It’s a very bad idea to stick explosive reactive armor on a thinly-protected vehicle.
A Russian truck wearing ERA.
VIA SOCIAL MEDIAI
It’s clear some Russian troops don’t know how their armor works.
Photos that recently circulated online depict Russian Gaz-66 trucks wearing blocks of explosive reactive armor.
The armor won’t protect the trucks. Indeed, it almost certainly will contribute to the trucks’ destruction, if and when Ukrainian forces score hits on them.
That’s because explosive reactive armor—ERA—works by, well, exploding. When an incoming round strikes an ERA block, it triggers the layers of explosives inside the block. They explode outward, partially deflecting the incoming blast.
While reactive armor doesn’t work against all types of projectiles, it can roughly double a vehicle’s protection against certain projectiles. High-explosive shells, for example. Which is why the Russian and Ukrainian militaries both add reactive armor to many of their vehicles.
But note what kinds of vehicles the Russians and Ukrainians usually don’t add ERA to. Jeeps, trucks, mobile howitzers and air-defense vehicles, to name a few.
There’s a good reason for this. All of these vehicles have thin metal hulls. And that makes ERA impractical, or even counterproductive.
“A fair degree of base armor is needed to survive the explosions inherent in explosive reactive armor,” the U.S. Congressional Budget Office explained in a 2012 report. “Thus, reactive armor cannot be added to all vehicles—a limitation that includes, for example, trucks.”
Stick ERA on a truck, and that armor might actually destroy the truck when it goes off, as surely as an incoming enemy round would do.
It’s apparent the Russian crews of those Gaz trucks appreciate the basic risk. They added thin metal plates underneath the ERA, seemingly hoping the plates will protect the trucks from their own explosive protection.
But these plates might not be thick enough, or of the right metallurgical quality, to do the job. “These trucks lack inherent armor, making the installation of explosive reactive armor on them dangerous and ineffective,” the independent Conflict Intelligence Team noted. “Although small plates of thin armor can be seen under the ERA blocks in the photos, this does not change our conclusion.”
The Ukrainians barely need to hit these trucks in order to trigger their reactive armor. At which point they’re likely to do the Ukrainians a favor … and blow themselves up.
Follow me on Twitter. Check out my website or some of my other work here. Send me a secure tip.
Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson has been described by some historians as the finest General the United States ever produced.
Thomas Jackson’s great grandparents were criminals. John Jackson and Elizabeth Cummins were both convicted of larceny in England and were punitively dispatched to the New World in 1749 alongside 150 other convicts. On the voyage across the Atlantic, John and Elizabeth fell in love.
18th-century America was a rugged place.
Once their obligatory bond service was complete in 1755 they were married. Their grandchild Thomas Jonathan Jackson was born in 1824 in Clarksburg, Virginia. He was the third child of Julia and Jonathan Jackson. In his youth, Thomas went by the nickname “The Real Macaroni,” though the origins and significance of that term are not well understood.
Thomas Jackson’s commitment to the Confederacy created a schism with his sister that was never mended.
Typhoid took his six-year-old sister in 1826 and his father some three weeks later. The boy’s remaining sister Laura Ann was born the day after her father died. Thomas and Laura Ann were close as children, but Laura Ann ultimately sided with the Union. Thomas grew to become a Confederate General of some renown. As a result, their relationship remained fractured until his death.
Military Service
LT Thomas Jackson served in Mexico after he was commissioned from West Point.
Thomas Jackson entered the US Military Academy in 1842. Jackson’s lack of formal education hamstrung him upon his arrival at West Point, but his legendary dogged determination compensated. He graduated 18th out of 59 in his class of 1846.
Thomas Jackson was a driven instructor at VMI. His students frequently thought him overly demanding.
Jackson got his formal introduction to war in Mexico. As a young officer, he distinguished himself at Chapultepec. For a decade starting in 1851 he taught at Virginia Military Institute where he was unpopular with his students. Along the way he was twice married. His first wife died in childbirth. His second, Mary Anna Morrison, lived until 1915. When the South seceded in 1861 following the attack on Fort Sumter, Thomas Jackson threw his lot in with the Confederacy.
