Chapter 447: It's Not Sloppiness
A man in a German major’s uniform jumped down from the ship’s gangway, took a deep breath of the fresh air, and closed his eyes in satisfact
A man in a German major’s uniform jumped down from the ship’s gangway, took a deep breath of the fresh air, and closed his eyes in satisfaction. Two other officers, a captain and a second lieutenant, followed behind him.
Not far away, a desert-yellow field car was being unloaded from the ship by a group of shirtless Italian soldiers. Although it was only mid-March, the ancient and mysterious continent of Africa was already incredibly hot.
“I hear General Keitel’s Army Group B is moving into the Netherlands. Has the Führer made up his mind to reinforce Rundstedt’s Army Group A?” the major asked, pulling on his leather gloves to protect his skin from the sun.
The second lieutenant nodded. “Britain is not an opponent that can be conquered by a single army group. Besides, we’ve already been pulled out.”
Two Italian officers walked towards them, their uniforms covered in sand and dust, looking somewhat disheveled. But it was clear they had just returned from the desert, not from a defeat.
“Welcome to Africa, General Rommel… To deceive British intelligence, we had to have you arrive in a major’s uniform,” the Italian officer in charge of the reception said with a smile, extending his hand to shake Rommel’s.
Rommel walked over to his car, which had just been unloaded, his hands clasped behind his back. He seemed very pleased with this old model Mercedes-Benz that had been with him for many years. He said with a broad smile, “How I arrived is not important. What matters is how I leave.”
As he spoke, he pointed into the distance. “The Führer told me, just like his promise to General von Rundstedt, that the day I capture Cairo is the day he gives me my marshal’s baton.”
At this, he gave a slight smile and then said, “But my troops are still on their way. Your defeat has made the Führer very angry. The surrender of the British, which was already being negotiated, has been terminated because of your loss.”
“General, our Middle Eastern oil imports were cut off by the British after the war began. Italy’s fuel reserves simply cannot sustain this level of consumption. We in North Africa are Italy’s only hope… But the British are clearly better prepared than we are. They have very elite infantry,” the Italian officer explained.
“These are your problems. I’m just here for tourism,” Rommel said, getting into the convertible, which had had its canvas top removed. The second lieutenant had already started the car, and the captain was sitting in the passenger seat.
Rommel said to the Italian officer, who was standing by, at a loss for words, “If you are really in a hurry, then make the trains run faster so my troops can reach the port sooner. Another thing is to tell your Duce to prepare the fuel and ensure the smooth transport of ammunition…”
Italy’s logistical supply system had turned into a mess of mud due to its premature entry into the war. No one knew when the Italian army would be ready for war, but everyone knew that the Italian army in Libya was pretty much the best fighting force in the entire Kingdom of Italy. Unfortunately, it had still lost to the British North African garrison, which was far inferior in numbers.
The British Navy, having lost control of the Mediterranean, had mostly withdrawn to Egypt or had entered the Indian Ocean directly. But the Italian Navy, lacking fuel and war preparations, was unable to pursue them. Although it had taken control of and basically cut off the British transport lines in the Mediterranean, the Italian Navy had failed to take the Suez Canal. Its one and only bombardment of Egypt had resulted in the loss of a destroyer to the British Air Force.
As for the Italian Air Force, which could only be described as shabby compared to the German Luftwaffe, it was experiencing a renaissance in North Africa. Italian planes were very average in performance, but they had the advantage of being numerous, sturdy, and durable, very suitable for use in a vast region like North Africa.
Of course, the most elite of the Italian Air Force’s fighter units were now using the Me-109C fighter, with a surprising 300 of them in service. Moreover, Italy had purchased the production license for this aircraft, and its numbers in the Italian forces were still on the rise.
The newly formed L Army Group under Rommel’s command was no Italian unit. This was a regular, mainline German army group, consisting of 4 infantry corps and the German 7th Panzer Corps, with a total strength of over 300,000 men. The entire army group had as many as 1,400 vehicles, and the 7th Panzer Corps, after being reinforced, had 3 tank divisions with over 800 tanks.
One can only imagine the enormous amount of food and fuel such a behemoth would consume each day. Add to that the ammunition needed for combat and the replacement of worn-out parts, and the logistics were enough to give anyone a splitting headache.
