I worked feverishly and slept little over the next several days. Frantically, I prepared for the orders which I expected to arrive at any moment. I was constantly on the move, planning and analyzing, wanting to make the most of what little time that I had remaining before the inevitable mission. Not one precious second could be afforded to be wasted. Lack of preparation could (and would) be deadly to any and all of us.

To say that my newly assigned unit was an unmitigated disaster would hardly be doing it justice. Every inspection continued to disappoint me and I had been nearly unable to find anything that was being done correctly. In the unit's existing state, I did not relish the thought of leading it into combat. It was critical that I raise the unit to an acceptable combat readiness level in a very short time. If I could not, my tenure as its commanding officer would indeed be brief. The odds of survival were as unfavorable to me as they were to my men.

One of my unit's main obstacles was that it was severely undermanned for its assigned duties. My first action was to immediately request additional men and replacement weapons to bring the unit up to its intended full strength. Not surprisingly, it didn't take long for my request to be denied by my superiors. I could almost hear the laughter from the Afrika Korps headquarters as soon as my request was received.

Of course, the official reply politely stated that no additional men would be forthcoming and that there was a greater need for equipment with the main army. I grimly accepted that it would be necessary for me to make do with what little resources I currently had at my disposal. I knew the odds had been long, if not impossible, for me to receive any reinforcements. I still believed it necessary for me to at least make the attempt.

I was painfully aware that the entire German war machine, not just my command, was stretched to the thinnest possible margins. Experienced men, or even men over the age of sixteen, were becoming almost impossible to obtain. Units were being disbanded and combined with others to bring them up to at least minimal capacity. It was all just a shuffle of men on paper, with nothing actually resolved in the end. There was little, if anything, that I could do to overcome the man power shortage that was plaguing the Wehrmacht. There was nothing left but for the remaining men, including myself, to fighter harder and more analytically to compensate for the unending shortage.

The few remaining men in my unit cared little about their orders or the possibly deadly consequence impact of their inaction on others or themselves. The men basically did what they wanted and when they wanted. Discipline was an unknown concept to the men, as was honor. They had little, if any, respect for themselves. The men had even less respect for the command authority.

Even knowing what I knew of Meyer, I still could not believe that he would have allowed such a dangerous situation to develop and fester. The men I could not really blame for their current state. They had only been following his poor example of what a soldier, an officer, and gentlemen should be. I could not tolerate in my command from what I could not tolerate in myself. I immediately made my standards known and I made it abundantly clear that any man continuing to conduct himself in an unacceptable manner would be instantly and severely reprimanded.

If I had to personally shoot every last man except for my adjutant, then he and I would be a two man unit. We may not win the war. However, we would at least serve Germany honorably as soldiers.

I knew that merely drilling discipline into the men would not cause them to respect me nor my authority, in the slightest. Respect could never be dictated by any amount of orders. I would need to earn it through my ability as their commanding officer and leader.

To gain their confidence, I was constantly with the men, ensuring that they saw me working and living amongst them. I spent almost every hour with them, not just during the day, but also long after dark. They needed to realize how as their commanding officer that I was taking responsibility for them and also with them to ensure their success in combat. I would be beside them, and would share their ultimate fate on the battlefield.

With an opportunity for such constant observation it did not take me long to recognize that drinking and drunkenness were rampant among the men even when they were on duty. Moderate drinking would have been acceptable during their off duty hours, but they had gone far beyond that delineation. I had untold amounts of liquor confiscated, but there always seemed to be more making its appearance. I had no idea how they were able to continue procuring alcohol in the middle of the desert when no supply columns had made any deliveries. I had so much alcohol destroyed I felt like the American Federal agents in the news reels that had chronicled the American Prohibition.

I had the febels reinstate training to sharpen the skills that had quickly evaporated under Meyer. However, the men would need to rise above training and skills. I knew that it was critical for them not only to fight as one unit, but also to be able to think and act independently if the situation should require them to do so. Finally, I expected each man to have honor and respect for the capabilities of the enemy. Their qualities of character would carry more weight than their intelligence during the height of combat.

