America's Battle Buggy

I love the Jeep.  I own one now and have owned two others in the past. All older models. My current Jeep was nearly 20 years old when I bought it last year. It’s loud. It doesn’t get great gas milage. It isn’t the most comfortable ride. I love everything about it. My other vehicle is 18 years younger, and it rarely leaves the driveway.

Recently, I have been working on a research paper for a class on the history of entrepreneurship in America. My academic life, much like my approach to everything is grounded in things I interact with daily. I chose, after some thought, to write on the Jeep’s start as wartime utility truck and the leap to the commercial automobile and culture we see today. Complete with its signature wave of acknowledgement between drivers and the strange fascination with rubber ducks.

It was an easy subject choice. I have been in love with the Jeep since I was a kid.  I didn’t know anyone who owned one. My only exposure in youth was the U.S. Post Office Jeep that delivered our mail. But I had seen them in the movies and on TV, racing across battlefields or carrying pilots across airstrips. I always said I was going to have one, someday. Maybe, it was just my love of its connection to history influencing my decision. After all, is there a more historic American vehicle?

That said, it is easy to forget how the Jeep got started. It is a story nearly as confusing as the rubber duck phenomenon. But here are the highlights.

The Punitive Expedition into Mexico searching for Pancho Villa in 1916-1917 was the first significant use of motor vehicles by the American military. Doctrine that was further refined during World War I, as Americans used trucks and various cars to shuttle the American Expeditionary Force around Europe. With war on the horizon again in the late 1930’s, American military leaders began looking to update the logistical means to carry men and material.

In 1940, the US Army Quartermaster Corps approached the American Bantam Company about producing a utility truck. At the time, Bantam was a Pennsylvania company that specialized in smaller than average vehicles.  Bantam saw this as a chance to save their failing company and turned out a complete set of blueprints in just a few days. Unknown to Bantam, the Army had put the bid out to 135 different companies.  Only one other company submitted plans by the deadline and that was the Willys-Overland Company.

Bantam, due to its more complete plan, was given the initial contract to produce 70 or so vehicles for testing. Shortly after, the government became concerned about Bantams ability to build the number of vehicles needed and invited Willys and the Ford Motor Company back into the bidding. Allowing them, much to Bantam’s dismay, to observe and inspect Bantam’s prototypes. The Army justified this to Bantam, as being vital to national security. The results were test vehicles developed by Willys and Ford that looked very similar to Bantams. Now the three variants, the Bantam Reconnaissance Car (BRC60), Willys Quad, and Ford Pygmy would compete for the contract.

After months of grueling tests, Willys-Overland emerged the winner.  A few dollars cheaper to produce, the more powerful “go devil” engine, and a lack of faith in Bantam were the deciding factors.  However, the insults to Bantam weren’t done.  The final request from the Army was for Willys to produce a vehicle based on Bantam’s chassis and body, Willys’s engine, and Ford’s flat hood and grill design.  The soon to be iconic Jeep.

But why the name ‘Jeep’?

One day, during testing and demonstrations, the ‘Jeep’ was driving up and down the US Capitol steps ferrying congressmen and reporters on bumpy rides.  When one journalist asked the driver what the vehicle was called, he replied “It’s a Jeep”.  The following news article referred to the truck as a ‘Jeep’.  Where exactly the name came from is debated. But that seems the most likely source. The military had been using the term ‘Jeep’ to describe various General-Purpose items since as early as World War I.  Regardless of the truth, the Jeep was born.

Shortly before the production deadline for the first wave of deliveries, Japan bombed Pearl Harbor and America was at war.  To meet the demands of the war, Ford, with its massive factories, was also contracted to build the Jeep based on the approved design. Together, Willys and Ford built nearly 650,000 Jeeps. They served across Africa, Europe, and the Pacific theater with Americans and every Allied nation.  

As American as baseball and apple pie, the Jeep was called one of the four most important factors in winning World War II. Right up there with the B-17 and the Sherman Tank. It could do nearly anything, and the troops loved it.

Willys and the government loved it too. Both had plans for the vehicle after the war.  The Department of Agriculture conducted testing on how surplus vehicles could be used in farming. Willys also saw the Jeep as a replacement for the mule and tractor and developed a line of farming attachments that would allow the jeep to pull plows, pump water, and even work as a forklift. Returning vets, who had grown fond of the Jeep, wanted to own one for themselves. Soon Willys was offering a commercial version, the Commercial Jeep or CJ. Likely the birth of the Sport Utility Vehicle.

The Jeep line moved from company to company as it was sold or moved around through mergers. What hasn’t changed are the spirit of adventure and ‘can do’ attitude that the Jeep is known for…. very American attributes.

Now they can be found everywhere. Off road trails, mall parking lots. New models, old models. Even vintage WWII models can be seen from time to time. In fact, Willys-Overland still sells restoration parts for original military and the early ‘CJ’ versions.

Every time I look at mine, I think about what it’s great-grandfather may have done. I can’t imagine driving anything else.

So, if you see an old silver Jeep in the Northern Virginia area, give it a wave. Jeep folks, you know what I’m talking about.