Tanks are usually BIG. There are some quite small ones too, but most people’s idea of a tank is something BIG. Since much of their bulk is armour steel plate, a tank is something quite HEAVY, around about 60 tons. Most are painted in camouflage colours, rather drab shades of green, sand, brown and black. This has always seemed rather pointless given their size and weight, but it may have more to do with crew morale than actual camouflage.

Tanks also have difficulty moving about. Since the very first tank, they have used caterpillar tracks. These cause so much damage to roads, they have to be taken places on rail trucks or road vehicles (tank transporters). When they get to where they are going, they are usually forced to travel over open ground. This generates tons of mud, which they spread everywhere, including over the camouflage paint. (Refer to the first paragraph).

In order to get these BIG, HEAVY monsters moving requires large engines which use enough fuel in one week to power the Isle of Man. In doing so they produce a lot of NOISE and pollution. Most are diesel engines, which can produce a lot of smoke but some are gas turbines, which produce a lot of heat. Neither is good for camouflage.

Design

Tanks are designed around a big gun, the ballistic properties of the armour, the power train and the crew. Anything else is put is dark corners or places which are hard to get at. Of course, the designers say that it is optimised for maintenance, but unless the fitters are dwarfs with long arms, most items are the devil to service. Strangely enough, all the accumulated dust and muck of operations and exercises seem to find a way into the dark corners and places hard to get at. That is how it seems, anyway.

Although the inside of a tank holds people (the crew), it can be decidedly unfriendly to people. Most things are made of metal which stick out of the side or roof and cause much pain when they come in contact with the head, for example. There is a lot of padding, by the way, but it is only where it really matters (seats, sights, etc) and not where it hurts. In addition to this, the motion of a tank going cross-country is not one that allows the body and limbs to stay in safe places.

Driving the Beast

Driving a tank is by far the best place to be on a cross-country exercise. At least the driver can see where he is going. Well, not exactly. A better description would be ‘have some idea where he is going’ since, when closed down, the view from the driver’s periscope is not THAT good. He can see the edge of the drop before he goes over it, although the downward motion begins AFTER the driver has passed over the edge and is busy looking at the sky.

One of the worst experiences is to go through water with the head out of the driver’s hatch. If it is judged right, it can be great fun as the water is sloshed over the glacis plate (the bit in front of the driver) and guided away from the driver by splash plates. If it isn't, and the water is deep, there is usually a choked gargling sound as the driver sees the wave of muddy water coming up and over. This usually ends up over the drivers head and down the hatch, soaking the rest of him with that slightly shocking coldness only tank drivers know. The only good thing to come out of this, if it is a really good bit of water or watery mud and it has been planned well, is that the commander in the turret is soaked too. Well, he decided which route to take, didn’t he?

Talking of commanders, there was one who, when instructing a new driver, decided to sit behind him on the top of an APC (Armoured Personnel Carrier). He instructed him to drive over a bank slowly. The driver did so, but a bit too slowly for the commander who yelled, “Put your foot down!” This the learner did. The APC shot up the bank and to more yells of “Off gas! Off gas!”, tipped over the top of the bank quite violently.

At this point, the driver put on the brakes and the commander, aided by forward momentum and the flick from the decking as the vehicle tipped, flew through the air in a less than graceful parabola. He performed an excellent fall-breaking roll just in front of the right track of the APC, which had, by good fortune, stopped. The commander, not believing this for an instant, rolled very quickly to his right, stood up and said without a tremor or emotion in his voice, “That’s the end of the lesson for today. I think we've expected a little too much.”

Taking a tank onto a normal road is great fun. It is not the driving, but the view of the approaching drivers, mouths open, particularly those on the wrong side of the road on a blind bend. Even a glancing blow can write off a car, or in one case, the side of a bus, without the tank driver being aware of it. Since most tanks travel at about 30mph, there is always a good view of the queue behind in the rear view mirror. Wo betide any wildlife that tries to cross in front of a tank. The only bad thing about road driving is rain or hail. There is no windscreen. The driver sits there with a wet/cold head, while the rest of him roasts in the heating system.

Conclusion

Tanks are something totally Army. No one in their right mind would want to own one – although there are those that do. Most people like the idea of driving a tank, especially over the boss’s car, but doing it for real is no joke. The bruising, the concussion, the battering and the shaking about is exhausting - and that’s BEFORE the shooting starts.