From the Diary of Major General James L. Collins, Commander 8th US Infantry Division

The sounds of roaring tank engines and squealing tires pierced the air as Major General Collins paced the pier at the docks of Norfolk, Virginia. As he stared around he could see the vastness of the force he was a part of, 11 whole Corps of troops destined to fight in Europe and Africa.

"Hey Jim! Over here!"

Collins turned and saw his fellow divisional commanders of the 3rd Corps, Delos 'Stick 'em' Emmons, Oscar 'Reliable' Griswold and 'Black Bob' Joyce. Emmons commanded the 7th 'Bayonet' Division, both he and the division earning their nicknames through his love of bayonet practice, with Delos being known to say "You've never truly killed a man until you've stared into his eyes while he dies."
Griswold had been charged with commanding the 9th 'Old Reliables' Division, so called for their penchant to arrive exactly on time no matter the circumstances.
Joyce was the divisional commander of the 30th 'Old Hickory' Division, with no one seeming to know why they were called Old Hickory at all.

Having two divisions with 'Old' in their names had led to the 3rd Corps being collectively known as the Old Corps. Collins' three compatriots were standing in the Corps' temporary command post, probably awaiting orders to board from the 3rd Corps Commander Lieutenant General Thomas Holcomb. With 11 Corps' waiting on or around the docks, everyone was hoping to set off before too many 'friendly' scuffles occurred.

Collins sauntered over to the CP, not quite relishing the talks to come. The same talks that they had been having since Kinston. "How are the men?" "Is there equipment still good?" "Any casualties" "What is the supply situation?" One could be forgiven for thinking they were crossing the Sahara, not the State border.

"How are your men?" Griswold asked in his usual growl.
"Same as before, eager, ready to give Gerry something of his own medicine."

"Well it may not be Gerry who we are force feeding medicine Jim," a new voice said from the dark flap of the CP tent, "Come on in."​

Major General James Collins stared emptily over the side of the transport into the dark, churning waters of the Atlantic Ocean. The orders had come, the transports were moving. They were leaving America. He didn't know if he or his boys would ever see her again, from the busy New York Streets to the emptiness of the Great Plains to even the horrible wetness they called "Seattle". He sighed and strode back to his cabin, weary from organizing over 10,000 troops and several hundred tanks from getting on their ship. The 8th Division, like every other Infantry division, was a combined arms unit. Even the name Infantry division was misleading as they were composed of three infantry brigades, an artillery support unit and a small brigade of super heavy infantry support tanks. High command justified these behemoths of battle by remarking that nothing the Axis had yet produced could pierce through their tough exteriors. Only rumbling along a bit quicker than your average infantryman, they were an amazing support unit.

There were 16 infantry divisions divided between 4 Corps in the Army Europe bound. Also in this expedition were 3 armored Corps of 4 tank divisions each, 2 cavalry divisions composed of light armor divisions and two special forces Corps, one of Airborne infantry and the other of special Mountain troops. The Marine Corps was in Guam awaiting orders to attack the Japaneses island holdings.

As Collins reached the hatchway into the Ships huge interior, he suddenly stopped. He turned around, looking at the slowly disappearing shore line of his country. He flicked his spent cigarette over the side, and whispered "Goodbye Anna".​

A marching band struck up as the transports steamed into the dock at Bournemouth, local people lining the dock cheering and waving miniature American and British flags, desperately clawing at the air in front of them as though if they tried hard enough they could grab a piece of these soldiers sent to aid their country. Collins looked down impassively at them, his mind preoccupied with the logistics of moving a division of men and tanks and guns off a crowded dock and into the countryside. For the next few weeks he and his men would be training away, but not too far, from the docks as the transports returned to the US to pick up the second shipment of men and arms to travel to England.

The Airforce had arrived in late December and had been conducting operations over the Channel and into the continent for some time. The naval bombers had quickly turned the naval battle back to US and British favor, and in concert with many Carrier Air Groups had sunk several German and Italian vessels.

Collins had also heard rumors that the second shipment would bring with it the commanders of the task-forces and even the new Supreme Allied Commander. Furious debate had begun over whether MacArthur of Eisenhower would get the top job. Collins didn't care as long as they didn't try to interfere with his division too much, Mickey Mouse could run the Army for all he cared.

