For the first time since Alam Halfa, ULTRA was absolutely precise as to both the composition of the enemy forces and the timing of their attack, but it did not specify the direction. Monty had at last succeeded in getting Bill Williams promoted as his GSO1 (Intelligence),¹ but Williams was in hospital in Tripoli at the time the news was received and it was actually decrypted by Joe Ewart, who was deputising for him.² On hearing what was afoot, Williams had himself discharged from hospital and flew back to Main HQ. Monty now relied on him to a significant extent and required intelligence briefings every day.

Whilst Monty maintained, at the time and later, that all his battles except one had gone to plan,³ in fact few did, but Medenine, like Alam Halfa, was certainly one of them. The key feature was a steep hill called Tadjera Khir, which became the pivot of Monty’s line, from which he could face attacks either from the north or the west. This was just as well, as when Rommel attacked on the morning of 6 March, he did so in force from the west. XXX Corps still comprised 7 Armoured Division, now with 201 Guards Brigade under command, 2 New Zealand Division and 51 Highland Division, but it had been strengthened by exchanging worn-out tanks with fresh ones from 1 Armoured Division. In addition to the field artillery of the three divisions and the corps, Monty was able to deploy some 600 6-pounder anti-tank guns, and it was these which effectively won the battle. The head-on attacks by the panzer divisions failed to achieve any penetration. The Germans lost 52 tanks, a third of their strength, the British none; as at Alam Halfa, the British armour was strictly forbidden from undertaking any pursuit. Rommel was forced to withdraw and, his health shattered by his experiences over the last four months, went on sick leave to Germany, never to reappear in Africa.

If Medenine had gone exactly to plan, the Battle of Mareth equally emphatically did not. Right from the start Monty planned assaults from two directions, but in Richardson’s words, ‘We could never get Monty to come clean as to which was the main thrust, he was keeping both options open.’⁴ Richardson himself thought that the frontal attack was Monty’s preferred option, to be carried out initially by the newly arrived 50 Division, which had not been involved at all in the pursuit to Tripoli. The bridgehead established by 50 Division would then be exploited by 4 Indian, 7 Armoured and 51 Divisions.

As at El Agheila, 2 New Zealand Division, augmented on this occasion by 8 Armoured Brigade, some additional artillery, an armoured car regiment and a newly arrived Free French force under Major General Philippe Leclerc, was to undertake a wide left hook. The division concentrated near Medenine and then followed a route which crossed the Matmata Hills through Wilder’s Gap, named after the Long Range Desert Group officer who had found it, then moved north along a route reconnoitred by the LRDG on the western side of the range. The whole formation was styled the New Zealand Corps and Freyberg was placed in overall command.

The frontal attack by 151 Brigade, which began on the night of 20/21 March, was a devastating failure, the British coming to grief in the Wadi Zigzaou, which turned out not only to have steep sides, but to be heavily mined and contain water from recent rains. A small but precarious bridgehead was established on the far side, but as Harry Llewellyn, who had gone right forward to get the best view, reported to Freddie, it had proved impossible to get any anti-tank guns over, leaving the infantry and the few Valentine tanks supporting them dangerously exposed to German counter-attacks. There was no option but to retreat, the first time this had happened since July 1942. Monty sent Henderson to 50 Division’s HQ to find out what was happening and he, too, returned with a gloomy report. With no bridgehead, a further attempt was deemed impossible for the time being.

Very early on the morning of 23 March Richardson was phoned by Leese’s BGS to be informed that there was a stalemate. For only the second time in the campaign, Freddie decided to wake Monty. A message was duly sent to Tac HQ, and Monty and Leese met at 02.00, following which Freddie was asked to go there immediately. He arrived at 07.00 to find a very different Monty from his usual confident self.⁵ ‘What shall I do, Freddie?’ he asked. Balance, which Monty insisted on maintaining at all times when fighting his battles, had vanished with 50 Division’s failure. Furthermore, the New Zealand Corps’ existence was now known to the Germans through aerial reconnaissance. Monty was briefly nonplussed and, more than at any other time in their relationship, he badly needed Freddie’s strong intellect and sound common sense. They discussed alternatives, with Freddie, who had never liked the frontal assault, strongly advising the reinforcement of Freyberg. He returned to Main HQ with instructions to effect this.

