Chapter 489: Dessert Fox

In the midst of the vast yellow sand, an army was advancing with great difficulty. This was the most suitable battlefield for a decisive engagement between German armored forces, the kind of terrain that generals dreamed of. The reason was simple: it was vast and uninhabited, with no cities to obstruct the advance. It was, in short, a paradise for war.

It had been more than ten days since the battle on the outskirts of Libya had ended. Rommel had achieved a brilliant victory. However, he had no time to dicker with the British prisoners. After handing them over to the arriving Italian troops, he led his Afrika Korps on a long expedition.

He pursued the retreating British Ninth Army, fighting his way towards the core of the British defenses, Tobruk, where a large amount of supplies was stockpiled. For the past ten-odd days, his troops had been in constant combat, clinging to the rearguard of the British Ninth Army, pursuing them for several hundred kilometers in one go.

At this moment, Rommel was leaning back in the seat of his convertible. Over his German officer’s cap, he wore a pair of rimless plexiglass goggles. He had captured these goggles from a surrendering British general and was very fond of their unique, somewhat exaggerated style, as they allowed him to shield his eyes when the sandstorms came.

He hadn’t rested for several days. The long pursuit had exhausted Rommel, so the moment the troops stopped to rest, he had fallen fast asleep in his seat. Parked beside the convertible was a massive armored command vehicle. A few operations staff officers were smoking and chatting in a place sheltered from the wind.

No one knew where this long-distance raid was ultimately headed. They could only see from the map that they were getting closer and closer to the heavily defended British fortress of Tobruk. The road was littered with the wrecks of German and British tanks and trucks. This was a completely self-destructive conquest.

The German force, which had started the pursuit with two tank regiments, had been whittled down to a single tank battalion. General Friedrick of the 7th Infantry Corps had fallen behind halfway. He was now doing his best to help Rommel round up the stragglers, building supply and water stations about 110 kilometers behind Rommel’s position.

The only forces that had kept up with Rommel were one tank battalion from the 7th Panzer Division and one mechanized infantry regiment from the 7th Infantry Corps. So the force Rommel now had under his command was not even the size of a division; at most, it could only be considered a reinforced regiment. Just two hours ago, the British, forced to counter-attack Rommel’s pursuit, had turned a division around and launched a fierce assault on him. Although the attack was repulsed by the fierce German counter-attack, Rommel had also consumed his precious ammunition.

Now the sandstorm was getting worse, and it was approaching night, so Rommel’s troops had stopped to rest. They had only one-third of their ammunition left, and their food and fresh water were also running low. The most critical problem was that their fuel supply had been cut off, which made Rommel extremely anxious.

After sleeping for about ten minutes, Rommel opened his eyes. He stood up in the car, jumped down onto the gravel, and walked towards his armored command vehicle. The radio had already been set up, and some ammunition and empty fuel drums were piled haphazardly around. Rommel took a canteen from a staff officer, took a sip of the water, which was tainted with the taste of gasoline, then screwed the cap back on and handed it back.

Because the containers for storing fresh water were very limited, the German army liked to use empty gasoline cans to carry more drinking water. Although this method made the water taste bad, it could save one’s life in a crisis. As for washing clothes—you could just rub your clothes in the sand a few times. That was the Afrika Korps’ method of doing laundry. What do you think? A bit different from what you imagined?

“What is General Friedrick’s current position?” Rommel was very concerned about when his follow-up forces would catch up. He knew that he had already become a legend, a star of the Third Reich. In just over ten days, he had commanded his troops to advance several hundred kilometers. This rapid pace of attack had set a new world record. And this rapid advance had also driven the people back in Berlin into a frenzy. The feeling of being pursued and admired by the people had made Rommel a little bit arrogant, which was one of the reasons why he was in such a hurry to take Tobruk.

Another reason for his continuous attack was the pressure of logistical supply. This pressure would normally have made an attacking force halt its advance, but Rommel took this pressure as a bugle call urging him forward.

He was used to having someone in the rear take care of the trivial logistical problems for him, used to Germany’s efficient and timely supply system. So when the Italian officer beside him regretfully informed him that their supplies were almost exhausted, he was furious. He decided to capture Tobruk and use the British’s fuel and fresh water to replenish his own.

But the facts proved that Rommel had underestimated the importance of logistical supply to the German panzer forces. With their supplies almost completely cut off, the combat effectiveness of the German troops was greatly weakened. Let alone the 150mm cannons and cumbersome 88mm anti-aircraft guns under General Friedrick’s command, Rommel found that even the more mobile Panther assault guns had been unable to keep up with his rapid advance.

