Hammer of God (Kirov Series Book 14) (33 page)

It
seemed logical, just a single device, with one round. But Fedorov was wrong
again. In the summer of 1942 in the history Fedorov knew, an enterprising man
named Doctor Heinrich Langweiler was dreaming up new theories of propulsion for
weapons munitions, and in 1939 he had drafted a paper on what he called the
“Impulse Propulsion Principle.” He was experimenting with hyper-velocity for
small arms munitions, and would later go on to design the forerunner of the
dread German
Panzerfaust
(Panzer Fist), a hand held AT weapon that was
accounting for up to 34% of all British tank losses by the time the war ended.

Langweiler
worked with a company called HASSAG in Leipzig, and one of his ideas involved
the development of “rocket bullets” fired from a smoothbore weapon. His
“Impulse Antrieb” theory would utilize a rod propellant that burned behind the
round, increasing pressure, and muzzle velocity. One application would see the
development of an 88mm air-to-air rocket known as the “Puppchen.” His
Panzerfaust
would one day see production of up to 200,000 units per month, much to the
chagrin of allied tankers on every side, as it could effectively kill any tank
produced in the war.

Colonel
Wolff knew he had something very unusual when the corporal brought the weapon
in, and he had it crated up and immediately sent to division headquarters, with
a letter explaining his find.
“Appears to be a new British hand-held anti
tank weapon.”
He wrote.
“DO NOT FIRE! Contents and design of round must
be examined by qualified personnel. Recommend immediate transport to Germany.”

His
instructions were followed, and the RPG would soon come to the attention of
Langweiler himself, and have a dramatic impact on his thinking and design for
the weapon that would soon threaten to rewrite history yet again. The
Faustpatrone
42
was going to move into development a whole year early, and its
successor, the
Panzerfaust
, was going to be something no one on the
Allied side expected.

It
was a grain of sand that would soon start an avalanche.

Chapter 33

Von
Wietersheim looked at the
men he had summoned to this meeting at Korps headquarters in Homs, General
Ritter von Hubicki of the 9th Panzer Division, Felix Steiner of the 5th SS
Viking Motorized, and Graf von Sponeck of the 22nd Luftland Division. General
Kübler, the overall commander of the Mountain Korps, had been scheduled to
arrive, but was still on the trains at Hamah to the north.

“Well,”
he began, looking at Hubicki first. “What in god’s name happened?”

“It
wasn’t in god’s name,” said Hubicki. “It was something out of hell itself. The
British hit my division just before dawn this morning, and practically
destroyed my entire force.”

“Destroyed
it? With what?”

“We
all heard the rumors, the talk at OKW about these new British heavy tanks—well
it is true! They are awesome! I thought I had seen everything when I saw that
old French Char-2C tank we hauled off to Berlin— a real monster. Well these
were just as big!”

The
French Char-2C was actually the largest tank ever built, weighing in at 69
tons, it was over 33 feet long, and over thirteen feet wide, slightly bigger
than the Challenger II, and about 9 tons heavier.  The Germans would build a
much heavier tank in the Maus at 188 tons, but it was not as long or tall as
the Char-2C, giving it less overall volume. Only ten of the big French tanks were
ever built, and a single Challenger would easily defeat all of them in combat,
though they never really fired a shot in anger. Used mainly for propaganda movies
as symbols of invincible tanks, they were being moved south of the action when
the rail line was blocked, and so they were all destroyed but one—the vehicle
named “Champagne.” That one was captured by the Germans and hauled off to
Berlin as a trophy, and Hubicki had seen it in 1940.

“There
weren’t very many of these big tanks, and thank god for that! They are
operating with new fast moving medium tanks, about regimental strength, and
they fight like demons. They hit the Panzergrenadiers and went right through
them. Most of our AT gun positions were chopped up at long range by enemy fire,
but even those that engaged were useless. Everything we have heard about this
new British armor is true. I had my 1st tank battalion in reserve behind the main
line, and so naturally I ordered it to counterattack. You would not want to
look at what is left of them now. The second battalion suffered the same fate.
Decimation is not enough of a word for what happened to those boys.”

Von
Wietersheim’s eyes darkened, a troubled look on his face. “Steiner?”

“You
know the trouble we had trying to cross the Turkish Straits,” said Steiner. “My
division arrived too late to stop the breakthrough, and many of my supply units
failed to arrive at all. They were on those ferries that went down with that
U-boat attack.”

“How
did the British manage to pull that off?”

