Whilst Tobruk was being attacked, the second raid, Operation
Bigamy, would target Benghazi. This group, dubbed Force X, would comprise
Stirling himself leading L Detachment of 1st SAS marching in 40-odd jeeps,
supported by two LRDG patrols (S1 and S2) with a further detachment of Royal
Marines. Their objectives were still substantial – to block the inner harbour,
sink ships and blast port installations. Mission accomplished, Force X would
retire only as far as Jalo Oasis and launch more raids over an intense,
three-week period.30 At one point, it was proposed to ferry in a full battalion
from Malta and throw in a couple of Honeys. This enlargement was, happily, soon
mainly forgotten.
Another LRDG patrol would guide a unit of the SDF (Sudan
Defence Force) to Jalo Oasis (then in enemy hands), on the night of 15/16
September, in Operation Nicety. It was thought the place was weakly held by
Italians and the SDF was to be beefed up with howitzers, anti-tank and AA guns.
The RAF would bomb Benghazi as well as Tobruk. Planes would sow a harvest of
dummy ‘parashots’ over Siwa, which would be ostensibly threatened by a feint
mounted by SDF. Two more LRDG patrols, led by Captain Jake Easonsmith, would
also attack Barce, purely their affair. This merest of mere sideshows would be
the only successful operation.
Lieutenant Colonel Unwin would lead 11th Battalion Royal
Marines in the amphibious assault. The CO, a mature officer recalled to
service, was described as ‘taciturn but a good leader, bold in nature and
concerned to turn 11 RM into an aggressive commando force’. His battalion had
endured a frustrating war. They’d been raised as part of the Mobile Naval Base
Defence Organization (MNBDO). Their function was to provide and secure
temporary naval havens wherever the need should arise. Employment had been
found for them on Crete in the superb anchorage of Suda Bay, but 11th Battalion
had arrived too late for this deployment; a blessing as it turned out after the
skies over Crete darkened with General Karl Student’s Fallschirmjäger.
Throughout the remainder of 1941, the marines trained around
the Bitter Lakes, possibly once an extended finger of the Red Sea, but they
spent a depressing amount of their time guarding Morscar Barracks. In 1942 they
spent long periods at Haifa, a crucial port and link to the lifeline of
Anglo-Iranian oil. On 15 April they finally went to war in earnest when Unwin
led a company sized force in an amphibious raid on the small island of
Kuphonisi off the south-east tip of occupied Crete.
Their mission was to destroy an Axis wireless station. It
became very lively but they got the job done and left the place wrecked. An
enemy collaborator in the pleasing form of an ample swine was made captive (POW
= ‘pig of war’). This was rich booty indeed. Ironically, the codes and ciphers
they’d filched had already been cracked, but the marines’ larceny prompted the
enemy to change these.
The marines trained aboard the two Tribal Class destroyers
Sikh and Zulu. These were larger type destroyers but they were well above
reasonable capacity when 200 marines and their boats were embarked.33
Land-based fitness training took place in Palestine, Trans-Jordan and Egypt.
The men were strong and they were ready. The difficulty lay in how they might
be got ashore. Clearly, this is the critical element in any amphibious
operation, and has exercised commanders since the Siege of Troy. The plans for
Waylay had favoured purpose built timber craft as opposed to ships’ boats. On
paper this made sense. In practice it did not, as Major Mahoney recalled:
The selected small craft dumb lighters towed by small
powered craft, and these small three ply power boats with their dumb lighters
were all the contemplated boats for the landing. They were pathetically slow
and subjected mainly to fouled propellers in shallow waters during exercises.
Nobody liked the boats, as Gunner Wilson stated:
We first practiced the landings at Cyprus with these
special boats built in Lebanon, and the ‘Sikh’ could carry about half a dozen
of these I think. They were built with green Lebanon wood and were extremely
fragile and far from handy … As far as I can remember they were not very
long, about fifteen to sixteen feet and very lightly built of wood on steel
frames.
