Chapter 22
Joe Kingstone was restless. For the last two days he, and all of Kingforce, had been sitting on the Nadim Pasha Bund, a long elevated embankment overlooking the Army Canal that flanked the whole city for miles. His men had three days well deserved rest, but it was more down time than he had had in the last two months, and he suddenly needed to be doing something. So he rang up Jumbo Wilson, a question in mind.
“There’s nobody here,” he said. “All I’ve got in front of me is the open desert, for miles on end, completely empty. All the fighting is on my left, where that German infantry crossed the canal and cleared out that Arab rat’s nest upstream from here. If Jerry gets through there, he’ll be behind me.”
“Getting nervous, Joe?” asked Wilson.
“Not on your life, sir. But it just seems a waste to let my men sit here like this. We’ve had a decent interval to fatten up. I want to do something—get back in this fight.”
“You are doing something,” said Wilson. “You’re watching my right flank.”
“Well, they’ve pushed their way down the bund as far as my Warwickshires. Why don’t I kick them back?”
“Go right ahead, but do keep an eye on that canal line. You never know when the Germans might move your way. You told me this yourself, and I’m taking it as good advice.”
“Well sir, it’s just this… Why don’t we move? This flank is wide open. They’ve nothing out beyond the bund at all. I could peel my boys off this fly infested canal, swing up north and turn the tables on them.”
“But you’d have the canal on your left the whole way up,” said Wilson. “It took them a full day to get over that, and with three engineer companies assisting. They could just fold that infantry division back, cover the most likely crossing points, and there you’d be, out in your desert, but with Jerry behind the canal this time, and on that nice elevated bund. I shouldn’t have to remind you that there are two full panzer divisions up there. Spook them, and they could send something your way you might not like. No. I don’t want to tickle their flank over there. It could only provoke what I’ve just described. I’d much rather you sit on that embankment and watch my flank. 2nd Infantry will be up tomorrow. Then we’ll talk again. Until then, stand where you are. That’s an order.”
“Alright then,” said Kingstone. “I’ll get back to swatting the flies off my teacup. Tomorrow then. I’ll let you know when General Grover’s lads show up.” He hung up the phone, unhappy, a little red in the face, and then muttered his way out to the nearest scout car. He was going up to the Warwickshire Battalion to order them to attack.
The 24th of February was de Großerschub, the ‘big push’ by Guderian. He had met with his division officers the previous night, assembling them in the burned out Grain Factory to show them what was in store for them if they did not make a dramatic breakthrough soon.
“This place changed hands three times in two hours,” he said somberly. Their Royal Engineers lost half a battalion here, and they held off our Brandenburgers for six hours. That city out there may have fifty more places like this, and I don’t want to fight those battles. We must concentrate, hit key spots on their line, and then give them de Großerschub. Konrad, your regiment leads the way again in the morning. I want you to hit them very close to the river. See how this road follows the west bank. That is your road to victory. Break through, and then move like quicksilver!”
The Lehr Regiment did not disappoint. They went right through a company of 3/5 Punjab, and drove it against the river. Then one company after another, many on fast moving motorcycles, raced through the narrow gap, barely a hundred meters wide, the machineguns on their side cars blazing away as they went. A company of Gurkhas had been sent up to shore that area up, and they held like a rock, the Subedars shouting orders at the men over the din of battle until they were hoarse. But the Lehr Regiment flowed around them like water. They were racing down that river road towards the large built up Sulaymaniyah District. On their right they passed another of those potential Grain Factories Guderian had warned them about, a series of heavy brick kilns that were used to fabricate building materials. On their left was the river. Ahead of them, there was nothing but the road and the looming edge of that city.
Brigadier Alan Barker had seen his 27th Indian Brigade decimated in these three days of heavy fighting. By his count, he now had no more than seven of 14 companies still reasonably intact and fighting on the line. His actual casualties were not that high, but those other seven companies had been shattered, some overrun and captured, others broken and straggling back through the rail yard in groups of two or three men, many wounded, all disheartened and dead tired.
He could still see Lt. Colonel Selby’s 28th Brigade deployed in a wide arc to his left, largely intact, and he knew it could no longer stay where it was. So he got on the radio at once.
“Selby, this is Barker. We’re being overrun. We just can’t hold any longer. Your people are about to be cut off. You’ve got to move, and get back towards the aerodrome at once! Understand? You’ve got to move right now.”
“Alright,” said Selby. “I’ll give the order, but where are my guns?”
“I took the liberty of commandeering them, and I’ll get them back for you. Now move!”
The Colonel could hear the edge of panic in Barker’s voice, a man he knew to be a steady hand. So he moved with purpose, collaring a nearby Sergeant and telling him to find the bugler. It wasn’t often that he would resort to this method of command, but it was a signal and sound that would be heard by all at one time, and the message would travel much faster than radio calls to all his separate battalions.
The sound of that call resonated over the chatter of guns and boom of artillery, and when they heard it, the men of 2/9 Gurkhas knew exactly what to do. The Subedar shouted an order, and the entire battalion leveled their rifles at the enemy line. At the next command, they volley fired three times, then, in precise movements, the companies began peeling off the line and retiring in perfect order.
Brigadier Barker told his men to set fire to the rail yard storehouse, then he rushed out and told the artillery gunners to cease fire, limber up their guns, and get south to the airfield as fast as they could. Barker had precipitated a general retreat that would yield the whole of the railyard, store houses, engineering bay, workshops and brick kilns, all unfought…. But it would save an even worse disaster if those men had tried to stand their ground. The Lehr Regiment would have certainly gotten behind them, and even though Barker managed to get his two remaining companies of 2/1 Punjab over near the edge of the river to try and block the enemy advance, the outcome there was still very doubtful.
That retreat would put an end to all the fighting in the Airfield Settlement, and it was fortunate that Brigadier Arderne had forsaken his breakfast and driven out to the edge of the airfield. He could hear that same bugle call, and then soon saw and heard what was happening, the three sharp volleys of rifle fire, the rising dust, vehicles looming in the haze, the sound of officers shouting orders.
“Bloody hell,” he said aloud. “The whole line is breaking. We’ve got to get back to the airfield bund. Lieutenant!”
“Sir!”
“Order the men to fall back—fifty paces, turn and volley, then quick foot it back to the bund!”
“Very good, sir. But we’ve only got the Jats and Sikh Battalions here. The Maharatta is still on the other side of the Khir holding that railway embankment.”