Reports were coming in faster than O’Connor could read them, but he was most eager to learn what was happening far to the south with Horrocks. There, the turning attack had run into the bulk of 21st Panzer and was getting nowhere, and now O’Connor gave the order for Southforce to plan a withdrawal.
“Our tanks are damn near empty,” said Horrocks on the radio. “I’ve got some fuel trucks up, but it will take me several hours to get things moving again.”
“What happened to the Northumbrians?”
“I’ve two of his brigades in hand, along with my own motorized infantry brigade. Jerry has brought up the 90th Light against them, but we’re holding. Stores for the artillery are running low, and the men need water.”
“Well get them out of there. It was my fault, Joe. I simply deployed you too far south and Rommel ran right into the gap between you and Briggs. You had the good sense to move east as you did, but the Germans just got there first. We’ve got the 4th Indian Division up now, and if you can move south and east, you should make contact with them tomorrow. After that, we’ll see where things stand and try to sort it all out. We couldn’t win through, but they aren’t pushing me back to Mersa Brega either. No, I’ll stand my ground and force Rommel to accept a stalemate here.”
Horrocks thought that the inverse might be true, but he said nothing more. The arrival of the 4th Indian had, indeed, closed off any possibility that Rommel could turn for the coast, and with that any chance for a real dramatic victory. As before at Mersa Brega, the two armies could clash and hurt one another, but neither was really strong enough to decisively beat the other.
On the 15th, Rommel shifted Randow’s division north to reinforce his attack on Briggs’ 1st Armored, and had good results. That was the last day of hard fighting, as both sides were running low on fuel, ammo, and other supplies. A three day fight was about all either Army could carry forward, though when Monty had made this advance in the real history, he had dumped ten days supplies in his forward depot, and even then, could proceed with only half his army at any one time. He prevailed because in that telling of events, Rommel’s morale was at its lowest ebb of the war. Had Kinlan and his brigade been there, they might have made all the difference, but now it was an even playing field for both sides, and the Germans actually had the edge where armor was concerned—not in numbers but certainly in the quality of their tank designs.
O’Connor had ten days supply in hand at the outset of the battle, but he had thrown far more divisions at the enemy than Monty did, and so it was all burned up much faster. 7th Armored found the fuel and water trucks it had been waiting for nowhere in sight. Harding’s inability to move left him in a precarious position, and he found he had to rely on the three brigades of infantry to hold out in a stubborn cauldron and await further developments.
4th Indian Division eventually came up and it was occupying the ground between the two British armored divisions. General Briggs finally realized how badly beat up his division was, and began to try and extricate himself and fall back along the road to Homs. His situation was so bad, that O’Connor was forced to withdraw 23rd Armored from the coastal attack and begin moving it towards Briggs. Aside from that sector on the coast against the two Italian Armored divisions, the British had been decisively checked everywhere else on the field. Now the removal of that armor, and the arrival of the Trento Division on the other side, would see that advance halted as well.
Stalemate….
Rommel was more than satisfied with his achievement. He had held the Tarhuna position, largely destroyed the 150th Infantry Brigade of the Northumbrian Division, stopped both British Armored divisions, hurting each one in the process, and also managed to stabilize the coastal sector. It was a victory as far as he could see things, though not the decisive battle he might have hoped for in earlier years. The memory of Bir el Khamsa still haunted him, but he noted that in all these actions, there had been no sign of that unbeatable British heavy armor.
Perhaps the rumors are true, he thought. It was said that unit was at Tobruk when all those ammunition and fuel ships exploded. Perhaps it was badly damaged in that mishap. In any case, it was not here, and in fact, there’s been no sign of those monsters for some time. By now the one I sent to Tripoli for shipment to Toulon should have arrived. I wonder what our tank engineers will think of it when they get a look at it?
For now, I’ve stopped O’Connor here again, just as I did at Mersa Brega. He claimed a victory there because I gave up the Buerat line. I don’t think he can claim one here. This position at Tarhuna is very strong. In fact, given this little victory here, I think I could hold it indefinitely. The Italians will be pleased, particularly Bastico and Cavallero. They undoubtedly promised Mussolini they would save Tripoli, and they were quite a nuisance when I decided to move here from the Buerat line. Well, I’ve save Tripoli for them. O’Connor will be a month or more trying to recover from this. If I had the troops Hitler pulled out for his campaigns elsewhere, I’d finish this O’Connor off once and for all. As it stands, I’ve enough force in hand to stop him, but cannot really push him back unless he chooses to go.
That’s the way it will be here for a time, two desert rams butting heads, and neither one gaining any real advantage. As always, it will come down to logistics again in a situation like this. I’ve got good lines of communication to Tripoli, but one day, the Allies will realize that they have a navy in the Med, and they’ll move to try and interdict our sea lanes in a more forceful manner! That leaves me with a most uncomfortable feeling.
We held a local advantage in the air here, but only because so much of the Western Desert Air Force is in Syria and Lebanon. I wonder how that little campaign is proceeding?
Ah well, time to rest. First I will make my report to Kesselring so he can throw Hitler a bone and say we stopped O’Connor cold. Then I owe my Lucie a letter with a little more hope in it than those I was sending her earlier. When I retreated from Gazala to Mersa Brega, I had the feeling all was lost here in North Africa.
Things have changed.
Chapter 30
Rommel was soon surprised to learn that Kesselring wanted him to file that report in person, and so he flew to Tunis on the morning of January 15 to meet with von Arnim. He offered a handshake to his opposite number in 5th Panzer Army, but found it cold, easily seeing the resentment in von Arnim’s eyes.
This Silesian Peacock looks down on me, thought Rommel. I’ve been fighting here for two years, and now he thinks he will trump me simply because they have called his Korps a Panzer Army. Yes, von Arnim has always been an insider, graduating from the most prestigious schools, currying favor with the old guard, and looking down on anyone else he deems unworthy. I’m sure he took great satisfaction with my setbacks last year, and I suppose he thinks he can do better here. Yet he never had the Führer’s ear like I had, and frankly, he hasn’t swallowed an ounce of victory here. I have fought time and again, and often won, even against daunting odds.
“Gentlemen,” said Kesselring, his discerning eye perceiving the frosty relationship between the two men. He would have to play the arbiter and referee here, and expected a tense and heated discussion. “I asked you here, Herr General, so that we can reach a mutual understanding on how we plan to conduct operations. As you know, the Americans have made some surprising moves of late, racing all the way to the Tunisian border. That was most unexpected, and it found us ill-prepared to adequately respond. Meanwhile, your hard fought victory on the Tarhuna line may have bought us an interval of calm on that front. Now we must decide how to address what will soon become the battle for Tunisia.”