Cold War Redux: Testing a Soviet Legend

On July 1st, this great nation of ours celebrated its 142nd birthday. Considered a bastion of freedom and liberty, Canada is regarded by many oppressed people as a symbol of international hope; a sort of political refuge from persecution and injustice.

And in the other corner, we have this: the T-55 main battle tank. Operated by no less than 59 countries, it’s the preferred armoured fighting vehicle of such infamous nations as Iraq, North Korea, Afghanistan, Somalia, and the Congo. If there’s been a major military action anywhere in the world since 1983, chances are good a T-55 was somewhere nearby.

Which brings us to Chilliwack, British Columbia. Known by locals as the corn capital of the Pacific Northwest and by the rest of the world as the filming location for Smallville, it’s not exactly a bustling metropolis. Moving through endless fields of cornstalks spanning the entire width of the Fraser Valley, taking a selection of turns will eventually lead you down a winding five lane route peppered with the ubiquitous strip malls and pubs that are du rigueur for such towns. However, take one unassuming right and you’ll quickly find yourself driving down narrow lanes overhung with branches almost as weighty as the names on the streetsigns: Vimy, Arras, Ypres, Sicily, Falaise, Caen, Korea, Hong Kong and Petawawa to name a few. To the left and right, an odd collection of buildings range from oddly mysterious ‘80s era redbrick constructions to sprawling and attractive ‘90s era administration offices bearing RCMP markings. Continue inward and the years fall off the calendar with each passing step; the modern buildings with their double pane windows left far behind as strangely shaped relics of the 70’s appear, derelict and abandoned. Inspection reveals sparse furnishings of an assuredly federal nature long before the discovery of the effects of ergonomics of production capacities. Building signage indicates a power relay station, transportation depot, and ammunition storage, among other things. Delve deeper into the eerily quiet but mysteriously maintained landscape, and it isn’t long before the ’60s, ‘50s, and eventually ‘40s arrive, each forgotten, all ignored. Eventually, a fence with bearing Cold War era warning signs courtesy of the Department of Defence halts forward progress into what was known in 1941 as Military Camp Chilliwack before becoming CFB (Canadian Forces Base) Chilliwack from 1968 to 1997, and finally and currently as ASU (Area Support Unit) Chilliwack.

Turning your back on the rusted Cold War signage grants a different perspective, with clean roadways and perfect landscaping adding a distinct air of optimism to the scene. Until, peering around one particularly odd building (the aforementioned ammunition building) a long, slender cylinder protrudes in the distance, seemingly suspended, parallel to the ground. Something triggers deep down inside, and you instantly know what it is. The barrel of a cannon.

A few more steps confirms what you already know. A low slung hull suspended between impossibly huge tracks appear; all of it coated in a distinctly Eastern European camouflage scheme. You reconsider Car War era rusting away behind you, and make for the tank with a sense of purpose. Approaching the open chain link gate flanked by low guard towers, the large “OPEN” signs give a sense of relief, and you discover that although the eave may read “Quartermaster’s Stores,” the long and low building along which the tank is parked is in fact the Canadian Military Education Centre.

A privately operated museum with the obligatory and expected paraphernalia and uniforms, this place is a must for any car fan, because unlike other bland military museums, this one is absolutely stuffed to the rafters with military vehicles. Ranging from odd tank-killers to US Marine fast attack vehicles (think badass dune buggy) to world war II trucks and Jeeps, they have everything.

Including the ex-Soviet T-55 main battle tank out front. Owned by one Mark Fleming, you may have already seen it in the latest instalment of the X-Men movie franchise, where it is blown up quite thoroughly. Dwarfed in the face of its 3.6 metre’s worth of track width, most onlookers would agree, it looks fantastic for having been recently blown up. Oh, the miracle of movie magic. Meeting Mark on site one sunny Saturday afternoon, my suspicions were confirmed when he popped open the hatches and ushered my inside; no evidence the X-Men Origins: Wolverine explosion remains. Once you’ve squeezed through the gunner’s hatch atop the turret and marvelled at the sheer depth of the steel hull armour, you settle in and realize that everything is in great shape. Not just great shape for a tank, but great shape overall. Then again, it should be, what with it having only endured 66 miles during its servitude as a war reserve tank with the Czechoslovakian army. Then again, wear and tear takes on a different meaning when you’re discussing a vehicle designed to endure explosive projectiles.