He had had a chance to speak with the other divisional commanders in his Corps whilst in transit, no one seeming to know their ultimate destination after arriving in England. There was talk of High command prioritizing an invasion of France, although this had been scorned by Joyce as "foolish" as the men hadn't the experience to conduct combat operations on the mainland.

Delos Emmons thought a possible declaration of war on Vichy France with the aim to restore French Colonies and then a push through to Italian forces in Egypt to assist the British was a possibility. Griswold put that plan to rest by pointing out the majority of the US forces were tracked or wheeled and could not possibly have stood up to the punishment of the North African mountains. So yet again more discussion and arguments about the best disposition of forces ensued, Collins personally thinking a landing in Egypt itself and then driving westwards across Africa was a possibility. Little did they know just how right they were both to become.​

"Through Phase 3 the 3rd Corps will act as a reserve to the 1st Armoured, sweeping up any forces or territory missed in the rapid advance. We will have minimal air support as intelligence," multiple groans followed the word intelligence, "indicates the Italians have few air units in the area. The British have promised what units they can, otherwise air cover is limited to minimal Carrier Air Group formations. There will be naval support for the landings although we intend to catch the Italians off guard. This concludes the planning segment of the meeting, and unless there are any questions, I'll turn it over to my Chief of Staff for the logistical portion of this campaign. No questions? Good, I will see you gentlemen in Africa."

As Devers left and his Chief of Staff began an animated demonstration of the logistic and supply problems and solutions for the coming campaign, Collins was deep in thought. This would be good for his lads, campaigning with hopeful some fighting, but not too much, enough to season them a bit. Kelly and Brown were anxiously taking notes on supply dumps and positions, but many of the divisional and Corps commanders had already risen to leave. Collins rose to follow them, thinking on the challenges ahead.​

A glaring winter sun beat down on General James Leary Collins as he strode off the ramp of the USS James and onto the dock at Tel Aviv. Soldiers hustled by, forming into their units. In the chaos one of Holcomb's aides ran up to Collins. He snapped off a quick salute and said, "Sir, your marching orders are to proceed to the province of El' Auja with all due haste."
"Thank you son, I trust the General will be accompanying us?" Collins asked without a hint of the sarcasm he was mentally radiating.
"Uh, no sir, he will be a few miles behind the front line sir, to oversee the placement of all four divisions."
"Very well, carry on."

Another hasty salute and the young man was on his way. Collins strode down the dock until he reached the 8th Divisions assembly area. His aides had set up a small camping table ready to plan the route to wherever they were told to march. Colonel Kelly and Lieutenant Colonel Brown were already there, as well as his brigade commanders.
"Sir, there were minimal casualties getting off the boats, only one man, minor fracture the his upper arm, he's good to go." Brown reported in a monotonous voice.

"Good, if we can get that right the rest of this will be easy." Muted laughter from the staff. "Alright, our objective is El' Auja, a province that borders British Egypt. We are to arrive there and immediately begin digging in, in case the Italians want to see the sights in Jerusalem. I'll let you plan at the route, inform me once we are ready to move."​

Cool darkness shrouded the terrain as Collins' jeep trundled to a stop behind a small hill in the El' Auja province. The flat ground beyond it would make an excellent field of fire for his men should anyone care to test their strength. Collins dismounted the jeep, boots scuffing mini swirls of dust as he walked to the crest of the hill, turned around and signaled with his flash light. Immediately men and tanks began ascending the hill until they were just concealed behind the lip of the hill, with the artillery parking at the base of the hill. Although this was only a fraction of the division under his command, Collins was still awed by the firepower he had under his command. Once he was satisfied with these dispositions, Collins remounted his jeep and sped of again into the night, to site another part of his Pathfinders. He was determined that his men would uphold with the traditions and discipline of the US Army, even if they would not be the first in combat.

Earlier in the day the Corps had received word that the first clash between Italian and American forces had occurred at a place called Zagazig. The 12th Armoured Division engaged an Italian force and the Battle of Zagazig become the first Land victory for United States Armed forces in this war, with 20 US casualties to 421 Italian. Such was the skill and training of the American forces that the 20 casualties were actually a couple of tank crews that had run into each other, and were only minor injuries. They would be fine but their tanks would take a little while longer to repair.