The affectionate moniker “Stonewall” Jackson stuck with him to his death.
In July of that year, Jackson commanded a brigade at the First Battle of Bull Run. At a critical moment in the fight, Jackson beat back a determined Union assault. Barnard Elliot Bee, himself a distinguished Confederate General who ultimately lost his life in combat, referred to Jackson as a “stone wall” in the face of the enemy. The name stuck.
General Thomas Jackson was veritably deified in the Confederacy.
After an initial setback attributed to flawed intelligence, Stonewall Jackson dominated the Shenandoah Valley campaigns of 1862. Through truly exceptional tactical acumen, Jackson and his troops defeated three separate Union armies in the field. He exercised his martial gifts at places like Harper’s Ferry, Antietam, and Fredericksburg, developing for himself a reputation as a cunning and insightful combat leader. At Chancellorsville Jackson’s 30,000 Confederates launched a devastating surprise attack against the Federal flank that drove the Union troops back fully two miles.
The General’s Theology
General Jackson prayed frequently with his staff and men. A truly pious man, Jackson was also acutely self-conscious and ever attempted to avoid the limelight.
Thomas Jackson has been described as a fanatical Presbyterian. His deep and sincere faith drove everything about his life while making him all but fearless in battle. He once opined, “My religious belief teaches me to feel as safe in battle as in bed. God has fixed the time for my death. I do not concern myself about that, but to be always ready, no matter when it may overtake me…That is the way all men should live, and then all would be equally brave.”
Stonewall Jackson’s arm was ultimately interred 115 miles away from the rest of him. The details are coming directly.
Like most exceptional personalities, Jackson was also a bit strange. He held a lifelong belief that one of his arms was longer than the other. He would frequently hold the perceived longer of the two aloft for long periods in an effort at equalizing his circulation.
Behold Stonewall Jackson’s kryptonite. The esteemed General purportedly loved these things.
General Jackson highly valued sleep and was known to fall asleep at times while eating. His prior service as an artillery officer had severely damaged his hearing. This made communication difficult at times. He also had an abiding passion for fresh fruit like peaches, watermelons, apples, and oranges. His real weakness, however, was lemons. When they could be found Jackson would frequently gnaw whole lemons in an effort at soothing his digestion. General Richard Taylor, son of President Zachary Taylor and a colleague, wrote, “Where Jackson got his lemons ‘no fellow could find out,’ but he was rarely without one.”
Stonewall Jackson and Slavery
One man’s hero is another man’s goat. Jackson’s dashing visage adorns the rock face at Stone Mountain, Georgia. Completed in 1974, this sculpture is so large that a grown man could stand in the mouth of the largest of the three horses. These three figures span three full acres across the mountainside.
No information age treatise of a prominent Confederate can be complete without dragging slavery and race into the narrative. In the late 1850s, Jackson owned six slaves. Three of these–Hetty, Cyrus, and George–were received as part of a dowry from Mary Anna’s father upon their marriage. Two others supposedly requested that Jackson purchase them based upon his purported kindly local reputation. Of the two, Albert was purchased and worked to gain his freedom. Amy served as the Jackson family cook and housekeeper. The sixth was a child with a learning disability who was received as a gift from an aged widow.
This is Major Jackson in 1855 when he taught Sunday School to local slaves.
In what was considered a fairly radical move for the day, in 1855 Jackson organized and taught Sunday School classes for blacks at his Presbyterian Church. Of this ministry, Pastor William Spotswood White said, “In their religious instruction he succeeded wonderfully. His discipline was systematic and firm, but very kind…His servants reverenced and loved him, as they would have done a brother or father…He was emphatically the black man’s friend.” I obviously cannot speak to what any of that was really like, but Reverend White was clearly a fan. Not diminishing the repugnant nature of slavery as an institution, but it was clearly a different time.
The Death of Stonewall Jackson
General Jackson fell victim to the fog of war.
