Freddie now made what proved to be a significant contribution to the battle by deploying a ruse to deceive the Germans. All the units in the desert were equipped with ‘going maps’ showing the surface conditions, which varied from gravel, providing a firm and fast base for vehicles, to soft sand, which was next to impassable, with variable conditions in between. Freddie arranged for a false ‘going map’ to be produced, on which one area running across a route which Monty did not wish the Germans to take was shown as bad going, whilst an area of very soft sand south of the ridge was shown as satisfactory for tracked vehicles. This was then left in a rucksack in a scout car, which was ‘blown up’ on a mine near an enemy position, its crew being evacuated intact. The car was duly ransacked and it was discovered by a subsequent patrol that the map had disappeared.

Rommel launched his offensive in great strength at 23.00 on 30 August from the position anticipated by ULTRA, where a very strong force consisting of the Afrika Korps of 15 and 21 Panzer Divisions, together with 90 Light Division and the Ariete and Littorio Divisions began to move through the British minefields. Initially, 7 Armoured Division put up resistance, before withdrawing to the east, while 4 Armoured Brigade’s Stuart tanks harassed the right flank of the Afrika Korps as it turned north. The much improved liaison with the RAF now came into its own as a force of Wellington bombers attacked the Axis troops when they were still tied up in the minefields, scoring immediate successes when General Nehring, commander of the Afrika Korps, was badly wounded and Major General von Bismarck, commander of 21 Panzer Division, was killed along with his chief of staff.

Freddie was woken just after midnight to be told that the attack was under way and went immediately to inform Monty ‘I told him what was happening and all he said was “Excellent, excellent,” and then turned over and went to sleep, breakfasting at his usual time.’¹

By mid-afternoon on 31 August the Germans were heading directly for 22 Armoured Brigade, much as Monty had expected. The tank regiment furthest forward suffered significant damage and Roberts was forced to call on his reserve, but by the time that darkness fell, it was clear that the Germans had failed to make any serious penetration. On the following day they tried again, and 23 Armoured Brigade was brought forward to cover a perceived threat, but by that evening all the surviving enemy tanks had withdrawn out of range; of those left on the battlefield a number had become bogged down in soft sand after following the false ‘going map’. On the morning of 3 September Rommel decided to withdraw.

In accordance with Monty’s strict instructions, no pursuit by the British armour was attempted, but 2 New Zealand Division was ordered to cut off the Axis retreat, supported by a British infantry brigade. Whilst the New Zealand force had some success, the attack of the British brigade, inexperienced in the desert, was a disaster, and the Germans completed their withdrawal in reasonable order. With this exception the battle had been gone entirely to plan. It was a genuine victory, unlike Rommel’s withdrawal at the end of Operation CRUSADER, which was largely the result of serious supply problems.

Monty could now turn his attention to preparing Eighth Army for the set-piece offensive operation which he had already worked out clearly in his mind. In the first instance this meant training, invariably a vital ingredient in his recipe for success. Training Memorandum No. 1, issued shortly after his arrival in Egypt to his staff, to the corps commanders for onward transmission to their divisions and to the RAF, set out his ideas very clearly. After emphasizing close cooperation with the RAF from the start, it set out four ‘Basic Points’: the effective stage management of battles, which had to be understood by all officers; the requirement for individual unit and sub-unit efficiency, emphasizing in particular the need for a high standard of junior leadership; the inculcation of fighting spirit in all ranks and the use of battle drill. The last of these sometimes attracted criticism in that it could lead to the loss of initiative if followed too slavishly, but Monty made the point that it should be the servant and not the master of operations.

These four points were followed by two ‘Golden Rules’: first, if the situation was vague and indefinite, then reconnaissance, concentration of force and the possession of ground providing an advantage over the enemy were essential; second, gaining and keeping the initiative by vigorous offensive action was vital at all times.

Monty continued by emphasizing that divisions would in future fight as divisions and not in brigade groups, that their artillery would be centralized under one commander, and that infantry, artillery and anti-tank guns should be prepared to hold vital ground as ‘pivots’, allowing the armour to have greater freedom of action, all with the objective of dominating the battle area. He emphasized ‘the intimate cooperation of all arms’ in all formations, the effective exercise of command and control, which might demand the use of small tactical HQs, the absolute need for all troops to be able to operate at night and the duty of COs to train their own officers. He accepted that difficulties would arise during the implementation of his training regime, but concluded with the words, ‘bellyaching is definitely forbidden in Eighth Army’.

