Roberts of 22nd Armored spoke up, a dejected look on his face. “I’m afraid our lot took quite a beating. Jerry got up the paras to hold the line we were fighting with 21st Panzer. Then the mobile units shifted south and caught my brigade in the flank. I’ve lost the whole of 1st and 5th RTRs, nearly a 100 tanks gone there. I managed to save the Yeomanry, and the infantry battalion and artillery.”
“Bad throw there,” said O’Connor. “Let it be a lesson to us. Even the mighty shall fall. These sands cover the heads of kings and warlords who thought they would rule here forever. We’re just the latest to come along.”
4th Light Brigade was in better shape, except for the Household Cavalry. 23rd Armored Brigade still had plenty of tanks on hand, some still fighting down near the lost depot. Ironically, they were low on fuel. O’Connor continued to count his eggs, then gave orders to each Brigade commander, suiting the condition of the forces he had. While 51st still held on the north coast, he withdrew the 1st Tank Brigade, and started it east on the fast road surface of the Via Balbia
“Gentlemen,” he said. “We thought we’d give the Germans a surprise with our Churchills and the new American tanks. But I’m told they did the same to us. He’s taking his Tigers east, but we’ve got a lot of fight left in us yet.”
“Yes sir, those new heavy tanks really are Tigers—well named. But our heavies can stop them, wherever they are.”
The men looked at O’Connor with expectant eyes. They had seen, time and time again, the swift moving mass of Kinlan’s 7th Heavy Brigade riding to the rescue, and O’Connor could see that they were wondering where it was.
“Brigadier Kinlan was at Tobruk,” he said. “And I’m afraid I have some bad news about the place….”
Lieutenant Reeves had a problem. That night one of his three Challenger IIs hit a mine as he was withdrawing up the road from the cemetery. It completely blew off a segment of the left track and damaged two wheels, though the interior of the tank was not compromised and no one was injured. Under normal circumstances in operating with the Brigade, an incident like this would not have been a problem. They would have just called for engineers to come and tow the tank, or even effect a field repair, and it would have been back in operation within hours. That was not possible now, not with two battalions of German tanks and infantry three kilometers behind him, and nothing but a thin screen of light flak holding them—that and the darkness. He huddled with Sergeant Williams.
“Willie,” he said, “that’s a huge chunk of our firepower sitting there, and I hate to leave it, but I don’t see there’s anything we can do. We either leave it there as a pill box and have it fight to the last round, or we cut our losses and save the ammo. Let’s get every round out and distribute them to the other two tanks. The crew can ride in the Warriors.”
“We’re going to just leave it sitting there for the Germans?”
“Hell no! Rig up a demolition charge and place it inside the tank. Another goes down the barrel. That’s the best we can do. It will blow the interior equipment and electronics to bloody hell. Before we do that, strip off any external equipment we can use for the other two, and scour the damn thing for anything that shouldn’t be left behind. Let’s be quick. The Germans could move this way any minute, and we’ll find ourselves in another firefight.”
So there it went, one of the last three Challengers on the field of battle. An hour later Reeves was following in the footsteps of Popski, heading east on the road to Ras at Tarqui, and leading the long column of 23rd Armored Brigade in a slow procession of steel. Along the way they passed a Muslim shrine, and then the broken column of an old Roman ruin. When he saw them, Reeves could not help but think of the empires that had swept over these sands, each thinking it was the epitome of power, there to bend the hand of fate to its will. The thought of that Challenger II he was leaving behind nagged at him—all glory was fleeting. Now it would be just another derelict ruin in the desert, and a monument to the folly of man’s pride, and of war.
Come dawn on the 3rd day, October 12th, O’Connor gave the order for the infantry to withdraw, with 51st Highland on the coastal road, and 50th Northumbrian taking a parallel track through the desert. 4th Indian and the two French brigades continued to screen the withdrawal of the armor. A single battalion of the Indian 21st Independent Brigade reached Nofilia as ordered. One was still hung up near Alam al Hunjah, surrounded by German troops of the 7th Panzer Division. The other was strung out on the roads, dogged by elements of Sonderverband 288.
Rommel was standing exactly where he had planned to be, but the chaos of war saw his panzer divisions scattered all over the desert, on ground spanning over 40 kilometers. What he needed now was infantry, a force to screen his flank if he continued to push the panzers east. The heavy Tigers in the 501st arrived, and he immediately sent them east in a shock column build around two Panzergrenadier battalions of the 15th Panzer Division, and a battalion of armor that had been operating with those Tigers.
“Are the Italians coming up as I ordered?” he asked his new Chief of staff Fritz Bayerlein. He was now working with von Thoma to help coordinate the movement.
“Mussolini’s Boys have already reached the 164th, and the Trieste Motorized Division is right behind them, along with what’s left of the Ariete Division, which isn’t much.”
“Good, that will free up the 164th. And the 90th?”
“Trento Division should relieve them on the line, but not until very late today. They might reach the front by nightfall.”
“The British have pulled their infantry out,” said Rommel. “Tell Marcks to begin moving the 90th this way immediately, and 15th Panzer should continue east to join us here.”
“You mean to continue the attack?” asked von Thoma.
“You object?” Rommel looked at him.
“Well sir, the troops are scattered all over the desert; the divisions all intermingled with one another.”
“Then it is up to us to sort things out. We’ve sent the British packing, but they’ve left a lot of luggage behind as well. Don’t be fooled. They aren’t beaten yet. But if we can get to Nofilia in strength, they will be in a bad way. That is only 35 kilometers from where we stand now.”
“I can have the bulk of my division at Sidi Azzab by sunset,” said von Bismarck of the 21st Panzer.
“Then we will move with 15th Panzer taking the lead. The 7th will reorganize here and be ready to follow in the morning, with your division right behind it, Herr von Bismarck.”
“Do you really think you can cut off the entire 8th Army?” said von Thoma.
“I will certainly try,” said Rommel, somewhat irritated. “If we sit on our thumbs now, so will O’Connor. He’ll secure Nofilia, bring up reserves, and we’ll be back at it again in no time. If, however, I press him hard now, threaten to cut his route back through Mersa Brega, then I may compel him to withdraw through the defile. Then we put the cork back in the bottle again.”
“But we were just sitting there two weeks ago,” said von Thoma. “It was you that popped that cork with this withdrawal to Buerat.”
“That was then, this is now,” said Rommel, his cheeks flushed red with the cold desert air. “If the British do withdraw through the bottleneck, then we look for other options.”
“Another flanking attack—through the badlands near Marada?”
“O’Connor came that way when he thought he was pushing us out a few weeks ago.”
“You want Cyrenaica again?”