To the left of the tomb from his perspective, there was a sharp rise that pointed directly at his position. That would hinder tank movement in that direction as well. They’ll have to flow around either side if it, and won’t be able to support one another as they do so. Once they do flow around it, they’ll be right in front of my infantry position, nice stony ground that will slow them down about 1500 meters out.
The sound of vehicles came to him on the cool morning air now, a faint, distant rumble that was growing in strength and power with each passing moment. They’re coming, he thought, looking at his watch. Another ten minutes and we should be able to make out the lead vehicles.
“Pass the word to the artillery,” he said to the Leutnant commanding the small battery he had posted here. “Your guns start the show. In ten minutes I want you to start spotting rounds on either side of that ridge. See? The main battalions will fire for effect on my command.”
They were coming.
Tanks.
Other vehicles were behind them, but nothing that he had seen the British use before. What are they? Matildas? He could not quite see in the dust and ruddy red light of the dawn. They were moving fast… too fast for Matildas, but too big to be anything else.
He looked at his watch again.
The leading tanks of 3rd Sabre, Scotts Dragoon Guards, 15 Challenger IIs, had been ordered to move ahead when Reeves reported his long range imaging had identified a considerable force ahead, many gun positions, in a line stretching several kilometers!
It had to be the bloody Egyptian Army this time, thought 1st Lieutenant William Bowers in the lead Challenger II, and he made his report… But with German mercenaries fighting with them? How did they know we would be making this march to Mersa Matruh? How could they have found us here, and deployed like this so efficiently? It wasn’t like the Egyptian Army at all. They had not shown this kind of aggressive pluck for many months.
Then the uncomfortable alternative he had been avoiding asserted itself. He had been in on the briefing with General Kinlan, yet found it all too much to swallow. Now Reeves was reporting gun emplacements, infantry, even artillery setting up for a fight. What if these weren’t mercenaries, he thought? What if they’re the real thing?
He decided to try and get more confirmation, got on the radio, and keyed Reeves call sign. “Sabre One to Royal Lance. Do you copy? Over.”
“Royal Lance here. Copy your signal Sabre One.”
“What’s the story on that position out there Johnny? Have we got rag heads, rabble, or the Kaiser’s brood?”
“Wrong war, Bill,” Reeves familiar voice returned. “You’re looking at 88 millimeter AT guns on your left, good infantry screen. Better let the RHA in on this one before you lead in the Mercian Battalion. That 88 is not anything to trifle with.”
“Didn’t know the bloody Egyptian Army was using those,” said Bowers, fishing. There was a long pause, then Reeves came back again.
“Didn’t expect that either,” he said. “But seeing is believing. You heard what the General said same as I did. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Good enough Johnny. Bowers out.”
Well, let’s see what they want to do when I move my Sabre up. If they have these guns they will be dug in to either side of that hill. I’d better call for the RHA to shake things up first like Reeves says. But after that I think my Challengers can fill out the dance card easily enough. That wadi is a nice little obstacle on my left. It funnels the attack right at the base of that hill. Once I get round that, those AT guns will have a good field of fire at us. Then again, I’ll have the same, and I can move and fire on the go. So let’s drop a few rounds to see what happens. The last thing those fellows out there expect is for me to come gunning up the side of that wadi-so that is exactly what I’m going to do!
He tapped his driver’s shoulder to stop his Sabre, and put in a call for three rounds of artillery, warning fire. Usually that had been enough to send any irregular force scrambling for their SUVs and hi-tailing it into the desert, and he watched as the first 155s came in, deliberately short, right in front of the hill… one… two… three…
The Desert Rats had just thrown their hat into the ring, and Bowers waited, watching his optics screen closely for signs of retrograde movement that he expected. What he got instead was somewhat of a surprise. The enemy, whoever they were out there, answered those opening three rounds with three of their own, right across that sharp ridge that pointed at the enemy position. Streich and his three 150s had answered the challenge.
He got on the radio and reported to Kinlan at Brigade HQ as ordered. “Sir,” he said, the surprise evident in his voice. “They’re answering with artillery.”
“Very well, Lieutenant. Hold your position. The RHA will be clearing its throat in another minute. Standby.”
