Blitzkrieg #1 A Return to War Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

AUGUST 28^TH 1861 GETTYSBURG PENNSYLVANIA

Lieutenant Herman Klein sat in his messerschmitt 262 jet fighter plane. Klein and his fellow pilots were in a flight formation of 35 airplanes. After the Luftwaffe’s earlier disaster in not providing the Field Marshal air coverage when he had needed it, they were determined to make up for the mistakes that their force had made.

As Klein and his men began to come near to Gettysburg, Klein radioed his men to circle the town. Within moments he spotted the long green line of American tanks that General Patton had lined up nicely for him to destroy. He radioed the attack orders he had decided on to his men and then banked into the dive for the attack.

Patton and his men were sitting on the ground, and on the tanks waiting for orders. If the army had an unofficial rule it was hurry up and wait. A distant roar suddenly was heard and Patton instantly knew what the sounds were. He quickly stood up and screamed.” Get in those goddamn tanks and pull them back under the tree line. Hurry the hell up men. Those are kraut ME 262 jet fighter planes.” He bellowed. But the jets were moving at such a high rate of speed that between the time that Patton gave his warning and the noise was first heard, the jets were upon them already. Klein and his wingman came screaming in barely over the tree tops with cannon and rockets blazing.

As the planes dove into the attack, little bursts of dust from the streams of cannon fire from the attacking planes marched in a line leading up to the tanks and men on the line. As the streams of bullets reached the tanks the dusty bursts were replaced with flashes and explosions as the fuel and the ammunition in the tanks were exploded by the heavy cannon fire from the planes. Men were literally blown into pieces by the heavy caliber slugs, and equipment was smashed and destroyed. Patton jumped up on a nearby jeep and got behind a heavy .50 caliber machine gun mounted on the rear of the jeep. He began to fire at the swooping and firing jets, hoping to knock one down or at least damage one. Other men, seeing his example began to fire back. However the jets were moving too fast and not one jet was seriously damaged by the sporadic fire from the ground. Lieutenant Klein radioed his group to reform and head for home as he noticed the fuel level in his tanks beginning to get low. He smiled to himself, yes today was a great day for his group.

AUGUST 29^TH NORTH SIDE OF GETTYSBURG PENNSYLVANIA

Patton sat just within the tree line waiting for the German forces he now knew were heading directly for him and his unit. After the attack yesterday Patton had regrouped what undamaged units he could and reformed his line under cover on the north side of Gettysburg. Patton only now had 50 Sherman tanks, and 36 Wolverine Anti Tank guns at his disposal. His men did have plenty of the bazooka anti tank weapons though. He knew though that the bazookas would have a difficult time destroying panther, and tiger tanks.

As noon approached Pattons forward op, or observation post, began to hear the grinding and squealing of tank treads. As the men watched on the south side of town the German and Confederate forces began exiting from behind the trees where the road came out of the woods. The men watched in apprehension as dozens and dozens of Tiger II and Panther tanks began to turn left and right off the dirt road to form up on the field leading up to the southern edge of town. Private Lawrence McGee, one of the men in the observation post, picked up his field telephone and cranked the handle to connect to pattons headquarters on the other end of town. He heard a click then someone answered.”Go ahead.” The voice said. “Sir this is Private McGee at op 21. Im looking dead at the whole kraut army sir.” The voice on the phone was silent a moment. Then spoke.” Calm down soldier and give me details. What kind of tanks, how many, any halftracks, how many, and how many men.” The voice calmly spoke. As this voice on the phone was speaking though the confederate/German army were moving fast towards the edge of town, patton’s old positions. McGee, tired of waiting to flee back to the lines, and getting very nervous the closer the enemy came, interrupted the voice on the phone. “Sir! I have an overwhelming force of Panzers in front of me and more men than I can count. My buddy and I are leaving this post to head back to the lines before we are cut off. “ He said. McGee dropped the field telephone and tapped his buddy on the shoulder.” Come on, lets get outta here mac.” He said.

