Hammer of God (Kirov Series Book 14) (6 page)

“Well
sir,” said Fedorov. “As to Operation Exporter, which is what your Syrian
campaign was called, your first advance committed two brigades of the 7th
Australian Division, the 5th Indian Brigade you have mentioned, and the Free
French force.”

“You
see,” said Churchill, latching on quickly. “He even knows the code name of the
operation, something known only to the war cabinet at this point. Good enough.
Four brigades do the job in Syria, leaving us all the rest for Iraq.”

“Not
quite,” said Fedorov, recalling the research he had read on this campaign just
the previous evening. He could see that Churchill was full of vigor and would
push units around on the map to pursue his objectives with the assurance of
victory given what he had already revealed. He needed to impress upon the Prime
Minister the real nature of the struggle that might lay ahead. So he took a
deep breath, and spoke.

“Those
were the forces committed at the outset to Operation Exporter, sir. It required
much more to win through in Syria. The Vichy French will fight, and possibly
more vigorously now than they even did in our history. The force I mentioned
swept over the border into Lebanon and Syria easily enough, until they encountered
stronger enemy resistance on the Litani River and at Damascus. Let me give you
a small glimpse of what may lie ahead. You needed that coastal road, and the
bridge over the Litani, but you had to pay a price for it. Number 11 Commando
was sent in north of the bridge to try and seize it for the Australians, only a
third of that force, under major Keyes, failed to land correctly, and found
itself a half mile south of the target. Then everything began to unravel.”

“In
what way?” Churchill took a sip of his brandy, waiting expectantly.

“Captain
More was well to the north, but his radios were contaminated by sea water and
he was out of communication. Lt. Colonel Pedder’s force landed right opposite
the French barracks east of the road, and he was killed, along with many
others. The bridge was blown, Keyes force was forced to try and use boats to
cross the river, and all under intense enemy fire from machine guns and
mortars. His detachment left many good men there, cut down near the mouth of
the river. The forces to the north were counterattacked by enemy armored cars
and tanks and driven back. Some were forced to surrender, others made it back
to join the Australians. The battalion lost 45 killed and another 84 wounded,
about a third of its total force… And this was just the beginning. A battalion
of the Royal Fusiliers would be lost in action at Quneitra, outnumbered three
to one by an unexpected French counterattack, and fighting to the last round
before they finally surrendered. Your forces were held up in the center for
some weeks by stiff resistance, and the 5th Indian Brigade also suffered
heavily at the doorstep to Damascus. It was soon realized that the force
allocated was totally inadequate.”

“My
thoughts exactly,” said Wavell. “Three or four brigades to take the whole of
Syria? Not bloody likely.”

Fedorov
continued. “So the last two brigades of the British 6th Division in Palestine
were thrown in, and a good portion of the forces that had been sent to Iraq
were also recalled and entered from the east. It was the hardest fighting your
army suffered during this whole period, five long weeks against a determined
French defense—and this is likely to happen again, or be even worse if the
Germans manage to send troops to support their ally in Syria. I do not mean to
try and discourage you, but war is hell, and men are going to die in these
operations. It took a good many Victoria Crosses for you to win this one.”

Churchill
sat in silence, a look on his face that reflected the torment of his mind, and
the pain of carrying the burden that was now on his shoulders. Yes, he thought,
war is hell, and I am the man who has to order all these good men to fight
there.

Chapter 6

“I
understand
your impulse to caution me,
Captain,” said Churchill. “You might think me no more than an old windbag, out
to meddle in the planning of all my Generals. Certainly General Wavell here
must put up with more than his fair share of my temperament. But someone must
drive home a winning strategy, and that task seems to have fallen to me. I
listen well to the advice I receive from many quarters, but in the end, a
decision has to be made, and that falls to me, and I know full well what I am
asking of the men who so bravely put on those uniforms. So you will forgive me
if I look for any signpost on the road now, to guide my thinking in this most
decisive hour.”

“Of
course, sir,” said Fedorov.

“Well,
as I look at things now I see Syria and Iraq as the most important front, Libya
aside. We must keep Rommel in check, and I hope we never see him rampage across
Cyrenaica like that again soon. Crete and Cyprus remain important frontier
outposts for us. Certainly the Germans will be able to extend their air power
much further into the Eastern Mediterranean if they were to seize those
islands. But in Iraq we have significant airfields, not to mention the oil from
Kirkuk and Basra. It must not fall under Axis control. As for Syria, if the
Germans get their foot in, we shall have a wolf at the back door. The Vichy
French may not be strong enough to invade Palestine or threaten Egypt, but they
provide a den of iniquity for the Germans to feed in planes and men, and that
could grow to something much more dangerous. If they are heavily reinforced, it
may make the campaign we have been discussing even more arduous. So I am
inclined to say we must now make Operation Exporter our principle offensive
action in the months ahead.”

“And
the plans for Battleaxe?” Wavell had been urged to prepare an offensive against
Rommel at the same time.