After a wildly successful engagement against Joe Hooker’s forces during the Battle of Chancellorsville, Jackson and his staff were making their way on horseback back through friendly lines. They encountered sentries from the 18th North Carolina Infantry who mistook the party for Union cavalry. The pickets shouted, “Halt, who goes there?” but fired before receiving an adequate response.
General Thomas Jackson was considered invincible in his day.
Frantic remonstrations from the command group were answered by Confederate Major John D. Barry’s command, “It’s a damned Yankee trick! Fire!” During the course of the two volleys, Stonewall Jackson was struck three times.
Several of Jackson’s staff officers were killed in that final fateful exchange.
Two rounds shattered Jackson’s left arm. One ball entered at the left elbow and exited near the wrist, while another struck his left upper arm three inches below the shoulder. A third ball struck his right hand and lodged there. Several members of Jackson’s staff along with their horses were killed. The poor visibility and incoming artillery fire added to the confusion. Jackson was dropped from his stretcher at least once during the subsequent evacuation.
These ghastly things got ample exercise in the horrific field hospitals of the Civil War. Roughly 75% of amputation patients ultimately died.
Battlefield medicine during the Civil War was unimaginably crude in comparison with today’s state of the art. The standard treatment in the face of significant damage to an extremity was amputation. As there were no safe and effective anesthetics available these surgical procedures were typically fast, frenetic, and fairly imprecise.
This is the outbuilding where Stonewall Jackson died.
A Confederate surgeon named Hunter McGuire took the arm, and Jackson was moved to the nearby Fairfield Plantation for recovery. Thomas Chandler, the plantation owner, offered the use of his home. However, Jackson, ever concerned about imposition, insisted he be maintained in a nearby office building instead.
Civil War-era hospitals were truly horrible things.
The germ theory of disease had not yet come to drive battlefield surgery, so secondary infections of combat wounds were ubiquitous. Jackson developed a fever and pneumonia as a result of his injuries and succumbed eight days later. As the end approached he said, “It is the Lord’s Day; my wish is fulfilled. I have always desired to die on Sunday.”
This iconic photograph of Stonewall Jackson was shot seven days before his fatal injury.
General Jackson’s final words, uttered in a delirium immediately preceding his demise, lend further insight into the man’s character. Attended by Dr. McGuire and a trusted slave named Jim Lewis, his final words were, “Order A.P. Hill to prepare for action! Pass the infantry to the front rapidly! Tell Major Hawks…” Then he paused and uttered, “Let us cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees.” Stonewall Jackson then breathed his last.
The soft lead projectiles fired by Civil War-era arms inflicted truly devastating injuries.
The fatal bullet was ultimately recovered and identified as a .69-caliber projectile. Union troops in this area typically fielded .58-caliber weapons. The 18th North Carolina Infantry was most commonly armed with older larger-caliber muskets. This discovery sealed the suspicion that Jackson had been felled by friendly fire. This was one of the first incidents wherein forensic ballistics identification was used to establish the circumstances surrounding a violent death.
Most Civil War-era long arms were single-shot rifled muskets.
While the American Civil War ultimately saw the introduction of cartridge-firing repeating rifles like the Henry and Spencer, most combatants on both sides were armed with single-shot, muzzleloading rifled muskets of various flavors. Union troops had the luxury of greater standardization due to their more advanced state of industrialization, while Confederate units frequently had to make do with a hodgepodge of weapons. Regardless, in this particular circumstance, the science of ballistics told an unfortunate tale.
The Rest of the Story
The loss of Stonewall Jackson to friendly fire represented an incalculable blow to the Confederate cause.
Upon learning of his friend’s injury Confederate General Robert E. Lee wrote, “Could I have directed events, I would have chosen for the good of the country to be disabled in your stead.”
He sent this message to Jackson via a courier after his surgery, “Give General Jackson my affectionate regards, and say to him: he has lost his left arm but I my right.”
When told of his death Lee confided to a friend, “I am bleeding at the heart.”