Naturally this sent cheers through the marching columns of men as they moved westwards, with reports that this was half of the Italian forces present in the immediate campaigning area, and was now being chased into the Sahara desert. More ominously, the other half was between the Armoured Corps and the 3rd, meaning that it would be up to the Old Corps to end their presence in British territory. The Pathfinders desperately wanted to be the division that dealt them the crushing blow, and Collins intended to grant them their wish.​

Barely 24 hours had passed before there was an anxious call over the radio. An uncertain young aide radioed that the 30th division had probably made contact with and Italian armoured division. Lieutenant Colonel Brown immediately got on the air and ripped him to shreds.
"You have made contact or you think you have made contact? Come on son, who the hell trained you? For God's sakes its damned commonsense, if someone is shooting at you then you are in contact. So hat the hell is going on?"

"Uh, well, I guess we are in contact then sir."

"Well hot damn son, good work! Now, do y'all need any support or can General Joyce handle this on his own?"

"General Joyce thanks you for the offer sir, but says we will be 'Just Dandy'".

Hours later the report came in that Black Bob Joyce had indeed been successful in smashing the break out attempt of the Italian armoured division.​

The Battle of Thamad lasted little over 12 hours, and in that time Joyce and his men managed to kill a tenth of the entire division opposing them, and in the subsequent rout had forced the surrender of the remaining 6000 troops. 3 days later and the 3rd Corps reached their Phase Line 2, and were charged with guarding the Canal from any crossing attempts. Once positions had been fortified, General Holcomb called a meeting with his commanders in a nice tavern he found set up just on the seaside 20 miles behind the lines.

"Gentlemen, first off I propose a toast to General Joyce and his men of the 'Old Hickory' division. After a hard fight, they not only escaped with minimal casualties but also forced the surrender of more than 6000 Italian soldiers along with nearly 300 tanks. These will be sent to London to be studied for weaknesses and strengths, although I bet Bob here could give 'em a lesson on the weaknesses, seeing as how he blew so many of them up! Anyway, Gentlemen, to General Joyce and the Men of the 30th Division, Cheers!"
"Cheers!"

Whilst the divisional commanders and General Holcomb were at the head table, enjoying the finest goat meat this side of the Sinai, the staff officers were scattered amongst Holcomb's aides and junior officers. Brown and Kelly found themselves across from one another and stuck between a few very young, very green looking aides.

"So, Colonel Kelly, why do they call him "Thunder" Jim? I mean, its not exactly scary is it?" Said a young Captain named Smith between mouthfuls, his droopy mustache dripping with goat stew. His portly figure left no doubt as to the question of his fighting abilities, as well as his discipline.

"Well, young Smith, they say the Lightning always comes before the Thunder. Well what our General does, he flashes you the lightning, and when you think its all over BOOM!" Kelly hit the table with a meaty fist, not unintentionally spilling some of Smith's stew onto his lap, "He hits you like a clap of thunder sent from Zeus himself!"

"Yes, well, that's well and good and all, but..."

"Shut up Smith." Said the Lieutenant beside Brown, a youngish lad of around 18 called Jennings. Although junior in rank to Smith, he seemed to hold the promise and poise of a better leader. Smith muttered something unintelligible into his napkin and continued slurping his sloppy stew.

"Tell me Jennings, what's a strapping young lad like you doing serving as an aide," Brown said, emphasizing the disapproval on aide, "When you could be fighting in a fine division like the 8th?"

"Well, Sir," Jennings started turning red, "My father is actually the Governor of Pennsylvania, and well, he didn't particularly like the thought of his two eldest boys fighting on the front lines in some 'Godforsaken land full of heathens' as he put it. My brothers in the marines you see, serving on Marshal MacArthur's staff."

"Ah, family, tends to get involved in a man's life whether he wants it or not, ain't that right Kelly? General Collins would know something about that right?"

"Shut it Brown before you say something I'll make you regret."

Smith having lost interest in the conversation, continued steadily decreasing the volume of slop in his bowl. however, Jennings looked between the two Colonels and saw something there that told him he should think better of asking what they were talking about.

"Aw whatever Chuck, its not as if the kid won't find out soon enough from all the wagging tongues 'round here anyway!"

"I said shut it Duke. Jennings, what's your first name?"

"Nathaniel Sir."

"How would you like to be transferred to General Collins' staff? War creates many vacancies for Junior officers, and i'm sure you will have a chance to serve your country in the best manner."

