John Schettler - Crescendo of Doom

Rommel had fought with the Württemberg Mountain Battalion of the elite Alpenkorps , where he quickly showed the genius for tactics and quick thinking on the battlefield that was to be his hallmark. His audacious infiltration tactics behind enemy lines had produced astounding results at times, where in one instance he had captured 1500 Italians with a single squad of five men. Then, leading a company of just 100 men, he had unhinged the defense of an Italian strong point garrisoned by 7000 troops! The Iron Cross and the coveted Blue Max that he so cherished were just some of the fruits of that labor. But the war was not all dash and medals. It was dreadful.

It was the tank that had broken the awful, grinding stalemate of the Western Front. The first cumbersome charge of the unwieldy metal land forts was a dismal failure for the British, as shocking as it was to the German soldiers who initially faced those growling behemoths. The tanks were unreliable, slow, ponderous in the mud of the rain sodden fields. They broke down, slipped tracks, found their guns jamming in the heat of battle, and too often caught fire. But the devious minds that had conceived them persisted, and eventually they tried again, and broke through.

Within months the sledgehammer charge of armor was used to batter the deeply entrenched lines of the enemy, breaking through for the infantry to cross that deadly space that came to be called no man’s land, and win the hour. In the years between the wars, the Germans had mastered the art of armored warfare, developing tactics and methods that would prove equally shocking to the British and French when their blitzkrieg was let loose in 1940. Rommel had been one of the grand masters of the panzer divisions, the leader of the fabled 7th Panzers, the Ghost Division. It had advanced farther and faster than any other division in the campaign against France, and Rommel’s exploits, and the favor they gained with Hitler, had led him to this privileged position as commander of the newly formed German Afrika Korps.

He remembered his promises to the Fuhrer all too well, yet now, as he stared at his motorized infantry digging in, his shoulders slumped with unwanted resignation. Before him lay a vast desert which was the perfect open field for his fast moving shock columns of tanks, armored cars and infantry. Yet the very same weapon that had led him to fame and the heights of command here, had also been his undoing—the tank.

This time it was an enemy tank, one so awesome in its power and capabilities that it rendered his entire armored force obsolete in a single stroke. He had advanced with breakneck speed and characteristic dash in the first Libyan offensive, sending the British reeling and then driving right past their last strongpoint of Tobruk and across the Egyptian frontier. Then, at an insignificant hamlet named Bir el Khamsa, and just as he was to deliver the final blow that might lead to a breakthrough to the Nile, something came out of the deep deserts to the south that stunned his veteran troops and sent them staggering back in a headlong retreat.

Tanks, massive new heavy tanks fielded by the British that were truly awesome to behold. They were twice the size of the older Matildas, a tank that had a tough skin and was already difficult to kill with the light guns on his armor, ranging from 20mm to 50mm. Rommel had adapted by taking the superb 88mm flak gun and deploying it as an anti-tank weapon, and with remarkable results—until now. This new British tank was so heavily armored that it shrugged off hits from a 50mm gun as if they were pebbles, and was even impervious to the dread flak 88!

Look at me now, he said to himself. I told the Führer I would deliver him Libya in two weeks time, and that I did, but I could not hold it long enough to have any sense of the victory. He asked me to stop O’Connor, and that I did, but the reversal and shame of defeat has dogged me ever thereafter. These new enemy tanks are so powerful that our only recourse is to stand on defense, dig in behind wire and mines, and register every gun we have to saturate the field with artillery. It is the first great war all over again, and it is maddening to sit here like this, simply waiting for the enemy to choose the moment he will strike.

At first it seemed he would not have long to wait. The British had followed his retreat west, sending their veteran 6th and 9th Australian Divisions in the wake of the Italians, and it looked as though they planned to fight a battle to take Benghazi. The Führer demanded the place be defended, but Rommel was not going to commit his precious German infantry there. So he ordered six Italian Infantry Divisions to dig in around the port city, where they also waited for the enemy to attack, but it never came.

The British have a head on their shoulders after all, he thought. They realize that without Malta, Benghazi is of little use to them. We can pound it day and night from the air, and besides, they have a port of equal capacity right behind them in Tobruk. So Rommel was not surprised when he saw the two Australian infantry divisions withdrawing, and posted near Tobruk instead of coming down to Mersa Brega to face off against his own troops.

They aren’t stupid, he thought. They know that they can hold the line much easier near Tobruk. Now any move I make will be seen ten days to two weeks before I can get anywhere near them, giving them ample time to prepare. And if I do move again, I must cross 500 kilometers of desert before I can even begin to contemplate battle. There is no way I can do that until I am reinforced here, and well supplied. Paulus was correct.

So he waited there, chastened and brooding at Mersa Brega, though his spirits began to rise when the first reinforcements promised him actually began to arrive. The 15th Panzer Division had joined him earlier, and now the 90th Light Motorized Division was in hand. Behind it came two more elite formations. One was the vaunted Grossdeutschland Regiment, veterans of France, the Low Countries and the men who had delivered the great prize of Gibraltar in conjunction with Kubler’s 1st Mountain Division. Rommel had been promised that entire force, but the Mountain division had not arrived, being sent to Italy for possible deployment in Syria.

Instead he received another elite formation, the Hermann Goering Brigade, handpicked men chosen by the Reichsführer and head of the Luftwaffe. They had not seen much combat yet, but they were good troops, and spoiling for a fight. The Italians had also promised to send more troops, though Rommel had little use for them, thinking they were simply more mouths to feed, a drain on his limited supply network.

Over the weeks and months since his retreat, Paulus had worked some magic for him on that account—supplies. He made sure that Rommel was getting all the food, water, fuel and munitions that could be moved to North Africa. The main German port was still Tripoli in western Libya, but they had also opened up Tunis and Bizerte, using the rail lines down to Gabes to stockpile supplies there, and then moving them by road and the new Siebel ferries along the coast to Mersa Brega. Benghazi was used exclusively by the Italians to supply their troops there.

In time, as the weeks went by, Rommel built up a considerable depot behind his entrenched infantry, and by late April of 1941, he was ready to renew operations. Only one thing harried him, those new British tanks, so he thought long and hard as to how he could operate offensively again.

Forewarned is forearmed, he thought. We were caught by surprise at Bir el Khamsa. The shock of this new tank was simply too much for my men to bear. God knows I had been pushing them hard, and there was barely enough petrol left to get us back here. So this time things will be different.

One question burned in the center of his mind: how can I kill these enemy tanks? I cannot pit my own armor against them. No. Wherever they appear I must drill my infantry with new defensive tactics. We will immediately adopt a hedgehog formation, digging in and holding in place on the best defensive ground we can find. They will be drilled in rapid minefield deployment, and the artillery will practice the mustering of quick saturation fires to be called in by the infantry positions. Then I must have a word with Goering. He’s sent me his best men, and for that I am thankful, but I would much sooner have him send me his Stukas! I want to have the closest possible coordination with my infantry strong points to launch immediate air strikes against this armor. In fact, these new enemy tanks will be the priority targets for the Luftwaffe. They may be able to survive our 88s, but by god, see how they like a 500 pound bomb! If need be we can double down on that, and the Stukas can carry even heavier ordnance.