Here lay the problem, the fatal flaw. The concept for
getting the marines ashore was wrong from the start, as it involved cheap nasty
little boats, barely seaworthy in calm water, far less so in rough. This
tactical design failure would come back to haunt the execution of Operation
Agreement. The marines did not fail, but these shoddy excuses for landing
craft, or ‘shoeboxes’, did for them as surely as any Axis guns.
This was bad, but the security situation was worse, as
Fitzroy Maclean remembered:
For obvious reasons, secrecy was vital, and only a very
small number of those taking part in the operations were told what their
destination was to be. But long before we were ready to start there were signs
that too many people knew too much. At Alexandria a drunken marine was heard
boasting in a canteen that he was off to Tobruk; a Free French officer picked
up some startling information at Beirut; one of the barmen at the hotel, who
was generally thought to be an enemy agent, seemed much too well informed.
Worse still, there were indications that the enemy was expecting the raids and
taking counter measures.
If surprise was the key, then so was secrecy. If the enemy
got wind of the plan, the game was effectively up. That Tobruk was a likely
target required no hint of genius. Intelligence is at the heart of all
successful operations. So far the Allies, thanks to the brilliance of the
Bletchley code-breakers, were doing rather well. The arrival of Rommel in the
North African Theatre coincided with the establishment of a special signals
link to Wavell and Middle East Command in Cairo. Hut 3 at Bletchley could now transmit
reports directly to the GOC. Ultra intelligence was not able to identify
Rommel’s immediate counter-offensive, but Hut 6 had broken the Luftwaffe key
now designated ‘Light Blue.’ Early decrypts revealed the concern felt by OKH
(Oberkommando des Heeres) at Rommel’s maverick strategy and indicated the
extent of his supply problems.
Though the intercepts were a major tactical gain in
principle, the process was new and subject to delay to the extent that they
rarely arrived in time to influence the events in the field during a highly
mobile campaign. Equally, Light Blue was able to provide some details of Rommel’s
seaborne supplies but again in insufficient detail and with inadequate speed to
permit a suitable response from either the RN or RAF.
Then, in July 1941 a major breakthrough occurred. An Italian
navy cipher, ‘C38m’, was also broken, and the flood of detail this provided
greatly amplified that gleaned from Light Blue. Information was now passed not
just to Cairo but to the RN at Alexandria and the RAF on Malta. Every care, as
ever, had to be taken to ensure the integrity of Ultra was preserved. Jim Rose,
one of Bletchley’s air advisors, explains:
Ultra was very important in cutting Rommel’s supplies. He
was fighting with one hand behind his back because we were getting information
about all the convoys from Italy. The RAF were not allowed to attack them
unless they sent out reconnaissance and if there was fog of course they
couldn’t attack them because it would have jeopardised the security of Ultra,
but in fact most of them were attacked.
Ultra thus contributed significantly to Rommel’s supply
problem. On land a number of army keys were also broken; these were designated
by names of birds. Thus it was ‘Chaffinch’ that provided Auchinleck with
detailed information on DAK supply shortages and weight of materiel including
tanks. Since mid-1941 a Special Signals Unit (latterly Special Liaison Unit)
had been deployed in theatre. The unit had to ensure information was
disseminated only amongst those properly ‘in the know’ and that, vitally,
identifiable secondary intelligence was always available to mask the true
source.
Experience gained during the Crusader offensive indicated
that the best use of Ultra was to provide detail of the enemy’s strength and
pre-battle dispositions. The material could not be decrypted fast enough nor
sent on to cope with a fast changing tactical situation. At the front,
information could be relayed far more quickly by the Royal Signals mobile
Y-Special Wireless Sections and battalion intelligence officers, one of whom,
Bill Williams, recalled:
Despite the amazing speed with which we received Ultra,
it was of course usually out of date. This did not mean we were not glad of its
arrival for at best it showed that we were wrong, usually it enabled us to tidy
up loose ends, and at least we tumbled into bed with a smug confirmation. In a
planning period between battles its value was more obvious and one had the
opportunity to study it in relation to context so much better than during a
fast moving battle such as desert warfare produced.
