Iron Cross

"I order..." Montgomery suddenly raised his voice.

Everyone stood up at once. No matter how playful they were just now, they stood up straight and energetic. After all, the Eighth Army was the most elite army group in the British Empire. After Montgomery's transformation, it was hard to say whether its combat effectiveness had improved, but at least its mental state was much better than during the Auchinleck period. Everyone held their breath and waited for the commander's orders and tasks to be issued - everyone thought they would attack immediately.

"Tomorrow, all troops will continue to be on high alert for a day. If Guderian doesn't attack, we will attack him the day after tomorrow morning."

"Oh, God!" Everyone complained in their hearts and almost fell to the ground, but they answered in unison, "Yes, sir!"

Only Major General Langton whispered: "Is this really okay?"

The voice was not loud, but Montgomery obviously heard it. He frowned and said nothing, pretending not to know about it, but just nodded slightly to de Lagan. The latter immediately understood and said, "Now adjourn the meeting. If we decide to launch an attack tomorrow, we will discuss offensive operations based on the two plans proposed at the first meeting."

The ball was kicked around and returned to its original place. Everyone felt helpless. Fortunately, the commander finally made up his mind and it didn't matter if he waited one more day.

The next day, Montgomery, who was in charge of the headquarters, continued to ask for intelligence information from all aspects, asking about Malta, Alexandria, the north line, Cairo, and the south line, anxiously waiting for answers. He urgently wanted to know where the submarines were, where the tankers were, and what Guderian was doing. Unfortunately, no one could answer his questions.

After 7 o'clock, the temperature on the Alamein front gradually rose, and the troops on the southern line reported that the Germans were not moving.

After 9 o'clock, the sun had risen in the sky, and the planes in the sky had already fought hard, but the Germans on the ground were still not moving.

After 11 o'clock, the pilots of both sides tacitly withdrew their troops and returned to the airport for dinner. While eating, Montgomery listened to his adjutant reporting the air force battle report to him. When he heard that a German pilot had shot down 9 of his own planes in the morning, his face turned ugly and he asked, "Is it the African Star from last time?"

"Yes! But he changed to a new plane... a completely different model of plane, but the number is still the previous yellow No. 14. The Germans call this new plane Shrike, and we call it "Butcher's Bird". It is actually Fw-190. Our pilots say that it has more firepower, longer range, and faster speed than Bf-109..." When talking about this, the adjutant seemed to have become a loyal fan of Marseille, and he talked endlessly. He wanted to continue to explain to his superior how these 9 planes were shot down, but was interrupted by the upset Montgomery. The latter never thought that his adjutant and his opponent Guderian had a tacit understanding in the words used to evaluate the Fw-190 just now.

After 14:00, the desert entered the hottest season of the day. Under the strong sunlight, the British soldiers who had been holding on to the front line for most of the day finally couldn't stand it anymore. They started chatting in twos and threes, complaining about another day of waiting in vain and mocking the Germans' cowardice. They were completely relaxed. Montgomery could guess this situation without looking at it. Although his face was not very good, he was good-tempered and didn't get angry.

He was just thinking, what was Guderian doing?

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the officers who had been suffering for most of the day couldn't stand it anymore. They returned to their headquarters or rest points to enjoy their afternoon tea. If there was no war, this was their fixed time. Only this moment could remind them of the beauty of a quiet life and forget the hateful enemy. The orderly also brought coffee and cakes to Montgomery. He sighed and had no desire to enjoy them at all.

At four o'clock, with only two hours until sunset, even the most rigid and responsible frontline officers left the trenches with sighs and began to report to their superiors by telegram and phone about the day's waiting, and to think of reasonable words to describe the soldiers' hard work under the scorching sun. De Lagan came over, looked at the cold coffee and untouched pastries next to Montgomery, smiled bitterly, cleaned them up personally and replaced them with black tea for the commander, and then thought about how to tell him about the telegram in his hand.

Montgomery's reaction was more acute than he thought. Seeing the strange look on the chief of staff's face, he asked, "From the Prime Minister?"

"Yes." Hearing this, he knew without reading that it was urging the Eighth Army to launch an attack as soon as possible. Montgomery knocked on the table and said, "Is this the 13th or 14th telegram?"