Jackson’s service as Lee’s primary Lieutenant could not readily be replaced.
The Battle of Gettysburg took place a mere two months after the death of General Jackson. As any student of Civil War history will attest, Gettysburg was an iffy thing indeed. The entire outcome of the war potentially turned on a handful of decisions made under the most arduous of circumstances.
Lee was forced to fight at Gettysburg without his most capable subordinate. Stonewall Jackson was only 39 years old when he died.
Had Stonewall Jackson been at Lee’s side during the chaotic maelstrom of Gettysburg the battle might very well have turned out differently. Had Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia been able to take the day and subsequently march on Washington, Lincoln could have been forced to sue for peace on the steps of the White House at the point of a Confederate bayonet. Had that been the case our world would obviously be all but unrecognizable today. Sometimes the most momentous events turn on the smallest things.
Here is one of Stonewall Jackson’s monuments being dismantled, brought down by enraged social justice warriors who likely fancy themselves paragons of tolerance.
Ripping down historical monuments in a fit of emotion strikes me as viscerally unsettling. In 2001 the Taliban blew up the 6th-century Buddhas of Bamiyan and were rightfully reviled as a result. It really should be possible to appreciate historical figures without dogmatically embracing the causes they represented or obliterating the evidence of their existence.
For all have sinned, even in modern woke America. If left intact alongside contextual information these monuments could serve as object lessons to enlighten generations yet to come. If freedom from moral stain becomes a prerequisite for veneration then I fear we may be destined to become a nation bereft of monuments.
The last bomb to his Arizona, penetrated the deck in the vicinity of the forward magazine. Its possible the bomb actually went into the magazine itself. We don’t know for sure and never will. Know why? When the magazine exploded it obliterated the forward 3rd of the ship. It blew out the sides of the hull and destroyed all the supporting structure down to the keel. So much so that the deck just forward of the number 1 turret to just aft of the number 2 turret collapsed on the now missing decks underneath it.
The ship was in no condition to salvaged. It would have broken apart more in any attempt to raise it.
Logistically there were also problems. The bottom of this section of Pearl Harbor is very soft mud. As soon as Arizona sank to the bottom, and it didn’t take long as the water was maybe 6 feet deep under the keel, its mass sank several feet into the mud. If the water were deeper, raising portions of Arizona might have been possible.
In reality salvaged does not mean what you think it does. The correct term would be refloated, like USS Nevada and put back into service. As far as salvaging, Arizona did have considerable salvage work. Much of Arizona’s equipment and superstructure was removed and recycled even if only for the metal.
The M67 flamethrower tank is one of the iconic American weapon systems from the Vietnam War. Nicknamed the “Zippo,” these flame tanks gave soldiers and Marines a tactical advantage against fortified enemy units.
A U.S. Marine Corps flame thrower tank in action during January 1966. Image: NARA
Since March 7, 1994, the United States Department of Defense has prohibited smoking worldwide in all workplaces and vehicles owned by the Pentagon. Moreover, smoking is even prohibited during basic training. Yet, there was a time when smoking and the U.S. military went hand in hand. During the Second World War, Zippo ceased production of lighters for the consumer market and dedicated all production to the U.S. military. Even today, Zippo produces a line of military-themed commemorative lighters.
However, the lighters aren’t the only connection between Zippo and the U.S. military.
A pair of U.S.M.C. M67 flamethrower tanks engage targets in a Department of Defense training film. Image: NARA
One of the most effective flamethrower tanks in the U.S. military’s arsenal was the “Flame Thrower Tank M67” — more commonly known as the M67 “Zippo.” It saw service with the United States Army, and later by the United States Marine Corps during the war in Vietnam. Though it was the last flamethrower tank used by the U.S. military, it wasn’t actually the first.
A Brief Service History of Flamethrower Tanks
Modern flamethrowers saw their horrific entrance on the battlefield during World War I. German flammenwerfer units experienced moderate successes, prompting the other powers to explore the use of the weapons also. World War I also introduced the tank to the battlefield.