The revised plan was to send Horrocks, with X Corps HQ and 1 Armoured Division, to join Freyberg. This created some personal difficulty, as Freyberg and Horrocks were both lieutenant generals and both now corps commanders on a very narrow front. Freyberg, much older than and senior to Horrocks, was distinctly touchy and, when Horrocks arrived, he was given a chilly reception. Ever the diplomat, it was Freddie who helped to defuse the situation, writing a letter explaining what Monty wished to take place, addressing them jointly as ‘My dear Generals’ and enclosing a bottle of brandy for them to enjoy together. As the New Zealanders were technically an independent entity, with Freyberg responsible to his own government, the situation required very careful handling. Richardson was later to say that the operation was portrayed as ‘essentially a New Zealand enterprise but reinforced by General Horrocks’s intellectual contribution’.⁶

Freddie’s letter contained some news which was highly welcome, given that the force for Operation SUPERCHARGE (somewhat confusingly named only five months after the operation of the same name at El Alamein) was short of the artillery ammunition necessary to break through the narrow Tebaga Gap, where strong defences were now being prepared by the Germans. This was the conundrum most concerning Freddie, Richardson and the planners. Their solution was for the RAF to provide an entirely new kind of ground support, the first occasion on which a tactic was used which would transform the battlefield in the future.

At the end of January Coningham had been promoted to command the Allied Tactical Air Forces in North Africa, and his successor as AOC Desert Air Force was Harry Broadhurst. Broadhurst, who had become very close to Freddie as his opposite number,⁷ had accepted the criticisms by the Army of the RAF’s persistent failure to score hits on vehicles by virtue of its high-level bombing policy. He believed that it could do much better in future and asked Monty to supply a number of worn-out and captured vehicles on which his fighter squadrons could practise low-level attacks in the desert. The skills developed as a result by the pilots of the P-40 Kittyhawks, outclassed in their originally intended role as fighters by new models of the Messerschmitt Bf 109, but with good low-level characteristics, were first put to the test by harrying the German retreat from Medenine. Now they were to become a vital offensive instrument.

Broadhurst was effectively being asked to use his ground attack aircraft to replicate artillery during a major attack. These new tactics, which now incorporated the ‘cab rank’ system, whereby RAF officers in armoured cars close to the front line could call up air strikes very quickly, were initially unpopular both from above and below. Coningham stressed the inherent dangers to Broadhurst, sending his Senior Air Staff Officer to try to persuade him not to go ahead and to warn him of severe personal consequences if it all went wrong. At the more junior end, some of the Desert Air Force’s pilots called him a ‘murderer’. Broadhurst, to his great credit, stuck to his guns.

Having come up with the idea, Freddie sold it to Monty, as usual in a way which allowed him to adopt it as his own. The plans were then worked on in detail by Richardson and McNeill and were finally agreed with Broadhurst at an Army/Air conference on 24 March. Major Alex Wallace,⁸ who now succeeded McNeill in command of 2/5 AASC, flew up to the joint New Zealand/X Corps HQ with his RAF colleagues to brief the forward air controllers.

The attack went in at 16.00 on 26 March, with 16 squadrons of ‘Kittybombers’ attacking out of the late afternoon sun. In spite of some difficulties caused by a dust storm over the airfields, it was outstandingly successful, only 13 out of 400 planes being lost and huge numbers of German guns and armoured and soft-skinned vehicles destroyed. By nightfall on the following evening, the enemy was in retreat, not only from the positions directly attacked, but also from the main Mareth Line, in order to avoid being cut off.

These new tactics were the foundation of those which were later used to great effect, not only by the Desert Air Force in the Italian campaign, but also by the Second Tactical Air Force in North-West Europe. Coningham was still highly sceptical, but Monty and Freddie were delighted, the pilots were convinced and the relationship with the Desert Air Force was significantly enhanced.

Mareth was arguably Freddie’s finest hour in North Africa, when he pulled the chestnuts out of what had looked at one time like a disastrous fire. Monty himself recovered his poise very quickly, demonstrating as at El Alamein his willingness to change a plan which was not working.

