“Good,” said Kinlan. “We can use that fuel. We only had enough to refuel one Sabre of my heavies. The rest are thirsty, but I suppose we can make it to the Tobruk area easily enough.”
“Right then,” said O’Connor. “I’m off to the front. Wish me luck.”
“General, make your own luck,” said Kinlan with a wink. “And give them hell.”
The Mersa Brega line was perhaps the strongest in Libya from a standpoint of natural defense. The ground all along the coastal plain was marshy in places, and a morass of salt pans, wadis, and rocky terrain that impeded any real speed in maneuver on attack. The terrain formed a natural bottleneck, and sandy ground known as sebka, dune fields, and rocky escarpments clotted the southern flank as well. O’Connor had positioned 50th Division right on the coast road, with the 51st Highland Division on its left. A long rugged wadi separated the two divisions, running almost parallel to the coast itself, which would make communication between the two units difficult if one had to support the other. Further south, there was a narrow pass between the rocky ground near Matan Al Jafar and an east west escarpment. This was where O’Connor had posted his 1st Armored Division, which was heavy on Infantry tanks.
The Army was flush with armor now, their steel ranks swollen with new deliveries from both the Americans and the UK. In this single division he had nearly 100 of the American Grants, an odd medium tank that looked like a throwback from the first war.
It had a high profile, mounting a 37mm gun in the top turret, and then adding a bigger 75mm gun on the right forward hull in a boxy enclosure. The sloped armor plates were all assembled with rows of thick rivets along the edges, and it was a hot, noisy vehicle in the desert, an ungainly looking mechanical monster. The sponson box for the main gun put it so low that the tank could not assume a hull down position, and its high profile made it a very easy target. Compared to the newer tank designs being produced by the Germans, it was a complete anachronism. In spite of that, it had good 51mm frontal armor, and that 75mm gun packed a decent punch.
While they were not happy with the design, the British had such a need for armor that they spent every last schilling they had in US banks to order 1,250, and then insisted on a few modifications, including better frontal armor. Added to these, they also had another 86 Crusader IIIs, and nearly 100 of the new Churchills, and an equal number of Valentines in that division, commanded by General Briggs.
7th Armored was built more for speed and envelopment, and it had only 50 Grants, with all its remaining tanks being Crusader IIIs and the American M5 Stuarts, fresh from the factories. It was a scouting and reconnaissance tank, fast, agile, and with a turret mounted 37mm main gun. General Harding commanded this division, which found itself approaching the German flank with impassible dune fields on its right, preventing any contact with 1st Armored, and rugged terrain, ridges and hills to its left. It was simply terrible ground for the attacker, but O’Connor had over 750 tanks, and was counting on sheer mass to overwhelm the enemy once contact was finally made.
O’Connor was supposed to attack soon after the landings at Lisbon and Casablanca, but this difficult terrain caused him considerable delay in getting his divisions positioned “in the wine bottle,” as he called it.
“It only gets worse from here on out,” he briefed his men. “But once we push through this bottleneck, the ground is much better. My intention is to reach the Marble Arch near Merduma in three or four days. That may be a tough order if the enemy puts up a good defense here, but once we get there, then we’re the cork in the bottle, and Rommel has no way to threaten another move into Cyrenaica. In effect, gentlemen, it will remain in British hands permanently, this I can guarantee you. There will be no more falling back on Tobruk. After that, we fight for Tripolitania.”
“Sir,” an officer of the 50th Division raised his hand. “Who are we up against on that coast road?”
“Well Ben, you’ve got all the Italians in front of you. One look at you, however, and they’ll all turn tail and make a run for Tripoli. As for the 51st Division, your lot has drawn a dance with Rommel’s 164th Light.”
“What sir?” said Wimberly, commander of the 51st. “Not the Mighty Ninety Lighty?” This got another laugh, as it was the nickname the British had given to the 90th Light, the division these new troops had heard so much about from the veterans in the other divisions. “Tenacious little Bastards,” they were told. “Never underestimate them.”
“Now Jerry has been in a mad dash to get east of the Americans at Casablanca,” said O’Connor. “Kesselring wants nothing to do with Morocco, and now they’ve pulled back from Oran near the Algerian border—too close to the RAF for their liking I suppose. Everything is Willy Nilly in Spain, and Montgomery is closing in on Gibraltar. Now it’s our turn. Let’s show Rommel the door here, and move him out of the picture, baggage and all. I want to get to Tripoli before the Americans horn in on the show, They’re making a big push for Algiers as it stands. Very good then, off to your divisions!”
To say that things were ‘Willy Nilly’ in Spain was an understatement. Eisenhower and Clark had quietly put out peace feelers to Franco. In truth, his membership in the Axis Club had been marginal. He was certainly complicit in allowing the Germans to traverse Spanish territory to get at Gibraltar, and there were many who wanted to see him hanged. Considering British animosity over the loss of Gibraltar, allowing him to stay seated in power was out of the question, but allowing him to retain his head on his shoulders, and accept early retirement in a comfortable villa was much more than he might have received otherwise, and that was the offer.
Eisenhower sent the message, delivered by submarine to the Spanish coast as before, and then into the British spy network that still had men in Spain. Franco looked at his situation, with half his army unreliable, the other half wavering, insurgents in the north, Germans in country and a growing British force that had already fought its way through Seville and was now closing on Gibraltar. News of the destruction in Seville gave him a preview of what would likely happen to other cities in Spain if he allowed the fighting to continue. Yet if he declared his support for the Allies, as Eisenhower urged, what would the Germans do to him?
The answer was that he would take a train to the front lines, ostensibly to buck up the morale of his army near the Portuguese border. In reality, however, he would secretly cross into Portugal, turning himself over to the British Army there, where he would be guaranteed immunity in exchange for making a national broadcast from Lisbon declaring Spain had abandoned the Axis, and exhorting his army to strike the Germans wherever they found them.
This he did, and most of his army was only too willing to join the Allied cause. While the majority simply ceased operations and refused to budge, some went home, while others took up operations against the Germans. Few dared to openly engage German military units, but rail lines, bridges, and roads could make easy, and relatively safe targets. Hube was soon informed that there was considerable unrest in Spain, and demolition attacks from these insurgents were multiplying daily.
The chaos caused by Hitler’s decision to disarm the Vichy French and occupy their territory was pronounced. After lengthy discussion with Kluge, Kietel, Jodl and Halder, Hitler threw up his hands in anger and cursed Franco.
“That man has been a headache from the very first. I knew he would be unreliable, and now he’s gone running to the British. I’ve half a mind to send fifty divisions into Spain and crush every city to bare road dust! Yet, considering the situation on the Volga, we have far bigger fish to fry.”