But the Germans did not see their own tanks as the primary foil against the British Armor. Tanks were for maneuver, exploitation, and shock against enemy infantry and artillery positions, not for dueling it out with other enemy armor. The primary weapon they would deploy against enemy tanks were the Panzerjagers with their AT guns and, in this case, the division battalion was augmented by three batteries of the formidable 88s, the very same guns Lieutenant Reeves had scouted.
The line faced south, and the 605th PzJager Battalion had twelve PzJ-I self-propelled 47mm AT guns on the extreme left of the position. They were good enough to deal with the light British Mark VI MG tanks, and could bother any of their existing cruiser tanks as well. At ranges of 500 to 600 meters, the gun could penetrate 45 to 50mm of armor, good enough to beat the 30mm armor of the British Mark II A-1 °Cruisers. If the Matilda’s led the attack, with heavier 70mm armor, then the 88s would answer the call.
Designed as an anti-aircraft weapon against high altitude targets, the 88 had become a superb anti-tank weapon. In fact, the expression bomber crews used to describe the sharp burst of fire and explosive wrath of the gun, “Ack-Ack,” was a mangling of the German “Acht-Acht” for the number eighty-eight. it was Rommel who would seal the 88’s legacy as a ‘dual purpose’ gun. The wide open spaces of the desert, devoid of trees or other covering terrain, made the 88 an ideal weapon for long range AT fire. It was a big static gun, on a heavy, unwieldy carriage weighing over 7000 pounds, and so it had to be transported to the battle site and set up, but by now the Germans had mastered the deployment of the weapons and honed it to a fine art. They could unlimber and deploy in under three minutes.
The gun’s one liability on that big flak carriage was that it presented a very high profile, but it made up for that by being able to outrange any tank gun it might face. Against aircraft it could hit targets flying as high as 39,000 feet, and when the long steel barrel was leveled for ground target action, its range was an astonishing 7600 meters, though gunners seldom could see or hit a target that far away. Tanks of that day might only reach good firing ranges at 1000 meters or less. The 88 could penetrate 84mm of armor at twice that range, and up close, the powerful gun could smash through up to 200mm of armor, an armor thickness that no British tank of this era would ever attain. Rommel had proved the weapon’s virtue in France at Arras, where he used his 88 batteries to stop the British armor. Today it would be no different, or so he believed when he ordered the guns south to meet the oncoming attack.
Out in front of the 88 batteries were the hardened troops of the machinegun battalions, ready to cut down any infantry that might be moving in support, though the British seldom used combined arms at this stage of the war. They massed their tank formations and used them like armored cavalry, bold dragoons in the desert, charging against the enemy line.
Streich was out on Hill 222 with a light 37mm flak battery posted to defend a small section of three 150mm howitzers. He slid his sand goggles up onto his forehead and raised his field glasses, frowning when he saw the dust being kicked up by the enemy armored vehicles, perhaps ten to twelve kilometers distant. He shook his head. The fools, he thought. They’re late! They should have hit us just before sunrise when all that rosy red dust would not be visible. It’s a miracle I was able to get my Kampfgruppen re-established on this line but, now that we’re here, the British will pay the piper!
He called back to the main artillery group. Well behind him and set up to provide suppressive fires that he would be calling in. If the British were planning one of their little tank charges, they’ll get a dose of that artillery first, he thought. Then the 88s will settle the matter, and I’ll order my tanks to swing left and hit their flank. This should be over in an hour.
There was a long, thin desert track that ran to the left of a sinuous wadi that rooted its way down from the hill he was on. That would serve as a nice anti-tank ditch for anything they send up that road, and it was well covered by another hill designated 198, where four 88s had been positioned. So they’ll have to move to their right, away from that wadi, under fire from my 88s the whole time. He smiled. All these years in Egypt and the British still couldn’t read a map! There was no way they could push armor up that road and live to tell about it. The wadi funneled the track toward an old dry well site called Qabr el Shubaki on his map, and a crumbled stone tomb marked the place. His men had scouted it the previous evening when he first got the order to re-deploy here from that irascible braggart, Rommel.
