying action here, nibbled at my flank with 34th Infantry and the French. Then he was the one who risked everything on one single throw of the dice. He was the old warhorse that heard the call of the bugles….

They will probably say I won the battle of Kasserine. Yes, they certainly must say this. As for the Battle for Tebessa, I will see that they call it a draw. Patton…. I underestimated him, but I will not do so ever again. So what to do here? What do we really need? We must keep Ghafsa, for Highway 15 runs directly from there to Gabes on the coast. For the time being, that job goes to Randow’s 15th Panzer Division.

He fingered the map, squinting. This place here looks like a good choke point—El Guettar. As for Thelepte, it is too exposed, but now the terrain around Kasserine Pass becomes my castle wall for a time. Superga goes to Thelepte, a lamb tied to a stake there as bait for General Patton. He laid on the ropes well here—fought from the corner. If he comes for Thelepte, then I will see if he knows how to fight in the center of the ring. That would be a very good place to counterattack, but I think he may have other ideas.

Rommel’s own grand vision was gone, of sweeping through the shattered Americans and enveloping Montgomery on the coast. Yet even now, through the anger, resentment and gloom that clouded his mind, he was seeing smaller victories; places where he could fight and hurt his enemy. Everyone expected a quick knockout in the early rounds, he thought. This will be a very long fight.

So I will tease him at Thelepte, fight him at Kasserine again, and I must certainly hold Sbeitla as a supply hub. It has good roads leading everywhere. After that, the next line of defense will be El Guettar, the passes at Maknassy, and Faid. Yet I cannot simply fight my own private war here. There is a lot of open ground to the north of Kasserine. That is where this Patton wanted to go in the beginning—through Charpinville and the broad valley north of Thala—a good place for an armored duel. The rail runs from there all the way to Tunis, and they will need that.

Von Arnim certainly can’t hold that ground with two mobile divisions. Once again, the lack of infantry here is appalling. I shall probably have to send the 334th Division further north to make contact with the Aristocrat. Eventually von Bismarck must go there and help fill that enormous gap in the center. Kesselring is correct—time to dance. They may think they have stopped me, but I am not finished here yet.

I have already let my Führer down—broken too many promises. The doctors have been after me to rest, and how I feel the need. He stared out the view slit at the silent hulks of those Tigers, grim and grey in the rain. Then he closed his eyes….

That same hour he issued orders to suspend offensive operations against Tebessa, and prepare for a rapid redeployment to the east and south. A barrage of artillery would cover the withdrawal, and Kesselring made sure that his Luftwaffe units were up in force to swoop on any Allied advance.