Wireless in the vastness of the desert was the only
effective mode of communication, but wireless messages are always subject to
intercept. Bertie Buck’s Jews from Palestine provided specialist skills. Most
were German in origin and understood only too well the real nature of the enemy
they faced. The Germans had their own Y Dienst (Y Service) and the formidable
Captain Seebohm, whose unit proved highly successful.
The extent of Seebohm’s effectiveness was only realized
after his unit had been overrun during the attack by 26th Australian Brigade at
Tell el Eisa in July 1942. The captain was a casualty and the raiders
discovered how extensive the slackness of Allied procedures actually was. As a
consequence the drills were significantly tightened. If the Axis effort was
thereby dented, Rommel still had a significant source from the US diplomatic
codes, which had been broken and regularly included data on Allied plans and
dispositions, the ‘Black Code’.
Reverses following on from the apparent success of Crusader
were exacerbated, as Bletchley historians confirm, by ‘a serious misreading of
a decrypt from the Italian C38m cipher’. Hut 3 could not really assist the
British in mitigating the defeat at Gazala or, perhaps worse, the surrender of
Tobruk. This was one which Churchill felt most keenly as ‘a bitter moment.
Defeat is one thing; disgrace is another’.
Until this time it had taken Bletchley about a week to crack
Chaffinch, but from the end of May, the ace code-breakers were able to cut this
to a day. Other key codes ‘Phoenix’ and ‘Thrush’ were also broken. Similar
inroads were made against the Luftwaffe. ‘Primrose’, employed by the supply
formation and ‘Scorpion’, the ground/air link, were both broken. Scorpion was a
godsend: as close and constant touch with units in the field was necessary for
supply, German signallers unwittingly provided a blueprint for any unfolding
battle.
On the ground 8th Army was increasing the total of mobile Y
formations, whilst the intelligence corps and RAF code-breakers were getting
fully into their stride.40 None of these developments could combine to save the
Auk, but Montgomery was the beneficiary of high level traffic between Rommel
and Hitler, sent via Kesselring (as the latter was Luftwaffe). The Red cipher,
long mastered by Bletchley, was employed. Monty had already predicted the
likelihood of the Alam el Halfa battle, but the intercepts clearly underscored
his analysis.
By now the array of air force, navy and army codes
penetrated by Bletchley was providing a regular assessment of supply, of
available AFVs (Armoured Fighting Vehicles) and the dialogue of senior
officers. The relationship between Rommel and Kesselring was evidently
strained. Even the most cynical of old sweats, Bill Williams, had cause to be
impressed: ‘he [Montgomery] told them with remarkable assurance how the enemy
was going to be defeated. The enemy attack was delayed and the usual jokes were
made about the “crystal-gazers”.’ A day or two later everything happened
according to plan. Ultra was dispelling the fog of war.
In some ways, the Desert War provided the coming of age for
the Bletchley Park code-breakers, as intelligence officer Ralph Bennett
explains:
Until Alam Halfa, we had always been hoping for proper
recognition of our product … Now the recognition was a fact and we had to go on
deserving it. I had left as one of a group of enthusiastic amateurs. I returned
to a professional organisation with standards and an acknowledged reputation to
maintain.
By the time of Agreement, the Allies were getting ahead in
the intelligence and ciphers game. What would let them down, and what to some
extent remains controversial, was the apparent total lack of secrecy
surrounding planning and preparation for the mission.
Fitzroy Maclean was not the only one hearing rumours. J. J.