Patton was in a rage. Nimitz had over ruled his orders to shell the town. The enemy didn’t have such a problem as they were now in yankee lands and would shell whenever they felt the need to do so. As the enemy forces entered the town unopposed and began to exit the northern end of town, the enemy tanks began to form up into attack formations. From the far side of the town from back behind the enemy units the thumps of mortars and artillery guns firing could be heard. Patton rushed to his command track, a halftrack, and had his radio man order the men to make sure that they had their tanks buttoned up, or closed. His infantry lowered themselves into the bottom of their trenches and foxholes. For several minutes artillery rained down all along Patton’s lines. Men and machines withered the storm but there were some casualties. As the artillery lifted, the enemy tanks and infantry began their move forwards towards the line. Patton ordered his wolverines to fire first. The deep boom of the wolverine’s large bore guns began to echo through the woods. Several panther and tiger tanks were immobilized and destroyed by the first volley. But the shermans had hardly a chance to to stop the heavily armored panther and tigers. Many shots by the shermans would clang, and ricochet off of the thick armor of those tanks. But the bigger guns of the Panthers and Tigers punched through the shermans armor like tin foil.

Within the first volleys of fire from the German and confederate tanks Patton’s command was a demolished burning smoking mess. Patton, seeing the end if they stayed here, ordered his troops to disperse and fall back in the direction of York. The US tanks began popping smoke from their smoke generators to cover their withdrawal and rapidly sped backwards away from the oncoming German and Confederate tanks and troops.

Rommel watched the US tanks through his binoculars as they began to withdraw. Rommel smiled and ordered his troops to slowly pursue Patton’s tanks and infantry. He decided then and there that he would halt the pursuit when his lead tanks reached the tree lines that the enemy were withdrawing into.

AUGUST 31^ST 1861 ALLENTOWN PENNSYLVANIA

General George B. McClellan and General George Patton sat glumly thinking over the last few days events. The entire Army of the Potomac had been assembled and stretched across the valley with Allentown just behind the center of the line. All of Nimitz’s armor and heavy weaponry had been arrayed in this valley. 100 miles south the Confederate and German steamroller had continued slowly advancing destroying small towns, and villages in its path. The two Generals knew that this was the last chance for them to stop the advancing enemy. The confederate underwater ships had effectively blockaded the harbor of New York, and the new guns and equipment mounted on the two new Confederate ships the CSS Georgia, and the CSS Texas were systematically destroying the union ships maintaining the blockade all along the Confederate coastline.

News from every front was bad for General McClellan. The re equipped confederates in Vicksburg had demolished the union gunboat flotilla that had tried to ferry union troops down the Mississippi River to capture that town. Missouri had successfully fully joined the confederacy and they were now gathering together recruits for the Confederate Army. The state of Kentucky had broken their Neutrality and swayed entirely toward the Confederacy seeing the way the war had begun to turn. The only state remaining on the border not Confederate was the holdout and relative newcomer West Virginia. To make matters worse the British Army in Canada was beginning to assemble several large forces. One at Fort Erie opposite the border from Buffalo, New York, and the other at McAdam in New Brunswick opposite the border of Maine.

Patton stood on the Raised platform. Out in front of his position stood the thousands of American soldiers who had volunteered to come back in time to the civil war. The men were downcast, and edgy. They knew that it was only a matter of time before the German and Confederate soldiers reached them and began their final assault. Behind these assorted modern, and civil war era Americans stood nothing. No more defensive lines, no more reserves. Patton coughed loudly and the mized troops slowly went silent staring up at him.

He began speaking.” Be seated. Men, all this stuff you hear about America not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war, is a lot of bullshit. Americans love to fight. All real Americans love the sting and clash of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the big-league ball players and the toughest boxers. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win all the time. That's why Americans have never lost and will never lose a war. The very thought of losing is hateful to Americans. Battle is the most significant competition in which a man can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base.

You are not all going to die. Only two percent of you right here today would be killed in a major battle. Every man is scared in his first action. If he says he's not, he's a goddamn liar. But the real hero is the man who fights even though he's scared. Some men will get over their fright in a minute under fire, some take an hour, and for some it takes days. But the real man never lets his fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to his country, and his innate manhood.

All through your army career you men have bitched about what you call 'this chicken-shit drilling.' That is all for a purpose—to ensure instant obedience to orders and to create constant alertness. This must be bred into every soldier. I don't give a fuck for a man who is not always on his toes. But the drilling has made veterans of all you men. You are ready! A man has to be alert all the time if he expects to keep on breathing. If not, some German son-of-a-bitch will sneak up behind him and beat him to death with a sock full of shit. There are four hundred neatly marked graves in Pennsyvania, all because one man went to sleep on the job—but they are German graves, because we caught the bastard asleep before his officer did.

