Arsenal: Weapons of War

Welcome to Arsenal, where the weapons and war machines of military history come to life. Today we explore the M twenty six Pershing heavy tank in Europe and Korea, and the crews and opponents who gave it its reputation. If you enjoy learning how technology, tactics, and human decisions come together in combat, you can find more articles, podcasts, and resources at Trackpads dot com.
It is March 1945 in Cologne, late in the afternoon, and the ruined city streets are clogged with rubble and drifting smoke. An American tank platoon eases forward between shattered buildings, and at the head of the column rumbles something new. The Pershing is lower and broader than the familiar Sherman behind it, with a heavy cast turret and a long ninety millimeter gun that seems to fill the street. Inside, the five man crew works in short, steady phrases over the intercom as the driver nurses the nose of the tank up to a dangerous intersection. One order matters above all. Keep the column moving without getting killed.
Through the gunner’s sight, the world shrinks to a narrow slice of the street ahead. A dark shape moves into view as a German tank edges out from behind cover, hunting for a shot at the Americans. The commander snaps a fire order, the turret motors growl, and the ninety swings onto target while the loader muscles a shell into the breech. The gun roars, the tank lurches, and a moment later the enemy vehicle is burning at the far end of the street. Arsenal is the Friday feature of Dispatch: U.S. Military History Magazine. For the men in that Pershing, this is the first real proof that the new heavy tank can do what they have been promised.
The scene in Cologne is the sharp tip of a larger problem. Early in the war, American doctrine treated tanks as fast exploitation tools while separate tank destroyer units were meant to handle enemy armor. The M four Sherman, with its seventy five millimeter gun, good reliability, and decent speed, fit that mobility centered concept. In theory it would support infantry and race through gaps, not duel heavy tanks head on. In practice, battlefields rarely respect theory.
As the fighting moved from North Africa to Italy and then to Normandy, American crews found themselves facing Panthers and Tigers on ground that allowed little room to maneuver. In hedgerows, towns, and narrowing valleys, the Sherman often had to seek a flank shot while living under the threat of long range hits from heavier guns. Infantry commanders wanted a tank that could soak up more punishment while smashing strongpoints at close range. Reports described Shermans knocked out in frontal fights, bridges and choke points covered by high velocity guns, and crews frustrated at having to rely on numbers, flanking, and supporting arms whenever heavier German armor appeared. Something more resilient, with a bigger gun and better armor, was clearly needed.
Engineers had not been idle, and heavy tank designs had been simmering in the background for years. Various experimental projects played with electric transmissions, new suspensions, and alternative gun and armor layouts. Some ideas worked on paper but turned out too complex or delicate for a global war that demanded simple, reliable machines. Others improved ride and cross country performance but imposed size and weight penalties that made shipping and bridge crossing difficult. Out of this mix emerged the T twenty six program, which aimed to create a heavy tank that could be built in quantity and maintained by ordinary units.
Those experiments gradually converged on a practical pattern. The Pershing would use a more powerful gasoline engine than the Sherman, tied to a strong but compact transmission and torsion bar suspension that let the hull sit lower to the ground. Electric drives were tested but set aside as too complex for field conditions. The new suspension promised a smoother ride and better cross country ability without towering over the battlefield. Designers sought a balance where the tank could carry thick armor and a ninety millimeter gun yet still move fast enough to keep up with advancing forces. It was an exercise in tradeoffs. Protection and firepower had to be raised without crippling mobility.
At a glance, the M twenty six Pershing was an American heavy tank for the late Second World War and early Korean War. It served with the United States Army and Marine Corps, carried a five man crew, and mounted a ninety millimeter main gun supported by coaxial and bow machine guns. A rear mounted gasoline engine drove wide tracks, giving a respectable road speed for a vehicle of its weight and keeping the hull comparatively low. Armor was thicker and more steeply sloped than on the Sherman, especially on the glacis and turret front, and the overall silhouette made it a harder target. Production came late and under pressure, which would shape where and how the tank first fought.
Factories retooled as the European campaign was already well advanced, so only a limited number of Pershings reached frontline units before Germany surrendered. They were fielded alongside Shermans in mixed formations rather than as entire battalions of heavy tanks. Even so, the experience of shipping them overseas, issuing them to units, and rushing them into combat provided invaluable lessons. Those lessons meant that when war erupted on the Korean peninsula a few years later, the Pershing and its direct descendants were available in far greater numbers. A tank designed with German cities and hedgerows in mind would soon have to prove itself in Korean rice paddies and mountain passes.
Walk up to a Pershing and the first impression is of a broad, purposeful front. The lower hull carries a steeply angled glacis plate, and the suspension is tucked partly under protective skirts rather than hanging entirely exposed. The turret is a compact cast shell, almost circular in plan, crowned with a commander’s cupola and pierced at the front by the heavy mantlet and long gun tube. Spare track links, stowage boxes, and field added gear hang from the hull and turret, giving each tank a slightly different personality shaped by its crew. It looks like a tank meant to stand and trade blows, not just dart around the edges.
Inside, the five man crew works in a tightly organized space. In the front left of the hull sits the driver, with pedals, levers, and periscopes arranged to let him coax the tank through tight corners and bad ground. To his right the bow gunner and radio operator manages the hull machine gun and the main radio set, splitting attention between scanning for close threats and keeping the tank linked to its unit net. Behind them, beneath the turret, run the mechanical linkages and shafts that tie the front crew space to the rear power pack. Noise, vibration, and heat are constant companions. It is never quiet in a Pershing that is on the move.
