The Chieftain's Hatch: 100-year icon
Дата: 15.09.2016 20:13:22
The_Chieftain: As you are by now well aware, we now officially cross into the
tank’s second century of life with the hundredth anniversary of the
tank’s combat debut, at Flers-Courcelette. This, somewhat
unassuming French town is not well known, and even the monument
marking the tank’s appearance on the battlefield is in a different
place, the nearby town of Pozières. 
I think it is no secret that I am kindof fond of tanks, and that I consider it quite fortunate that an object of my interest has also been my job, both in military and civilian service. But what has the tank actually become, why is the tank so appealing? Quite a few moons ago, I picked up a book by Patrick Wright named “Tank.” In it, he took a slightly different tack to most folks, in that he focused not so much on the technical, or even operational side of tanks on which we tend to spend most of our attention, but instead more on the cultural and psychological aspects of the tank. The book has received mediocre reviews because of this unusual tack, but it is probably worth reflecting upon its premise. I’m sure lots of other articles around the Web will be doing a ‘technical development of the tank over the last century’ sort of article. The tank has become the symbol of land power. It is the first image which one will usually conjure up in one’s mind when one thinks of modern battles. It is not, however, the most important component of land power, that still remains (possibly to the annoyance of tankers, aviators and gun-bunnies) the “poor bloody infantryman” (PBI) and his rifle. And of all the various pieces which make the modern and components which make a modern army, why has the tank managed to achieve this? I would submit that there are several reasons. Firstly, because of its genesis, when it was considered to be the master of that which was killing those PBIs. It was their savior. The fact that they tended to be rather disappointing in practice, breaking down a lot, and being rather easy to kill once someone had the bright idea of pointing artillery pieces at them, is conveniently forgotten in the grand narrative, and the tank, the wonder weapon that only the Allied Powers had, became the symbol of victory over the Central Powers which had none.
Of course, there’s a little bit of creative license in such a depiction, but it was the initial genesis. Then for a while, the tank seems to have vanished from the public consciousness. The world became entranced by those magnificent men in their flying machines, the daredevils who used technology to defy gravity, and traverse land and sea at breakneck speeds in excess of 100 miles an hour and more. Militarily, a country’s might was still represented by its battleships, those mobile floating fortresses bristling with the largest guns around, massive expenditures of money and man-hours and which became visible indicators of interest when one showed up at a country’s doorstep. This, of course, all changed with the arrival of the Blitzkrieg. The Germans were sure to place the Panzer divisions at the front of all the newsreels: The rapid-moving forces which sliced through the French front lines, and driving the British out of the Continent struck the imagination of all who saw it, and all of a sudden the tank (and not the half-track or lorry-borne infantry) became the symbol of what it took for a national power to have.
Still, these vehicles were touted as perhaps more than they were. They were either slow, unreliable, or poorly armored. Occasionally even all three. But in no other field of military development, with the possible exception of the fighter aircraft, was there such a visible and rapid race of advancement. Compare the BTs, Pz IIIs and M2 Mediums of the beginning of the war with the IS-2s, King Tigers and Pershings which were on offer at the end of it. And this was only over six years. The B-52 is –sixty- years old, and still going. Abrams is approaching the end of its third decade of service. Thirty years before Centurion, there –were- no tanks. The tank provided what was considered to be the ideal: The ability to kill one’s enemies from a position of protection. Thus, the side with the best tanks would win, and in the event that a side had no tanks, the side with any tanks would win. Or thus was the concept, reality, of course, is far different. Furthermore, tanks are downright imposing. They vibrate the ground as they go past. They’re well taller than a man, and seemingly nothing will stop them as they move on. They’re seemingly invulnerable to anything a typical person is likely to be carrying. The sight of a tank’s roadwheels undulating over the tracks on rough terrain is hypnotic. And unlike aircraft, which come and go, or artillery which fires unseen, a tank is a visible statement. It can sit there for as long as it wants, a declaration that that piece of ground belongs to it, and if anyone wishes to dispute this, they had better be prepared to deal with it. In Iraq we discovered that tanks made great peacekeeping vehicles. When a tank showed up, things got peaceful. Quickly. Given this, the tank has become the ‘object to be destroyed.’ The destruction of a tank is a propaganda victory in excess of its military worth, especially in the current operating environment.