An army is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps, and fights as a team. This individual hero stuff is bullshit. The bilious bastards who write that stuff for the Saturday Evening Post don't know any more about real battle than they do about fucking. And we have the best team—we have the finest food and equipment, the best spirit and the best men in the world. Why, by God, I actually pity these poor bastards we're going up against.

All the real heroes are not storybook combat fighters. Every single man in the army plays a vital role. So don't ever let up. Don't ever think that your job is unimportant. What if every truck driver decided that he didn't like the whine of the shells and turned yellow and jumped headlong into a ditch? That cowardly bastard could say to himself, 'Hell, they won't miss me, just one man in thousands.' What if every man said that? Where in the hell would we be then? No, thank God, Americans don't say that. Every man does his job. Every man is important. The ordnance men are needed to supply the guns, the quartermaster is needed to bring up the food and clothes for us because where we are going there isn't a hell of a lot to steal. Every last damn man in the mess hall, even the one who boils the water to keep us from getting the GI shits, has a job to do.

Each man must think not only of himself, but think of his buddy fighting alongside him. We don't want yellow cowards in the army. They should be killed off like flies. If not, they will go back home after the war, goddamn cowards, and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed more brave men. Kill off the goddamn cowards and we'll have a nation of brave men.

One of the bravest men I saw in the African campaign was on a telegraph pole in the midst of furious fire while we were moving toward Tunis. I stopped and asked him what the hell he was doing up there. He answered, 'Fixing the wire, sir.' 'Isn't it a little unhealthy up there right now?' I asked. 'Yes sir, but this goddamn wire has got to be fixed.' I asked, 'Don't those planes strafing the road bother you?' And he answered, 'No sir, but you sure as hell do.' Now, there was a real soldier. A real man. A man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how great the odds, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty appeared at the time.

And you should have seen the trucks on the road to Gabès. Those drivers were magnificent. All day and all night they crawled along those son-of-a-bitch roads, never stopping, never deviating from their course with shells bursting all around them. Many of the men drove over 40 consecutive hours. We got through on good old American guts. These were not combat men. But they were soldiers with a job to do. They were part of a team. Without them the fight would have been lost.

Sure, we all want to go home. We want to get this war over with. But you can't win a war lying down. The quickest way to get it over with is to get the bastards who started it.. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we go home. The shortest way home is through Richmond. So keep moving. And when we get to Richmond, I am personally going to shoot that paper-hanging son-of-a-bitch Davis.

When a man is lying in a shell hole, if he just stays there all day, a Boche will get him eventually. The hell with that. My men don't dig foxholes. Foxholes only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. We'll win this war, but we'll win it only by fighting and showing the Germans that we've got more guts than they have or ever will have. We're not just going to shoot the bastards, we're going to rip out their living goddamned guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks. We're going to murder those lousy Hun cocksuckers and slave loving mother fuckers by the bushel-fucking-basket.

Some of you men are wondering whether or not you'll chicken out under fire. Don't worry about it. I can assure you that you'll all do your duty. War is a bloody business, a killing business. The Nazis, and Confederates are the enemy. Wade into them, spill their blood or they will spill yours. Shoot them in the guts. Rip open their belly. When shells are hitting all around you and you wipe the dirt from your face and you realize that it's not dirt, it's the blood and gut of what was once your best friend, you'll know what to do.

I don't want any messages saying 'I'm holding my position.' We're not holding a goddamned thing. We're advancing constantly and we're not interested in holding anything except the enemy's balls. We're going to hold him by his balls and we're going to kick him in the ass; twist his balls and kick the living shit out of him all the time. Our plan of operation is to advance and keep on advancing. We're going to go through the enemy like shit through a tinhorn.

There will be some complaints that we're pushing our people too hard. I don't give a damn about such complaints. I believe that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. The harder we push, the more Germans we kill. The more Germans we kill, the fewer of our men will be killed. Pushing harder means fewer casualties. I want you all to remember that. My men don't surrender. I don't want to hear of any soldier under my command being captured unless he is hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight. That's not just bullshit either. I want men like the lieutenant in Libya who, with a Luger against his chest, swept aside the gun with his hand, jerked his helmet off with the other and busted the hell out of the Boche with the helmet. Then he picked up the gun and he killed another German. All this time the man had a bullet through his lung. That's a man for you!

