This explains why some crews operated with an assistant driver (the fifth member of the team) to be an extra pair of eyes, especially when driving using a periscope.Īnd what do you do out on the battlefield when something goes wrong with your tank? Fix it yourself. As you can imagine, a heavy tank in the 1940s was not the most agile of vehicles and the driving experience was described as being ‘more akin to that of tractor than an automobile’. Back in the World War eras, tanks were pretty basic (they still can’t be described as being the height of modern comfort now) and drivers had to be adept at working in a cramped environment, all the more confounding when you’re advancing against towards the enemy lines under pressure.Īs well as having to negotiate unknown territory, hostile terrain and cover miles in a noisy, hot tank, the driver’s role was to out-manoeuvre the enemy. You’ve got your boss, your hotshot gunner and your plucky loader, now all you need is someone to actually drive the tank. The Driver Inside Second World War German tank Of course, advances in technology meant that some tanks were autoloading (often seen on Russian and French-built models) meaning the role of the loader was lost, but it has to be said, the British and American armies still preferred the human loaders. If anything happened to the gunner or the commander and they were incapacitated, that very small escape route could easily be blocked. It’s said that the loader ‘had to crawl under the gun’ to exit the tank in the event of fire or a direct hit, and that’s if they were lucky. The hard-working gunner didn’t even have the luxury of an escape hatch in some tanks, so as you can imagine, they worked in isolation in the heat and confinement. But it has to be said, there was no glamour in this role in the Second World War. Simply put, the quicker a gun can be re-loaded, the quicker a tank could fire at the enemy. This role was all about keeping each tank firing on all four cylinders, as it were. While the Ammunition Loader might lack lateral thinking, its physical strength and stamina certainly makes up for it. The rest is all about tactics, keeping a level head and a steady hand when all around you is chaos, noise and danger. It’s thought that the actual firing is just 40% of the job. The only problem with that was that the gunner was in a moving vehicle, often being bounced around over uneven and bumpy terrain, with a cacophony of noise all around, trying to aim at a moving target, all whilst probably under serious enemy fire. John Irwin, an American tank gunner who participated in the Allied invasion of Europe, said, ‘Commander Joe would pick targets and I would try and hit them’. Firing the main turret might sound like a simple enough task, but during the Second World War it became an integral and high-pressure role. This job involved doing just what it says on the tin – operating the gun. Will we be withdrawn? Or sent in again? We need some rest: everyone is worn out, mentally and physically’. Trevor Greenwood of the 9 th Battalion Royal Tank Regiment explained the acute fatigue in the summer of 1944: ‘…speculation about our next move. Often operating in the dark, literally and metaphorically, the confusion, intensity and uncertainty of full-on warfare takes its toll on the boss. The commander assesses the battlefield, liaises with the Squadron Leader and coordinates the onboard team. Ultimately responsible for all actions and decisions, this is the highest rank of the high-pressure tank jobs. Here’s a rundown of the main roles of each crewman and the history behind it all:Īs you might imagine, this is the leader of the crew, the CO, the Old Man (that’s an affectionate term used whether it’s male or female in the US and UK armies). In general, each tank crew is made up of three to five personnel. Who are the intrepid operators of these tanks? Indeed, technology might move on in leaps and bounds, but even the most primitive tanks from the early part of the 20th century have one thing in common with the latest battle tanks such as the AS-90 Braveheart or the Buffalo MRAP – a crew. When you’re in the driving ‘seat’ (many tanks require you to kneel uncomfortably or practically lie down, so there’s no real seat to speak of), it’s one thing negotiating the bumpy terrain in the daytime with your head poking out of the hatch, but imagine what it’s like during night-time warfare and the hatches are down – a whole different ball game. ![]() Attempting to skid-steer several tonnes of metal on tracks is tricky, to say the least. If you’re ever lucky enough to drive a tank, you’ll soon realise that it’s a military monster unlike any other vehicle.
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