Thus, great effort and treasure is placed upon making a tank as capable as possible. Per-unit, they suck up huge amounts of resources. They incorporate what should be the cutting edge of technology. Similarly, great effort and treasure is placed upon counter-tank capabilities, and the ‘tank duel’ has become, in the public image, the most important part of modern warfare. It is certainly true that a nation’s history has some reflection upon the position of the tank in common culture. In Russia, tanks are everywhere. They are monuments in every city, they are all but revered as the symbol of that which saved the country from the Fascist Invaders. Quite literally, the tank is placed upon a pedestal in Russia.
However, in the UK, you will see more love for the Spitfire and Hurricane, saviours of the country from the Battle of Britain (Again, we’re talking perception here, not reality) than you will for the Cromwell or the Flower Class Corvette, while in the US, the object which reaped vengeance for the attack which brought the US into the war was the aircraft carrier, still today the unmatched American symbol of military might. So what does the future hold? Will we be celebrating the 200th anniversary of the tank? Maybe the answer to that depends on where you stand on the concept of Accelerating Change. It is possible that in 2116, terrestrial-based combat would be obsolete. But there’s no sign of it. The M1 is expected to stay in service until at least 2050, which gets us some way there (And which would make the design 70 years old), so it stands to reason that second-rate powers can be expected to retain tanks longer. The death of the tank has been repeatedly sounded, particularly since the advent of the man-portable anti-tank missile, yet the tank has always countered and returned as strong as ever. It seems unlikely that the need for a persistent, tough vehicle capable of engaging almost anything on the modern battlefield will vanish any time soon. The tracks may be replaced by wheels or hoverfans, the cannon by a hellbore or missiles, tons of metal by active defenses, but the role will remain. As long as we have such vehicles, we will have tanks and those who call themselves ‘tankers.’ I wonder if they’ll keep the boots?
I think it is no secret that I am kindof fond of tanks, and that I consider it quite fortunate that an object of my interest has also been my job, both in military and civilian service. But what has the tank actually become, why is the tank so appealing? Quite a few moons ago, I picked up a book by Patrick Wright named “Tank.” In it, he took a slightly different tack to most folks, in that he focused not so much on the technical, or even operational side of tanks on which we tend to spend most of our attention, but instead more on the cultural and psychological aspects of the tank. The book has received mediocre reviews because of this unusual tack, but it is probably worth reflecting upon its premise. I’m sure lots of other articles around the Web will be doing a ‘technical development of the tank over the last century’ sort of article. The tank has become the symbol of land power. It is the first image which one will usually conjure up in one’s mind when one thinks of modern battles. It is not, however, the most important component of land power, that still remains (possibly to the annoyance of tankers, aviators and gun-bunnies) the “poor bloody infantryman” (PBI) and his rifle. And of all the various pieces which make the modern and components which make a modern army, why has the tank managed to achieve this? I would submit that there are several reasons. Firstly, because of its genesis, when it was considered to be the master of that which was killing those PBIs. It was their savior. The fact that they tended to be rather disappointing in practice, breaking down a lot, and being rather easy to kill once someone had the bright idea of pointing artillery pieces at them, is conveniently forgotten in the grand narrative, and the tank, the wonder weapon that only the Allied Powers had, became the symbol of victory over the Central Powers which had none.
