Being
a tank commander isn’t an easy job these days. In older times, knights were
unrivalled on the battlefield, cutting down peasants until their arms ached. Up
to World War 2, the squeaking sound of a Jagdpanther’s
wheels would send entire infantry companies running. Today, however, tank
commanders get less glory than daring raids by commandos, or covert strikes by
fighter pilots. So if you’ve ever wondered, here’s a look into the life of a
tank commander.
A
tank commander deals with a lot of responsibility, especially in keeping his
men safe. Everyday maintenance on the Leopard 2SG Main Battle Tank involves
lifting and swinging steel parts ranging from 1 to 15 tons. Walking around the
gigantic vehicle shed, I spend my mornings directing and supervising tank crews
as they service their tanks, watching out for their wellbeing. Every tank
operator knows someone who has broken a finger working on the tank.
Some
may imagine tank commanders eating, sleeping and perhaps talking with their
tanks. In reality, we spend a lot more time with our men. Afternoons are spent
training, teaching or bonding with them. It’s a favourite saying that there is
no best tank, only the best crew. As a 19 year old tank commander in charge of
other 19 year old tank crewmen, the amount of trust they put in you is truly
humbling. Some even come from your high school. Earning and keeping their
respect is difficult. Especially during our first overseas exercise in the
Northern Australian deserts.
“Come
on guys, let's clean this tank, then we can sleep.”
It
was 2am and my tank crew had just returned from a hard day’s fight. The fatigue
and ennui were obvious in their eyes as they dismounted.
“Can’t
we clean it tomorrow, Sergeant?”
They
looked at me with imploring eyes, longing for the light and warmth of the tents
on the starry hill. I had every right to punish them, there and then, as their
tank commander.
“You
guys go rest. I’ll clean it myself.” I turned and walked straight to the
mud coated tank. They watched me go with astonished eyes.
I
fought exhaustion as I scraped the dried, hardened mud off the engine air
intakes. Every tank operator takes greatest pride in his tank because one
day it will save his life, much like a soldier cleaning his rifle. If
I couldn't teach my men that, I didn't deserve to lead
them. Suddenly, I heard hurried footsteps approaching. It was my crew; they had
gathered more people to help. My apologetically smiling gunner had a hot milo
in his outstretched hand. Wordlessly, they got to work cleaning the tank. I
stood aside and watched them, humbled by their actions.
Being
a tank commander isn't about the glory. It’s about having pride in
your tank, and a special bond with your crew. That night, I learned that command
does not come with rank; it is earned when your men recognise you as their
commander, whatever your age.