Fallon, a Royal Marine, recalled ‘friends telling me their destination; it was
equally common knowledge in the cafes and bars together with the clubs
frequented by servicemen’. On 2 September, Lieutenant Colonel Unwin had
dispatched a corporal of his 11th Battalion from Haifa to the combined training
centre at Kabret to pick up some kit. Later that same day, the wretched NCO was
overhead gabbling in the NAAFI (Navy, Army and Air Force Institute). He had
recounted details of a supply convoy he passed, talked about the gear he had
transported and where it was going. He confided that a big ‘op’ was imminent
involving destroyers and hundreds of marines. He speculated this was an
outflanking expedition aimed at Halfaya and more. He soon found himself in very
serious bother, but the damage may have been done.
‘Loose talk cost lives’ – an always true wartime saying, and
yet to what extent loose talk compromised the operation is very hard to judge.
Gossip generally doesn’t leave traces in any archives. Marines were warned not
to appear on deck in their battledress while the destroyers were berthed at
Alexandria. This was probably too little and far too late.45 Stirling
emphatically denied any leak emanating from his SAS, Guy Prendergast would have
been equally vehement on behalf of LRDG, and both would very probably have been
right. Those at the sharp end know their lives depend on secrecy. It’s those
behind who are never at risk who might blab.
Stirling was adamant that the problem was to be found in the
clubs and bars of Cairo. David Lloyd Owen warned Haselden that the bazaars were
buzzing and the latter agreed, though he was hopeful the Axis would not have
picked up sufficiently on the chatter. Rear Admiral L. E. H. Maund, serving
with combined operations, was more specific in his allegations. He asserted
that security within LRDG HQ at Kufra was lax and details of the mission were
being openly discussed there, and that the presence of SIG personnel in German
gear was common knowledge.
At the other end of the operational zone, talk at Haifa
focused on the marines. Gossip breeds rumour, which leads to speculation and
debate, practically as good as a signed copy of the operational orders for any
lurking Axis agents. Moving the entire contingent, men, ships and supplies to
Kabret, which could be effectively sealed off, was considered and then
rejected. A New Zealand officer stationed at the divisional base outside of
Cairo was apparently heard openly discussing the operation.
There was an element of comic opera when laundry-men bringing
the men’s shirts back aboard the ships were demanding immediate settlement ‘as
you go to Tobruk’! This was hardly calming. Did the Axis in fact know? This is
uncertain. There is some anecdotal evidence suggesting a heightened awareness,
but no specific proof that security in Tobruk was beefed up to any extent.
Surely if the enemy did know, then Haselden’s party would never have passed
through the wire unchallenged, as they were to do. The Operational History is
emphatic that there is no evidence of Axis foreknowledge, and nothing of the
actual events suggests they were in any way primed.
Nonetheless, this was potentially very bad. Despite the
Allies’ capacity for successful eavesdropping and accurate reporting, knowledge
of the actual garrison strength at Tobruk was very thin indeed, and based, as
it appeared, mainly upon wishful thinking. It was estimated that the Italians
might have a weak brigade with perhaps a battalion of Germans. Optimistically,
it was suggested that most of these would be bivouacked some way above and
outside the town. Nor was it considered likely the Axis possessed sufficient MT
(motor transport) to bring their men in.
If information on troop strengths was scanty, assessments of
attack aircraft available both from the Luftwaffe and Regia Aeronautica were
far more accurate. Intelligence suggested the latter could deploy some 30
Macchi 200 fighters from El Adem and Tobruk aerodromes and two dozen torpedo
bombers at Derna, with some Ju 88s and Me110s. Another 30 Ju 87 Stukas could be
scrambled from Sidi Barrani and be on target within the hour.
Within a couple of hours’ flying time, the Germans could
fill the skies with planes from Crete and other airfields, an offensive total
of some 130 aircraft. The raiders would be at high risk during daylight, even
if they could take and mount the port’s complement of AA guns. The marines had
been blandly assured that the RAF had the matter in hand. There was no detail
on this and Air Marshal Tedder’s* objections to the whole scheme were based on
the lack of Allied fighter cover. This planning gap was to produce fearful
consequences.
