There’s nothing easy about riding in a M36 Jackson tank destroyer.
In a dirt field behind the American Heritage Museum in Hudson, the approximately 32-ton machine roars and exhales gas fumes. If you’re riding shotgun and poke your head up, you’ll be greeted with dirt in your teeth and eyes.
These tank destroyers were introduced to the European theater in 1944. Despite their unglamorous build, armored vehicles like this played a vital role in numerous campaigns and battles and, today, comprise a unique collection of World War II-era relics at the museum. A dedicated team is tending to them in the hopes that the memories and lessons from the war do not fade away.
Part of that effort takes the shape of offering rides to visitors. It may not look too fast or difficult from the sidelines, but even those simple turns are stretching the machines’ capabilities.
“What we’re doing is what tanks aren’t made to do,” said Dick Moran, the museum’s director of maintenance and restoration.
He points out that tanks in World War II mostly moved in straight lines. Not the loops the machines maneuver these days.
“We’re over here doing figure eights on a race track,” he said. “They’re not made to be going left and right, left and right, left and right all day long.”
The tanks in Hudson will be on display for a special demonstration over the weekend to mark Memorial Day.
Surviving hardware
Every year, the number of living World War II veterans takes a somber dip. The National World War II Museum in New Orleans estimates that in about a decade, there won’t be any left. In Massachusetts, there were only 1,370 living veterans from that conflict as of last year.
“With those voices gone, it’s up to educational institutions like this to try and keep the history alive to the point that people will remember.”Hunter Chaney, American Heritage Museum’s director of education and communications
“With those voices gone, it’s up to educational institutions like this to try and keep the history alive to the point that people will remember,” said Hunter Chaney, the American Heritage Museum’s director of education and communications.
There’s a wide variety of tanks and other vehicles here that span over a century a war: a Soviet T-34 tank, Vietnam-era jets and an Iraqi missile launcher are just a few of the offerings. A recently added boxcar from Germany offers a glimpse into what victims of the Holocaust faced as they were transported to concentration camps. Each was a silent witness to the realities of war.
As Chaney points out, tyranny has always existed on the fringes around more democratic countries. And he believes there’s evidence that people are forgetting the lessons World War II taught.
“The further this history gets from us, the easier it is to forget that,” he said. “And that’s why this serves as a real stark reminder of that — in hopes that we do remember this history.”
The machines can get a little rickety and require regular tinkering. Chaney estimates that the museum spends three to four hours maintaining the tanks for every hour they’re driven.
And while the big steel shells are sturdy, the parts that make them move need a little more love.
“The bearings, the final drives, the tracks, the engines, water pumps, distributors, all of the revolving parts will wear out and break,” Moran said. “So, the supplies are getting very limited around the world which you can get for direct replacement. We end up making our own and modifying.”
Here at the museum, Moran is best known as simply the “chief tankologist.” He has the equivalent of a PhD in grease and the creaks of old metal.
His work — and that of his small band of staff and volunteers — pays off. The museum estimates it can keep the machines running well into the future with the proper support.
“It’s expensive and labor intensive,” Chaney said. “But so long as we have that support then we’ll keep ’em running.”
The dirt field behind the museum where the tanks run is like a wonderland for World War II nerds. To the outsider, the behemoths look invincible, but squeezing inside and imagining a slog through foreign, muddy fields with live bombs and bullets, they start to feel like giant, metal coffins.
Andrew Ford, the staff member who drove the Jackson while decked out in World War II-era fatigues, takes the responsibility of driving the machines seriously.
“A tank is trying to hurt somebody. It doesn’t care whether it’s the enemy or its crew,” he said. “That’s why one of biggest things when you start driving these is it’s made very clear that you’re operating a 32-ton vehicle that can and will really, seriously injure somebody.”
Unlike many of the museum gearheads, Ford is on the younger side at 20 years old.
“It’s loud, dusty, rough on the body, but it’s a fantastic opportunity,” he said. “Every day, I’m floored by the fact that I get to come in and help to tell the stories of guys who were essentially my age over in France and Belgium and Germany.”
