Chapter 474: The Long Trek

Africa is a magical place, especially in the hot, arid region of North Africa. Here, every day brings scorching sunlight and ridiculously high ground temperatures, while the nights are as bitterly cold as a Northern European winter.

Anyone who comes to this land must do their utmost to adapt to everything about it. Rommel sat in his car, letting the wind and sand beat against his face. He saw a few soldiers from the reconnaissance unit by the side of the road, emptying the sand from their boots, talking and laughing as they watched their commander’s car drive past.

They had set out several hours early, following a simple road and road signs half-buried in the yellow sand, advancing with difficulty through the desert according to their map and compass. But for some godforsaken reason, their army of several hundred tanks still got lost in the desert. They had not arrived at the attack point on time, and the entire army was becoming anxious.

“Chief of Staff, do you think General Friedrick will halt his attack?” Rommel asked, squinting his eyes at the sand-filled sky. He was in a very bad mood because the plan he had personally devised had not been executed on time due to his own mistake.

The chief of staff looked at the map and the road sign and said to Rommel, “Judging by this road sign, we are already more than ten kilometers off our original operational location. We are pretty much out of the main battlefront. We should be near this area on the map.”

Now Rommel knew why his troops had deviated from their original route. The road signs had been changed by the British, and the indicated roads all led away from the original direction. The reconnaissance unit of the 7th Panzer Division, on its first desert operation, had not paid attention to these details and had been led astray for over an hour before finding the correct direction.

This was not like the bustling interior of Europe, where every small intersection would have detailed signs showing the cities and distances in each direction. The road signs here had only a simple location description; as for detailed information, one could forget it. And once you missed one road sign, it was not an easy matter to see another one like it.

The temperature was extremely hot. To prevent sunburn or dehydration from water evaporation, people had to wear thick clothes, and even stuff towels into their collars to avoid dying in some unnoticed sand dune. After several hours of arduous trekking, 41 tanks had broken down, forcing Rommel to waste another precious hour to repair this valuable equipment.

“Seventeen tanks had their engines stall due to filter problems. After cleaning and adding oil, these tanks are now operational again. The problem with two tanks from the 2nd Battalion, 1st Company of the 2nd Regiment is more serious. One of them is still being diagnosed, and the other has a gearbox problem. The maintenance battalion says it must return to Libya for repairs,” the logistics officer reported to Rommel after catching up with him.

“Has the reconnaissance unit made contact with the British army yet?” Rommel asked, spreading a map out in his car. The wind was strong, making the map flap loudly.

“No, sir. We have found the correct bearing, but there were no British sentries in the area where we expected to make contact. We found abandoned camps here and here. Judging by the time, there were still British soldiers active here about three hours ago,” the chief of staff reported, pointing to the map. “Shall we, General, break radio silence now?”

“Wait… just a little longer…” Rommel pursed his lips and finally, as if he had made up his mind, gave the order loudly, “Order the troops to accelerate. All broken-down vehicles are to be concentrated here. Leave one armored battalion and the divisional headquarters as a rearguard. The rest of the troops, advance to this position at top speed!”

“General! Are you saying… the British are retreating?” the chief of staff asked in confusion, then nodded to himself. “Indeed, all signs indicate that they are indeed retreating. But, General… do we need to take this risk?”

Of course, it was necessary. If he let the British get away completely, the next decisive battle would be in the Tobruk area on the other side of the desert. The supply lines there would be at least dozens of times longer than they were now. And if the British were allowed to retreat to Tobruk intact and link up with the complete defensive works there, the price to annihilate them would be several times higher than it was now. These were all things Rommel did not want to see.

Rommel’s strategic goal was to break into Egypt and secure a springboard for Germany to enter the Middle East. If he wasted too much strength on the way, then the further he went, the fewer chips he would have in his hand. He did not want to face the embarrassing situation of having no troops to attack with in the future. So, in Rommel’s current thinking, a risk that could conserve his forces and eliminate the British effective strength was absolutely worth it.

Thinking of this, Rommel nodded and said to his chief of staff, “It is necessary, very necessary. If General Friedrick has seen that the British are running, then he will most likely go all-in and push for the choke point here and along the northeastern line of the choke point.”

He pointed to the map. “Once he launches such an attack, it will be a dream for the British to escape. They will inevitably be pinned down and unable to retreat. At that point, their only choices will be to counter-attack or to abandon their front-line troops.”

