John Schettler - Lions at Dawn

“Well no wonder the Germans have been pounding my tanks with Stukas all month,” said Patton. “It takes a month to ship them over, another month to get them through the ports to my position, and then the Germans have a field day.”

“We’re working on it,” said Doolittle. “Now that we’re running round the clock operations at Maison Blanche, things should improve, but I can’t underscore the importance of seizing forward airfields. We need them.”

“Well, I hope to god we’re hitting them as hard as they hit us.”

“Good point,” said Eisenhower. “We need to get serious with our interdiction efforts. We’ll have to hit their fields hard, send bombers after the ports, and interdict their sea lanes as well.”

“We have,” said Welsh. “They’ve taken losses to their merchant shipping as we have, but the Germans are sending in a lot more of those new Siebel ferries through Toulon. Our torpedoes are useless against them, because their draft is so shallow. They just run right under them. And they’re too small a target to hit with any consistency with a bomber, particularly at night, which is when they mainly operate.”

“Gentlemen,” said Eisenhower. “These are all the reasons the Germans forced a stalemate on us here with so few forces. Now we have to show them we mean business. I’m assuming we have adequate supplies forward for BLADERUNNER?”

“My dumping operations concluded last week,” said Montgomery, a stickler for logistics, and Patton resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Concluded?” he said facetiously. “Why general, you’re two weeks ahead of schedule, and considering we had the holiday season to contend with, that’s damn surprising.”

“Alright, George,” said Bradley, always the peacekeeper. “I’m sure Santa brought you more than a few presents in that interval.”

Montgomery cleared his throat, the time for levity over. “Very well, as you all know, the operation before us will have three phases. Contact with the enemy will be almost immediate. He’s dug in well, but I shall put in a good long artillery preparation to shake him up. After that we make the big push, where I plan on introducing my armor to attempt to breach his line. Exploitation follows, and should we unhinge his defense in the north, he’ll have no recourse but to pull back in the south, which will make your work there all the easier.” He eyed Patton. “Now then, we’ll push on up the coast through Fort Melila to Philippeville. There’s our first forward airfield. You’ll take Constantine, General Patton, which will then put us in a good position to push on to Bone while you take Souk Ahras and El Arba on the Tunisian border.”

“I could just as easily turn southeast from Constantine for Tebessa,” said Patton. “Once we get that, I can push right into Tunisia and make a run for the coast at Sfax.”

“That’s a long run, George,” said Bradley.

“You want a touchdown? Then someone has to do the running. I’m and old halfback when it comes to battle out here. You try to slug your way up that coastline, and the Germans can feed in one unit after another to slow you down. We need room to maneuver—do some broken field running.” He displayed that winning smile.

“All in good time,” said Eisenhower. “We need Constantine first. That’s the big supply center backstopping their line right now, and from there we have rail lines to Tebessa, Souk Ahras, and up to the coast through Philippeville to Bone. Once we take that, we’ll revisit the question. Any drive we make through southern Tunisia will have to be coordinated with 8th Army on the other side. Until then, I expect some hard fighting.”

“That’s the only kind worth a damn,” said Patton. “I’m up against a pretty tough outfit, Rommel’s old 10th Panzer Division. They raised a good bit of hell out your way, General Wavell, but I plan on going right through them.”

“I’m sure you will, General,” said Montgomery. “And your victory will cover my flank perfectly as I drive for Tunis.”

Patton gave Monty a narrow eyed smile.

“General Wavell,” said Ike. “How soon do you expect to jump off operations aimed at Tripoli.”

“Immediately. O’Connor has reorganized and come up on the German Buerat Line south of Sirte. It’s going to be more of that same hard fighting, but we think we have the mass in hand to move Rommel this time. They’ll defend the coast road as always, but our main effort will be inland. First we’ll want to get up through Mahallah to Wadi Zem Zem, and from there we’ll flank their the Buerat line by pushing for Bani Walid. After that it’s a straight shot for the armor up to Tarhuna, while the infantry clears the coast road through Misrata. Yet it will be some time before we get anywhere near Mareth for a drive into southern Tunisia, particularly if Rommel intends to fight.”

That would be an understatement, for Rommel did indeed intend to fight, but not on the Buerat line.

Rommelcould read a map as good as any general that ever fought, and he was soon convinced that the position at Buerat was far from satisfactory. To begin with, it was just over 250 miles along the main road from Tripoli to Sirte, making for a round trip exceeding 500 miles for his supply columns. The ground to the south of his line was open enough to present the British with easy opportunities to flank him, and there was much better ground closer to Tripoli itself at Tarhuna. There, a long stretch of hills and rough ground extended from Al Khums on the coast east of Tripoli, to a position 50 miles south of the city at Garyan.

The British will not get around that line easily, he thought, particularly if I develop the positon around Tarhuna. That is where I want to fight, a defensive line that is within forty to 60 miles of my major supply port, where our air fields are close at hand to provide good support. Yielding the ground between Buerat and Tarhuna won’t hand the enemy anything more than wasteland, stretches of desert and the big coastal marshes south of Misrata. There are no good airfields I would lose, except at Sirte, and I’ll set my engineers to tearing up that field before I give the order to withdraw.

Back we go, he smiled. Hitler won’t like it, but I give the British nothing worth taking. Just one small field at Sirte, and another at Bani Walid, and 200 miles of empty ground for them to haul their lorries over before they can come to grips with me again. The hills and escarpments favor me as well, forming a nice little castle wall that extends south and west, about 50 miles beyond Tripoli. I’ll have the fertile ground around the city, plenty of food and water for my men, short supply lines, and good roads. There’s even a rail line heading west towards Mareth. If they beat me here, or other events mandate a withdrawal, then Mareth is my next defensive line, perhaps one of the best in North Africa.

Just after the new year, Rommel gave the order for the Italians to pull out, still leaving his own divisions on the line they had held for some time. He knew his enemy had been reorganizing, dumping supplies, expanding the port facilities at Benghazi as well. That strange news concerning the explosion at Tobruk was most interesting. Knowing the British would see the Italians beginning to move, he gave orders to both his Panzer divisions to stand ready in case the enemy opened their offensive. Yet reports came back from the forward lines that the British were only conducting light patrols with armored cars.

Then, on the 4th of January, a major storm blew in, with gale force winds lashing the port at Benghazi. Ships were thrown into one another, one slipping its moorings and crashing into the inner harbor. Ferries and small boats were tossed about like toys, and four ships were sunk in the bay, completely swamped, including one with 2000 tons of ammunition in her holds. LCTs 106 and 107 foundered and went down, and the general chaos caused by the storm reduced the port from an average of 3000 tons per day in deliveries to no more than 1000.