In the early 1960s the Army started phasing out their gasoline-burning trucks and combat vehicles and started phasing in new equipment equipped with a new kind of engine. It was basically a diesel that was touted as a "multi-fuel" engine...they bragged that the multifuel would run on hot butter if you could keep it flowing. The original "flex-fuel". So the two-and-a-half ton, M-35 series trucks started arriving with the new LDS 427-1 engines. Liquid Diesel Supercharged 427 cubic inch series one. We, the drivers of these new machines, went to special classes to become familiar with the new trucks. We learned about new starting procedures to detect "hydro-static lock", warm up RPMs, power-curves, etc, etc, etc. No one pointed out at the time that the nomenclature for the new engine was a misnomer. The engine was not "super-charged"...it was turbo-charged... there is a difference.

A supercharger is a big air pump that is driven by gears or a belt connected to the engine's crankshaft. It dramatically increases the air pressure, (more air, more oxygen) inside the intake manifold. A turbocharger does the same thing except it is driven by the exhaust from the engine. The turbo is a clever design...on one shaft you have an impellor on both ends...one end has the exhaust channelled through it causing it to spin...on the other end the impellor forces the air into the intake manifold. Each impellor is encased in a swirl-shaped chamber and between them the shaft passes through a bearing that is lubricated by a high pressure oil injector. The "boost" from the turbocharger at low RPMs is negligible but it is far greater than a supercharger at high RPMs. The turbo can spin at up to 40,000 RPMs. That is a lot and it develops a lot of heat and requires a lot of high pressure lubrication. There is a seal on each side of the bearing to keep oil out of the intake and exhaust. When oil leaks into the exhaust side it produces black, oily smoke and eventually will affect performance. But...if oil leaks into the intake side, then something more drastic happens...especially in the multi-fuel engine. As oil is pulled into the intake, it is like stepping on the gas, only you can't un-step it. The engine will accelerate until it overspeeds to the point it starts coming apart. The multi-fuel engine has an engine-shut-off that cuts off the fuel to the injector pump, but it doesn't effect the new-found source of fuel...the engine's own crankshaft. So...if the intake seal fails and you are out on the road...you don't have many options to get the truck stopped...and you are probably going to be going really fast before long.

Told ya all that so I could tell ya this: There I was, riding with one of my drivers down Castle Hill, a downgrade between Kaiserslautern and the Rhine River. The hill gets its name from the castle that sits right next to the autobahn...I don't know the real name of the hill but every GI trucker in Germany knows exactly where it is. After you pass the castle, the grade gentles out and flies almost due east towards Mannheim/Heidelberg. In the old days, truckers from the tactical truck companies would throw their trucks into "Angel Gear" (neutral) and coast down the hill. The tactical trucks were not designed for freeway use; they were designed for off-road use,( lots of mud and snow and sand and such) and wouldn't get much above 50 mph unless someone jimmied the injector pump. The non-tactical truck units were equipped with road trucks that were designed to cruise on the freeways. Most of them belonged to 37th Trans Group; us "pig" drivers didn't like the way the Group drivers would pass us up and pump their pedal as they went by causing their trucks to make a taunting "wah wah" sound.

So there we were, tooling down Castle Hill on the way back to Mannheim. I was half-dozing in the passenger seat when I noticed we had just passed a German "land-train" (that's what we called their semis). That didn't happen often. Then we passed a Group truck. I knew that never happened so I sat up and checked out the gauges. The speedometer needle was hanging straight down; the tach was past 4000 RPMs. The driver's eyes were showing white all around the irises. We were flying. He had moved out into the passing lane and passing we were. The exhaust stack was blowing black smoke and there was a trace of orange flame in the midst of it. We got to the flat part of the road and didn't slow down at all. We talked about what we could do; we were picking up speed, even with a load on, and there wasn't much we could do about it. I took off my field jacket and shared a plan. I wanted the driver to stand on the brake and try to slow the truck enough to pull off the road - then put in the clutch. I would jump out and stuff my field jacket into the air intake scoop and hopefully starve the engine to a stop. Well, it sounded good on paper, but the slow-down didn't work very well. And as soon as he put in the clutch the engine over-revved and just blew apart. There we sat, smoke, nasty smells, oil and anti-freeze pouring out all over... and it started snowing. We sat out there for hours before a wrecker showed up, then spent a couple more hours cleaning up the mess after the truck got towed away. But all these years later, it makes a great chuckle...at least to all the old 5-Ton drivers who had to listen to those 37th Group IHCs whistle at them as they flew by. We had that old tactical tractor flying at over 90 mph...we passed everything with five axles.

Oh...it was 1967...the driver was 18 years old...and I...I was the experienced sergeant...combat vet...the man with a plan...I was 20.