“You
have made it abundantly clear that you haven’t the resources to conduct an
offensive on two fronts, General, and given the Captain’s sobering warnings, I
am beginning to agree. Let us set a guarded watch on Rommel, invest Benghazi
and take that place if possible, and then throw everything else we have against
the Vichy French. Iraq must also be given the highest priority. Rashid Ali has
the allegiance of four prominent Sunni Arab nationalists, all military officers
in Iraq, and we all know the real power lies with the military there. He calls
them the Golden Square, and he has a mind to overthrow the current pro-British
government.

“The
Germans have been meddling as well, stirring up trouble by sending old Fritz
Grobba as their ambassador. They would like nothing more than for Iraq to go up
in arms against us, which would threaten our major oil concerns there, and cut
the air bridge to India we have in those airfields. Beyond that, to allow this
uprising to succeed would also encourage Arab nationalism throughout the Middle
East, and I daresay our position in this regard is none too sound, even in
Egypt. So perhaps we must rethink Operation Exporter, and see it as a broader
operation aimed at securing both Syria and Iraq.”

“Thus
far the Iraqis haven’t done much more than sit on the plateau overlooking our
RAF base near Fallujah,” said Wavell.

“Habbaniyah?
Yes, it’s held out, but we’ll have to do something. We have the old Cavalry
Division in Palestine, do we not?”

“More
or less,” said Wavell. “Some units still have horses, the others have been
converting to trucks and carriers, but there are all too few of those to go
around, and we’ve been cherry picking most of their artillery and heavy weapons
for other units.”

“Fancy
having a mobile division without trucks,” said Churchill, exasperated. “I can
see we need to do a great deal more for you, General Wavell, and I fully
appreciate that you have utilized the resources in hand to the fullest. Yet
Captain Fedorov makes a good point about this windfall we have with General
Kinlan’s 7th Brigade. We must use that power while it remains strong. Is it
wise to leave it sit down here in the southern desert in a defensive role, when
we might draw that bright flashing sword and put it to use in the attack?”

“Realize
I have no armor to speak of beyond that unit, “Wavell reminded him. “Our own
7th Armored Division is merely a shell. The only tanks we can give it come from
the repair dens, and that takes time. We’ve been cannibalizing badly shot up
vehicles for spare parts.”

“And
yet we have all these splendid tanks just sitting here and contemplating a
joust with the Italians at Giarabub. Surely we might reconsider using some of
this force for other operations.”

“And
the question of security?” Wavell cautioned. “It will be hard to keep a lid on
what has happened here if we try rolling those monsters up through Alexandria
to Palestine.”

“True,”
said Churchill. “But perhaps we could get them there by some other means. What
about the Glen ships?”

“We
have one or two available.
Glengyle
is operating with our Layforce
Commandos at the moment. But they are largely for infantry transport, sir, and
have only a single LCM in the forward deck that can transport a tank to shore,
and then no more than 16 tons.”

“That
won’t do to move a Challenger II,” said Fedorov. “Those tanks are over 60 tons
each.”

“Amazing,”
said Churchill. “But I’ve seen scores of smaller armored vehicles here. What
about those?”

“Many
are the Warrior Armored Fighting Vehicle. They may appear as tanks to you, and
in fact they have armament similar to the tanks you now deploy, but they are
really designed to be infantry transport vehicles.”

“All
the better,” said Churchill. “Why didn’t we think of that earlier, Wavell—an
infantry carrier with a good gun on it like that.”

“Might
these move by sea?” Wavell asked Fedorov in Russian, but soon learned that the
Warriors were still too heavy at 25 tons.

“Only
the light scout tanks could move by sea with the ships you presently have,”
said Fedorov. “The Scimitars weigh just under 8 tons, so depending on the size
of your LCM, you might take two at most on the Glengyle.”

“Hardly
an armored force capable of doing much, even if these are good vehicles.”
Wavell pursed his lips, thinking. “But I’ve had a good look at those tanks.
They have the look of a vehicle the men might easily accept as something we
could have built ourselves. I’ll admit, one look at those heavy tanks out there
boggles the mind, but the Scimitars are on a scale and of a design we can
grasp. We might move a unit of those tanks quite openly by land without
ruffling anyone’s skirts.”

“Would
General Kinlan be persuaded to make us a loan?” asked Churchill.

“I
don’t see why not. He’s a British serving officer, and though it has been our
intention to keep his force segregated from the main army, we just might pull
this off.”

“Then
let’s propose this, if it will not unduly weaken his force. It would strengthen
our situation in Palestine immeasurably until I can get a convoy of armor round
the cape for you. It’s underway now, but will be some weeks in transit.”

“At
least you’ve given up on trying to send Tiger Convoy through the
Mediterranean,” said Wavell. “That would have been a disaster.”

“Yes,
I’m a stubborn old bulldog at times, General, but I can be made to see reason
on occasion.” Churchill smiled, taking another sip of his brandy. “Well then,
let us see what General Kinlan can do for us in these operations. We’ll need a relief
column for RAF Habbaniyah immediately, and then anything we can possibly put
together for Operation Exporter. Do you agree with this, Captain Fedorov?”