Of course, there’s a little bit of creative license in such a depiction, but it was the initial genesis. Then for a while, the tank seems to have vanished from the public consciousness. The world became entranced by those magnificent men in their flying machines, the daredevils who used technology to defy gravity, and traverse land and sea at breakneck speeds in excess of 100 miles an hour and more. Militarily, a country’s might was still represented by its battleships, those mobile floating fortresses bristling with the largest guns around, massive expenditures of money and man-hours and which became visible indicators of interest when one showed up at a country’s doorstep. This, of course, all changed with the arrival of the Blitzkrieg. The Germans were sure to place the Panzer divisions at the front of all the newsreels: The rapid-moving forces which sliced through the French front lines, and driving the British out of the Continent struck the imagination of all who saw it, and all of a sudden the tank (and not the half-track or lorry-borne infantry) became the symbol of what it took for a national power to have.
Still, these vehicles were touted as perhaps more than they were. They were either slow, unreliable, or poorly armored. Occasionally even all three. But in no other field of military development, with the possible exception of the fighter aircraft, was there such a visible and rapid race of advancement. Compare the BTs, Pz IIIs and M2 Mediums of the beginning of the war with the IS-2s, King Tigers and Pershings which were on offer at the end of it. And this was only over six years. The B-52 is –sixty- years old, and still going. Abrams is approaching the end of its third decade of service. Thirty years before Centurion, there –were- no tanks. The tank provided what was considered to be the ideal: The ability to kill one’s enemies from a position of protection. Thus, the side with the best tanks would win, and in the event that a side had no tanks, the side with any tanks would win. Or thus was the concept, reality, of course, is far different. Furthermore, tanks are downright imposing. They vibrate the ground as they go past. They’re well taller than a man, and seemingly nothing will stop them as they move on. They’re seemingly invulnerable to anything a typical person is likely to be carrying. The sight of a tank’s roadwheels undulating over the tracks on rough terrain is hypnotic. And unlike aircraft, which come and go, or artillery which fires unseen, a tank is a visible statement. It can sit there for as long as it wants, a declaration that that piece of ground belongs to it, and if anyone wishes to dispute this, they had better be prepared to deal with it. In Iraq we discovered that tanks made great peacekeeping vehicles. When a tank showed up, things got peaceful. Quickly. Given this, the tank has become the ‘object to be destroyed.’ The destruction of a tank is a propaganda victory in excess of its military worth, especially in the current operating environment.
Thus, great effort and treasure is placed upon making a tank as capable as possible. Per-unit, they suck up huge amounts of resources. They incorporate what should be the cutting edge of technology. Similarly, great effort and treasure is placed upon counter-tank capabilities, and the ‘tank duel’ has become, in the public image, the most important part of modern warfare. It is certainly true that a nation’s history has some reflection upon the position of the tank in common culture. In Russia, tanks are everywhere. They are monuments in every city, they are all but revered as the symbol of that which saved the country from the Fascist Invaders. Quite literally, the tank is placed upon a pedestal in Russia.
However, in the UK, you will see more love for the Spitfire and Hurricane, saviours of the country from the Battle of Britain (Again, we’re talking perception here, not reality) than you will for the Cromwell or the Flower Class Corvette, while in the US, the object which reaped vengeance for the attack which brought the US into the war was the aircraft carrier, still today the unmatched American symbol of military might. So what does the future hold? Will we be celebrating the 200th anniversary of the tank? Maybe the answer to that depends on where you stand on the concept of Accelerating Change. It is possible that in 2116, terrestrial-based combat would be obsolete. But there’s no sign of it. The M1 is expected to stay in service until at least 2050, which gets us some way there (And which would make the design 70 years old), so it stands to reason that second-rate powers can be expected to retain tanks longer. The death of the tank has been repeatedly sounded, particularly since the advent of the man-portable anti-tank missile, yet the tank has always countered and returned as strong as ever. It seems unlikely that the need for a persistent, tough vehicle capable of engaging almost anything on the modern battlefield will vanish any time soon. The tracks may be replaced by wheels or hoverfans, the cannon by a hellbore or missiles, tons of metal by active defenses, but the role will remain. As long as we have such vehicles, we will have tanks and those who call themselves ‘tankers.’ I wonder if they’ll keep the boots?
The Chieftain's Hatch: 100-year icon