What would be of considerable value to the mission was up to
date aerial reconnaissance. If the planners could get their hands on a full
photographic survey in 1:16.800 scale this would reveal the extent of any new
defences, new dumps and camps, enhanced transport and railway links, and, as a
useful bonus, would corroborate (or show the lack of) the accuracy of current
maps. This intelligence would be a tremendous boon, and Brigadier George Davy
entreated the RAF to oblige via their Photographic Reconnaissance Unit (PRU) on
30 August. His request came with a health warning in that increased air traffic
over the port might alert the enemy. In any event the PRU was too busy to
comply: as the commanding officer put it, ‘the existing operational commitments
of PRU aircraft can barely be met with present resources … I cannot place the
demand for special photography of the Tobruk area on the highest priority from
any given date.’
This was not helpful, but such a recce might not have
provided much useful information anyway. The photos would have enabled the
planners, and therefore the participants, to build up a better picture, but it
appears unlikely this would have had an impact on the final outcome. Training
and preparation were in the event inadequate, the landing boats were totally
unsuitable and the entire scheme hopelessly over-reliant on a series of
disconnected elements coming together.
Unwin’s marines would deploy an HQ section with
communications detachment, A, B and C companies of the 11th, an MG (machine
gun) platoon, mortar platoon, attached gunners, sappers and medics. All would
wear light desert kit with commando boots and carry bare rations and water.
This was ideal fighting gear, and having everyone dressed the same would reduce
the risk of ‘blue on blue’ incidents. Additional stores of ammunition (100,000
rounds of .303, 100 3-inch mortar rounds, 200lb of gun-cotton slabs with 50
primers) were to be off-loaded on No. 4 jetty by late morning.
Before a single marine was able to come ashore, the landing
beach would be marked by an SBS detachment using Folbots. Lieutenant Kirby was
in charge of the canoeists who, with their boats, would be carried on the
submarine Taku. They would ship out from the sub at 0130 hours and Taku would
signal the destroyers at 0200 hours that the SBS team was safely ashore. Once
on the beach at Mersa Mreira, Kirby would set up the landing lights: one would
be placed on the eastern flank of the cove entrance, the other half way down
the passage on the same side. Two long flashes would be sent out every two
minutes from NE to NW from 0245 hours and keep flashing till the landing boats
were safely in. A red light meant all clear; white spelled danger.
Both destroyers would disembark their marines in the small
lighters, strings of which would be pulled by the motorized launches. Marines
were to be ashore at Mersa Mreira by 0330 hours, sorted, formed and moving on
their objectives within 45 minutes. It was A Company’s job to secure the outer,
west-facing perimeter. C Company would move against the coastal gun positions
at Mengar Shansak, taking these and German AA guns alongside. Having
neutralized these they would probe westwards, rolling up the outer batteries
till they had reached the No. 4 jetty. This would allow the sappers to begin
their work of destruction. The mortars would go with C Company, but could be
retrieved by battalion HQ to attack enemy positions wherever they needed
battering.
While A and B companies were thus gainfully employed, B
Company would head straight for the town centre, sweeping up AA positions en
route. This done, they’d look to the ravaging of the MT workshops and
facilities. Once the Argylls were put ashore on the eastern flank from Force
C’s MTBs, they would reinforce the western perimeter. C Company of the marines
would redeploy in support, leaving three full companies to hold the rim. B
Company of the marines would support the Scots but, at the same time, were
tasked to effect the liaison with Haselden’s Force B. The demarcation line
between the seaborne units and Force B would be the road that linked the
hospital to the western extremity of the quays. Essentially, the regular
infantry, beefed up by the Fusiliers’ MG platoon, would secure the area whilst
the specialists continued blowing things up.