I gave orders for the camp to be cleaned up and placed in order. Guards now regularly patrolled the perimeter. A maintenance program for the weapons and equipment was established to keep them serviceable and available for immediate use. The equipment and vehicles were in such dire shape from plain neglect, not for the lack of spare parts. Again, I was completely baffled. Why the men would allow the equipment to founder when it was so critical to surviving in desert combat?

My frustrations continued to mount for the unit's overall condition and lack of readiness. One of the final straws for me was the weakness of my junior officer. Leutnant Ernst Hoffman had the capabilities to become a fine officer, but he was reluctant to make a decision, constantly fearful about making a mistake. He compensated for this fault by waiting for me to order him on exactly what he should do.

The vast extent of Hoffman' limitations quickly became apparent to me. He had acquired some experience as an officer before he was assigned here a few months ago, but he had gained little, if any, experience since then. He had never been given the opportunity to advance his leadership skills and further deepen his command abilities.

Meyer had never given him any authority or direction, but was quick to blame him when any situation was not executed as planned. With Meyer refusing to accept any responsibility for his own mistakes, and Hoffman apparently, had been his whipping boy. I had originally planned to assign Hoffman the majority of the camp's paperwork to allow me more time to focus on strategy. I quickly realized that he would not be assuming any of the paperwork at least not in the near future. Never had he actually completed any and was completely perplexed about what to do with any of it.

Instead of inheriting a seasoned junior officer, I would now be the one held accountable for how well he advanced as an officer. Developing Hoffman as an officer now fell under my command and responsibilities. I would have no one else to blame except myself if he didn't successfully perform in combat and the other necessary areas of his job.

Hoffman's lack of experience became starkly evident late on the first night after my arrival. I was gathering, or should I say, attempting to gather information from him. I received nothing but rubbish. Finally, I had to interrupt his rambling and nonsensical answers.

I forced my patience to the surface as I placed my frustration carefully aside.

"Leutnant Hoffman, you are providing me with conflicting information." I rubbed my eyes, unsuccessfully attempting to relieve a tired headache. "A few moments ago you said the complete opposite regarding where the Allied commandos had been previously engaged by this unit. I understand that the area is large and their operation is fluid, but which sighting is accurate? Were they or were they not seen in this particular area?" I asked firmly, but not unkindly.

As soon as I asked my pointed questions he began looking like a kicked puppy, unhappy about not being able to please me. He immediately started offering excuses.

I raised my hand, quickly cutting him off. I realized immediately that Hoffman didn't know enough details to answer my questions. The unfocused answers were his was of trying to hide his lack of knowledge. I had no desire to waste any more of my time. His excuses were not going to assist us in planning for the future which was rapidly approaching.

"It is critical for you to quickly provide me and others with the accurate facts, Leutnant. All of our lives could depend on it: Our men's lives, your life, my life," I explained patiently. "I frankly have no aspiration to die here in the desert due to poor information, nor should you."

"No, Herr Hauptmann, I wish none of those things. For any of us."

"If you don't have a ready answer, then admit it. Then go and obtain the answer promptly. I will clearly ask you when I want you to speculate on a given situation when we are unable to wait for or determine the facts." I looked him in the eye, hoping to see some sort of understanding.

"But Hauptmann Meyer…"

I had no wish to hear one word about Meyer. "Leutnant Hoffman, I never have been, I never will be, and furthermore, I have no desire to be Hauptmann Meyer!" I did not want to take out my frustrations on him, but unable to stop my impatience from taking hold of me. I knew that Hoffman's poor situation was not of his doing. He obviously wanted to be a competent officer. It was not poor Hoffman's fault that he had been short-changed by his previous officer.

"I have a completely different command style than Meyer's. You will need to adapt to my style, just as you will need to adapt to your future officers' style when I am no longer in command here."

Hoffman straightened. "I understand."