"Sir, it would be my absolute pleasure."​

Major General James Leary Collins awoke to the sound of a crackling radio outside his sleeping compartment in the Command post. The command tent consisted of four compartments: an entry way where visitors could shake of the sand and dust that seemed to accumulate by themselves in the desert; the central room which served as the map and radio room; the Generals sleeping quarters and a small privy hole dug in the sand by some poor unfortunate soldier probably on a punishment duty.

As Collins dug the sleep out of his eyes he wondered if he an his men were becoming lax; he was allowing later reveille than Army standards dictated, although to Collins' mind they had earned it. Slogging through the desert after the 1st Armoured Corps was a tough if relatively simple task, and the burnt out husks of Italian tanks and vehicles did wonders for the men's morale.

Collins recognized the need for a force to clean up remaining Italian elements, it was just the fact that there was no remaining Italian forces that was making the men itch for a fight, for a reason to unleash the pent up violence they had been trained to release.

"Pathfinder Six this is Wolf Six, over." Collins slowly rose from his cot and reached out for his radio.

"Wolf Six, Pathfinder Six, over."

"Pathfinder Six, be advised that the 1st Armoured Corps has reached Phase Line 2. 3rd Corps will be shortly moving out to reserve positions behind 1st Armoured. Phase 3 will commence when the Mountain Corps is in position. Unfortunately, weather conditions have severely impacted their speed of advance so we will be hull-down for a while. Please acknowledge, over."

"Wolf Six, Pathfinder Six acknowledges, over."

"Wolf Six, out."

Collins sighed, and began to dress himself. He hoped the Mountain Corps didn't get held up too much by the weather, he was looking forward to meeting with them in Tripoli, in particular, his good friend General Markham, the Mountain Corps Commander. Markham and Collins had gone through officer school together, and had even seen some action together in the Banana Republics in the 20's. Markham had also been the one who'd introduced him to Anna...

"NO!" he thought to himself. "Do not go there now! Not in combat where you could get your men killed."

Collins finished arranging his uniform, and stepped out of the Command Tent. Brown and Kelly were outside, as well as the young Lieutenant that Kelly seemed to be fond of, Jennings. At first Collins had been furious with Kelly, bringing along a young man with such powerful family connections. It had not been a pretty conversation.

"His father could be the next President Chuck! What if he gets killed? What do you think will happen to this division and our careers? Do you think we will be invading France? No, we will be rotting away in the Pacific fighting Japs in the scrub, men dying from dysentery and typhoid!"

"Dammit sir the kid is a fine officer and he was being wasted in the poisonous pit of Holcomb's staff. At least let him prove himself."

"Jesus Chuck, I can't exactly send him back now can I? Imagine how that'll look? No, we have to keep him, but you make damned sure he keeps his head on his shoulders!"

"Yes sir."​

The hot summer sun beat down oppressively and heated metal tank armour and infantry helmets alike. Luckily, General Collins was inside an appropriate inn in Alexandria, listening to General Holcomb's review.

"Gentlemen, as you know we have been waiting for a long time to get underway in Libya. On March 25 when we fully restored Egypt to British Control..."​

"...We were expecting to be under way any day. However, we were later told it wasn't until May 10th that the Mountain Corps had even reached Phase Line 1. Due to this unfortunate setback we could only sit back and enjoy the sights and sound of the Egyptian desert." Many in the crowd snickered at this knowing that Holcomb had in fact spent most of his time in Tel-Aviv.
"Thus it is with great pleasure that I can inform you that our Mountain Corps has captured Algier city and the Vichy French Government has collapsed. They have returned all French Colonial possesions to the Free French Government. Unfortunatley Hitler did not allow them to transfer Southern France back to the French, so the whole of France is now under direct Axis control."​

Holcomb allowed murmurs of disbelief to pass through the crowd before he continued. "Due to the changed nature of the situation in French North Africa, General Devers has concluded that it is no longer necessary to wait for the Mountain Corps to reach Phase Line 2 before we begin Phase 3. Therefore we are commencing offensive operations in Libya starting as soon as possible. The 1st Armoured Corps is to push through to the French border whilst we are to hold the British border. Divisional commanders will be sent their specific destinations and marching orders at the conclusion of this meeting. Before you leave gentlemen, I thought it was important to pass on that we have directly caused the fall of the first Axis government in this war. I trust that the rest will meet a similar fate."​