How do tank drivers stop enemies from getting on top of the tank?

In Vietnam, fighting the Viet Cong was quick and intense. They used hit-and-run tactics, and battles usually lasted only 10 to 15 minutes. We often didn’t see them until after they attacked. They would hit us with RPGs, mortars, or ChiCom grenades. Sometimes, they tried to jump onto the tank. As the driver of an M48A3 tank in the 11th Armored Cavalry, I couldn’t stop them, especially when I was inside the tank.

The North Vietnamese Army (NVA) was different; they were trained soldiers and fought in a more organized way. When we faced the 33rd NVA Regiment, fights could last from a few hours to all day.

In the jungle, we didn’t need a gunner because the fighting was so close. We never had tank-on-tank battles; our main threats were RPGs, mortars, small arms fire, and mines. Most crew members were hurt by shrapnel rather than direct hits.

The tank commander (TC) could do everything from his cupola as long as the loader was ready with a round—usually canister, which is like a big shotgun shell.

When we came under fire, the TC would turn the turret toward the enemy and shoot back with canister or beehive rounds, if available. Sometimes our buddy tank would also fire to cover us. Each tank had a buddy tank nearby for support.

Since we didn’t need a gunner, our gunner, Reb, a farm boy from Tennessee, would ride on the back deck or behind the turret. He usually carried an M79 grenade launcher, which made a loud thump when fired. He watched for enemies trying to jump on the tank, especially NVA soldiers wanting to throw grenades into the engine.

It was nearly impossible to throw a grenade down a hatch. The TC often had his head out of his hatch to help guide me, since I could only see about 6 to 8 feet in front of the tank. My hatch and the loader’s hatch were closed and secured, and sometimes the TC’s hatch was shut too. This was real combat; hatches were always fastened.

If any NVA managed to get on the tank, Reb was ready to take them out. Depending on the situation, he might be on the turret or the back.

The NVA were smart. They knew that if they got too close, we couldn’t aim the main 90 mm gun or the M2 machine gun well enough to hit them. They sometimes felt safe being that close—and sometimes they were.

It’s important to remember that a tank never fights alone. There’s always a buddy tank nearby, plus ACAVs with M60s and infantry support.

Sometimes, jumpers would get on the tank, especially in thick jungle. When that happened, communication would go like this:

“Ah Deadeye, you’ve got some guys on you.”

“Okay, can you help me, Hobo?”

“Copy that, Deadeye. Here we go.” The buddy tank would fire small arms at the enemies on our tank. If they were far enough away, they could even fire a canister round, which wouldn’t hurt our tank but would take out the jumpers.

“Okay, you can stop now, Deadeye, all clear.”

“Thanks, Hobo. I owe you one.”

So, tank drivers don’t directly stop enemies from getting on the tanks. I was busy driving with my hatch closed and locked. It was up to the gunner outside, a buddy tank, or an ACAV to handle the threat. Sometimes, the TC would spin the turret to try to knock them off.

We faced this a few times, and it was never easy.

M48A3 of the 11th ACR in Vietnam: the commander is in his cupola, the loader near his hatch, and the day looks clear and bright.