Von Mellenthin clicked his heels and formally handed over the report, then he explained his conclusions on the map. When he had done Kesselring said: “And all this is based on the report of a spy, you say?” “No, Field Marshal,” von Mellenthin said firmly. “There are confirming indications.” “You can find confirming indications for anything,” Kesselring said. Out of the comer of his eye von Mellenthin could see that Rommel was getting cross. Kesselring said: “We really can’t plan battles on the basis of information, from some grubby little secret agent in Cairo.” Rommel said: “I am inclined to believe this report.” Von Mellenthin watched the two men. They were curiously balanced in terms of power-curiously, that was, for the Army, where hierarchies were normally so well defined. Kesselring was C in C South, and outranked Rommel, but Rommel did not take orders from him, by some whim of Hit- ler’s. Both men had patrons in Berlin-Kessehing, the Luftwaffe man, was Goering’s favorite, and Rommel produced such good publicity that Goebbels could be relied upon to support him. Kesselring was popular with the Italians, whereas Rommel always insulted them. Ultimately Kesselring was more powerful, for as a field marshal he had direct access to Hitler, while Rommel had to go through Jodl; but this was a card Kessehing could not afford to play too often. So the two men quarreled; and although Rommel had the last word here in the desert, back in Europe–von Mellenthin knew-Kesselring was maneuvering to get rid of him. Rommel turned to the map. “Let us be ready, then, for a two-pronged attack. Consider first the weaker, northern prong. Sidra Ridge is held by the Twenty-first Panzer Division with antitank guns. Here, in the path of the British advance, is a minefield. The panzers will lure the British into the minefield and destroy them with antitank fire. If the spy is right, and the British throw only seventy tanks into this assault, the Twenty-first Panzers should deal with them quickly and be free for other action later in the day.” He drew a thick forefinger down across the map. “Now consider the second prong, the main assault, on our eastern 130 Ken Follett
flank. This is held by the Italian Army. The attack is to be led by an Indian brigade. Knowing those Indians, and knowing our Italians, I assume the attack will succeed. I therefore order a vigorous riposte. “One: The Italians will counterattack from the west. Two: The Panzers, having repelled the other prong of the attack at Sidra Ridge, will turn about and attack the Indians from the north. Three: Tonight our engineers will clear a gap in the minefield at Bir el-Harmat, so that the Fifteenth Panzers can make a swing to the south, emerge through the gap, and attack the British forces from the rear.” Von Mellenthin, listening and watching, nodded appreciation. It was a typical Rommel plan, involving rapid switching of forces to maximize their effect, an encircling movement, and the surprise appearance of a powerful division where it was least expected, in the enemy’s rear. If it all worked, the attacking Allied brigades would be surrounded, cut off and wiped out. If it all worked. If the spy was right. Kesselring iaid to Rommel: “I think you could be making a big mistake.” “That’s your privilege,” Rommel said calmly. Von Mellenthin did not feel calm. If it worked out badly, Berlin would soon hear about Rommel’s unjustified faith in poor intelligence; and von Mellenthin would be blamed for supplying that intelligence. Rommel’s attitude to subordinates who let him down was savage. Rommel looked at the note-taking lieutenant. “Those, then, are my orders for tomorrow.” He glared defiantly at Kesselring. Von Mellenthin put his hands in his pockets and crossed his fingers.
Von Mellenthin remembered that moment when, sixteen days later, he and Rommel watched the sun rise over Tobruk. They stood together on the escarpment northeast of El Adem, waiting for the start of the battle. Rommel was wearing the goggles he had taken from the captured General O’Connor, the goggles which had become a kind of trademark of his. He was in top form: bright-eyed, lively and con- THE KEY TO REBECCA 131