For younger readers, a M151A1 is the 4x4 quarter-ton truck, commonly called a Jeep.
Classic Driving Impressions: Military Jeep
The two guys in the picture are American military police (MP) from the 95th MP Battalion. They are about to depart on patrol in Long Binh, Vietnam in 1969. Their ride is the not-so-luxurious M151 Army Jeep.
During my 8 years as an officer in the Military Police Corps, I had numerous occasions to drive and ride in the ubiquitous Army taxi that was the M151A1. But there was one of these in particular that will always be special to me.
In 1974, I found myself in the Illinois Army National Guard, assigned as commander of the 333D MP Company stationed in Chicago. As such, I was the happy inheritor of what had to be the coolest M151AI in the Battalion. For younger readers, a M151A1 is the 4×4 quarter-ton truck, commonly called a Jeep. It was the Army’s primary transport for small groups of soldiers until it was replaced by the HUMMV in the mid-1980’s.
Behind the Wheel
Between 1959 and 1982, over 100,000 Jeeps were sold to the government. Manufactured mostly by Ford, AMC and Kaiser both had “round out contracts” to keep the Army supplied, particularly through the Viet Nam years.
Amazingly Reliable, Considering…
The M151 replaced the venerable M38 of WW II and Korean War vintage. The new design included a more powerful engine, a lower center of gravity, and most importantly, independent suspension. It was that new suspension that allowed the Jeep to charge across open terrain. Unfortunately, it was that suspension, and the more responsive steering, that resulted in numerous rollovers.
The rollovers were almost all caused by driver error, but these events resulted in the prohibition of M151 sales to the public.
It’s A Jeep, Not A Family Car
My experience with the Jeep was almost all on highways or well defined trails. On high speed paved roads like the Interstate, the Jeep was not a happy soldier. The steering always seemed a bit unsure at 50 mph or higher. There was no such thing as single handed steering, as you were constantly making adjustments. The other major distraction was road noise. Even with the canvas top on, the inside of the Jeep seemed to absorb the sound made by every piston firing and every revolution of the tires.
But then my military “cop car” wasn’t intended to do high speed pursuits or evasive driving maneuvers. It was designed to work with other vehicles of its own type in conditions that would intimidate any modern-day SUV.
My biggest concern was with the Jeep being top heavy. Occasionally, we would have to mount an M60 machine gun in the rear compartment for convoy escorts. That meant a gunner was standing up in the rear next to the high-mounted gun, changing our center of gravity for the worse. The solution: tossing about 100 lbs. of sand bags under the rear bench seat to balance things out!
The transmission felt and performed ruggedly. If you had a fording kit, it could swim fairly deep streams. Brake performance was reliant on maintenance support. They weren’t speed demons and nobody ever bragged about how fast they were off the line. However, given that most soldiers viewed their Jeep as a “rental car” and regularly abused them, they were surprisingly reliable.
Unique Optional Equipment Package
My M151A1 was no ordinary Army Jeep. It had been tricked out by an anonymous benefactor who had enough pull to avoid the wrath of the brass for his highly non-regulation modifications.
For starters, it was painted in a high gloss Olive Drab (OD) which of course pretty much negated the whole purpose of painting it in OD in the first place. Welded between the driver and passenger seats was a steel .50 caliber ammo can. This upgrade provided a spacious, watertight console perfect for keeping sunglasses, beef jerky sticks, cigars and other combat essentials. Both seats had been reupholstered. The seats retained the original canvas covers, but the filling was some type of miracle foam, making cross country riding almost enjoyable.
Finally, there was a chintzy AM radio with two tinny speakers rigged under the dash. This upgrade allowed a person to listen to a Cubs game should the need arise. It didn’t work all that well, but that’s what happens when you don’t use OEM parts. MP markings, a siren on one fender, a red flashing light on the other and a wheel cover on the back that said “Mess with the Bull, Get the Horns” provided the finishing touches.
“How Much For That Rig?”
One weekend, we were assigned an overnight reconnaissance of routes leading from Chicago to Pontiac, Illinois. The mission was to scout the routes and determine if they were suitable for moving armored vehicles over them. We had multiple routes to cover, so we split up into squad-sized elements and headed out.
Once we cleared Chicago and found our designated route, it became obvious that somebody had greatly overestimated the quality of these rural roads. They had apparently been built under FDR’s administration as part of The New Deal. Any vehicle that didn’t have a John Deere badge was probably too heavy for the pavement.
The mission then became getting to Pontiac without breaking down or hitting any stray farm animals.
We pulled into a little farming town and parked in front of a café to get coffee. The place was empty except for a half dozen guys in denim overalls chatting at the counter. We filled the booths, ordered coffee, drank it up and started to leave.
The local guys in denim had not said “boo” to us. It was like a dozen guys in steel pots and wearing .45’s dropped by for coffee every Saturday morning.
When we got outside, the denim crowd had surrounded my Jeep eying it with what can only be described as “farmer lust.”
“How much for that rig?” asked the oldest one.
I reached into the pouch behind the driver’s seat and pulled out the vehicle log. The log was the ultimate record of all things pertaining to the Jeep. I pointed out that it was made by Ford, had a 2.3L 4-cylinder engine rated at 71 hp and 128 ft-lb of torque. It had a curb weight of 2,400 lbs., a 4-speed transmission with a single-speed part-time transfer case. His eyes lit up when I told him the government paid about $3,400 for it.
I neglected to tell him that the Jeep had an annoying habit of rolling over during extreme turns, or that it drank gas faster than a wino could down a bottle of Thunderbird. I also did not reveal that they had been deemed unsafe for the motoring public and would never be sold, even as surplus.
$3,400 sounded like a good price to the old denim guy, until I pointed out the two FM radios and whip antennae mounted in the back. Those accessories ran a bit over $37,000 and you couldn’t even use them as CBs.
The denim crowd pretty much melted away upon hearing that news.
I loved that Jeep. Its windshield saved my life once when my driver ran into a steel cable supporting a power pole. It was dark, we were traveling too fast, and if the windshield had not been up, that cable would have split my head in two.
It will always be one of my favorite “cars I have known.”
