usatvline Chapter 23 Ochinlek
Chapter 23 Ochinlek
About 200 meters east of Montgomery's command post in Bog Arab is a two-story dormitory that was completed a month ago. The middle floor has a few larger apartments for senior officers.
The reason for this arrangement is that in desert regions, the layer that is not exposed to direct sunlight is the coolest.
But this is actually not very reasonable, because once the German "Arabic-speaking detachment" grasps this pattern, it can carry out targeted and precise elimination of senior officers.
British General Ochsinlake knew this, and at the same time, he did not want to be "special," so he chose the second tier of ordinary officers.
It's like an oven here during the day; the direct sunlight on the top floor conducts all the heat into the room.
The night was quite comfortable with a cool breeze.
Therefore, Ochinlek cherishes the night.
That night, when the clock on the table struck ten, General Ochinleck, dressed in his pajamas, sat in front of his drawing board, wielding a pencil in his hand, with a cup of black coffee made for him by his bodyguard Drake beside him.
(The image above shows British Field Marshal Ochsinlake, then a general, who enjoyed sketching and unsweetened black coffee. He was dismissed for refusing to carry out Churchill's unrealistic counter-offensive order, and was succeeded by Alexander and Montgomery, but historically, neither of them carried out Churchill's counter-offensive order. Rommel's assessment of him was: "Ochsinlake is the British army opponent I admire most.")
His paintings depict the night scene in the desert.
The 58-year-old general looked dejected. He knew he didn't want to leave, which undoubtedly confirmed his failure and tarnished his resume.
As he was drawing, he became frustrated and threw the pencil into the pencil holder, picked up his coffee, and walked to the window.
He needed some fresh air to calm himself down.
Suddenly, the sound of artillery fire came from the front. Ochinlek turned around sharply, quickly opened the door, and looked in the direction from which the sound of artillery fire came.
"General," Drake, who was guarding the door, reminded him, "you should rest."
Ochinlek said "Oh," and then added, "Yes, this is no longer my concern. It's time to rest."
Two weeks ago, he was relieved of his post as Commander-in-Chief of the Middle East and Commander of the Eighth Army, and he has not yet shaken off this role.
He slowly walked back to his room, sat on the edge of the bed for a while in a daze, and finally put down his unfinished coffee, lay down, and told himself as he turned off the light: "Let go, forget all of this, pretend it never happened."
However, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep, his mind filled with images of the chaos of the withdrawal and the media's repeated reports of failure.
Just as his thoughts were in turmoil, Drake's report came from outside the door: "General, I think you might need to know this: our army has won."
"What?" Ochinlek threw off the blanket and sat up, turning on the light and looking at the clock on the table. "But it's not even an hour before the war starts. How did he do that?"
Is Montgomery really the war genius people say he is?
He easily defeated Rommel as soon as he became the army group commander.
Unbelievable!
Drake entered after receiving permission:
"It wasn't Montgomery, but an oil salesman named Thorne."
"He used the salt marshes as a trap to bury a German armored regiment that had infiltrated. The entire regiment, it is said, had only a little over two hundred survivors."
"And none of the twenty-odd maintenance soldiers that Thorne led were injured or killed; only one of them sprained his ankle during the retreat!"
Ochinlek was so surprised that his mouth could fit a big apple:
"An oil salesman?"
"Unbelievable, such a thing could happen."
"Salt Marsh? That clever fellow, he's the real genius!"
Montgomery had good luck, Ochinlake thought.
But that didn't matter. He was relieved. As long as he could win, it didn't matter who got the honor.
"I should thank that oil salesman," Ochinlek said with a sigh of relief. "He pulled me and my former men out of the shadow of defeat; many of them thought Rommel was invincible."
"Yes, yes, General." Drake spoke up for the general, but if the general didn't mind, he didn't dare say anything more.
This time, Ochinlek fell asleep after lying back in bed and slept soundly, soon snoring.
However, he was awakened again by the cheers outside.
"What happened?" Ochinlek, who had been startled awake, rolled over and asked through the door.
"General," Drake replied, "the Germans have withdrawn completely; it's said their tanks are all breaking down at the same time."
Ochinlek was stunned.
That's impossible. Rommel couldn't have made such a mistake. Something must have gone wrong.
Unable to contain his curiosity, he got up, put on his shoes, and quickly went outside.
"We should go check out the command post," he said.
Drake quickly followed behind: "General, we shouldn't interfere with the command. We're only here for the handover..."
But Ochinlek wouldn't listen and instead quickened his pace.
Suddenly, he bumped into someone at the end of the corridor, and the force of the impact made him fall to the ground.
"I'm so sorry." Thorne quickly helped the disheveled old man in front of him to his feet. "I didn't see you."
"No," Ochinlek said, continuing on his way, "it's my fault."
But he stopped after taking only two steps.
He turned around and looked Thorne up and down, glancing at Thorne's civilian clothes under the streetlights, and then at the military uniform and cap he was holding in his hands.
"You are, that oil salesman, aren't you?" he asked.
People in civilian clothes are not often seen in military camps, especially in officers' quarters.
"Yes." Thorne nodded, waving the military uniform in his hand: "They arranged a dormitory for me and told me to change into it as soon as possible, which is why I left in a hurry."
Ochinlek simply turned back: "Can I know where you live?"
"Number 15," Thorne replied.
"What a coincidence!" Ochinlek raised an eyebrow. "We're neighbors, I'm number 16!"
"Yeah?"
"I can take you there."
"No, no, I can find it..."
"Perhaps I could invite you for a cup of coffee."
"I'd love to, but they said reporters are waiting for me..."
"Don't worry about that, let them wait!"
……
Drake, who was following behind, was surprised to see the general practically dragging the "oil salesman" into his room.
Drake tactfully followed and made coffee for the two of them.
Ochinlek apologized, "I prefer black coffee, so I didn't prepare any sugar. I hope you don't mind."
"No, of course not," Thorne replied, still not understanding the old man's intention.
"Your name is Thorne, isn't it?" Ochinlek asked.
"Yes." Thorne put the coffee to his mouth, and frowned slightly because it was so bitter, but it was indeed refreshing.
"I heard about your victory." Ochinlek raised his glass. "You were brave, but even more valuable is your wisdom."
"Thank you," Thorne replied.
"Can you tell me your thoughts on the current situation?" Ochinlek asked.
He wanted to know if this young man in front of him was capable of defeating Rommel.
"The truth?" Thorne asked back.
"Of course." Ochinlek spread his hands and laughed. "The man in front of you is just a grumpy old man, and he's leaving tomorrow. You can say whatever you want without worry."
Thorne nodded. At that time, Britain was still quite lenient regarding freedom of speech. (Parentheses: only for British people.)
"Actually, there's nothing that can't be said." Thorne put down his cup.
"I believe all of this is thanks to General Ochinlek, who established the El Alamein Line and stabilized the situation."
"And General Montgomery... he's more like someone who came to reap the rewards."
Ochinleck froze, his coffee cup suspended in mid-air, staring at Thorne like a statue, completely still.
Drake, who was about to leave, was holding the doorknob when he heard this and suddenly turned around to look at Thorne, his face full of shock.