Part of the intended booty comprised the numerous SFs or
Siebel Ferries; squat, square and ungainly, these workaday lighters were ideal
for the movement of supplies from ship to shore. They each carried their own
light AA guns and it was hoped to net at least ten of them. Those that could be
cut out were to be dispatched eastwards, and those that couldn’t were to be
sunk to the bottom of the harbour. Once the blowing up was finished, Force B
would send up a multi-coloured flare, a signal for the British ships and MTBs
to enter the port, confirmed by radio. Casualties would either be shipped out
to the destroyers by captured ferry or, if too badly wounded, handed over to
the Italian hospital. By 1900 hours the entire force was to be up and away.
With their initial, vital mission complete, the SBS team
would pitch in with the marines targeting the harbour and cutting out the
German lighters. Taku, having launched her cargo, would steam clear at top
cruising speed and stand to some 40 miles offshore. Once the port itself was
secure, this would be the trigger for the two destroyers to enter. Both Sikh
and Zulu had been cannily camouflaged to look like Italian craft. Once they got
into the harbour, they would list over to one side and pump oil, accompanied by
ample outpourings of black smoke; the guns would be depressed and upper decks
kept clear.
The purpose of all this mummery would be to give the
impression the destroyers were already crippled and out of action. This, it was
fervently hoped, would be sufficient to persuade any nosey Stukas that they
weren’t viable or hostile targets. Some would argue Allied fighter cover might
have served rather better. This was all both very complicated and
inter-dependent. And this was just Force A. The marines could not accomplish
their part without the other two main elements fulfilling theirs.
John Haselden, often viewed as the prophet of Operation
Agreement, would lead Force B. This was the stuff of Henty. The unit would
attack from the landward side after an epic desert crossing. The colonel’s
friend and admirer David Lloyd Owen, with Y1 Patrol of the LRDG, would guide 83
commandos from D Squadron Special Service Group, commanded by Major Colin
Campbell of the London Scottish. The raiders, with added detachments of
gunners, sappers and signallers, would be crammed into eight 3-tonners. LRDG
would rely on their tested and more nimble Chevrolets. Lieutenant Poynton, the
RA (Royal Artillery) officer, had a tough assignment; he and his very modest
squad were expected to man the captured guns while Lieutenant Barlow would look
to AA defence. Bill Barlow had in fact served during the siege of Tobruk, so
possessed considerable personal knowledge, likely to be an invaluable asset.
The SBS contributed Lieutenant T. B. Langton, an ex-Irish
Guards officer, who as well as being adjutant had the vital task of signalling
to Force C, the MTB-borne detachment offshore, that the vital cove had been
secured. Without this confirmation they could not land. Lieutenant Harrison
commanded the sappers, charged as ever with the blowing up of things, and
Lieutenant Trollope led the signals section. The team also fielded a lone
representative of the RAF, Pilot Officer Aubrey L. Scott, responsible for
liaison.
Bertie Buck with Lieutenant David Russell of the Scots
Guards was in charge of the tiny SIG squad. As they had previously at Derna,
the SIG troopers would pose as German guards, the commandos their POWs. This
ruse, it was hoped, would get them through the perimeter wire. If they were
closely challenged, the SIG would be close enough to the sentries to ensure
they caused no further difficulties. Russell, like Buck, was a fluent German
speaker.
Peter Smith, incorrectly, lists two further British
officers, a Captain Bray and Lieutenant Lanark. These men did not in fact
exist. Gordon Landsborough in his 1956 classic Tobruk Commando assigns these
names to Buck and Russell. At the time of Smith’s writing, certain War Office
restrictions still applied and the use of these noms de guerre was a necessary
literary fiction. Likewise, Landsborough lists the four other ranks as Corporal
Weizmann (real name Opprower), privates Wilenski (probably Goldstein), Berg
(30777 Private J. Rohr or Roer) and Steiner (10716 Corporal Hillman 1 SAS).
There was also a Private Rosenzweig.