Abandoning four front-line British divisions? Not everyone had that kind of boldness. Even Montgomery would have to consider whether such a sacrifice was worth it, let alone an old general famous for his prudence.

So the most likely response from the British was a counter-attack, a powerful and effective counter-attack to drive off the German entanglement. This would save the front-line British troops who were unable to disengage, and then they could all retreat in grand style to the Tobruk area. Such a counter-attack tactic was not risky; it could even be said to be a standard, limited counter-attack before a withdrawal. Rommel was convinced the British would do this.

“How about this? Leave the 2nd Regiment behind and let the 1st Regiment go up first?” the commander of the 7th Division, an old subordinate of Rommel’s, suggested from the side. “If we can really catch the British in a gap, the strength of one regiment should be enough.”

Without even considering it, Rommel waved his hand. “The whole army attacks! We are the 7th Panzer Division! Can an un-attacking 7th Panzer Division still be called the 7th Panzer Division? Timidity is not our style. If we’re going to fight, we’ll fight for the biggest result!”

“Attack!” Rommel shouted. His voice was quickly swallowed by the sand-filled sky.

The response to this command was the sound of one tank after another starting its engine and continuing to advance. They were the German Wehrmacht’s 7th Panzer Division, known as the Ghost Division. They were the Ghost 7th Division that had fought its way from Sedan to Dunkirk in France. Their division’s motto was General Rommel’s famous phrase: “Attack, attack, and attack again.”

So when the order to attack was given, all the commanders finally snapped out of their gloomy search and began to methodically arrange for their subordinates to complete the final preparations for the offensive. The ammunition was sorted, the remaining fuel was confirmed, shells were loaded into the cannons of the tanks, and magazines were slammed into the assault rifles.

As the wheels of the tanks and trucks turned, the entire 7th Panzer Division rolled forward. The reconnaissance units weaved back and forth between the various units, and from time to time, dispatch riders on motorcycles would return from the front, confirming all sorts of important news.

“British troops sighted, 6 miles ahead. They are opening fire. We did not get too close,” a soldier on a motorcycle reported the reconnaissance results to an armored battalion commander, pointing to a map. The battalion commander nodded and climbed onto his command vehicle.

Soon, this exciting news was passed on to Rommel, who was with the 1st Battalion of the 1st Regiment. He took the intelligence, glanced at it briefly, and then gave the order, “Break radio silence. This time, the British won’t get away!”

At his command, the divisional headquarters’ command vehicles came to a halt. The huge radio and telegraph antennas were erected by the engineers. The generator vehicle’s cables were connected to the various command vehicles, and dozens of soldiers and two tanks began to set up a security perimeter around them.

The moment he opened the radio, he received a distress call from General Friedrick. “General Rommel, my army is in a bitter fight. I implore you to launch an attack on the flank.” The second telegram was even more bleak: “General, please attack as soon as possible.”

“Reply to General Friedrick,” Rommel said with a smile. “I am at the designated position and have already begun my attack.”

After speaking, he let out a clear sigh of relief, having won his gamble. He looked at his chief of staff and subordinates and began to joke, “This Friedrick, he always exaggerates. He screams the loudest when he’s calling for help, but if you really ignore him for a few hours, you’ll find that he can still hold on…”

“General Friedrick has always been known for his prudence and experience. His old unit, the 7th Infantry Division, was known as the ‘Little Devils’,” the chief of staff said with a smile. “General von Bock once even joked with General List, saying they should bet on who would win if you were to attack and Friedrick were to defend.”

“Is that so?” Rommel was taken aback for a moment, then asked with great interest, “After this battle, we should have a few days to rest. I’ll have a wargame with General Friedrick and see.”

The commander of the 7th Corps, Friedrick, who had been struggling under the British tank and artillery counter-attack, finally received the news he had been waiting for. A telegram from Rommel was handed to him by a telegraph operator. He opened it, glanced at it, and then his expression became serene. He clasped his hands behind his back and walked back into his command post.

He walked over to his chief of staff and handed the telegram to his subordinate. “We’ve won. General Rommel’s attack on the flank has begun.”

Published: 2025-08-28T05:06:04.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2025-11-22T12:42:58.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c474-long-137526446

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