The next defensive line was just north of El Hamma at Wadi Akarit. The wadi itself represented a very similar obstacle to Wadi Zigzaou, and there were two steep hill features inland with a narrow gap between them. In this case the door was unlocked by 4 Indian Division. Scarcely used at El Alamein, condemned to tidy up the battlefield thereafter and later assigned to stevedoring duties on the lines of communication, the division was seething with frustration by the time it arrived at Mareth. After the failure of the frontal assault Tuker persuaded Monty to allow him to carry out a short left hook through the Matmata Hills and, although it made little difference to the outcome, Monty was sufficiently impressed by the division’s mountaineering skills to repeat the exercise at Wadi Akarit. The silent attack on the night of 5/6 April by two Indian brigades resulted in their taking the left hand hill feature, Jebel Fatnassa, turning the Axis flank and allowing 50 Division through the gap, whilst the Highland Division fought its way across the right hand hill feature and the wadi, albeit taking heavy casualties. Main HQ also suffered an important loss: Fred Kisch, up with the forward sappers as was his custom, stepped on a mine and was killed instantly, to be greatly missed by his colleagues. At the more junior level, Peter Paget, one of the ‘Freddie Boys’ acting as a Liaison Officer with X Corps, was another fatality.

Shortly afterwards the first American troops were encountered, and three days later the forward patrols of Eighth Army met those of First Army, closing the line around the Axis forces. There was little love lost between the two armies, Eighth being encouraged by Monty to play up their run of successes, First weary after a winter of disappointment in the mountains. Sfax was taken on 10 April, Sousse on 12 April and, two days later, Eighth Army arrived in front of the last defensive position on the Allies’ right flank, at Enfidaville. A great opportunity to cut off the retreating Axis forces was missed when a joint British and American effort to penetrate through the Eastern Dorsale at Fondouk was foiled by a strong German defensive line, and the enemy withdrew in relatively good order.

The capture of Sfax was significant for Monty personally, as it enabled him to collect on a bet. During the pause at Tripoli he had been visited by Walter Bedell Smith, Eisenhower’s Chief of Staff. Monty assured the American that he would be in Sfax by 15 April, which Bedell Smith doubted. Monty asked if he would care to bet on this, to be assured by Bedell Smith that if he reached the town before that date and ahead of First Army, the Supreme Commander would let him have anything he wanted. Monty said that, in that case, what he wanted was his own personal B-17 Flying Fortress. He now sent a signal to Eisenhower, calling in the bet. Eisenhower was not amused, but had to honour it: the aircraft, complete with a USAAF crew, arrived on the following day. As a heavy bomber, it was in many ways a completely inappropriate aircraft to be used for transport purposes, but Monty was inordinately proud of it and used it extensively until it came to grief some months later.

Monty’s arrival at Sousse was notable for his being set up, unknown to him, by his high-spirited ADCs. The victorious liberator was invited to attend a ceremony at which the Mayor was to give a welcoming speech. A charming young lady was lined up to present the Eighth Army Commander with a bunch of flowers. Whilst making the arrangements, Poston and Henderson were asked what she should say and advised that the proper words would be ‘Will you kiss me?’ After much coaching the girl duly followed the script sufficiently clearly for Monty to understand the meaning and comply with the request. On being asked if she had accorded the same treatment to them, the ADCs assured Monty that the pleasure had been reserved for him alone!

Both 50 and 51 Divisions were now withdrawn from the front line as they had been earmarked for the invasion of Sicily. The commander of 50 Division, Major General J. S. ‘Crasher’ Nichols, was relieved of his command, Monty’s scapegoat for the failure of the frontal attack at Mareth. His successor was Sydney Kirkman, who had transferred recently to 18th Army Group as Alexander’s artillery adviser. Highly regarded as always by Monty, who some thought valued his advice less only than Freddie’s, his reward was to command a division and later a corps in action, the only former member of Monty’s staff to do so. The new BRA Eighth Army was Alan Hornby, formerly the CCRA of XIII Corps.

The mountains north of Enfidaville represented a formidable obstacle to Eighth Army. Two attacks were mounted on the Axis positions, the first by 2 New Zealand, 4 Indian and 7 Armoured Divisions on 19 April, which made very little ground, the second by the newly arrived 56 Division on the night of 28/29 April, which was repulsed with heavy losses. The division had only just arrived after a 3,200 mile journey from Iraq, and was not battle-worthy. Monty realized that there was little profit to be gained from hammering away on his front. On 18 April 1 Armoured Division had been sent to join First Army and, when Alexander and McCreery visited Monty at his HQ on 30 April, he proposed that 4 Indian Division, 7 Armoured Division and 201 Guards Brigade should follow them. McCreery had been suggesting this to Alexander for some time, but the C-in-C was reluctant to force such a move on his powerful subordinate. Now Monty was proposing just that: with Horrocks also going to First Army to replace the injured commander of IX Corps, he felt able to claim, without any real justification, much of the credit for the final victory in Tunisia.

