Last Month readers saw a machine, much like a Jeep in appearance, midwifed by Barney Roos at Willys, Karl Probst out of Bantam and by Ford. Each company made 1500 of these "MA" models which then were run to death by those Bad Army Guys over every bad inch of America. The Army testers racked up more than 40 million miles and accumulated a stack of evaluation reports 12 ft. high!

TECHNICAL RESULTS
Tomes have been written on the technical results. Avoiding such, here's a look at the essentials. Army findings were that the Ford "Pygmy" had some inherent, built-in problems. The Dearborn tractor engine used was low on upper-end horses and was designed for governor speed control. No governor was used during the tests, so the heavy-foot, variable-speed running tests tended to use up the bearings. Besides which it was necessary to tune the engines about once every week. The Model A transmission was the non-synchro variety which required precision double-clutching
     This transmission often got into two gears simultaneously which caused it to shell teeth like corn. A lot of engine vapor lock took place and the generator was known to suck mud.
     The Bantam had a neat suicidal steering jerk to the left and it was prone to lose structural items prematurely. The original transmission hung far too low and, even when it was changed for one from the tiny Bantam car, it wore out rather rapidly. True, its 46-bhp engine (bought from Continental) outran the Ford 42-bhp engine, but both screamed unduly on 55-mph highway runs.
     Willys also encountered some problems, but test reports emphasized, "You could always turn the key each morning and start." For reasons of its 60-bhp engine and "over-designed" structure, as some said at the time, it had a major advantage. In "Ultimate Run" tests, it could force the other competitors to break. Ford and Bantam could keep up only by exceeding their safe limits. All credit was given to the Willys engine (that flat-head 4-banger), but this was to miss the point of Willys' design entirely. Without overall integrity in the package, the engine would have been dead. Even a "Go-Devil" can't Jeep all by itself" As things shook down, Willys won more Brownie points in 73 technical categories than the other two vehicles. Thus Willys was declared champ of the great shootout!
     Were the Ford and Bantam "bad" machines? By no means! For the stated purpose, they were fine, but not quite so fine as Barney Roos' baby. And it had growth factor both in engine and structure because of Barney's experience with 4wds in World War I days. So, in the next model go-around (MB), when the Army kicked tare weight up to 2600 lb (twice the original weight!) and payload to 800 lb, the Willys rig still could handle it. Imagine what this added weight would have done to Bantam or Ford models! So Willys was the tall dawg and immediately lept into production model bidding.
     Again, Willys was the low bidder and was given the go-ahead on 16,000 units to be produced "instantly." Simultaneously, Karl Probst did some undercover work in a despairing effort to keep Bantam in the picture. Bantam's production line capability was about 16 to 20 cars per day at a time when hundreds per day were required. So it made some sense when Karl negotiated with Checker Car Company for use of its manufacturing facilities. Will Fenn, president of Bantam, angrily rejected this aid and became very irate with Karl when it was learned he had already sent drawings and had ordered a Checker "Jeep" built. Where is it today? Does anybody know?
     Karl, who had worked a year without pay in this cuckoo land of a bankrupt company, said something brusque to Mr. Fenn, then returned to his prosperous consulting company. Bantam, apparently born to lose, was then out of it "due to lack of facilities and capability." The company made its last vehicle, No. 2576, in December, 1941. Most Bantams went to the Russians who were trading lives to buy time for the Allies.

THAT NAME
     It would seem that a Jeep is a Jeep. If it didn't have a name it would be called Jeep anyhow because the Jeep looks so much like a Jeep. But it didn't at the outset. Still, Jeep rapidly became a household word worldwide and remains so. Who named it and how?
Top Secret Information:
     Aunt Sadie, Daddy and Sister Sue named it! The Army sure didn't. It was worth three days KP from a mean old Army Master Sergeant to call the vehicle anything but a "Peep." That's because the Army already had a handful of 1/2-ton Dodge Command-Recon cars the Brass called "Jeep."
     Civilians, however, were not inhibited by Master Sergeants. So, the name started in 1941 when Red Hausman, grinning test driver for Willys, took a terror-striken lady journalist (Kathy Hillyer) up a very steep hill. She stammered a question, "What's this machine ca-called?!" He replied happily as he had to Senator Mead, who'd just driven this machine up the Capitol steps in Washington(!), "A Jeep. It's a Jeep!"
     By next morning the immortal name was on the press wires all over. Citizens across the land, desperate for a unifying word against impending, immediate war threats, rallied to "Jeep," just as our daddies had rallied to "The Maine" or "The Alamo."
     Why not make household words of other pieces of machinery called "Jeep"-that 1/2-ton Dodge Recon, or an Oklahoma oil truck, or an autogiro, or a MinneapolisMoline 4wd tractor, or even the fact that "GP," for "General Purpose," sounds like "Jeep" if you say it fast? Them things wern't Jeeps! Only a Jeep is a Jeep and rates the Dodger fan adulation it instantly got when recognized for what it was.
     For the record, the Bantam and Ford models never were called "Jeep" in newspapers, official records or test records. Somehow they didn't fit the Popeye comic strip, Eugene-the-Jeep, loveable character "who was neither fowl nor beast, but knew all the answers, could go anyplace and always told the truth" (he also ate orchids). In June, 1941, Army Publication TM-10-460, used the name, for Willys Jeeps although a misspeaking private still could get KP if he didn't play it cool.