So, ever since Italy had been defeated in North Africa and had been forced to ask the Germans for help, the Italian leader, Mussolini, had personally inspected the logistical preparations for the North African campaign. Before the German troops arrived in Africa, he had managed to get the transport and supply work for the North African front in order, even diverting some of the Italian army’s own supplies to bring the German L Army Group’s logistical supply level to 90%.
This supply level was actually very high. The German army’s own logistical supply was only about 85%, and the transport and distribution of some secondary items would often be delayed by a few days. However, the Germans’ achievement had already put the supply-chaotic Italians to shame.
The Italian troops’ material supply could basically only be maintained at a 60% level. This fragile supply rate meant that the Italian units could only perform at 50% or even 40% of their actual combat capability. If you also factor in that the Italian army’s intrinsic combat level was only about 80% of the British army’s, you could easily calculate the Italian army’s actual combat effectiveness—about one-third of the British army’s.
“In two months, I will launch a counter-attack here,” Rommel muttered to himself, standing on the seat of the car and observing the distant barbed wire and Italian defensive positions through his binoculars. “Including the Italian troops, I will have about 600,000 men under my command, twice the number of the British. If fuel, ammunition, and food are sufficient, I could push to Tobruk in one go. Would that be too fast?”
A gust of sand blew against the car’s windshield with a rattling sound. Everyone instinctively shielded their eyes. The second lieutenant slumped over the steering wheel, cursing this devilish weather he had never seen before.
“A flat desert, only hills and vast, open terrain,” Rommel shouted excitedly, ignoring the swirling sand. “This is a paradise for armored forces! Give me 1,000 tanks here and I can sweep away everything! Haha! After I beat the Brits, I’ll be a German marshal!”
As he shouted, his voice changed. After the sandstorm passed, he spat out a mouthful of sand. But his mouth still felt gritty, and he could feel the sand grinding against his teeth.
From now on, he would be far from the main European theater, carving out his own world here. He was the supreme commander, in charge of everything, responsible for all operations. If he won, he would gain honor like Brauchitsch. If he lost, he would die in this sand.
His German air force fighter units were already in Italy, being modified by mechanics, having special air filters and other equipment installed to adapt the precious fighters to the desert climate of North Africa. A full 300 fighters, 200 old Stukas, and 150 Do-217s had been assigned to his command to ensure air superiority over his army group.
It had to be said that since the introduction of the new Stuka Type 2 attack aircraft, the German attack aircraft units had been gradually phasing out the old Stuka. So, the fact that the Air Force’s Kesselring could generously provide 200 Stukas to support Rommel was more a matter of recycling old equipment than a painful sacrifice. Of course, there was no doubt that these planes were more than a little advanced compared to the fighters the British were using in North Africa.
Of course, the German tanks and armored vehicles were also being repainted in desert camouflage, and their engines were being fitted with air filtration systems suitable for the desert. The troops were being issued sleeping bags and windproof tents, and dozens of desalination systems had also been transported to Italian ports, ready to be sent to Libya.
The classic gray German army uniforms could no longer be used. They were being replaced by German-style uniforms made from a light yellow fabric produced by an Italian textile factory. Some parts were even modified according to the desert environment, such as the collar, which was designed to be tightened.
Based on preliminary surveys and expert advice, Rommel’s L Army Group had also custom-ordered 3,000 pairs of goggles in Italy, to be issued to tank commanders, drivers, reconnaissance troops, and truck drivers. At the same time, all troops were undergoing various types of desert survival training, including camping in the wild and how to take shelter from sandstorms.
Another problem that troubled Rommel was that Italy’s transport capacity could not guarantee the arrival of all his troops, and it was impossible for all his troops to arrive anyway. The Italians claimed they could only transport about 30,000 men and their equipment to Africa at a time, and Rommel himself knew that of the so-called 350,000-strong L Army Group, only 150,000 were actually available; the other 200,000 were still being trained and recruited.
“Let’s see just how formidable the British in Africa really are,” Rommel finally said, having spat out all the sand in his mouth. He sat back down in the car and looked with a wry smile at the major’s uniform, which had already been discolored by the sand. “It seems the Italian officers weren’t so sloppy after all. After a few days here, I’ll probably look the same.”
Published: 2025-08-25T04:18:11.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2025-11-12T11:25:58.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c447-its-not-137276521
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