The SIG behaved, spoke and were equipped as Germans; their
love letters, carefully written, were also in German. Opprower called his
fictitious girlfriend Lizbeth Kunz, in fact an ardent Nazi and near neighbour
of his before he fled the Fatherland.56 Buck tested his men relentlessly. Their
cover stories had to stand up, though none could be in any doubt as to their
likely fate if they fell into Axis hands. After the previous debacle, the
Germans were aware of the unit’s existence. As a bonus, Buck did entertain
hopes, in Stanley Moss/Patrick Lee Fermor style, of seizing a German general
who had a billet in the town!
This was the reason Buck took only one other officer and
five soldiers with him. The bluff really needed around a dozen to look totally
convincing. Operation Agreement did not succeed, but the SIG did. Their role in
the mission was absolutely critical. If the bluff failed, if Force B had to
fight their way in, the whole plan would be unravelling from the start. As a
sub-unit, they kept themselves apart; the commandos frankly preferred this.
Since the earlier betrayal, the whole unit was looked on with suspicion.
Haselden had his own pet project once inside the wire, which would involve
releasing the thousands of Allied POWs who it was believed were being held in
large holding areas (‘cages’) inside the defences. Popski was cynical from the
start, or perhaps this was providential hindsight; success, as they say, has a
thousand fathers, but failure is always an orphan!
So much for land and sea: what of operations in the skies?
The RAF was due to appear overhead at 2130 hours on D1 and the raid would
continue to 0330 hours on D2, though no flares would be dropped after 0100
hours. It would be massive, one of the biggest of the Desert War. The northern
flank would get the heaviest pounding, and even once the raid was ended a
number of planes would stay in the air above the harbour until 0500 hours to
keep the AA guns and radar fully diverted. It was hoped, as mentioned, that the
fury of the bombardment would drown the noisy approach of Force C’s MTBs.
Another job for Force B’s signaller was to set up a marker
at Mersa Umm Es Sciausc. This was a very large triangle with sides 20 yards
long, lit by three glim lamps with the signal ‘OK’ being flashed from an Aldis.
Once this was sighted, the planes would return their acknowledgement ‘TOC’ and
then transmit the codeword for success, ‘Nigger’ (this was considered an
acceptable term at the time), to Captain Micklethwait. The RAF also hoped to
bomb other Axis airfields along the coast and drop a few bombs on Crete for
good measure (Crete was subsequently taken off the hit-list as a target too
far, given the resources available).
Admiral Harwood, whose reduced fleet bore the lion’s share
of eventual losses, described the operation as ‘a desperate gamble’. He
acquiesced because he felt he had no choice, yet one feels his predecessor, the
brilliant Admiral Cunningham, would have rejected the whole business. Operation
Agreement, like other strategic failures grew and acquired an irresistible
forward momentum all of its own. Wise counsels were not sought or heeded.
Subsequent, equally ill-judged intervention in the Dodecanese in 1943 was
another example of hasty and inadequate planning, as was, most clearly, the
Arnhem disaster the following year.
Yet not all were necessarily caught up in the unbridled
enthusiasm for Agreement. On 29 August, the joint planners published a very
sober assessment of the likely consequences, not of failure but of success. The
overall effect on the Axis’s maintenance position if the capacity of Benghazi
was curtailed would be minimal unless Tobruk was effectively neutralized. Raids
carried out in the Jebel Akhdar would have little beneficial effect, as the
enemy had moved the bulk of his operations and supply eastwards. Substantial
reserves had been accumulated both inside Tobruk and to the east, enough for up
to a fortnight if normal traffic and supply through the port, measured daily,
matched consumption. Assuming that the harbour could not be effectively blockaded
and thus denied to the enemy, it would be unlikely to remain out of use for any
more than a week and any lighters lost could be replaced. At best, then, the
operation, if it achieved its objectives, would inconvenience the Axis for a
very short time only and oblige them to live off their stores.59 In the light
of so downbeat an assessment, the overall worth of the operation was
questionable from the outset. Derring-do is laudable and boosts morale, but
only if it produces tangible results.