“Yes
sir. I believe strengthening your eastern and northern flanks now is paramount.
Rommel is in check for the moment. Now is the time to secure Iraq and Syria.
You did so before, odd as that may sound to you, and without our help. Yet I
think we can assist you here, and General Kinlan will cooperate at your
request. In fact, remember that we have helicopters that can get some relief to
Habbaniyah very quickly. I have a small Marine contingent on my ship, and what
about the three helicopters on the
Argos Fire?
I’m told they have troops
aboard as well.”

“A
capital idea,” said Churchill after Wavell translated. “I think we have the
makings of a good breakfast here. We’ll provide the milk with everything
General Wavell can spare—you stir in a little honey with any detachment that
seems practical and suitable for this operation. But I’m not really happy about
the name. Operation Exporter seems too pedestrian. What about the name of that
tank we’ve been discussing—Scimitar! That has a bit of fire in it, yes? Let’s
call this combined plan for Iraq and Syria Operation Scimitar.”

And
they did.

Kinlan
was brought in and it was soon decided that he could easily spare the Scimitar
scout troops that were attached to his two mechanized infantry battalions.

“It’s
only two troops of eight tanks each, but I suppose I can take another troop
from 12 Royal Lancers and beef this up a bit. That would make for a company
sized force of light armor.”

“Light
to you,” said Churchill, “but I’m told those vehicles are every bit as good as
our own medium tanks, and at the moment we have nothing to send into Syria. The
French will have 90 tanks against us there, so this would be of great
assistance.”

“Consider
it a plan,” said Kinlan. “And I can do you one more service if you need
additional troops. Isn’t there an Indian brigade coming?”

“The
5th,” said Wavell. “A good outfit, veterans from the fighting in East Africa.”

“Well I
have a full battalion of Gurkha Light Infantry here. They might be able to fit
right in with that division, if we brief them appropriately.”

“Excellent,”
said Churchill. “On that note, I’m seeing what we can get from India.
Auchinleck says he can get the 10th Indian Division to sea in short order. The
first of its brigades was going to Malaya, but it can be diverted to Basra.
There are good Gurkha battalions in those units as well.”

Fedorov
was listening to all this, as Wavell was kind enough to keep translating for
him. One worrisome note entered his mind that he thought he should voice. “On
the Gurkhas,” he said. “I wonder if any men in General Kinlan’s battalion might
be related to those being sent in these Indian forces. It might be odd if they
were to meet their great grandfathers, and heaven forbid if….” He hesitated for
a moment, not sure of what he was saying here. “Well, I was just thinking that
if one of these grandfathers were to be killed in these operations, what effect
would it have on the men in Kinlan’s troops?” It was the grandfather paradox in
full boom in Fedorov’s mind, but he knew they might not solve that here.

“Interesting
point,” said Churchill. “I might run that by our resident expert on time travel,
Mister Wells, and see what he thinks. In the meantime, we could take a roll
call of all troops assigned and see if any names match up. If we do find a
match, it might be wise to see that those troops are assigned elsewhere, and
leave their line of fate untouched by this business.”

Yet
Fedorov realized all this was entirely beyond their grasp. He knew this
division, and others from India, had been sent to secure Iraq. If men were
reassigned to other duty, that decision could change their fate, and this alone
could introduce a variation that might have unforeseen consequences. What if
one of these great grandfathers serves here and came through undaunted, but if
he was transferred elsewhere and killed in action? What then? This thought
passed darkly through his mind like a storm front, but he knew it was beyond
his means to control.

That
was the dilemma they now faced. Once his ship and crew took up sides here, and
now with Kinlan’s forces in this time, they were irrevocably committed to the
here and now—this present war—and they were going to have to realize that the
history they would write here might not look anything like the chapters in his
books. They were again reaching a profound point of divergence here. Who knows
what this operation could lead them to down the convoluted road ahead? He
thought all this, but said nothing, his mind and heart still heavy.

Then
the quiet of the night was broken by the sound of a motor car or jeep rushing
in to the village. It was an officer from the communications section with a
message from Alexandria for Wavell. The man rushed in, saluting crisply,
obviously in awe to see the Prime Minister sitting by the fire with his brandy
and cigar. Wavell took the message, and leaned in to whisper something in the
man’s ear.

“The
gentleman you have just seen is not here. In fact you’ve seen nothing at all,
Sergeant. Understood?”

“Yes
sir. Of course.”

Wavell sent
him on his way, reading the message slowly in the dim light. “Gentlemen,” he
said quietly. “These deliberations turn out to be very timely. The forces
Rashid Ali has sent to overwatch our airfield at Habbaniyah have just begun
shelling the base. There were over 40 casualties and twenty two planes were
hit, mostly the Oxford trainers and a few old Hawker Hart light bombers. Many
were not even in any shape to fly.”