Then there's one thing you men will be able to say when this war is over and you get back home. Thirty years from now when you're sitting by your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks, 'What did you do in the great Civil War?' You won't have to cough and say, 'Well, your granddaddy shoveled shit in Louisiana.' No sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say 'Son, your granddaddy rode with the great Army of the Potomac and a son-of-a-goddamned-bitch named George Patton!'

All right, you sons of bitches. You know how I feel. I'll be proud to lead you wonderful guys in battle anytime, anywhere. That's all.” Patton ended his speech among the cheers and hurrahs of his men. Patton grimaced, looking out over his still cheering men. He could tell his speech had made the difference that he had hoped in them. They were no longer going to be worried about the up coming battle. They no longer worried about loosing. Now they wanted to go out and kick some Nazi and Confederate Ass. Just has he had wanted.

The German and Confederate columns advanced down the valley toward Allentown in the distance. Rommel and his headquarters unit were in Lebanon Pennsylvania approximately 100 miles from Allentown. Rommel knew that if is force could break through the federal and US army lines thrown up across the valley ahead, there would be nothing left to stop him from advancing all the way up into Maine.

Patton and his men sat silently behind their lines and what fortifications they had been able to construct in the short time they had. Slowly a deep buzz could be heard from the sky far and behind the American line. Patton turned his head to scan the sky and wept tears at the sight. Far above the valley he occupied with his men flew hundreds of US Navy fighter planes. Several hundred Vought F4U Corsair’s and Grumman F8F Bearcats were beginning to fly over the lines. Patton smiled, Nimitz had made good his promise. His fleet carriers in the harbor up there had come through. These planes were being escorted by several squadrons of Lockheed F-80 Shooting Star jet fighters. These had been launched by Nimitz advancing the Seabees construction timetable of their airfield in Maine.

As the attack planes from Nimitz closed on the area above the soon to be battle field, the cry of tally ho could be heard on the pilots radios as they spotted the flights of Luftwaffe planes diving out of the sun. The Luftwaffe pilots flying the Me 262 jet fighters were genuinely surprised to encounter the American jet fighters. As the F-80 and Me262 began to dogfight one another, the corsairs and the bearcats began to pounce on the Ju 88 dive bombers that had began to screech in dives on the federal and US army lines. The Ju 88’s didn’t fare well against the combined assaults of the corsairs and the corvairs. The pilots had to jinx and swerve in their dives, some pulling out of their attack runs all together. The 88’s weren’t fighters and couldn’t move fast enough to avoid many of the attacking planes. The cries on the radios of the corsairs and the bearcats were jubilant as they began to sweep the skies clean of the attacking dive bombers. Meanwhile up above the slaughter of the ju 88’s the me 262’s, while not necessarily being slaughtered, weren’t exactly fulfilling their missions either. The Luftwaffe pilots were finding that shooting down the American Jets wasn’t as easy as attacking propeller driven craft. The American pilots scored several kills and morale was sky high.

Lieuteneant Herman Klein, the commander of the Me 262 squadron, was becoming frustrated. He couldn’t find a way for his men to get the upper hand in this battle. The American jets, which his intel had goofed on and not been aware of, were proving to be every bit as good as his own Messerschmitt plane was, and the pilots were also surprisingly just as good. Klein cursed into his oxygen mask as he jerked his plane to the left while watching a f-80 come in from that direction, his attention on this maneuver he missed seeing the stream of tracers from the second f-80 who had come in from the right. His plane flew right through the tracer stream and he instantly heard and felt the heavy shudder as the f-80 cannon rounds tore chunks from the fuselage and tail of his plane. Klein spun his head around to see where the rounds had come from and then noticed he couldn’t move his head very fast. His head leaned forward, out of control, chin on his chest. His eyes were still open and he could see the giant hole in his chest, blood pumping out. He thought to himself, I cant even feel it, it must be a scratch, then his vision went dark.

The remainder of the Me 262 squadron saw their commander’s plane go down in smoke and explode before impact. This prompted the squadron second in command to decide that they had enough for one day and he ordered the remaining Me 262’s to flee at high speed back to the south and safety. Meanwhile below the last remaining few ju-88 on the field were either shot down or driven off.