By this time Monty had, in reality, lost interest in the North African campaign. Since late February he had been gradually drawn into the preparations for Operation HUSKY, the invasion and occupation of Sicily, and with no further role for him in action, his mind was now fully on that task. A planning team had been established in Cairo and Freddie, promoted to major general,⁹ was sent there on 15 April to take over, with Richardson appointed as BGS in his place. David Belchem, who had recently won a DSO in command of 1st Royal Tank Regiment in 7 Armoured Division, was recalled to become involved in the planning, arriving in Cairo at the end of April. He was followed by Graham and members of the Q (Plans) staff, including Oliver Poole, who had left Eighth Army to join the LRDG on the day before Monty’s arrival and now returned in a planning role. One by one, other key members of Eighth Army’s staff were also drawn off to join the team in Cairo until, with the end of hostilities in North Africa on 9 May, HQ Eighth Army was effectively divided into two, one a much reduced establishment responsible for administering the remaining components of the Army from Sousse and later Tripoli, the other a growing planning staff in Cairo. Tac HQ was disbanded and John Oswald, a lieutenant colonel since late 1942, when it was discovered that there was a place on the establishment for a GSO1 (Training),¹⁰ was put in charge of Main HQ at Sousse. Before very long he tired of the role and requested a return to regimental duty. As usual, Monty facilitated this and put his name in the little black book for future reference.

During the campaign, Monty had firmly established the command and control methodology which he would use for the rest of the war. For him it was above all vital to be closely in touch at all times with his corps and divisional commanders and, later in North-West Europe, with his army commanders. He could only do this by being physically close to them and by reposing complete confidence in his staff to put his outline plans into effect with the minimum of interference. The vital instrument of this methodology was the Tac HQ, which evolved considerably over time, although during the North African campaign it remained very small. After El Alamein all the operations, except Mareth, were undertaken by a single corps, so it was only necessary to be close to that corps’ HQ, and in practice, other than between Buerat and Tripoli, Tac was usually sited within walking distance of it. As far as divisional commanders were concerned it was relatively easy for Monty either to make frequent visits to them himself or to use his ADCs or one of Oswald’s GSO3s to do so, so there was no need to replace Carol Mather as a personal liaison officer. Freddie, on the other hand, needed Llewellyn and Paget to tell him what was happening at the front.

During and after the battle of Wadi Akarit, Eighth Army was visited by Brigadier Maurice Chilton, who had been instructed by the War Office to prepare a report on the functioning of its HQ. Chilton had been Monty’s BGS at South-Eastern Command in 1942, so knew him well. He was shortly to go to Home Forces HQ as a BGS and the objective of his visit was to gain as much useful information as possible on the workings of an army in action. This would be especially useful when 21st Army Group was split off from Home Forces, as was to happen shortly.

Chilton was critical of the split between Main and Tac HQs. He observed that, during the planning for the attack on Wadi Akarit, Main had been 80 miles behind Tac and that, although the distance had been reduced to a mere 10 miles by 7 April, it had lengthened again to 100 miles as the Army galloped forward to Sfax and Sousse. During the period from 8 to 13 April, there was actually no telephone contact at all between the two HQs. Chilton believed that this placed a considerable strain on Freddie, Miles Graham and Bill Williams, all of whom were forced to make daily journeys to visit Monty. He also pointed out that Monty’s advisers on armour, artillery, engineering and signals had to make a choice between remaining at Main HQ and out of touch with the Army Commander and the battle, locating at Tac HQ and out of touch with their own staff, and travelling between the two and out of touch with everybody for most of the time.¹¹

As far as Rear HQ was concerned, housing as it did the majority of the staff from the Q and A branches, although the aim was to have it as close to Main HQ as possible, Chilton accepted that it had an even greater need to be adjacent to the roadheads or ports for which it was responsible. The distances between the two varied from three miles, during the pause at Tripoli, to 200 miles when the Army was advancing fast.

Chilton reported that the staff themselves considered that the use of a permanent Tac HQ made their lives very difficult. He blamed the situation partly on the requirement for Main HQ to be located alongside the RAF HQ, which itself insisted on being close to its airfields. He thought that an improvement in radio communications would improve this situation, allowing the RAF to move further forward, and that the great advances of hundreds of miles which had characterized the advance from El Alamein to Enfidaville were unlikely to be replicated in future campaigns. If these issues could be satisfactorily resolved, he queried the need for a Tac HQ at all.

Monty, of course, changed nothing.