A German assault team trains how to attack enemy trenches with flamethrowers and grenades.
It isn’t any significant surprise to find that the world’s armed forces might want to combine the two. The Soviet Union experimented with flamethrower tanks in the interwar era and adopted several models, including the KhT-27 and the KhT-26 among others.
During the Second World War, the Axis nations of Germany, Italy, and Japan also produced a number of tanks that could shoot flames to varying degrees of success.
The first U.S. flamethrower tank was actually the ominously-named “Satan,” a modified conversion of the M3 Stuart light tank. In place of its main gun, it was fitted with a “Ronson” flamethrower. The M3 Satan was used alongside M4 Sherman tanks that were also fitted with bow-mounted E4-5 flamethrowers to great effect against the heavily entrenched Japanese forces in the Pacific.
A Marine M3 Satan flamethrowing tank turns on the heat to wipe out a Japanese pillbox on Saipan. Image: Cpl. Clifford G. Jolly/U.S.M.C.
United States Marines experienced firsthand the capabilities of flame tanks in the Pacific, as it primarily used tanks in a close infantry support role due to the fact that the type of island hopping campaigns meant there were no significant tank battles — at least not on the scale of those in the European Theater.
A Marine flamethrower tank based on the M4 Sherman lays down a stream in heavy fighting near Naha, Okinawa. Image: Cpl. Robert Cusack/U.S.M.C.
During the Korean War, the U.S.M.C. sought a more effective platform to replace the aging M4 Sherman. That led to a request to the development of a M67, which was based on the M48 Patton with its 90mm gun.
Enter the M67
Production of the M67 began in 1952 and continued until 1954. The tank was, however, too late for the war in Korea. Nevertheless, the Marine Corps leadership apparently liked what they saw in the newly designed flame tank. A total of 109 were produced, and while the Army also adopted it briefly, only the Marines actually headed into combat with the flame thrower tank.
A U.S. Marine M67 flame tank of the 1st Marine Division burns out a Viet Cong position on July 7, 1967. Image: U.S.M.C.
What is also notable is that there were actually three versions produced including an M67 on the M48A1 chassis, the M67A1 on the M48A2 chassis, and the M67A2 on the M48A3 chassis. The only difference was in said chassis, as the flamethrower was identical on all models. Each tank weighed around 48 metric tons, a bit heavier than the M48 Patton — due to the flamethrower system and internal fuel tank.
The M67 “Zippo” tank was fitted with a lookalike 90mm main gun. The iconic muzzle brake was not needed to launch a stream of fire.
The M67 was fitted with a flame tube that was actually disguised to resemble a 90mm main gun, albeit the shroud was noticeably wider in diameter and a bit shorter. In hindsight, it was actually somewhat ironic that efforts were made to conceal the flamethrower as it proved to be a terrifying weapon, and one genuinely feared. However, the mock-up gun was fitted to the M67 to disguise it while on the move.
A Marine tank fires flame into some brush north of Camp Carroll where Viet Cong occupied tunnels. Image: J.L. Blick/U.S.M.C.
The flame tube was also heavier than the 90mm T54 gun, and though it shared many of the elevation and traverse components that were employed on the M48, the M6 Flame Gun required a complicated shroud, which made the muzzle heavy. This required that a hydraulic equilibrator device be introduced so as to balance the weapon.
Instead of a crew of four that was employed on the M48 Patton, the M67 actually had a crew of three — as it required no loader. Instead, a huge fuel tank was placed in the loader’s position within the turret. This meant that the gunner was charged with operating both the flame gun as well as the coaxial .30 caliber Browning M1919 air-cooled machine gun. It wasn’t an ideal setup, but there weren’t really any other options available.
All tanks can be described as cramped, and the M67 even more so.
A M67 flame tank from C Co. 1st Tank Bn. fires its deadly flame into an enemy position 10 mines south of DaNang in May 1967. Image: Cpl. R. P. Curry/U.S.M.C.
