Chapter 317: Luring the Snake into the Hole
On the Middle Eastern front, the disagreement within the British and French expeditionary forces soon reached Montgomery's command table.
Montgomery personally trusted De Gaulle's judgment. His first instinct was to abandon the proposed offensive altogether.
But the pressure from the German Army in the Middle East was growing by the day.
If they remained entirely passive, the Germans would continue tightening the noose around Egypt without interruption.
After weighing both sides, Montgomery finally chose a compromise.
He would not commit the main force.
Instead, he tacitly authorized the Indian 6th, 7th, and 10th Infantry Divisions to coordinate with the newly formed Australian 3rd Armored Brigade and conduct a limited offensive.
If they achieved meaningful progress, then the main forces could be committed later.
The order was quickly approved.
The operation was given a suitably dramatic name.
Operation Snake Cutter.
Early the next morning, Indian troops began leaving their defensive positions. Soldiers packed tightly into transport trucks as entire columns rumbled toward Kachur Village.
Outside the canvas-covered vehicles, endless yellow sand stretched beneath the pale sky.
The desert wind whipped loose grains into the air, lashing exposed faces like countless tiny needles.
Kachur Village had become one of the main points of contact between the Allied troops and the German central formation.
One-third of the village was already occupied by the German feinting force under Brigadier General Joe Kral.
Kral stood behind a partially collapsed wall and lowered his binoculars.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then used a handkerchief to wipe away the sand that had somehow worked its way into his nostrils.
A violent sneeze followed.
"Damn desert."
His adjutant approached.
"General, the Luftwaffe detected British forces advancing rapidly toward our position roughly an hour ago."
Kral's annoyance vanished.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"So they finally decided to come."
He folded the handkerchief and tucked it away.
"Destroy the damaged heavy weapons. Anything we cannot move is to be rendered unusable."
"Then begin the withdrawal."
The adjutant nodded.
Kral added:
"And release the Special Detachment."
His smile deepened.
"It's time to let the British taste what deception really looks like."
The German feinting force withdrew rapidly.
Before the British advance units could reach Kachur Village, German troops had already abandoned most of their positions.
What remained behind only strengthened the illusion.
Damaged artillery pieces had been deliberately destroyed.
Heavy machine guns were left twisted and burned.
Ammunition boxes were scattered across abandoned positions.
To British eyes, it looked exactly like the aftermath of a hurried retreat.
The Australian 3rd Armored Brigade immediately gave chase.
Even repeated German air attacks failed to shake them off.
The Australians continued pursuing the retreating German formation with almost obsessive determination.
Eventually, their persistence appeared to pay off.
Two American-built M2 light tanks in the Australian column unexpectedly encountered a lone Panzer IV escorting what appeared to be a German command vehicle.
A brief but violent engagement followed.
The Panzer IV was destroyed.
Its smoking hull came to a halt in the sand.
Two Australian soldiers climbed from their tank, rifles raised, and cautiously approached the command vehicle.
They expected scattered survivors.
Instead, the vehicle door opened.
A disheveled German officer slowly stepped out with both hands raised.
The Australians froze.
His uniform bore the insignia of a German Generalmajor.
A general.
They had captured a German brigadier general.
"Down!"
One of the Australians shouted.
"Get down, you German bastard!"
The prisoner raised his hands higher.
The soldiers, drunk on adrenaline and the thrill of humiliating a senior German officer, fired several rounds into the sand near his boots.
Sand and stones sprayed across his trousers.
The Germans had humiliated Britain and France across Europe.
For these soldiers, frightening one of Germany's generals offered a small but deeply satisfying revenge.
The spectacle continued until a battalion commander arrived.
Battalion Commander Garol pushed through the gathered soldiers and looked the prisoner over carefully.
Then he gestured toward the translator.
"Ask him his name."
The translator repeated the question in German.
The prisoner straightened despite his battered appearance.
"I am Joia Seymour, Brigadier General commanding this mechanized brigade."
He paused.
"As a prisoner of war, I am entitled to the protections established under the conventions of war. That includes freedom from forced labor, discriminatory treatment, physical abuse, and..."
Garol scratched his head in irritation.
"Enough."
He stepped closer.
"We'll respect your rights."
A pistol was placed into his hand.
Garol checked the chamber.
"But in our army, only cooperative enemies get treated like prisoners."
He pressed the cold muzzle against Seymour's forehead.
"The uncooperative ones remain enemies."
The translator swallowed before repeating the threat.
Garol's eyes narrowed.
"Tell me your mission."
Seymour said nothing.
Garol struck him across the face.
The German officer stumbled to the ground.
Yet after a moment, he slowly pushed himself upright again.
A thin line of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
Then he smiled.
The expression looked almost insulting.
Unknown to the British, Joia Seymour was not an ordinary brigadier general.
He belonged to a specially trained deception unit whose members had undergone extensive preparation for interrogation, staged capture, and battlefield misinformation.
A blow of that strength meant very little to him.
More importantly, he understood the value of the uniform he was wearing.
The British would not casually execute a captured German general.
Such a prisoner was simply too valuable.
Seymour only needed to behave exactly as a genuine senior officer would.
Stubborn.
Proud.
Reluctant to speak.
Garol stared at him for several seconds.
Then he lowered the pistol.
Oddly enough, Seymour's refusal only made his identity seem more convincing.
At that moment, an Australian soldier rushed over.
"Sir!"
Everyone turned.
"We found operational documents inside his command vehicle!"
Garol's expression changed instantly.
"Bring them here."
...
At the German command post, Rommel's headquarters had become the beating heart of an enormous machine.
Field telephones rang without pause.
Radio operators received and transmitted coded messages.