A lone Corsair, Lieutenant Commander John F. Kennedy the pilot, flew low above the friendly lines wiggling his wings in salute to the men who raised their arms in cheers as he passed over. This one act alone brought the army’s morale sky high. The men felt undefeatable now.

Rommel took the news of his pilots being decimated stoically, calmly telling his anti aircraft vehicles to close the gap with his attacking units. He wanted these vehicles close by to protect them from the air units of Nimitz. He then ordered his units to close and attack the enemy line. General Lee stood close by and examined his map. “Field Marshal Rommel, sir.” Lee spoke. “How do our units fare that we sent up into the Pocono Mountains toward New Castle?” Rommel pointed at the map. “General Lee our confederate units under Generals Longstreet, Ewell, and Hill are approaching New Castle as we speak. Our intelligence says that the Yankees don’t have any defense of significance that far back into the mountains. Most of the Yankee units are here in the valley facing us.” Lee nodded at Rommel’s report.” Very well, sir. How do the units of yours fare approaching Emmaus on the east end of the Yankee line.” Asked Lee again.” very well sir. My commander reports that they encountered a screen of Yankee cavalry under General Buford near the town, but have since destroyed or dispersed them.”

Lee nodded, and studied his map a moment longer.” Do we have our artillery set up Field Marshal Rommel?” Said Lee. “Yes sir, we do. The gunners are standing by for orders. I have an entire corps of 155 mm Howitzers and several dozen 88 mm cannon set up as well to protect the artillery.” Lee seemed to think over this information a second.” Field Marshal Rommel please order our artillery to begin salvo fire on the enemy positions once our units at New Castle, and Emmaus take up their positions there. We can use them as forward observers to detect the fall of the rounds and make corrections as need be.”Rommel nodded and then scribbled down the orders to pass to his orderly for transmission to the units in the field.

General Longstreet stood in the low valley watching his men and Ewell’s men march up the far hill. Once halfway up the hill he saw the men dive to the left and right. Small blue figures could be seen firing from the crest of the hill, down at the confederates. As he watched through his binoculars he saw his men begin to return the enemy fire. As his and Ewell’s men began to work up the hill dashing between cover, up at the crest of the hill the heavy thump, thump, thump of a rapid firing heavy machine gun began to growl. He watched his men began to fall from the new gunfire. Slowly the men edged forward then began to falter under the withering hail of lead. Suddenly a faint thumping could be heard and fountains of dirt and rock began to shoot into the air. “Damn them.” Longstreet growled. “They are firing mortars from the backside of the hill.” Longstreet, without turning, said to his radio man.” Order the troops to fall back down the hill out of range of those damn mortar bombs.” Within a few moments Longstreet saw his men begin to slowly back down the hill until finally the mortars were just impacting into dirt and rock, and not the men. From atop the far hill he could hear the faint cries and cheers of the Yankee troops as they realized they had beaten back the confederates for the first time in months.

Longstreet slapped his hat against his side in anger and frustration. “Order our reserves to form up at the base of the hill along with our men who just withdrew. Then get on your contraption and order the horseless artillery to fire on that hill top. “ Seconds later the Artillery began to rumble and large explosions appeared at the top of the hill. Longstreet could see black objects flying through the air, he knew these to be bodies and parts of bodies. Longstreet grimaced. “I bet they aren’t cheering now.” He said. Sudden loud blasts off to the left made Longstreet whip his head to the left of the small valley where he was. Emerging from the trees and boulders were several dozen green painted Panzers. He swept his eyes back to his men, seeing the cannon blasts from the panzers exploding on his line. His men were being decimated. Longstreet and Ewell’s men began to run to their right flank, heading for the safety of more trees and rocks. Occasionally a grey clad man would turn and fire an anti panzer weapon at the on rushing tanks, then turn to continue fleeing. Longstreet sighed. “Order our men to fall back to this hilltop right here.” He ordered pointing at the ground. Longstreet turned to head back to his tent, he would have to find another way to take the town of New Castle.