After you’ve tinkered around and enjoyed the numerous Cold War-era Russian markings (in far better shape than those spotted in English earlier), marvelled at the cramped quarters (the crew commander’s seat is easily mistaken for the footrest for the gunner), and gotten a chuckle out of the red star markings, Mark climbs in the driver’s seat and starts flipping switches. Before long, 38.88 litres (that’s 2,373 cubic inches) of diesel-fired V-12 comes to life. Shockingly, it’s surprisingly undramatic. A couple heavy rotations of the crankshaft, and it catches willingly with little fanfare. No resounding booms, just a steady thrum. Of course, that’s discounting the plume of smoke billowing out of the exhaust that is best compared to a condensed forest fire. Chalk it up to a faulty smoke screen injector to keep the greenpeace types abates, before a solid thunk indicates that a gear has been selected. When that jarring forces comes through the 40.5 metric tonnes of mass that is the T-55, you suddenly notice that for the engines massive size and power, it’s surprisingly smooth. Out goes the clutch, and you get the overwhelming sense that you’re now riding the proverbial unstoppable force. Shortly thereafter you start looking for immovable objects.

Sadly, on the short loop around the former military base’s grounds, there were no immoveable objects to challenge, more’s the pity. However, even on a simple on/off-road loop, the overall impression from the gunner’s seat was impressive to say the least. With over 600 horsepower and an unmeasured and ungodly amount of torque that was literally capable of wrinkling the asphalt, the force behind the T-55’s movement was mind blowing. Moving from asphalt to dirt seamlessly, the lethal contraption is everything you don’t expect; that huge bump you’re aiming for barely ruffles the tank’s feather’s at five axles articulate perfectly, smoothing out all but the largest bumps completely. If Lexus ever wants to know how to give the perfect ride, they need look no further.
Only around corners is the T-55’s composure ruffled. With no instruction manual to speak of and controls labelled in Russian (which Mark does not speak), the individual track brakes used for steering need some tweaking, and as such it rounds corners in a relatively halting manner. Well, as haltingly as 40 tonnes of momentum can be. On dirt, handling is much improved, as the huge contact patches can skid more readily, smoothing out the turning action. Trundling about the pass as a pleasant pace, it was easy to forget how powerful the tank was, until rounding the last corner. Pulling back into the parking lot via an impossibly steep hill, the massive V-12 responded as willingly. No. Wait. More than willingly; as if it wasn’t saddled with nearly 240 square feet of armour plate, cannonry, and equipment. Cresting the top of the hill with the first axle dangling in mid air, the sudden acceleration and massive force of 40.5 tonnes worth of oppressive Russian steel slamming into the pavement gave a brief insight into the tank’s intended use: shock and awe, before the term existed.

Take into account the mysterious markings, storied history, and endless trinkets, and it’s a truly amazing experience from the moment you step on the former bases’ grounds to the moment you glance through the gunner’s sight while powering down asphalt roads that were once traversed by Europe-bound Sherman tanks. Add in the power that really does escape definition, and the overall effect is absolutely without parallel in the motoring world. Other vehicles may have higher price tags, and nearly everything at your local auto mall will leave this hulk in the dust (although, to it’s credit, leaving it in the dust and getting out of range are two totally different things), but for the simple, testosterone-fuelled sense of climbing aboard something that can crush, mangle, blow up, or otherwise destroy damn near anything, it’s unparalleled.

And, driving back down the same roads you just thundered down, none of those old, decrepit buildings seem quite so depressing. There’s seems to be a certain newfound pride in the way the hulking remains of a nuclear war that never happened are left to their own devices... but as you pass the rusting signs and rotting buildings, and think of the tank that currently sits just blocks away, patiently cooling it’s 33.88 litres worth of powerplant after a perfect performance, you can’t help but wonder, “what if?”