The US army is thinking of replacing the Hummer H1 with this:
The RST-V
The Content:
Driving around at a geriatric 30 mph is a piece of cake when I’m dodging terrified kindergartners in suburban school zones, but it feels a hell of a lot faster when I’m doing my best to avoid trees while careening through woods down a narrow dirt path. To make matters worse, my 4x4’s power steering just shut off, and the rutted muck is urging me toward an especially large poplar.
I wrench the wheel hard to the left then floor the gas, and to my relief the vehicle rights itself with astonishing ease. In a typical off-roader, that little maneuver probably would have flipped me—and a couple of tons of glass, rubber, and steel—squarely on my head.
But I’m not driving any ordinary mud bogger. This little number is the Reconnaissance, Surveillance, Targeting Vehicle (RST-V), a high-tech hybrid being developed by defense industry contractor General Dynamics Land Systems for military use. Mischievous demon spirits have apparently possessed several General Dynamics employees, because today they’re letting me strap into two different vehicles—together worth a cool $9.5 million—to tear around their test track in Muskegon, Michigan.
I hope they have Geico.
THE FUTURE ROAD WARRIORS
The RST-V weighs 8,000 pounds, hits 30 mph in about four seconds, and has two feet of ground clearance. In other words, it’s lighter, quicker, and more agile than the Humvee, the military’s omnipresent utility vehicle that could one day be replaced by the RST-V. When put through its paces on a lunarlike military obstacle course at the Yuma Proving Ground in the Arizona desert, the RST-V crossed the line in under 14 minutes. Humvees often take over 30.
“The RST-V is about 14 inches narrower than a Humvee but has the same cargo capacity,” explains Tom Trzaska, manager of advanced programs, who’s overseen much of the eight-year, $70 million development of General Dynamics’ two demonstrator military vehicles. “It had to be the size of a Jeep in order to fit inside the V-22 [transport airplane], but Jeeps have had problems with rollover because they’re very narrow. So we created a folding pneumatic suspension system that allows the wheel to actually rotate up into the wheel well.”
Like the RST-V, the Advanced Hybrid Electric Drive (AHED) 8x8 is designed to conquer difficult terrain. Unlike the RST-V, it’s a friggin’ tank. The AHED sports eight wheels, a curb weight up to 40,000 pounds, and a gravity-defying pneumatic suspension system—imagine hitting the switches on an eight-wheeled ’64 Impala—that would make Xzibit weep with joy. Tires instead of tracks mean it won’t need to be trailered when it’s time to hit a highway, and it can chase bad guys over rough terrain faster than a tank—though the AHED’s smoother ride would be better for applying makeup during your morning commute. It’s versatile enough to haul troops through hell, badass enough to dish out devastating firepower, and agile enough to be near invisible during recon missions. It can even keep on ticking after half its tires are disabled or blown to pieces.
The most conspicuous feature of the AHED is its uncanny resemblance to the troop transport in the movie Aliens. When I mention the likeness to the engineers, they reluctantly agree and quickly change the subject. After a few minutes in the vehicle, I think I understand why they don’t welcome the comparison: The AHED is actually better than Ripley’s ride.
“The Aliens thing comes up a lot,” admits retired Army lieutenant colonel Bill Riker, a program manager for General Dynamics’ Future Rapid Effects System projects. “What makes it exciting is the fact that it really is futuristic. It has a whole new magnitude of cross-country mobility, and power to put all kinds of new payloads or weapons systems inside of it.”
By power, he doesn’t mean horsepower, though both the RST-V (150 bhp engine, four 50 bhp in-wheel motors) and the AHED (500 bhp engine, eight 150 bhp in-wheel motors) have plenty. Riker means electricity, supplied by an on-board generator and stored in batteries. The RST-V can pump out 30 kilowatts, while the AHED unleashes 350. Translation: The RST-V could power several houses, and the AHED could juice an entire city block. A typical military mobile command center requires less than 25 kilowatts, so instead of hauling cumbersome generators, soldiers would just tap into these all-terrain power grids. And supervillains beware—all that rolling current means the RST-V and the AHED could one day make ideal platforms for power-hungry lasers.
But the coup de grace for General Dynamics’ war machines is wrapped in rubber. Each vehicle has an in-hub hybrid electric drive, so the engine is connected to a generator that both charges batteries and supplies power to electric motors inside the wheels. Think of the in-hub motors as really dope rims; each can be removed, repaired, and replaced without jacking up the vehicle. And with the diesel turned off, the RST-V (rightly nicknamed the Shadow) and AHED can run deadly silent on battery power.
But wait, there’s more! Since they don’t have traditional drivetrains—the combustion engines don’t connect to the wheels directly, and, in the case of the AHED, steering is all electronic—their open interiors swallow cargo like Andy Dick swallows pills. They’ll carry as much as their larger contemporary counterparts but keep a lower profile. In other words, they’ll be smaller targets.
Not that anyone will even be able to see them coming. During a nighttime test in the Utah desert, marines were instructed to avoid detection as they approached an objective in an RST-V. Soldiers stationed at the objective scanned the area with night-vision goggles and listened intently for any signs of an incoming vehicle. Nothing. Finally, a frustrated officer grabbed a radio and commanded the driver to turned on his lights. When he did, he lit up the stunned GIs from less than 250 feet away.
On the battlefield, they never would have known what killed them.
IN THE ARMY SOON
For safety reasons, people who clamber into the AHED’s squat interior have to wear jumpsuits. This makes the professional engineers look like professional test drivers; it makes me look like Rosie O’Donnell on a post-rave Fluffernutter binge. After I strap in, Randy Kinnucan, the lead AHED test mechanic, hits the gas. Though it’s a cool fall day, the interior immediately heats up. Climate controls and air circulation systems have yet to be installed, and the smell of oil makes the cabin seem even more oppressively cramped. The narrow windshield will be made of bulletproof glass, but armor on the front of the vehicle can be moved over it for better protection. The driver and copilot then navigate via periscope; backseat passengers just shut up and pray.
When I imagine the vehicle crammed with a full payload of 12 soldiers hurtling across a battlefield, I practically start sweating through my jumpsuit.
“Actually, this is downright roomy compared to other combat vehicles I’ve driven,” Kinnucan assures me when I casually raise the issue of my creeping claustrophobia. “Besides, the warmth is nice in the winter. And in the summer I just don’t wear anything under my jumpsuit.”
I’m suddenly really thankful it’s not July.
Perhaps sensing my growing desire to claw my way out of the AHED, Kinnucan turns to me and with a gleam in his eye utters the magic words: “Wanna do a 360?” Hell, yes. Despite its massive bulk, the AHED whips around like a bull goring a matador.
Computers in the AHED and RST-V know what the driver’s trying to do and make it happen. “Everything is controlled by the wheel motors and the electronic gearbox assembly—you just have reverse and drive,” says Al Gee, the lead RST-V test mechanic. “Software controls how much torque each wheel needs.” That kind of tech geekery allows both vehicles to spin in place. They can stop on a dime, turn on the dime, and then blow that dime to kingdom come.
Both vehicles are still going through testing, but the RST-V will get a chance to see action for the first time when the Marines deploy it in combat in the coming months. No one would tell me exactly where, but a country that shares a border with Iran is a safe bet. However, it could be five years before fleets of either vehicle will be seen hauling grunts across a battlefield. Or, if you’re a freedom-hating evildoer, not seen at all.
Source:MaximOnline