I nodded, encouraging him. "You will very quickly learn to anticipate my questions before I ask them and then you will have a ready answer for me when I do ask them."

"Yes, Herr Hauptmann. I know that I am a disappointment to you," he said sheepishly. I would have preferred Hoffman to be angry and resentful with me rather than looking so backwards. I reined in my frustration, not wanting to direct it at Hoffman, knowing that it was caused by other factors beyond his control. I once again rubbed my aching head.

I was edgy and irritated from my lack of sleep. I was even tenser from my lack of cigarettes. Meyer, that bastard, had stolen my lighter and the pack of cigarettes that I had foolishly left on his desk. I had but a few more packs with me. I was forcing myself to ration them until I knew that I could I was able to procure more.

As I had demanded, Meyer had left at dawn, mercifully without saying another word to me. His final action against me had been his theft of my cigarettes. I had to wonder if he had stolen the cigarettes as an act of revenge. He would have known how precious they were so far behind the lines. The idea of making me suffer until I could lay my hands on more would certainly have appealed to him. I more strongly suspected that Meyer was in reality a closet smoker as well as a thief. Since he was always postulating against the evils of smoking, no one would suspect him of the sin of nicotine, or pinching their cigarettes.

I cared little about the lighter. It was an inexpensive one I had purchased when I knew the war was imminent. I could have easily afforded an expensive one, but I had not wanted to take the chance of losing it on the battlefield, or being relieved of it if I became a prisoner. What bothered me more than the loss of both the precious cigarettes and the lighter was the thought of a fellow officer taking one of my possessions. To have to suspect such a thing was unfathomable.

A lighter, even an expensive one, was an easy thing to replace. The loss of my trust in my fellow man would not be replaced so easily.

Fortunately, I did not have much time to dwell on it.

I continued my frantic pace for several days until Hoffman surprised me by telling me that I needed to get some rest and sleep. We had been again working late when I had noticed him watching me from the corner of his eye, becoming obviously distracted from what we were analyzing. I was ready to reproach him for not focusing on our work when he finally spoke what was on his mind.

"Herr Hauptmann, forgive me for asking, but how much sleep have you had since you arrived?" Hoffman finally asked.

"Enough," I said brusquely, ignoring his concern and trying to refocus him on the matter at hand.

"I don't believe what you consider 'enough' is what is needed to maintain your health, Herr Hauptmann."

I looked up at Hoffman, not quite believing the conversation we were having.

"Leutnant, I will have sufficient time to sleep when I am in my grave," I said pointedly, having enough of his well meaning, but completely inappropriate, concern. "At the present moment I have more pressing issues that require my attention than receiving adequate sleep. Now if we are finished with our discussion on my current sleeping habits, I would like to again refocus on the commandos. Who I seriously believe to be planning their next moves and who are likely not sleeping, either."

"You will be of no use to the command or the men if you continue at this pace, sir," Hoffman flatly responded.

I looked at him sharply, ready to admonish him, when I saw something new and different. Behind his eyes I could see the growing glimmer of strength and confidence. I pulled back the harsh remark rising to my lips. No, now was not the time to douse this flame when it was just coming to life. Instead, I replaced the rebuke with a tired smile.

"I can assure you that I am fine," I said, accepting the fact that his concern was sincere and was not meant to be intrusive. "The problem is not my lack of sleep but the lack of time we have to prepare for our imminent orders."

Hoffman did not disagree. The line of conversation was brought to an end and we continued working on what was actually important.

I've never met a commander who didn't want additional time to prepare for an upcoming engagement. I was no exception. We always want more opportunity to analyze and plan, to procure more resources and most importantly, the greatest advantage of time being able to over-prepare our men.

Far too soon, my allotted time to prepare had evaporated. My orders came through abruptly ending my preparations. I didn't believe the men were ready. More critically, I knew I wasn't ready.

On the seventh day after my arrival, we were ordered to accompany a supply column traveling directly through the known operating area of the Allied commandos.