“What? You mean Sultan Apache? The Russkies must have hit it again,” Reeves answered sullenly. It was the only thing he could think of to explain the situation.
“The General said there was no sign of another attack. You heard it-they went over the site and detected no radiation. No blast damage either.”
“Sounds loony to me,” said Reeves. “Maybe he got his grid coordinates wrong. General Kinlan is no fool, mind you, but something just doesn’t add up here. So that’s where we come in. When brigade wants information, who do they call? 12th Royal Lancers, that’s who. So tighten your chin straps, boyo, and be sharp.”
“Yeah? Well that bit about keeping our eyes peeled for enemy ground troops was rich. Keep a look out for Rommel and the Germans, eh? And we advance in battle order instead of column of march? It certainly sounds like the General knows something he hasn’t told us yet.”
“Oh, he told us alright,” said Reeves. “Battalion officers were briefed, but none of that falls on you, Sergeant. You just settle affairs here on squad level. We’re 12th Royals and were out on point. I’ll want the Scimitars up front this time, three squadrons in battle order, and we’ll follow with the Dragons in the center. Pass the word. I want thermals and night opticals at all times. Report any contact to me directly.”
Four hours later Reeves got his first report, and from a bemused Sergeant in 2nd Squadron who sighted light vehicles ahead. They had encountered a desert patrol of some kind, and Reeves ordered his men to move up in their Scimitars and see about it. What they saw soon boggled their eyes, and quashed the rounds of humorous comments about General Kinlan’s briefing. The men had a good long laugh as they set out before dawn, but just before sunrise the laughter stopped, drowned out by incoming tracer rounds from heavy machineguns.
As was so often the case in desert war, the recon elements of the two opposing sides were the first to tangle with one another. Reeves listened to the chatter between his units on his headset, and soon learned that 3rd Squadron on point had also run into something. When his men came under fire he gave the order to return in kind, thinking they had run across groups of irregular militias riding about in SUVs and pickup trucks, out to raise havoc and then disappear into the desert again. But here? What would they be doing so far south of the coast? Then he got news that really raised an eyebrow, and reminded him that there were no SUVs if this was 1941. Lieutenant Wright radioed in from the left flank in 2nd Squadron and said he had prisoners.
“More bloody Russians?” Reeves inquired.
“No sir… well Lieutenant… It’s bloody Germans, just like Kinlan said! I have five men here, all decked out in old style German army uniforms. I interrogated the lot, but haven’t the foggiest. Sprechen sie Deutsch?”
“Germans? Somebody playing army out here again?”
“They had a Kubelwagon, right out of the museum, and a nasty 5 °Caliber MG on it. I had to use the main autocannon, and that was that. The rest gave us the hands up soon after, but one vehicle took off north and slipped away.”
“Very well,” said Reeves, wondering how he was going to keep this cat in the bag. “Stick them in one of the support vehicles, and keep moving. Secure that long ridge line up ahead and wait there. I’ll be up to have a look. Reeves out.”
A Kubelwagon with a 50-cal? That was a new spin. He’d bet get one of those back to Kinlan. They were accustomed to Ford pickup trucks with old ZSU 23’s mounted in the back, but this was a first. He reported, surprised by Kinlan’s subsequent order to stop at Ridge 699 and wait for the Mercian Battalion to come up. Then he was to jog left, set up all his Squadrons in attack echelon, and wait for the Highlanders to come up on his right. The General was playing it by the book. He was deploying the whole damn brigade in battle formation! It was as if he thought we were about to tangle with a full enemy division out there somewhere.
They were about to do exactly that…
Hauptmann Laszlo Almasy crested the barren desert hill that morning, and he was late. Almasy had been scouting on the extreme southern right flank of Rommel’s advance, with his Sonderkommando unit comprised if 12 scout cars and a few squads of light infantry. Another patrol, the 3rd Oasis Group, had been reconnoitering near an ancient tomb site near Gabr el Shubaki when they thought they saw the telltale signs of vehicles approaching from the south. Almasy heard about it, and one look at his map told him he could scout the area well from the top of this hill, number 728, about ten kilometers due east of the tomb. He would be late reporting back to Rommel, but at least he would have the very latest information in hand when he did. He reached the hill he had in mind just before dawn, in spite of the fact that his scout cars were also very low on fuel, and he wondered if he would have enough to get back north.