"To be precise, it's the 16th."

"The 16th." He smiled bitterly, "Call him back in the tone of yesterday and state our difficulties."

De Lagan mechanically agreed, but was stopped before he took a few steps: "Wait a minute, maybe we should show the Prime Minister something more positive."

"What do you want to say?"

"Just say that our army plans to launch an all-out offensive in the near future." Montgomery paused, as if he had made a great decision, "Within a week."

Didn’t he say that if Guderian doesn’t come today, he will call him tomorrow? Why did it become a week again? De Lagan glanced at Montgomery suspiciously. The latter seemed to see the doubts of the chief of staff. He said nothing more and simply repeated what he had just said. The poor chief of staff was convinced that he heard correctly and turned around to arrange a retaliation. electricity.

At 4:45, the fierce air battle in the sky basically stopped. The aircraft of both sides gradually broke away from contact and flew to their own airports in formation. In the afternoon, Marseille continued to shine, shooting down 4 more enemy planes. , now the British stay away from his plane as soon as they see it. The pilots who had been fighting for a day landed one after another. After a day of fighting, people felt exhausted. The yellow sand and sweat stains on their bodies stuck together made them feel uncomfortable all over. They didn't even have time to rejoice that they were still alive. They just wanted to be in pain. Take a quick hot shower and lie down. The British anti-tank gunners on the forefront lowered their muzzles, packed the ammunition into boxes, and connected them with cars and armored vehicles to be towed away. The tanks on the other side had finished their work early, and the tank crews were excitedly working in the shade. Everyone gathered together, eager to discuss how to carry out tomorrow's attack. The officers left the necessary observation posts and began to brag and chat.

At five o'clock, in the secret position at the forefront, two armored battalions of the African Army, which had been hiding and waiting for a whole day, had a total of 67 tanks, including 30 new No. 4 G tanks and 6 short-barreled No. 4 old models. (Two of them were converted into command types), 31 of the best No. 3 tanks (equipped with 50mm guns) were arranged in a standard wedge-shaped attack formation. Originally, there were 68 tanks in total. The last No. 4 tank was unanimously requested by the two battalion commanders to stay with the commander. Lieutenant Colonel Mei Linjin held back Guderian and refused to let him go to the front line in the tank. For this matter He even took out a Ruger pistol and put it against his temple, meaning that if Guderian dared to move, he would die immediately in front of the commander. The army general who could not resist him could only stand beside the first tank and pay attention.

"Reporting to the commander, the engineers have cleared the mines on the way forward and opened the passage. Please give your instructions..." Major Heinz, commander of the 2nd Armored Battalion of the 15th Armored Division, and De, the commander of the 1st Armored Battalion of the 21st Armored Division. Major Shao ran over to ask for instructions, "In addition, after our secret investigation, we found that your reasoning is correct. The markings on the fake map are completely reversed. The place where it is said to be hard ground is actually quicksand, and the tank will sink into it. It may not be possible to get out, but the area marked as sand is open to vehicles.”

"Very good, the British shot themselves in the foot." Guderian raised his hand and looked at his watch, "It's 5 pm Alamein time now, you prepare to fight for an hour and a half, 6:30 on time Withdraw the position and flee under the cover of night. The order of command is Heinz first, Dessau second, and the subsequent order is up to you to discuss. Do you understand?"

"Understood." The two battalion commanders replied in unison.

"Now check the watch."

After checking the watch, Heinz asked: "Sir, where are you? When are you leaving?"

Guderian originally wanted to say that he would stay where he was to observe the results of the battle, but after being glared at by Lieutenant Colonel Mei Linjin, he had to go against his will and said: "If you attack, I will run away. How will you leave if I don't leave? Commander retreats There has to be someone to protect you, right?"

The two battalion commanders burst into laughter, saluted and ran back to their command vehicles. As the signal was given, all vehicles immediately started up, and a choking smoke rose from the ground.

Guderian, who was standing aside, waved his hand boldly and shouted: "Tanks, attack!" Then he raised his arm and pressed it down hard. After seeing the gesture, the tank formation immediately moved forward. Lieutenant Colonel Mei Linjin had the guts to do so. I misunderstood that the commander's posture just now seemed as if he was commanding not two armored battalions, but two armored armies...