Staff officers moved between map tables carrying reports from armored divisions, reconnaissance aircraft, and forward artillery units.
Every order issued from this headquarters rippled outward across the desert.
"General!"
An operations officer approached Rommel.
"The feinting force has withdrawn to the Lusika area."
He could barely conceal his excitement.
"The British are still pursuing."
"They believed it."
Rommel accepted a series of reconnaissance photographs and studied them.
After a moment, however, he shook his head.
"Not all of them."
The staff officer's excitement faded slightly.
Rommel pointed at the vehicles visible in the aerial photographs.
"Look carefully."
"Mostly Vickers M1936 tanks."
His finger moved.
"And several American M2s."
He leaned back.
"Those are not the vehicles Britain and France would use for their decisive armored thrust."
The officers around him looked closer.
Rommel continued:
"This is a probing force."
"They've taken the bait, yes, but only enough to taste it."
He placed the photographs down.
"Destroying this formation would hurt them, but it would not fundamentally alter the campaign."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Since we've already made them hungry, then let's make them starving."
Rommel turned toward the communications officer.
"Order the armored formations along the coastal axis to begin withdrawing."
The officer hesitated.
"General?"
"If we're performing a play, we might as well perform it properly."
Rommel tapped the map.
"The enemy needs to believe that their counterattack has forced us to react."
"Give them that belief."
"Yes, General."
...
Meanwhile, the documents recovered from the captured "brigadier general" were rushed to De Gaulle's headquarters.
The adjutant placed them on his desk with barely concealed excitement.
"General, we have confirmation."
De Gaulle looked up.
"Confirmation of what?"
"The force in the center really is a feint."
The adjutant opened the captured operational file.
"The German coastal formations are the main attack force. The British advance caught the central unit by surprise."
He paused.
"They even captured the brigade commander."
De Gaulle took the documents.
His expression remained heavy.
Piece by piece, the evidence seemed to fit perfectly.
Too perfectly.
He slowly examined the operational map supposedly recovered from the German command vehicle.
Routes.
Unit markings.
Timetables.
The coastal axis was clearly identified as the principal direction of advance.
The central formation was designated as a supporting attack.
Everything confirmed what his officers had argued earlier.
Yet something in De Gaulle's instincts refused to settle.
"Is there anything else?"
The adjutant nodded quickly.
"Yes, General."
"German forces on the coastal front have begun contracting their line."
De Gaulle's eyes lifted.
"Contracting?"
"Yes."
The adjutant pointed at the latest reconnaissance information.
"Our staff believes the Germans realized that their central force had been exposed and are now adjusting their positions."
"If we give them enough time to complete the withdrawal, their extended formation will become a solid defensive front again."
He hesitated before adding:
"General... we may not get another opportunity."
De Gaulle said nothing.
He remained seated behind his desk, turning the captured documents over in his hands.
The events of the previous two days replayed themselves repeatedly in his mind.
The supposedly weak central formation.
The aggressive coastal offensive.
The unusual distribution of air support.
The captured German general.
The operational documents.
Now the German coastal formations were withdrawing.
Each piece reinforced the next.
His original conviction had been simple.
It was a trap.
But now?
For the first time, that conviction began to crack.
De Gaulle lit a cigarette.
Smoke curled slowly upward as he stared through the window toward the distant parade ground.
"Was I really too cautious?"
The words left his mouth almost unconsciously.
Once the possibility entered his mind, every new piece of evidence seemed to nourish it.
Perhaps he had allowed his repeated defeats against Germany to distort his judgment.
Perhaps experience had become fear.
Perhaps he had begun seeing traps everywhere simply because Rommel had defeated him too many times.
After all, German soldiers were still human.
German officers were still human.
Even the most precise machine could eventually be corrupted by success.
Germany had conquered France.
Broken Britain.
Dominated the Mediterranean.
Expanded across Europe.
Was it truly impossible that arrogance had finally begun creeping into its officer corps?
Could Rommel have simply made a mistake?
De Gaulle inhaled slowly.
For months he had accused others of underestimating Germany.
Now he wondered whether he had gone too far in the opposite direction.
If this truly was a genuine German weakness and he refused to exploit it, then history would not remember him as cautious.
It would remember him as the commander who saw Germany's exposed throat and refused to strike.
One hour passed.
Then another half.
Finally, De Gaulle crushed his cigarette into the ashtray.
He called for his adjutant.
"Send an order."
The man immediately straightened.
"The 3rd Elite Division and 4th Motorized Brigade are to join the offensive."
De Gaulle stood and approached the map.
"They will advance toward Lazitaya."
His finger landed on the central point linking the German coastal formations.
"The heart of the German coastal offensive line."
The adjutant saluted.
"Yes, General!"
De Gaulle watched him leave.
A lingering unease remained in his chest.
But the decision had been made.
Once De Gaulle loosened his grip, Montgomery followed.
The British commander also pushed more chips onto the table.
The Egyptian 6th Infantry Division and 7th Motorized Infantry Division, two of the most capable colonial formations still available to Britain, were ordered forward.
Trucks began moving.
Armored vehicles changed direction.
Infantry formations left prepared defensive lines.
What had begun as a cautious reconnaissance in force rapidly transformed into a major offensive.
One brigade became several divisions.
Several divisions became an army-sized commitment.
By the time the expansion of Operation Snake Cutter was complete, nearly one hundred thousand British, French, Indian, Australian, and colonial troops were involved.
Across the desert, the enormous formation pushed deeper toward the apparently retreating Germans.
The snake had seen the opening.
It had extended its head.
Then its body.
And without realizing it, almost the entire creature was beginning to crawl into the hole.
....
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