Chapter 316: Opportunity and Trap
Across the flat desert, the movement of German armored formations was impossible to conceal.
Long columns of tanks and vehicles rolled over the dunes, their tracks carving dark scars through the pale sand. Dust rose behind them in immense clouds, visible from kilometers away.
As Rommel had expected, the movement was quickly detected and reported to the British and French Allied Command in Tobruk.
Tobruk had once been one of Italy's most important strongholds in North Africa.
During Mussolini's rule, numerous bunkers, coastal batteries, underground shelters, and defensive positions had been constructed around the city. More importantly, Tobruk possessed one of the few excellent deep-water ports along the southern Mediterranean coast, capable of receiving large cargo vessels and sustaining considerable logistical throughput.
After Britain and France lost control of the Mediterranean, several colonial officials had originally proposed abandoning Tobruk altogether.
Montgomery and De Gaulle had rejected the idea.
The city was too valuable.
If Tobruk fell, the coastal approaches to Egypt would be laid bare. Worse still, Germany would gain another major port from which it could dramatically shorten its North African supply routes.
Thus Tobruk became the Allied forward headquarters.
The officers stationed there had even given it a grandiose title.
The Outpost of Egypt.
The Last Lighthouse.
Whatever the name, everyone understood what it meant.
Tobruk could not be surrendered easily.
Inside the command room, De Gaulle stood with both hands braced against the edge of the sand table.
His eyes moved repeatedly between the markers representing the German formations appearing almost simultaneously in the central and western sectors of the Oasis Province.
Current intelligence suggested that the armored force advancing through the central desert was relatively small.
Perhaps only a brigade.
That was what troubled him.
If Germany truly intended to use the central desert as its principal breakthrough route, why commit only a single armored brigade to the initial attack?
That was not how the Germans usually fought.
The more De Gaulle studied the situation, the more suspicious he became.
The force in the center might be nothing more than a decoy, placed there deliberately to draw Allied attention away from the coast.
If so, then the German formation moving along the Mediterranean shoreline was likely the real main force.
De Gaulle raised his head.
"What is the situation along the coast?"
The intelligence officer hesitated.
"It's... strange, General."
"Explain."
"The German units on the coastal axis are attacking extremely aggressively. Their artillery expenditure is considerable, and there is no sign that they are conserving ammunition."
De Gaulle's eyes narrowed.
"But?"
"But they have almost no close air support."
The officer pointed toward the central sector.
"By contrast, the smaller German formation advancing through the center has been receiving continuous Luftwaffe support."
Silence followed.
De Gaulle looked back at the map.
The more intelligence arrived, the less clear the situation became.
The coastal force had the artillery signature of a main offensive but lacked the air support normally associated with one.
The central force was numerically small, yet German aircraft seemed determined to protect its every movement.
Rommel had scattered smoke across the battlefield, and even De Gaulle was beginning to lose sight of what lay behind it.
For several moments, he said nothing.
His first instinct was that the central force must be the feint.
But almost as soon as the thought formed, he rejected it.
That was precisely what the Germans would expect him to conclude.
For the first time in months, De Gaulle experienced a strange kind of uncertainty.
Previously, the German Army had defeated him through terrifying operational momentum. Superior firepower, superior mobility, and relentless pressure had forced him backward again and again.
Now, suddenly, the Germans were inviting him to think.
And that was somehow worse.
A British staff officer from the Indian forces broke the silence.
"General De Gaulle, perhaps we are making this more complicated than necessary."
De Gaulle looked toward him.
The officer continued.
"Germany has repeatedly used feints to conceal its main axis of attack. Perhaps this is simply another variation of the same method."
He pointed toward the coast.
"The coastal formation is the main force. Its artillery expenditure proves that."
The suggestion immediately stirred discussion around the room.
Another British officer leaned over the table.
"If that's true, then why don't we exploit the central weakness?"
Several officers turned toward him.
"We could commit five divisions against the German brigade in the center and destroy it before reinforcements arrive."
His finger traced a line across the map.
"If we break through here, our forces would emerge between the German coastal grouping and the remainder of their western formations."
He pressed two fingers together.
"We could cut their front in half."
A French officer nodded.
"Exactly. If the German Army wants to play with feints, then let us punish the part they deliberately weakened."
Another added:
"Once we penetrate the center, we can turn against the coastal force from the rear. If the operation succeeds, Germany could lose a third of its strength on this front."
The officer responsible for coordination between the Middle Eastern and North African theaters also stepped forward.
"General, I believe this opportunity is worth taking."
He pointed toward Egypt.
"The war is interconnected. If we halt Germany here, the consequences will extend beyond North Africa."
"Their Middle Eastern offensive will also slow. Bock cannot advance indefinitely if the wider strategic situation begins deteriorating."
"And if the Soviet Union eventually disengages from Finland..."
His expression brightened.
"Then the pressure on Egypt could be reduced even further."
What had been a silent command room quickly became animated.
Possibilities piled upon possibilities.
A successful counterattack.
A German armored force destroyed.
Rommel's offensive disrupted.
Time gained for Egypt.
Perhaps even enough time for Soviet intervention.
For men who had spent months retreating, the temptation was immense.
Yet De Gaulle remained silent.
He stared at the sand table for a long time.
Then he spoke.
"My decision is that we do nothing."
The room froze.
A staff officer repeated the words almost incredulously.
"Do... nothing?"