On the eastern flank of the advance of the Army of Northern Virginia, General Braxton Bragg had overall command of the flank attacking forces. His division commanders were General Simon Bolivar Buckner, and Major General George B. Crittenden. Bragg sat on his horse close to a mile from the edge of the low mountain that hid the town of Emmaus. Bragg knew that if his men could take the low mountain and sweep over it to face the town of Emmaus, then he would have the high ground and be able to fire down into the town, massacring its defenders. He would also have the high ground and many of the new rapid fire guns the Germans had called mg 42’s. Bragg smiled in anticipation of the coming attack. He nodded to his radio man and briefly thought of the enormous benefit that marvel had been in the field. His radio man ordered the 2 divisions under his command to attack.

As Generals Buckner and Crittenden received their commands they began to move their forces forward at a trot. As soon as his men crossed the top of a slow rise that had hidden them from the mountain they came under direct fire from their objective. Yankee snipers, and mortar bombs from their new enemies began to whistle in and land on and amongst the troops. His men out in the front of him crossing that valley were advancing but slowly taking a beating. Generals Buckner and Crittenden slowed to let their troops advance past them then came together in Buckner’s half track to have a quick strategy meeting. While they were doing this Private Harold Givens of the 21^st Ohio Anti Tank unit, (one of the first federal units to receive and train in the new weapons), spotted the command halftracks out in the open stopped briefly. He watched a man dismount from one halftrack and walk the few feet to the other. He then noticed the many antennas on the roof of the halftrack and knew it was a command track, possibly the enemy division commander. He loaded a round into his recoilless rifle, the bullet as large around as his thumb, and thumbed the cocking lever on the side to enable the gun to fire. Givens sighted the long rifle in on the track he had watched the man climb into, then fired. The blast from the rifle was so strong the concussion from its firing threw up dust and dirt from the ground under the rifle’s long barrel. At first Givens thought he had missed and began to reload, then he noticed smoke begin to come from the hatches on the front of the halftrack. As he watched the back hatch popped open and a man emerged staggering and on fire. He took several steps then fell and moved no more.

After only a few minutes of battle the officers of the units in the attack realized that they weren’t receiving any commands from their commanders. As Bragg watched he saw his well laid out plans literally fall apart. He saw his 2 division commanders killed at the same time after they illogically had decided to be in the same place together on the battlefield. He then saw the heavy artillery and mortar fire began to decimate his troops with over a half mile still of ground to cover even before they reached the mountain. Bragg began cursing and screaming in frustration. “Order our men to fall back to their start point, immediately.” He said to his radio operator. Bragg would now have to reorganize his forces and rethink his attack plans.

Meanwhile as the events were unfolding along each flank of the army’s advance, Rommel’s main thrust up the valley continued. Rommel’s lead tanks were less than 2000 yards from the line when his Panzers started to explode without warning. In confusion the individual Panzer commanders turned on their smoke generators and immediately turned to the left and right, looking for targets. Panzers continued to explode and become immobilized after loosing treads. Rommel had realized in moments what were destroying his Panzers on the battlefield. He grabbed up his microphone, screaming into it. “Achtung! You are in a mine field! Do not turn or deviate from your courses, slowly reverse from the field and bring up the Pioneers to clean the mines out before we advance further. (pioneers were the Wehrmacht version of the us army’s combat engineers) Rommel’s tirade on the radio went largely unheard amid the confusion on the field. (most of the panzers in the attack were crewed by confederates) Some of the more experienced panzer crews did as ordered and were able to safely back out of the hidden minefield.

Hours later the Panzers who could, had fled the field and the pioneer units, supported by a few units of SS infantry were slowly clearing the field. A deep droning hum began to be heard from the north. Infantry and Panzer crews alike looked into the sky at the familiar noise. Far above them and in V shaped formations flew over 100 Boeing B-17 Heavy Bombers of the USAAF, (or United States Army Air Corps). Rommel scanned the sky, looking for his Luftwaffe Planes that were to be there to protect his forces from just this event, yet he saw none, just remembering that the massive air battle hours before had chased his planes from the sky. Rommel quickly radioed his forces to turn around and head for the nearest tree line. It was the only thing he could think of to save his forces from the carpet bombing he knew was moments away. He had also just learned that his flank forces had also failed in their objectives. Resigned that he would have to discontinue his advance until he could make new plans, he turned to issue the orders to fall back and dig in on tree covered ground to try get the maximum effect from what forces he had left.