The emphasis on the role of the COs of individual units, and particularly those on the front line, was central to Monty’s philosophy. They were the lynch-pins around whom were developed his concepts of unit efficiency, officer training, junior leadership and fighting spirit. He had long thought that many of those in command at this level were too old for a modern war and, whilst in England, had ruthlessly weeded out the physically unfit. In Eighth Army he took the trouble to get to know not only the commanding officers of battalions and regiments, but also their seconds-in-command and the brigade majors of every brigade. He also began to make a note of those majors who had distinguished themselves in battle so that, when a unit CO was killed, wounded, proved unsatisfactory or was promoted, he would have his own ideas as to the succession. He insisted on all appointments of lieutenant colonel and above being approved personally by him, and thus a key member of his staff was the Deputy Assistant Military Secretary, who was responsible for coming up with recommendations and actioning all officer appointments. At Eighth Army this was Major C. A. R. ‘Shrimp’ Coghill, who would remain with him for most of the war.

The importance to Monty of lieutenant colonels was emphasized by his insistence on bringing them all into his confidence prior to a battle. As Charles Richardson was to say later:

Unlike the previous regime, he actually summoned all the officers taking part down to Lt. Col., and told them exactly how he wanted the battle to go, what their individual responsibilities were, how long the battle would last and so on and so on … Monty you may say over-simplified, but this was very effective for subordinate commanders because they had to follow a simple and well-mapped path throughout that battle.²

Alam Halfa was unquestionably Monty’s battle in its conception and outline planning, but the detailed dispositions had been made and the battle itself was controlled by Horrocks, who had performed extremely capably. On the other hand, Monty was not satisfied with Ramsden at XXX Corps, and he now asked for Oliver Leese, commanding Guards Armoured Division in the UK, to be sent out. Leese had been one of his students at Staff College and Monty had kept a close eye on his progress subsequently. His appointment as DCGS at HQ BEF on 10 May 1940, the very day that the Germans attacked in the West, had imposed a semblance of order on what Monty considered was a most unsatisfactory organization, and he was subsequently credited with devising the plan which resulted in the successful evacuation of the army at Dunkirk. With XXX Corps destined to play the key role in the forthcoming operation, Monty needed a trusted subordinate at its helm, and Leese fitted the bill admirably.

Monty was not so sure about the command of X Corps, the corps de chasse which John Harding had devised on the day of his arrival in Egypt. He had originally identified Horrocks for the role, as he had commanded an armoured division in Home Forces, but Horrocks had been persuaded by Dick McCreery, now Alexander’s Chief of Staff, that the job should go to McCreery’s fellow 12th Lancer, Herbert Lumsden, who had commanded an armoured division in the desert since late 1941. Monty, whose only experience of Lumsden was as the commander of his regiment of armoured cars in France in 1940, was not entirely convinced but against his better judgement he allowed himself to be swayed by Horrocks.³

The much vaunted corps de chasse would turn out to be a very different formation from that which Monty had originally conceived, partly through circumstance and partly because of the way in which it was used in due course. Of the four divisions identified by Harding, 2 New Zealand Division was required for the main infantry assault in Monty’s forthcoming battle, whilst 8 Armoured Division never had the chance to come up to full strength: it had lost its support group as a result of the general reorganization of armoured divisions in the summer of 1942, but never saw it replaced by an infantry brigade. One by one, other units – notably its armoured car regiment, one of its RE field squadrons and one of its field artillery regiments – were withdrawn to make up numbers elsewhere. This left 1 Armoured Division, from which Lumsden had been promoted, and 10 Armoured Division, the latter having only completed its conversion from horsed cavalry earlier that year.

It was soon evident that Lumsden and Monty were unlikely to see eye to eye. Their different approaches to armoured warfare were demonstrated after Alam Halfa, when Lumsden visited Alec Gatehouse, GOC of 10 Armoured Division, demanding to know why Rommel had not been pursued during his retreat. Gatehouse explained Monty’s explicit order to hold firm, which Lumsden refused to believe, leaving the meeting clearly angered. The differences of opinion between Monty and his armoured corps commander would emerge again at a more critical moment.

