The Army two-and-a-half ton truck, lovingly known to generations of GIs as the "deuce-and-a-half", has all but disappeared from view. At least at our little post-under-the-hill here in the colorful state. It has been replaced with a whole generation of cab-overs that make the post look like it is populated by the German Army. But in my youth they all looked pretty much like the one pictured above. Of course, when I started out most of them were gasoline powered; the diesel engines came a little later (they were called "multi-fuel"; supposedly they would run on hot butter if you could keep it melted). It was a basic cargo truck, 6X6 (meaning you had six wheel groups on the ground and six wheel groups receiving power); could carry up to five tons on improved roads and 2-and-a-half tons off-road (hence the name). They had a five-speed transmission with a two-speed transfer case except for the old GMC models which had an automatic transmission. They were mostly found in Korea and were phased out sometime in the sixties, I think. The top speed varied according to how much the driver knew about fiddling the fuel injector pump, but most wouldn't go much faster than 55 to 60 mph downhill with a tailwind. Which was ok; their primary purpose was to move cargo around a combat zone where roads were shabby to non-existent and at that, they were excellent.
Their secondary purpose was to serve as a troop carrier, moving soldiers around in a less than luxurious fashion. Troop capacity was supposed to be 20 soldiers without gear, 16 combat-ready complete with entire "battle-rattle", or as the joke goes, 6 officers with their luggage. The deuce-and-a-half was ubiquitous; it served in every theater, every command, every continent, just every where. And for most folks who drive trucks, it is where we learned our trade. Modern truck driving schools all over the nation are churning out CDL drivers in three weeks and the roads are full of those. But a large part of the commercial drivers on the road today learned their trade driving olive drab, woodland camo, or Navy gray 2 1/2 tons. I did. And I felt like a real trucker when I graduated from the Army truck driving school at Fort Ord. I had a lot to learn, for sure, but at seventeen years old, I could double-clutch like a pro.
Told you all that so I could tell you this. In the middle 1970s I was a squadleader in the transportation company of the Supply and Transport Battalion (S & T Battalion) of the 7th Infantry Division's Division Support Command (DISCOM). We were always short handed, so I was often not only in charge of one or more elements of a convoy, I was usually driving one of the trucks, too. Carrying the supplies to and from units in the division was part of our mission, but moving troops to and from field sites, training areas, and other places was just as large a part. We would line up outside the barracks of an Infantry company and load their equipment and personnel, then convoy to wherever they were headed: East Garrison training areas, beach road firing ranges, Hunter-Liggett, Camp Roberts, or wherever. Convoys in the Army are not like the convoys you may have seen in trucker movies...the Army runs convoys like trains. You have specific start points, assigned time to depart, specified intervals between trucks, break areas, chow stops, und so weiter. If a soldier in the back didn't avail himself of the latrine facilities before departing and suddenly had the need to NOW...he (or she) was SOL (so to speak)...there was NO stopping until the scheduled break. Normally a convoy stopped after the first hour, then every two hours after that. The stops were short, usually 10-15 minutes and when it was time to depart, you'd better be on your vehicle because it was going with or without you.
Convoys that ventured out into the civilian world were especially controlled. We had to be permitted by local authorities and had to stick to schedules STRICTLY. The intervals between trucks became extremely important; civilian traffic had to be able to get in and out and not be impeded. Some of my most vivid memories of convoy operations come from that period: cleaning out all the trash left by my "passengers"...including piles of crap left by some grunt who couldn't wait for the next rest stop (really appreciated the one soldier who I witnessed climbing out of the back of my truck carrying such a "load" in his helmet (pre-Kevlar, two piece steel pot), dumping it out on the ground, then using dirt to clean out the steel pot. I just keep this image of the next morning when he would fill it with warm water from the mess hall and use it as a basin to shave out of...ugh. We kept five- gallon cans of water handy to wash the urine off the side of the trucks...it always tickled me to picture this particular practice, pushing the canvas away from the side of the truck and trying to aim your stream out through the gap...the wind would blow it back into the truck. I remember fondly an argument with an NCO who out-ranked me and thought his rank made him the truck commander and I should take his place in the rear and HE should take my place in the cab with the driver. I informed him that rank or no, I was the truck commander by assignment and HE was "cargo" to me. My Convoy Commander heard his argument and his report that I had referred to him as "cargo", then informed the infantry platoon sergeant that he WAS in fact cargo, I was in fact the NCOIC (NCO in charge) not only of that truck but the whole element and there would be no more discussion, it was time to leave. Fond to me because 1) I didn't want to ride in the back, 2) I wasn't sure my Lieutenant would back me up, but mostly 3) because I have never seen a man turn so red in the face; his veins stood out like a relief map of a flood plain.
Civilian traffic would do some crazy things, too. We had an accident when a motorcycle tried to pull in between a truck and its trailer. One jeep full of good ole boys from the Central Valley pulled up to the rear of each truck and threw bottles of beer to the GIs in the back. The civilians would honk in hate, would honk cause they loved us, would flip us off, would wave and smile, and would usually get in the way and screw up our intervals. One time out on Hiway 101, I was being passed by a family sedan; I glanced into the back seat as it passed and a teenage girl was lying down on the seat with her shoes off, and she was waving at us as they passed by...with her feet...wiggling her toes. Why that stuck with me I just don't know.
In any case, this is just a ramble from a by-gone era...they still run convoys; I see them on I-25 heading to Pinon Canyon or some other training place...but I don't participate anymore. And the trucks don't look the same. It is a reminder that the soldiers do a lot more before 9 am than most do all day.