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.