Matters were much happier when it came to the relationship with the RAF, especially after their performance at Alam Halfa. It is far from the truth to say that Auchinleck had never really understood the importance of ground/air cooperation: he enjoyed very good relations with his opposite number, as had Ritchie with his whilst in command of Eighth Army. He had, however, not accorded it the same priority as Monty, who had written at the beginning of Training Memorandum No. 1 that the air force staff should be brought in on all operations at the very beginning and that the air plan, involving the achievement of air superiority, reconnaissance, the bombing of enemy supply lines and the provision of ground support, required the closest coordination with the military plan.

The two most senior RAF commanders were to remain associated with Monty throughout the rest of the war, but what began as a congenial relationship was to sour dramatically over the next three years. The most senior airman was Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder, the Air C-in-C. Tedder had arrived in the Middle East in November 1940 as deputy to the then C-in-C, Air Chief Marshal Longmore, and had succeeded to the top job in June 1941. His experience of the theatre was thus immense and he had been highly successful in building up the air arm from a tiny force, largely equipped with obsolete aircraft, to one which was close to establishing air superiority over the Luftwaffe and the Italian Regia Aeronautica.

Monty’s own opposite number was the AOC Western Desert Air Force, Air Vice-Marshal Arthur ‘Mary’⁴ Coningham, a New Zealander responsible for all tactical operations in conjunction with Eighth Army. Coningham had set out clear priorities: first, to achieve air superiority, then to use that to destroy the enemy’s supply lines and finally to provide close support to the Army on the battlefield. Whilst Coningham was as wedded to cooperation as Monty, he jealously guarded the independence of the RAF and insisted on it taking its own decisions. Like Monty he was a prima donna, and their characters were predestined to clash before very long.

A third senior RAF officer would in due course become closer to Monty than either Tedder or Coningham and would remain his strong supporter when the others turned into critics. Air Commodore Harry Broadhurst had just arrived to be Coningham’s Senior Air Staff Officer, Freddie’s opposite number. Coningham had not wanted him in the role and neither had Tedder, but the Air Ministry had insisted, so the atmosphere was somewhat cool between them, especially when Broadhurst began to question Coningham’s continued focus on air superiority, which Broadhurst believed had already been achieved. Monty, on the other hand, who had met Broadhurst at a lecture at Army Air Command in the UK shortly before leaving for Egypt, had taken to him and welcomed him most warmly.

Monty’s determination to work hand-in-hand with the RAF had led directly to the siting of his HQ next to theirs at Burg el Arab, and it was there that a new level of close cooperation began, one which would stand the test of time. The GSO1 (Ops) and the Wing Commander (Ops) had their offices next to each other, using the same wireless and maps and relying on the same Intelligence; indeed, the arrangement of the caravans and tents also incorporated the G (I) offices. The improved communication paid dividends at Alam Halfa, during which Mainwaring and his opposite number proved its potential beyond doubt.

The key man on the Eighth Army team was Major Jock McNeill. A gunner by profession, McNeill had been appointed to command No. 2 Army Air Support Control (‘AASC’) in the UK in late 1941. The AASCs consisted initially of a GSO2 in command, a Captain (GS) and a Captain (Royal Signals) and approximately 70 men, over a third of whom were signallers. The latter operated wireless tentacles attached to the HQs of divisions and brigades. There was also a RAF signals section which operated a similar network connected to Air Liaison Officers (‘ALOs’) at the various airfields. McNeill’s 2 AASC had arrived in the Middle East when the Army was still on the Gazala Line. It had subsequently been enlarged by absorbing 5 AASC, and it was as 2/5 AASC that it was co-located with the Operations Rooms of Eighth Army and the Western Desert Air Force, effectively fulfilling the duties of what subsequently became the G (Air) branch.

The AASC at Army HQ dealt with target requests from its own signallers with the forward troops and also with changes in bomb lines, tactical reconnaissance reports, reports on enemy aircraft and reports from the RAF on the position of enemy tanks. When target requests were received, G (Ops) was immediately consulted on potential conflicts with current operations and the priorities for air support. Whilst this was happening a warning order was issued to the RAF wings which were placed on stand-by and in which ALOs were available to clarify the situation on the ground to their RAF colleagues. RAF (Ops) would then accept or refuse the target and, if accepted, would receive the estimated time of arrival of the strike from the Wing concerned, which would be transmitted to the originator of the request. The urgency of the requests meant that the messages were often sent in clear rather than code, in spite of the fact that the Germans might be listening in.