The turret forms the fighting heart of the vehicle. On the right side sits the gunner, eye pressed to his main sight and hands on traverse and elevation controls, ready to bring the ninety millimeter gun onto target. Just behind and slightly above him stands the commander, half in and half out of his cupola as conditions allow, spotting threats, issuing fire orders, and talking over the intercom. On the left side, the loader cycles between ammunition racks and the breech, hauling heavy shells, swinging the gun clear, and kicking spent casings out of the way as they pile up underfoot. An internal intercom system lets these five men talk over the constant roar of the engine and the clatter of tracks. One clear voice can mean the difference between a clean engagement and chaos.
In training areas, instructors emphasized that the Pershing’s crew stations and layout were more comfortable than some foreign heavy tanks. In reality any tank feels cramped and exhausting once shells start flying. The extra weight of the gun and armor demanded care when crossing weak bridges or boggy ground, and in tight European villages the long barrel and bulkier hull made every turn a calculated risk. Yet crews valued the feeling that, at last, they had a tank that could meet Panthers and Tigers on fairer terms. When the Pershing later moved to Korea, the same crew routines played out on very different ground, where steep ridges, narrow roads, and deep mud pushed the engine and suspension hard. Life with the tank meant long hours of cleaning, checking, and repairing, but also a sense of trust in its fighting power.
The Pershing’s first real tests in combat were scattered but carefully watched. In Cologne and other late war battles in Germany, small numbers of M twenty six tanks supported infantry crossing rivers, securing bridges, and pushing into dense urban areas. Often just one or two Pershings accompanied larger groups of Shermans, acting as the heavy hitters in a mixed force. Reports from these actions noted that the ninety millimeter gun could kill German heavy tanks at ranges where the standard Sherman struggled and that the improved frontal armor is more likely to stop or deflect incoming rounds. For the tank crews and the units they supported, that mattered in every exposed street and river crossing. These engagements came too late to shape the overall course of the European war, but they showed what the design could do.
The true test came in Korea. When North Korean forces pushed south in 1950 with Soviet supplied T thirty four eighty five tanks at the core of their armored units, early American armor sent into the fight included lighter tanks that struggled in straight duels. As Pershings reached theater, they became central to efforts to stabilize the front around the Pusan Perimeter, support counterattacks toward Seoul, and later fight through a landscape of hills and narrow roads in the north. Tank duels played out along valleys and village streets, with Pershing crews relying on their firepower and armor while worrying about mines, close range ambushes, and unreliable roads. The war they had been built for was in Europe. The war they actually fought in greatest numbers was on a cold and rugged peninsula in Asia.
Crews and commanders quickly formed opinions about the Pershing’s strengths. The ninety millimeter gun, with appropriate armor piercing and high explosive ammunition, could deal effectively with enemy tanks, bunkers, and fortified buildings. The thicker, better sloped frontal armor and lower silhouette gave more confidence in head on fights. Many tankers felt they no longer went into every engagement already behind their opponents. That confidence matters. It affects how boldly a tank can be used in support of infantry or in counterattacks.
Weaknesses also became clear. The gasoline engine and drivetrain were working near their limits, especially in mountainous terrain and in hot or freezing weather. In Korea, climbing steep ridges or slogging along primitive roads strained the power pack and exposed maintenance vulnerabilities. Recovery of a broken heavy tank in such terrain could be a major operation. The extra weight complicated bridge crossings and movement on soft ground in both Europe and Asia, sometimes narrowing a commander’s options. Enemies learned to exploit these realities, aiming for side shots, using mines and concealed guns, and sending close assault teams with explosives or anti tank weapons against less protected areas. Compared with contemporary machines like the Panther or the T thirty four, the Pershing offered a good overall balance, but it did not escape the basic tradeoffs between protection, mobility, and mechanical simplicity.
Because it arrived so late, the M twenty six’s wartime variants were mostly modest. Field units added extra track links, sandbags, and other improvised armor where they worried about specific threats. Stowage layouts shifted as crews found better ways to secure gear, and winter climates prompted additional insulation and heating tweaks. Some hulls were adapted as command or recovery vehicles. The most significant changes came after the war, as designers folded combat experience into a new generation of tanks. By improving the engine, refining the transmission, and adjusting the suspension and armor layout, they created successors that outwardly resembled the Pershing but handled better and lasted longer under field conditions. These became the foundation of the Patton family.
In that sense, the Pershing was both a fighting vehicle and a bridge to the future. Combat in Europe pointed to the need for better all around tank performance, while Korea highlighted the importance of engine power, fire control, and protection against mines and close assaults. Postwar design efforts treated the M twenty six as a baseline to improve upon, rather than a final destination. As Cold War planning grew more serious and the prospect of large scale armored battles against newer Soviet designs loomed, the ideas proven in the Pershing helped define what an American main battle tank should be. Its influence reached well beyond the number of hulls built.
Today, surviving Pershings stand in museums, memorials, and as gate guards at training bases. Up close, visitors can see the low hull, the heavy mantlet, and the broad tracks that carried it across German cobblestones and Korean roads. They can peer into the turret and imagine five men working in that steel shell under fire. Photo and video coverage through projects like Dispatch features and Trackpads channels brings those details to people who may never see the tanks in person. However sleek modern armor has become, the Pershing still speaks to a moment when American tank design stepped from one era into another. Behind every hull and every gun were crews and opponents whose lives turned on how well that step was made.