“The
British?” said Steiner. “They are still denying any involvement in the incident.
But who else could it have been? The Russians? It hardly matters. The fact
remains that we have a hundred tons of supplies and ammunition at the bottom of
the Bosporus. Now we will have to fly those munitions to Turkish airfields, and
then move them by rail, which is going to slow down the logistics. It will be
at least another week before my division has adequate supplies. That said, I
have posted two regiments at Rayak with the organic supplies we were carrying.
We still hold the town, but the British have overrun the airfield to the south.
What was left of 9th Panzer was able to move back through our lines and is reforming
to the north. Believe me, it was not good for morale to see that.”

“Yes,
and the British are attacking everywhere now. They are still pushing up the
coast with the Australian division, but there has been no talk of unstoppable
enemy tanks there. They are pushing to Nebek north of Damascus—and no
unstoppable tanks lead that assault. Now we get word they are maneuvering in
the east.”

“We
stopped them at Palmyra,” said von Sponeck pointing to the map. “They seized
the fortress overlooking the town four days ago, and used it to put mortar fire
on the airfield. I’m afraid it’s useless for the moment. But we stopped their
main column, and we still hold the town.”

“Yes?
Well that is because the British have deliberately withdrawn, to move on
Dier-ez-Zour. Their column was spotted and strafed by on e of our planes, and
it is clear where they are headed now.” Von Wietersheim folded his arms,
clearly unhappy.

“They
have obviously committed their strongest units against us in the center,” said
Hubicki.

“But
the attack there has stopped,” Steiner put in. “In fact, British infantry has
come up to occupy that line, and they are digging in. They seem to have pulled
their armor back to regroup. What we need now is a good Pakfront. It is clear the
37mm guns are useless. We need something bigger.”

Now
von Wietersheim remembered the warning he had been given by Manstein concerning
these new British tanks. The reports from Rommel claimed that they were even
impervious to a direct hit from an 88mm flak gun! “Something bigger,” he mused
aloud. “Well, we don’t have anything bigger—not yet. So we will have to use
what we do have, good troops, iron will, and proper tactics. Are you well dug
in, Steiner?”

“Of
course, but if we cannot stop this armor—”

“Then
let it roll right over you and fight from your trenches. It is clear they have
these tanks in small numbers, and use them in the schwerpunkt of their attack.
So we must thicken the crust of our line, and defend in depth. I want
minefields laid immediately, if you have not already done so. And the artillery
must stand ready to saturate the point of enemy breakthrough. Be stubborn,
gentlemen. And as for your remaining Panzers,” he looked at Hubicki now.
“Disperse them into good hull down positions to support the infantry.”

“You
ask us to fight as we did in the last war,” said Hubicki. “What will we do
next, string up the barbed wire and hit them with gas?”

“We
haven’t either in hand,” von Wietersheim replied curtly. But it would be a good
idea.” He allowed himself the hint of a smile, letting the men know he was
humoring them. But soon the seriousness of the situation darkened his features
again. “Steiner,” he said. “Can you hold Rayak?”

“To
the last man, sir.”

“Good.
Then I will send what remains of 9th Panzer to Nebek to backstop the French. I
do not think you will find these British tanks there, Hubicki. In any case.
Pull together what you can and get over there. Now then… Dier-ez-Zour,” he leaned
over the map, tapping the small town on the Euphrates with his finger. “It is
clear the British were attempting a double envelopment on our left. They tried
us at Palmyra, and Wolff stopped them there. Good for him. He even sent me a
present—some kind of new hand held anti-tank weapon. Lord knows we could use
something like that now. Alright… What do we have at Dier-ez-Zour?”

“The
65th Regiment landed there two days ago,” said von Sponeck, “and elements of
the Sturm Regiment came in by parachute on the north side of the river. The
British have troops advancing from Mosul. Now we are getting reports of a full
enemy division, the 10th Indian, and to that we can add this column that was at
Palmyra. It will tip the balance there unfavorably.”

“Agreed,”
said von Wietersheim. “We could hold, but the position is too exposed. How will
we keep that force supplied?”

“We
were using the airfield, but now they have that under artillery fire. We also
have reports of more commando raids at Raqqah.”

“They
are clearly trying to cut your overland supply route,” said von Wietersheim. “I
don’t like it. What do you have in ready reserve that can move by air
transport?”

“I
have the 7th Machinegun battalion at the airfield now, Herr General. Student
has also been landing troops from Cyprus at Hamrah to the north.”