The system put in place by McNeill and his RAF colleagues worked well at Alam Halfa and, as the campaign unfolded, ground/air cooperation would steadily become more sophisticated. It would, however, be some time before the tactics were evolved which would go on to make a major impact in North-West Europe in 1944/5 and then only after some serious disagreements within the RAF.

One of Monty’s other concerns, the employment of the artillery, was also subject to radical change, following Kirkman’s arrival in early September⁵ to be his BRA. Kirkman was horrified by what he found, describing it later as ‘chaos’.⁶ Some divisions still retained brigade groups, with their artillery decentralized and their CRAs unsure at any one time where their units were. There was a serious shortage of wireless sets, so that communication was difficult and sometimes impossible. There was also little understanding of how to cooperate with the armour, not helped by the attitude of Lumsden and some of his divisional commanders. This had been to a significant extent the result of the poor performance of the British 2-pounder anti-tank gun, which had for some time lacked the velocity to penetrate German tanks. The result was that the British infantry wanted their own tanks, with their 75mm guns, to defend them against German attacks, whilst the tanks themselves preferred to be able to manoeuvre and not to be pinned down in static defensive positions. Now, however, the new 6-pounders, with a much improved performance, were arriving in large numbers to equip divisional anti-tank regiments, but there was as yet little understanding of the most effective tactics for deploying them.

Monty’s explicit instructions that divisions should fight as such and not be divided into brigade groups meant that Kirkman was able to reassert the authority of the CRAs over all the divisional artillery, but considerable training was required to ensure that the bad habits of the past were forgotten. This fitted in well with Kirkman’s overriding order from Monty, which was to ensure that the artillery plan for the forthcoming offensive battle was to be the best possible. Having issued this instruction, Monty never referred to it again. Kirkman raised a number of questions during the process, but Monty never once enquired how the plan was coming along, reposing complete faith in his BRA to do what was necessary.

Kirkman’s Royal Engineer counterpart, Fred Kisch, had a different set of problems, which revolved largely around how to tackle the minefields. Any frontal attack, which is just what Monty was proposing, would have to be delivered by the attacking infantry on cleared paths though the formidable defences and by the armour on corridors wide enough to take tanks and self-propelled guns. The general location of the enemy minefields was known, but the distribution of the mines was not, and these would, for the most part, have to be lifted by hand. There was a considerable body of experience available, but it had not been consolidated in any way for dissemination to the RE field squadrons who would have to carry out the job. Kisch called a conference of all the corps and divisional CRE’s, the upshot of which was the establishment near the Main HQ at Burg el Arab of the Eighth Army School of Mine Clearance, which held eight-day courses for as many sappers as possible.

A formal drill was introduced, including the use of mine detectors, techniques for lifting mines and laying tapes to mark safe passageways, as well as processes for delineating wider gaps and organizing both signposts and direction by Military Police to steer units through them. For the first time ‘flail’ tanks were introduced, albeit in small numbers. These were Matildas with drums attached to their fronts from which dangled wire ropes which, as the drums spun, detonated the mines. By the middle of October, most of those selected to be engaged in this highly dangerous work had passed through the School, which dramatically improved the performance of the mine-clearance teams.

Monty now had the HQ where he wanted it in order to prepare for the forthcoming battle and he was broadly satisfied with its composition. There was one missing element, however, which catered for the spiritual rather than the physical well-being of the Army. As the son of a bishop himself, he had very firm views on the value of religion at a time of war and he was determined that this should not be neglected. He believed that God was on his side and frequently alluded to Him in his Orders of the Day, leading one cynic to remark, ‘I see that the Almighty, from being “in support”, is now firmly “under command”!’⁷ Monty himself was to write later:

I also wanted a first-class chaplain. After considerable investigation we found the man I wanted in Hughes, who was the senior chaplain to a division. I never regretted that choice … He was the ideal of what an Army padre should be and became one of my greatest friends.⁸

Llewellyn Hughes had served in the Great War, during which he won the MC as an infantry officer, later becoming a Territorial Army chaplain. He was to stay with Monty for the rest of the war.