In that interval, reports from Crüwell were now also having a desperate edge on the radio, and so the commanders of the three Panzer Divisions arranged to meet above a withered mud pan north of the stony cauldron that had been formed by Fisher’s infantry battalions.
“Damn it Rommel! I’m up against everything the British have! Fischer—where are your panzers?” Crüwell was incensed.
“I tried to get through,” said Fischer. “I threw my entire panzer Regiment at them, but it was blown to hell in twenty minutes! Those heavy panzers appeared just as I was breaking through. The Regiment will be lucky if it can form two companies now. This is no good, Rommel. We simply cannot stop these enemy tanks, and without panzer support, our infantry can only hold another hour or two at best.”
“What is happening with the rest of the front?” asked Crüwell.
“Montgomery is grinding his way past that escarpment south of Gazala,” said Rommel. “But the Italians are putting up a good fight. They threw both the Ariete and Littorio Divisions at them, and now Trieste Motorized has also reinforced that position. I do not think the British will get through. As for the rest of the line, it was not even attacked. The two motorized infantry divisions were just faced off by two or three enemy infantry divisions—Indian troops and a South African division. Their main effort was to try and turn this flank, as I suspected, which is why I concentrated all three panzer divisions here.”
“Well a lot of good that has done us,” said Crüwell.
“May I remind you that it was your division that made a premature attack, General.”
“I had no choice. O’Connor was rolling his entire division over my infantry. Was I suppose to just sit there and wait for the Commanding General’s order to attack? Nonsense! Now what should we do here? We cannot attack without being utterly destroyed. We can stubbornly defend, but we will lose that battle in the end.”
“We have to maneuver,” said Rommel. “They haven’t yet found our western flank, but they will soon. Crüwell, can you stop O’Connor?”
“I’m under too much pressure. They must have hit us with a thousand tanks in both the 7th and 2nd Armored Divisions. I’ll be a light motorized infantry division in another hour.”
“Well we can still get west if we move quickly,” said Rommel.
“Retreat again?” Crüwell gave him a look of recrimination.
“Redeploy,” said Rommel. “All our supplies must move along Trigg Capuzzo and the Tariq al Abd to Bir Tengeder. If we do not protect those lines of communication, then they’ll bag the entire army. At the moment, the motorized Divisions and Hermann Goering can get back via Trigg Capuzzo easily enough. We’ll have more difficulty extracting our panzer divisions if they persist with their attack, but that is what we must now attempt to do.”
“And what will the Führer say about yet another defeat here, Herr Rommel?” Crüwell gave him a smirk.
“He can say I saved his Afrika Korps for him—again—only this time the price for that will be Cyrenaica. I took it from the British long before you showed up, so now I will give it back to keep this Army intact. We move to Agedabia with all speed. I will notify the Italians. Send the signal to all your units: Westfallen, and may god be with us on the road west.”
Looking at the situation now, Kinlan had yet another decision to make. Like O’Connor, he had a sense for the battle and could read which way the wind was blowing easily enough. His front line units were reporting the Germans were pulling out, leaving a thin screen of AT gun positions as a delaying force, mostly Pak 50s. The drones could see the long lines moving west along the Trigg Capuzzo. Rommel was on the run. The battle had spanned 18 hours of movement and fighting, and now he was waiting for fuel trucks to come up to his front line units.
1/3 Mercian had been savaged by the initial attack of Rommel’s ill fated panzer charge. But many of the vehicles were thought to be salvageable. Of 140 Warriors in the entire Brigade, only 16 would be registered as total losses, though 10 of 50 Warrior Milans would also have to be written off, along with four Scimitars. Two Challengers had been put temporarily out of action with non critical hits, but the engineers would be able to replace tracks, a jammed turret and external equipment to get them operational again. All the other losses would be collected, stripped for useful parts and materials, and then the carcasses would be hauled off to a special hidden depot in the desert, well away from prying eyes. The human cost to Kinlan’s Brigade was 55 dead, 118 wounded, mostly in the infantry that had fought dismounted.
The General found O’Connor late on the 17th, wanting to see what his mind was on the situation. “We’ve got them on the run,” he said. “They’re pulling out west. How are your divisions?”
“The lads are ready as rain, but its fuel we need now. When I chased the Italians west last year, I managed to put together a couple flying columns using vehicles that still had the fuel to go the distance. We’re mopping up that line of delaying forces, but, with darkness falling and the fuel situation being what it is, I think it best to consolidate, sort the units out, and use the time to prepare for a concerted advance in the morning.”
“Very well general,” said Kinlan, extending his hand. “You’ve just beaten Rommel.”
“Not so fast,” said O’Connor. “Oh, we broke 15th Panzer Division alright. 7th Armored gave them a good fight, but we lost a lot of vehicles attacking their infantry hard points. Those damn Lions are formidable. They were wreaking havoc, even on the new American tanks we received. I don’t suppose you had any trouble with them?”
“They mission killed two of my Challengers—lucky hits, but we’ll have them both operational again as soon as the engineers can get to them. Otherwise, Rommel thought he’d bushwhacked one of my Mech Infantry battalions, but we saw him coming and the Dragoons smashed that attack. Frankly, that’s one hell of a body punch to take in a fight like this. We must have wrecked 150 enemy tanks out near Hill 498. After that, Jerry had no more stomach for this fight, and that dusty road west looked a darn sight more appealing. My only regret is not getting far enough west to cut them off.”
“You would have been on your own,” said O’Connor. “Once the 15th Panzer came at us, one thing led to another. That fight just kept pulling my battalions in, until the weight of 2nd Armored Division decided the matter. So we win through today. But this isn’t over. Tomorrow we’ll get after him, and it’s on to Agedabia!”
Chapter 36
They did not yet know it at that moment, but Hill 498 in the desert of Southern Libya was another turning point in the war that was now in its third terrible year. Disheartened but still determined, Rommel would make the long retreat to Agedabia and arrive there by nightfall on the 17th of March. It seemed at that moment just another movement in the long see saw struggle in that forsaken place. Yet after his brilliant opening offensive with Operation Sonnenblume, after that stunning first shock at Bir el Khamsa, he was never the same man again.
Rommel had tried everything. If he dug in his infantry behind mines, this infernal nemesis would use amazing wire guided chains that would explode to create pathways for those awesome heavy tanks. Once they were on the scene, they were simply invincible. In all the long months of this struggle, they had only one confirmed kill—and that had been laurels for the Luftwaffe, and not his own Panzertruppen. His frustrated tank crews reported hitting the enemy two and three times, but with no effect, and those were just the tanks lucky enough to survive to get in range of the enemy. The only way he could use his mobile divisions to attack now was to strike at the enemy infantry divisions, and as he made that long withdrawal west, he thought that was what he should have done.