I should have placed the infantry from 10th Panzer Division down on that flank, studding the line with all the anti tank and heavy flak guns I had, and backing it up with artillery. Then I should have taken the three panzer regiments and the rest of the mobile infantry and formed a massive strum group. We could have blasted right through that South African division, raced to Tobruk and taken the place before Montgomery could do anything about it.
But then what? Another voice spoke to him in the back of his mind. Then you would be sitting right there, in a port where no ships can call because of the damnable Royal Navy, and one where no supply trucks could call, because Montgomery would be sitting on the Via Balbia, and that Heavy Brigade would be sitting on Trigg Capuzzo.
No, he thought. ‘Should of’ never won a race. At least now you still have a secure line of communications to Tripoli. Now the issue of Benghazi comes to the fore. Can we still hold it? If the Italians get back in time, they should have sufficient strength to do so. It will become my Tobruk, even if they cut the road between that place and Agedabia. That port can be supplied by sea, at least for a while, and it will force the British to deploy at least two infantry divisions to invest it, possibly three. Those are divisions they can ill afford to spare for that duty.
When I get to the Gulf of Sirte, I will be sitting on the best defensive ground in North Africa. The only place comparable is Halfaya Pass, or perhaps Gabes in southern Tunisia. They think they’ve beaten me, but they are a long way from doing that. They merely cemented one fact in my mind. We can beat them on even terms, but they still hold that one terrible trump card. Strange that with all these new American tanks that were delivered, no additional heavy tanks appeared. There seemed to be no more than fifty or sixty in total, but my god, that was enough. I spent three months husbanding panzer deliveries from Germany, and lost half of everything they sent me in one hot hour.
So now I sit on my defensive line at Mersa Brega, and let us see if they have the mettle to try and push me out. This is not a defeat, but a mere setback. It is nothing more than a strategic withdrawal. This is far from over, but Crüwell’s words still bite. What will the Führer think? He is getting a lot of bad news from Russia these days, and now this. I salvaged my pride after that debacle at Tobruk last year by stubbornly sitting on my Gazala line. This time, they get Cyrenaica back, and all those good airfields.
A lot of good they did us in this fight. Where was the Luftwaffe? Most of the Stukas were pulled out west to French North Africa and Operation Condor. The British knew that, of course, which is why they struck me now. If I only had those Stukas back…
If wishes were horses, he thought, his weary mind completing a circle as he mulled over the battle. Thank God I had the backbone to admit what was happening and get the Army out in time. If the British had pushed further west before they turned north, we might have been cut off. So Crüwell’s preemptive attack was the key, wasn’t it. Of course I must never admit that to him, but that forced the British to commit their 7th Armored Division on his front, and he was just good enough in that attack to hurt them. Then O’Connor had to put in his 2nd Armored Division. Crüwell fought bravely today. I was the one who took the foolish gamble this time, and I risked everything in thinking I could get to the infantry formations in that hellish Heavy Brigade.
I simply underestimated the incredible mobility of that Heavy Armored Battalion. There is something almost supernatural about those troops and machines. They seem to know what we are doing, every step of the way. They spot our defensive positions, through smoke and sand, and then fire right through it all to pick off our strongpoints.
We overran one segment of their line with our tank charge, but that heavy armor moves like the wind. It appeared on the scene just in time to wreak havoc. Watching those Lions burn was quite a shock. They are the best tank we have ever put in the field, and yet they could not even begin to match this British tank. Its capabilities are simply unnatural, simply stupefying. How could the British produce such a tank, and then still clatter about in those god awful machines they give to their main divisions? What am I not seeing here? Something is simply wrong in all of this, and Army intelligence must get to the bottom of the matter, and soon.
He rubbed his brow, weary with the lateness of the hour, closing his eyes. Agedabia first, he thought, then Mersa Brega. After that, Tripoli, and if they manage to get that far, and pry me out of that city, then I’ll stop them again at Gabes. Yes, this is far from over. It is going to be a very long year….
“Just when I get up a good head of steam, Wavell wants to pull my lead unit right off the line!” Montgomery was exasperated when he got the news. “That South African division I threw on the fire did a fine job, but they certainly can’t carry the offensive up into the Jebel country. In fact, without the Australians, I’ll be lucky if I can get to Derna if strongly opposed. This is one fine kettle of fish.”
The Australians…. Without Bennett’s two brigades he could not have held Singapore. If he had had either the 6th or 7th Aussie Divisions on Java, he’d still be holding that island as well. Now, without the 9th Division here, his prospects for any aggressive push west were quite dim, and he let Wavell know it in no uncertain terms.
“Don’t worry,” said Wavell. “Take the time to catch your breath and tidy up. I’m going to take one of the Indian Divisions from O’Connor, and you can have both the South African Divisions to re-establish your Corps.”
“50th Northumbrian would suit me better,” said Monty. “And when might we get in the Highland Division?”
“Soon,” said Wavell, but he could make no promises. He would have to dangle that carrot in front of O’Connor to keep him in line if he stole away that Indian Division. “Look Monty, You’ve done a fine job here, and fresh off the boat from Java. What we need now is the airfields up north. Make that your primary objective.”
“Alright,” said Monty, resigned to his fate. “How soon can I have that Indian Division?”
“I’ll cut the orders today.”
O’Connor was a frustrated man that day as well. Wavell had also contacted him, just as he had during Operation Compass when he pulled out 6th Australian right in the middle of the offensive. This time it was 9th Australian Division, and the two New Zealand Brigades as well. They were Monty’s troops, but that still pulled the better part of two divisions from the field just as he was hoping to move west again.
“We knew this was coming,” said Kinlan.
“Yes, but all we needed was another week to ten days!”
“And what would you accomplish? Rommel is going to beat us to Agedabia, and now Monty hasn’t the troops he needs to really push the Italians.”
“He won’t have to. They’ll have to fall back to Benghazi.”
“Yes, they’ll go because Rommel and the Germans have gone, but in their own good time. It may be a while before they evacuate the Jebel country entirely, and we may have to fight to pry them out of a few of those airfields along the way.”
O’Connor nodded. “Right, and Monty is already after my infantry divisions. The man had the nerve to call me an hour ago and ask about the Northumbrians. Well, he won’t get his hands on that division, but Wavell is sending him the Indian troops, and both South African Divisions. The question is, will the Italians try to hold Benghazi?”