I rode a 4-wheeled version on a short trip with the Army. As it slowed to pick me up I felt like a small two-story building was lumbering up beside me. Its base sits high–maybe four feet–off the ground and the cabin is crowned on top by a gun turret surrounded by netting and bullet-proof glass. A heavy hydraulic ramp groaned open from the back and I made my way up five metal steps, the ramp closing behind me with a loud clap. The officer hosting me said his units don’t use the trucks when riding inside Iraqi neighborhoods in his area because they’re just too big. Streets aren’t even that narrow in his part of the capital but they’re usually lined with parked cars and electrical wires that sometimes get caught on Humvee antennae.
Once inside, I was surprised by the relative roominess. As wide as Humvees look from the outside, the interior is somehow chopped up by all the equipment and the standing room for the gunner. That barely leaves room for four seats at the corners (including one for the driver) where there’s little space for your legs. The MRAP had two seats up front and four in back, which faced inward and left ample legroom across the aisle. The gunner has his own metal step to steady him in the turret.
I’m always puzzled by the user-unfriendly aspects of military vehicles and the dangers they pose before any battle is ever joined. Whether they’re Humvees, Strykers or tanks, they seem filled with exposed steel edges, unpadded walls and supports. Maybe the lack of padding reduces the fire risk. The back of the big gun in an Abrams tank can crush your leg when it rises and falls if you’re not sitting just right in back. Similarly, the MRAP’s interior came with considerable risks, which the soldiers inside promptly explained. Seatbelts were a must, I was told. Otherwise, a normal bump could send you a couple feet in the air, slamming your (albeit helmeted) head into the thin padding of the armor ceiling. I noticed that all the seats were mounted on complicated systems of pulleys and thick nylon ropes. A soldier warned me to keep my feet away from a couple barely perceptible ridges across the passenger area floor. He wasn’t sure what they did but had been warned they absorb shock and “can break your leg.”
The stress, of course, is entirely on function. The interior is mostly metal in desert beige. There were boxes of ammunition for the gunner and an RPG launcher strapped against a wall. Along with written instructions on the side of the launch tube was an outline of a man with it mounted on his shoulder and the advice, “Fire like this.” There was enough room for a round drinks cooler (like the kind they dump on winning football coaches) next to the driver and a leather football was pinned between a seat and the wall. They seemed like the only things inside that wouldn’t maim someone who slammed against them in a wreck.
Just the speed bumps at the exits of the Green Zone, even taken slowly, were enough to send me shooting up into my shoulder straps, my feet flying off the floor and bring a knowing smile from the infantryman across from me. There was something about the suspension and the trussed-up seats that made me feel like the whole thing was made of springs as we were bouncing down the highway. The soldier told me that, while it bounces inside, the MRAP appears steady from the outside. Seems the weight of the vehicle requires a stiff suspension. But as I watched another in our convoy move turn with us over a median, it rocked like a small boat in choppy water.
The MRAPs have a lot of advantages over the Humvees. Their armor is integral to the design unlike the add-on quality to the armored Humvees, where you struggle to open the 400-pound doors now in place where canvas flaps were early in the war. The V-shaped hull is supposed to deflect blasts. The windows are protected by metal gratings and provide ample views. The tall chassis keeps soldiers literally more removed from the Iraqis around them, which offers safety. But, whether it’s a vehicle, a fortress or an embassy, security comes at a price. Nowadays, the MRAPs seem to run counter to the up-close, boots-on-the-ground surge strategy that has helped reduce attacks on U.S. troops. It’s harder for troops to get in and out or for Iraqis to speak eye-to-eye with anyone inside. And, though they are expanding their requests for them, officers in Afghanistan are concerned the big trucks can’t handle the hilly off-road terrain. Marines worry they’re too heavy for rapid transport to war zones. Even in Iraq, the behemoth might be more suited for the violence faced just a few months ago than for today’s relative calm. It’s a worst-case-scenario ride. If the violence grows, the MRAPs will be handy again. If it doesn’t, maybe they can do like they did with the Humvee–convert the ultimate gas-guzzlers for American commuters. But they’ll need a new set of shocks.