JEEPS "IN A BOX"
     Were there ever Jeeps "in a box?!" Absotively! They came two ways: (1) "PKD," meaning "Partly Knocked Down," and (2) "CKD" (want to guess for a second?) for "Completely Knocked Down." As students of World War II well know, the Germans sank more ships than the U.S. and England could build-up to mid-1943. So boxed Jeeps saved space in the holds of dwindling numbers of transport ships.
     Did civilians ever buy "$50 Jeeps in a box?" Yes they bought'em in boxes, but they paid more like $650, not $50.
     The "Jeep in box" thing led to an interesting piece of show business in Britich soccer stadiums. Contestants got to see how quickly they could assemble and drive off a "CKD" Jeep!Because some readers have been stewing for a month about how they're foing to fix Old Blue, out there in the driveway, straighten up and pay strict attention.
     Time 0-box on field, six man team standing by. Time 34 sec-crate top off, chassis and wheels out and engine being carried to frame. Time 1 minute-engine bolted in, axles tilted for wheels. Time 2.5 minutes-body onto chassis. Time 3.1-body bolted down, electrics hooked up and engine started. Time 3.5 minutes-engine into reverse, Jeep backed, trailer hooked up and whole thing driven from the field! Of course, the British Gis fudged a little with quick disconnects and other non-stock mods. Picky! Picky! Git out in that driveway and git to work!

WORLD WAR II PRODUCTION
     So Willys won the Jeep contract and made 'em all, right? Not quite. Of the 600,000-odd Jeeps producered, Ford built nearly half as a "second source to insure adequate production." How can a Willys be differentiated for a Ford. Remember only this: "Ford-square, Willys-round." This is the crossmember, just under the radiator. Ford made it of inverted channel-beam stock, hence, "square." Willys used tubular stock, hence, "round." Other clues are the pedals. Ford cast pedals and thus they were heavier. Willys stamped-forged pedals, hence they were thinner. Be not shook if you even find "WILLYS" or "Ford" stamped into rear metal. Both manufacturers did it at first until some Master Sergeant, probably, caught'em at this PR work. However, Ford still carried the message with bolts, most of which carried the famous "F" on their heads.
     The two vehicles also were identified differently. The Ford was a "GPW," meaning "General Purpose Willys" because it was built to Willys drawings. The Willys always were "MB" because that, actually, was the Army model designation. For Willys units here is the serialization for the war years. It starts at 100,000 as readers will cleverly note:

Year Serial Numbers
1941.............100,001-108,598
1942.............108,599-200,022
1943.............200,023-293,232
1944.............293,233-402,334
1945.............402,335-459,851

     last one off the Toledo, Ohio, production lines was on Aug. 20, 1945, after which Willys shifted to manufacturer of the CJ-2A and the M-38 which, along with the later CJ-3A, were essentially identical in apperance to the World War II MB.

Posse Catches Grandad
     Some soreheads emerged after the war and cries of, "Unfair competition!" were heard throughout the land. Bantam, not enchanted with the whole affair, concerted with Minneapolis-Moline Tractor Company to nail Willys. The claim to fame was a half-dozen M/M "All-Wheel-Drive" tractor kludges delivered to the Army in 1940-41 which some GIs called "Jeeps."
     A little later on, the Federal Trade Commission, in 1948, determined "that the Bantam Car Company, in cooperation with certain Army offices, originated, developed and built the first Jeep..."
     Trembling with glory, M/M people quickly put up a plaque somewhere in Minnesota, saying they'd thought of the name first. (This ignores the Oklahoma oil company that even brought in a Coati, a furred South American animal looking a lot like Eugene, to christen the company's "Jeep" trucks in 1936!) And Bantam put up a statue containing the unctuous words, "…to the citizens of Butler County, Pennsylvania, in deep appreciation of their untiring efforts in cooperation with the U.S. Army in creating, originating, developing and building the first Jeep..."
     Wow! What sanctimonious slush! And what "untiring citizens?" Karl Probst? To deny his inspired contribution would be addleheaded. But to reflect some of his glory onto that inept, perennial loser, Bantam, is much, much too much!
     Those who want to talk of "invention" should look at the Jeep driveline which came from Spijker's work in 1902, or the driven axle that Otto Zachow pioneered in 1907 at the Four Wheel Drive Company. Do "layout and concept" really come from the Army "talking-paper" of 1940 with its 6th Grade drawing? "General design and bodywork" was a combination of Bantam, Ford and Willys-and, for that matter, could have come from anyone; what does a designer stuff in a form factor of 80-in. wheelbase, 40-in height and 47-in. track? That beautiful, classic front end design was pure Ford. And the engine, along with structural integrity, was pure Willys. If Bantam had used the original design of those "untiring" citizens," and made all the World War II Jeeps, it would have been a throwaway curiosity, lost with the war. And with it would have been lost our continuity with the most important thing in life, the spirit of four-wheel drive.
     Say it all together and in chorus: Who invented the Jeep, named it and kept it alive? We Did! Barney and Karl were the great sculptors who cut away excess rock to reveal what everyone knew was inside. A true People's Car was needed and a true People's Car emerged. Rest well, Barney. Rest well, Karl. You created a viable, feisty monument and a spirit the will endure so long as there are free men!
     Now that that's all settled, grab a handful of greasy wrenches and git out there!