"Correct."
De Gaulle straightened.
"We hold our positions."
For several seconds, no one answered.
Then dissatisfaction surfaced.
A British officer frowned openly.
"General De Gaulle, why should we abandon such an opportunity?"
Another added sharply:
"Are we truly so inferior to the Germans that our only option is to crouch in trenches and wait for them to bombard us?"
"If we refuse to exploit an obvious weakness like this, what difference is there between that and surrender?"
The British officers had little reason to flatter De Gaulle.
They belonged to a different command structure, and Britain had contributed large numbers of colonial and Commonwealth troops to the defense of Egypt.
To them, De Gaulle was an ally.
Not their unquestioned superior.
Voices rose throughout the command room.
De Gaulle's expression darkened.
Bang!
His palm slammed down onto the sand table.
Several tactical markers toppled over.
Others rolled across the floor.
The room fell silent.
De Gaulle's voice cut through it.
"Have the past several months taught you nothing?"
No one answered.
"We are facing the most powerful military machine in the world."
His gaze moved from officer to officer.
"They possess some of the finest commanders in existence, some of the best trained soldiers, and weapons that continue to improve faster than ours."
He pointed toward the German positions.
"And you expect me to believe that a commander who has advanced almost without interruption since arriving in North Africa has suddenly committed an elementary mistake?"
His voice sharpened.
"A commander praised in German military journals as the Desert Fox?"
"A graduate of the Roman Military Academy?"
"A man who has spent his entire campaign maneuvering around our weaknesses?"
De Gaulle struck the map with one finger.
"You believe such a man would casually expose his own flank to us?"
He shook his head.
"Stupid."
The French officers stiffened.
"Arrogant."
Several British officers frowned.
"Ridiculous."
The three words landed harder than a shouted tirade.
The French officers lowered their eyes.
Even the British officers lost some of their earlier confidence.
But not all of it.
One of them stepped forward.
"General De Gaulle, you command the North African front."
His tone was controlled, but defiant.
"You do not command every British soldier in it."
De Gaulle said nothing.
"If you oppose the offensive, then we can accept that as your military judgment."
The British officer's jaw tightened.
"But not merely because you distrust every opportunity that appears before us."
"Give us an actual reason."
De Gaulle slowly turned toward him.
He was considerably taller than the British officer, and the difference became unmistakable when they stood face to face.
"A reason?"
His voice became quieter.
"You want a reason?"
"Yes."
De Gaulle stared at him.
"Because I am De Gaulle."
The answer produced several confused expressions.
Then he continued.
"I am the man some of you mock as the 'General of a Hundred Defeats.'"
His expression did not change.
"And precisely because I have lost to Germany so many times, I am also one of the few men in this room who truly understands the German Army."
He pointed toward the sand table.
"I understand how their officers think."
"I understand how their operational system functions."
"And I understand one thing above all else."
His finger stopped over the German positions.
"The German Army is a precision machine."
"If that machine appears to leave a weakness exposed, there is only one conclusion I am willing to accept."
De Gaulle's gaze hardened.
"They want us to enter it."
Silence.
That was De Gaulle's reason.
Experience.
Painful, repeated experience.
But it still failed to convince the British officer.
The man curled his lip.
"Do you know what I see, General?"
De Gaulle looked at him coldly.
"I see a coward pretending to be a warrior."
Several French officers immediately stiffened.
The British officer continued before anyone could interrupt.
"I see a man so terrified of losing again that he is willing to throw away a genuine opportunity simply because it might be a trap."
He stepped back from the table.
"If you are unwilling to fight, then we will."
With that, he turned and walked out.
Several other British officers followed him.
The tent flap fell shut behind them.
De Gaulle remained where he was.
He did not call them back.
He understood the source of their confidence.
Spain.
The British Army's missed opportunities during the Spanish campaign had become a wound that had never properly healed.
Again and again, British officers had convinced themselves that if only they had acted faster, committed more decisively, or pushed harder, Madrid might have been theirs.
That unfulfilled dream had gradually transformed into something else.
Confidence.
Then arrogance.
Many British officers sincerely believed that their army was not fundamentally inferior to Germany's.
They believed Britain had merely suffered from political hesitation, poor timing, and missed opportunities.
They believed that if they simply refused to surrender and fought with sufficient determination, Germany could still be bloodied.
Perhaps even defeated.
De Gaulle understood why.
Those men had never truly experienced what he had experienced.
They had never watched the German Army appear at the gates of their homeland.
They had never watched an operational plan collapse in hours because German armor appeared where no sane commander expected it.
They had never watched officers trained in Berlin turn entire fronts into carefully timed mechanisms of encirclement and destruction.
They did not understand why military officers from across Europe had once traveled to Germany to study.
They did not understand why the Wehrmacht had come to be described as a machine.
The British officers who had chosen resistance possessed courage.
That was undeniable.
They still believed they could fight.
They still believed Britain could recover.
They still believed one bold decision might reverse everything.
Such spirit was valuable in war.
De Gaulle looked at the abandoned tactical markers scattered across the sand table.
But courage without restraint could become recklessness.
And confidence without understanding could become fatal.
In that sense, the British spirit was both their greatest strength...
and perhaps the trap waiting to destroy them.
....
https://discord.gg/KvMN2CFsMR
[If you don't want to wait for the next update, read 50 chapters ahead on P@treon.]
[[email protected]/FanficLord03].