Within the turret was a large 398-gallon central “tank,” which held “thickened gasoline,” more commonly known as napalm, which was put under pressure, and ignited by a 24,000-volt electric spark. The total burn time in operation was around a minute, depending on the size of the nozzle employed. Nozzles of 19 mm (.75-inches) and 22 mm (.88-inches) were the most common. The flame tube had an approximate range of 280 yards (256 meters).
Due to the fact that the M67 didn’t need to carry standard ordnance, the ammunition racks for the 90mm ammunition to the left and right of the driver were removed and replaced by stowage bays. This allowed for tools, spare parts for the equipment, and ammunition for the machine gun to be stored.
Baby, Won’t You Light My Fire
In what can only be described as perhaps one of the most bizarre coincidences in modern military history, in January 1967 the American rock band The Doors released their hit single “Light My Fire.” The song would go on to spend three weeks at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart later that same year, and while not as potent of an anti-war song as the group’s “The Unknown Soldier,” it has come to be associated with the Vietnam War.
Flame tanks of the 1st Tank Battalion engage Viet Cong combatants during Operation Doser near Binh Son in the Quang Ngai Province. Image: NARA
It was, of course, in that conflict where the M67 Zippo saw its only actions.
Details are sparse on how many of the flamethrower tanks were actually sent to Southeast Asia, but it was first employed in combat in August 1965 during Operation Starlite, the Battle of Van Tuong. It was the U.S. military’s first major action in the war, and during the battle, a number of M67s were ambushed and destroyed.
It wasn’t an ominous baptism of fire, yet the M67 did prove to be well-suited to the guerilla nature of the Vietnam War, and it was often employed to incinerate patches of jungle that may have concealed an enemy position. Such attacks took on the name “Rods of Flame,” and the Zippo was widely feared by the Viet Cong forces.
Urban Combat with the Zippo
It wasn’t just in the jungles where the M67 saw success.
During Operation Dozer, and the Battle of Hue, a pair of M67 Zippos accompanied by a number of M48 Patton tanks led the armored strike into the ancient Vietnamese city. The M67 proved even better suited to the urban combat in Hue than it did in the jungles. However, throughout its service, the M67 needed to be accompanied by a pair of 2 1/2 ton trucks that carried the equipment and supplies for the flamethrower. In most cases, one truck would carry the Napalm supply, while another would be employed to recharge the compressed air system. The need for such support restricted the type of operations where the tank could be used, while it also meant that efforts needed to be made to protect those trucks.
These Marines demonstrate the power of the M67 in a 1970 U.S. Navy training video. Image: NARA
Another issue that limited the success of the M67 was that the flamethrower was noisy — even by tank standards. When the flamethrower was in use, the level of the internal noise within the vehicle was so loud that the commander and gunner would barely hear each other over the intercom. There are reports of tank commanders putting their heads out of the turret so as to direct the gunner. In a firefight that was also far from ideal.
Legacy of the M67
The M67 wasn’t actually the only armored flamethrower to see service in the war. The other was the Self-Propelled Flame Thrower M132, a modified M113 armored personnel carrier (APC), which was fitted with much of the same equipment. It was employed in a limited role by the United States Army. However, the Army never had the same faith or success with the M132 as the Marines did with the M67.
Based on the success of the M67, the American armed forces looked to incorporate flamethrowers in other contexts. Here a U.S. Navy patrol boat tests a Zippo in January 1969. Image: NARA
Soon after the U.S. withdrew its forces from Southeast Asia, the Zippo was essentially snuffed out. The M67 was officially retired from service in 1974 without a replacement. It was the last flamethrower tank to be employed by the U.S. military.
Of the 109 that were produced, it is an actual mystery as to how many actually survive. According to Tanks-Encyclopedia.com, one was on display at the now-closed U.S. Army Ordnance Museum at the Aberdeen Proving Grounds in Maryland. All of the vehicles have been relocated to Fort Benning, Georgia — but as of press time, the M67 Zippo isn’t believed to be on display. Another can now be found outside the Engineering School at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri.
These serve as the final reminders of the M67 Zippo.
A Russian truck wearing ERA.