“Good
enough. Get that Machinegun battalion to Raqqah at once and see about these
commandos. As for the troops you have at Dier-ez-Zour, I believe that position
is untenable. It was a good blocking maneuver in the short run, but pull those
units out and withdraw up river. That town is too easily outflanked, from both
Mosul and now this column withdrawing from Palmyra.”

“I
have two regiments at Palmyra, sir. We could follow right in the heels of that
British column and give them something to think about.”

“And
again, how would you keep your men supplied? We are already having difficulty
finding enough trucks to get supplies to you at Palmyra. No. Do not move
east—just hold Palmyra. 65th Regiment will fall back on Raqqah as I have
instructed. In fact, I don’t think you will need two regiments at Palmyra now. Let
the 16th relieve Colonel Wolff there, and send his 47th Regiment back to Homs. I
will put it on the trains to garrison Aleppo. The main thing now is to screen and
hold that town. That is where the principle rail connections through Turkey
are, and undoubtedly the intended end point of this British operation. They
will follow you up river as you withdraw, but it is not easy to outflank
Raqqah, so we will fight them there. As they advance their lines of
communications  get longer, while ours shorten. Those are your orders,
gentlemen. And as for the Luftwaffe, I want every JU-87 we can get our hands on
here in Syria. The next time these British tanks appear, let us see how they
like our Stukas!”

* * *

They
took off at dusk,
rising through the haze made red with the setting sun, a fat mother goose in
the KA-40, but with three sleek eagles at her side. The helos climbed quickly
into the crimson sky, moving swiftly north over the desert. On the way they
overflew the long column of Habforce, now grown to over 700 vehicles strung out
in the desert tracks below.

Fedorov
had a feeling of real uncertainty in his gut now, particularly after seeing the
consequences of his choices and decisions buried in the desert with Symkov.
That is the least of it, he thought. God only knows how many other lives I’m
responsible for. So where are you going now, he asked himself?

There
was no fortress on a high hill at Raqqah, though the town itself did offer good
prospects for defense. It sat on the north bank of the Euphrates, with two good
bridges that they would have to control. To the east was hill 266, a good point
to overlook the town itself, and the airfield was just north of this feature,
on a low plateau bounded on the north by a canal and stream that reached down
to the Euphrates.

Was
the town defended? If so, how big was the garrison? They would be able to do an
aerial reconnaissance, and if prospects looked good, they might put the men
down and seize those bridges. There must be some German supply and logistics
operation getting set up there. They had to make some arrangement to try and support
those troops at Dier-ez-Zour. He shrugged, realizing that all his strategic and
tactical advice came mostly from his extensive knowledge of the history, but now
he was on a blank page of his own making.

I’m
no more a General than I am a Captain. What was I thinking bringing the Marines
out here? Yes, we’re trying to help out in any way we can, but I feel like I’m
bumbling about, trying to find some lever on the history, some Pushpoint that
might move events unfolding here. Yet, for all our meddling, what have we
really accomplished? We stopped Rommel—Kinlan did that, though I had a hand in
convincing him. Yet that theatre is far from decided. Rommel has had over a
month to fatten up at Mersa Brega, and soon he may be tempted to go on the
offensive again. Then what? Most of Kinlan’s Brigade is here in the Levant now.
He cannot be everywhere. In some places the British will have to stand on their
own. We thought the addition of Kinlan’s battalions here might quickly unhinge
the French defense, but now it seems all we’ve done is bring down an avalanche
of German troops to this theater.

And
yet, this is the key battlefield right now. There are hundreds of desert kilometers
between Rommel and the Egyptian border, and enough British troops there to hold
him, or at least delay his advance again. Now, with German troops here in
Syria, they simply must be stopped. If they were to break through and drive
south into Palestine, that would be a disaster. And what about Iraq?

Even
as he thought that, he realized that the Germans would have problems of their
own. They would have to find the means of sustaining these forces in the field.
Though the French could provide them with transport, petrol, food and water,
they would have to bring in all of their own ammunition. A move on Iraq would
not be easy for them at this stage. It’s a long way to the lower Euphrates from
places like Aleppo and Homs, and the British had significant forces in theater
now with the arrival of the Indian divisions.

But
that will be all, he knew. Unless Churchill has been planning another of his
Winston Special convoys, the last Indian Division, the 5th, will be all they
will have for some time—that and a couple brigades of the 1st South African
Division. How many divisions do the German have in Syria now? How many more
might they send? He realized that he could not see the road ahead any longer.
The near prescient advantage he had in the past had slipped from him in the
slow twisting gyre of these altered states.