Modern warfare is not just about the number of planes and tanks at the front, nor is it just about the fearless spirit of the soldiers. It is also about the total amount of reserve ammunition, about fuel, spare parts, transport, and even scheduling.

It was precisely because the tanks were constantly breaking down during their advance that the number of tanks under Rommel’s command was dwindling. First, a few tanks at a time would fall behind because their engine air filters needed to be replaced. Later, entire companies and battalions of tanks were forced to stop to clean their engines and exhaust pipes for the same reason.

However, the British were losing even more tanks. On average, for every one German tank that broke down, they would find several abandoned British trucks and tanks in the vicinity. This was another reason why Rommel kept pursuing them. As long as the British losses were greater, that was enough.

He constantly cannibalized spare parts from disabled tanks to ensure that the armored units he had on hand remained intact. At the beginning, he could ensure a force of a full regiment. Now, he could only barely maintain a single armored battalion to continue the advance.

When he had set out, Rommel had had the Italian military airfields at his back. His troops only needed to call for reinforcements, and they would receive a response from the air force in a few minutes. But now, he had almost completely lost his air superiority. The military airfields far away in Libya could not ensure air supremacy over the Tobruk area.

Looking at the dozen or so tanks not far away, Rommel, for the first time, had the thought of retreating. He had received the order from the Army High Command to halt his advance. Tobruk had never been so close, but looking at the map, he felt that this British fortress was now so far away. The number of British defenders in front of him was increasing, and their counter-attacks were becoming more and more fierce, which made him smell a whiff of crisis.

“General Friedrick is still here, rounding up the stragglers. He has set up a circular defensive position and has established a fresh water purification station by the sea,” a staff officer said, pointing to a location on the map. “He sent a telegram a dozen minutes ago, saying that he is surveying a site and is preparing to build a frontline airfield.”

“In the last British counter-attack, they sent out three planes, which destroyed four of our trucks. We lack anti-aircraft fire. The last counter-attack was on the front of the 1st Battalion. We lost two armored reconnaissance vehicles belonging to the armored battalion headquarters. Twenty-seven soldiers were killed, and another 35 were wounded,” the commander of the 1st Battalion of the 2nd Regiment of the 7th Panzer Division, who was following Rommel, said. His clothes were covered in sand, and he looked somewhat disheveled.

Rommel nodded. He had witnessed the last encounter with his own eyes. At that time, he was confirming his position, and an armored reconnaissance vehicle not far from him was hit by a sudden British shell. A fierce battle had ensued, which had lasted for nearly two hours before it ended.

“Send out reconnaissance units to the flanks! I need to confirm the position of the British forces on the flanks,” Rommel thought for a moment and then instructed the battalion commander. “If British troops appear on our flanks, then we will immediately begin to retreat… Order all troops to prepare for battle. I am worried that the British counter-attack is about to begin.”

After assigning the tasks to the frontline troops, he turned to his chief of staff. “Confirm the intelligence with General Friedrick. I need to know if the commander of the British forces opposite us is indeed Montgomery…”

He paused, then continued, “Also, tell him not to advance rashly, but to set up a defense on the spot.”

“General!” a telegraph operator jumped down from the command vehicle and stood beside Rommel, handing him a piece of paper. “A telegram from the High Command! A combat order issued personally by the Führer.”

“The Führer?” Rommel was taken aback for a moment, then said, “Read it!”

“This is Akado Rudolph. I order you to temporarily halt your advance and await new orders from the High Command,” the telegraph operator read out the message, standing at attention.

Rommel gave a wry smile and took the telegram. “It seems the Führer also disapproves of my attack on Tobruk. But now it looks like I can’t run even if I want to. Perhaps the British attack has already begun.”

And just as Rommel was smiling wryly, on the other side of his position, an American with a steel helmet on his head was watching his tanks roll past him. He had a cigar in his mouth and an arrogant expression on his face.

The soldiers following behind the tanks were not wearing the British wide-brimmed steel helmets, but the flat-brimmed American ones. This was the American volunteer force that Montgomery had taken command of. And the commander of this force had just blown out a cloud of white smoke and said with a sneer, “Let the American tank force, commanded by me, Patton, come and meet you, the world-famous expert of tank warfare. Erwin Rommel.”

Published: 2025-08-29T02:46:37.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2025-11-28T08:41:34.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c489-dessert-137601281

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