United Kingdom (1944)
Public Address Vehicle – Unknown Number Converted
Among the famous, photo-hogging Allied Sherman tanks andGerman Panzers of the Second World War, there are still some armored scarcities to be found, even almost 80 years on. Such a scarcity exhibits itself in the form of the ‘Amplifier Vans’ of the British Army’s so-called ‘Amplifier Units’. These units, which would be endearingly nicknamed ‘Surrender Salesmen’ by US troops, were the brain-child of the Allies’ Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force, Psychological Warfare Division (PWD/SHAEF or SHAEF/PWD). The PWD was created in 1942 as a partnership between US and British departments and was tasked with conducting psychological warfare (PSYWAR, today known as PsyOps) operations. This involved broadcasting to enemy positions to convince them to surrender, and distributing pro-Allied propaganda in liberated towns from D-Day onwards. As well as broadcasts via the ‘Amplifier Vans’, this was also done via radio broadcast and leaflet drops either from the air or via special artillery shells.
Essentially, the modified vans were ‘Self-Propelled Public Address Systems’, with several loudspeakers fitted to the roof and carrying all manners of microphones, radios and gramophones (record players), and a generator to provide power. These vans were operated by a four-man crew, consisting of a commanding officer or warrant officer, a German-speaking sergeant, a dedicated electrician, and a dedicated driver who would also assist other crew members when required. Although sounding like something you may find at the hands of a particularly spaced-out tank commander from a famous 1969 war film, these vehicles were a very real part of the British Army. They were a rare sight and, clearly, far overlooked in the annals of the mechanized history of WW2. The ‘Surrender Salesman’ and their specially equipped vans played a very important role during the Allied invasion of Europe, both as a morale booster to Allied troops and the inhabitants of bombed-out towns or by “talking an enemy into surrender”, something that would happen with great success on numerous occasions.
While this article specifically looks at British vehicles used after the Normandy Invasion, examples of other ‘Loudspeaker Units’ were used in prior theatres, such as the Italian Campaign, and in the Far East, used against Imperial Japanese Forces. The ‘Self-Propelled Public Address System’ was also not unique to the British portion of the Allied forces, with US forces being the biggest adoptee of such equipment on their so called ‘Sonic Vehicles’.
Self-Propelled Public Address System
Two vehicle types were converted into ‘Amplifier Vans’. Initially, at the beginning of the Allied invasion, converted Austin K2 “Katy” Ambulances were used. Then, as the Allies pressed on, the conversion was done to American-built M3A1 Scout Cars – which brought the benefit of armored protection.
The Austin K2 Ambulance was the mainstay medical transport for British and Commonwealth forces during the Second World War. Based on the Austin’s K30 truck’s chassis, it could carry 4 stretcher-bound wounded or 10 walking wounded in its large rear box compartment. The vehicle was propelled by a 60 hp Austin D-Series 6-cylinder petrol engine, giving the K2 a top speed of up to 50 mph (80 km/h).
One of the biggest claims to fame for the K2 was that it was the vehicle the then Princess Elizabeth (later HRH Queen Elizabeth II) learned to drive when she joined the ATS (Auxiliary Territorial Service) in 1945. For the ‘Amplifier Van’ conversion, the box compartment was kept, but all of the stretcher bays and medical equipment/cabinets were likely removed to make way for the extensive electrical and audio equipment, as well as crew stations. The large painted Red Cross emblems were also stripped from the vehicle.
Produced by the White Motor Company (hence its alternate name of White Armored Car), the M3A1 was one of many American-built vehicles to find its way into British military service via the Lend-Lease program. The M3 was chosen as a replacement for the converted K2s for the very fact it was armored. On numerous occasions, when K2 Vans were in use, enemy shell explosions nearby resulted in fragmentation penetrating the van, in some cases damaging the broadcasting equipment. The M3s ½-inch (13 mm) armor was thought strong enough to defend against this. The M3 had the same 50 mph (80 km/h) top speed as the Austin K2, granted by a 110 hp Hercules JXD 6-cylinder petrol engine, but had increased mobility over the Austin due to its 4-wheel-drive. Overall, it was a smaller vehicle, with room for just 6 passengers, but it did have the option of armament in the form of either a .50 Cal (12.7 mm) or .30 Cal (7.62 mm) machine gun. Much like the Austin, the M3’s rear section would have been stripped to make room for the necessary equipment.
There were, of course, features carried over from converted ambulances to the armored car. Between 8 and 10 loudspeakers were carried that could be arranged atop the vehicle in various configurations. One could assume this was to ensure that the sound could be concentrated in the right direction. For example, if the broadcast needed to be heard in all directions, the speakers would be spread around the edge of the roof. If the broadcast needed to be heard predominantly on the right or left, then all of the speakers would be stacked up on that respective side. In both cases, copious amounts of camouflage netting were carried. Apart from the personal small arms of the crew, these vehicles were completely unarmed, so concealment was key. Extensive amounts of telephone and electrical wire were also carried.
A Personal Account
As obscure vehicles, very little information exists about their activities during the war, but perhaps this is because of their slightly clandestine purpose. The best account of the ‘Amplifier Vans’ comes from the personal account of Company Sergeant Major John Camp, the commander of one of these vans, featured in an issue of the War Office’s Soldier Magazine, published on April 13th, 1946. Of note is that, for their efforts working alongside American troops, CSM Camp and his crew were the first ever British servicemen to be awarded the US Bronze Star medal, a decoration awarded for heroic achievement, heroic service, meritorious achievement, or meritorious service in a combat zone.
The following is the personal account of this man, CSM John Camp (Photo from Wheels & Tracks No. 5), commander of an ‘Amplifier Van’ during the Allied Invasion of Europe.
I had the honour to command one of these units, and mine was the first to land in Normandy with the American army at the beginning of the invasion. For some time we were an object of derision. Talking the enemy into surrender! It was ridiculous. Jerry would shoot us up the moment our extraordinary-looking vehicle got within hailing distance. Not only that, they would strafe the whole area we were in, and woe betide the unit we happened to be working with at the time! So said the old sweats and some of the people at the top.
The first three weeks of the landing saw us swanning about the Cotentin Peninsula carrying out our secondary but important task of giving news bulletins in French to the dazed villagers of Isigny, Carentan, and Valognes. Our first news broadcast was in the tiny fishing village of Grandcamp on June 10, 1944. We ran into the marketplace there, and in a matter of seconds were surrounded by a wildly cheering horde of fisherfolk with their wives and children. They climbed all over the van and bombarded us with questions, and it was nearly half an hour before we could begin our broadcast. Sitting in the front of the van, each with a microphone, my sergeant and I began to read the news bulletin in French. News was scarce at the time, only the barest details of British and American progress were being released by the censors. But they hung on to every word, standing quite silent in that sunny little marketplace, their tanned faces tense with attention, and in the background the sea on which one could distinguish in the distance the outline of ships bringing more and more supplies into the beachhead. As an accompaniment, one could hear in the distance the muffled boom of guns as the battle moved very slowly inland.
At the end of the news, I instructed the technician to play the ‘Marseillaise’ from a record. This was the most moving moment of that memorable day. Every man, woman, and child in that humble community began to sing, and they kept on singing long after the record had come to an end. Again and again, we had to play it, and again and again, they sang, holding their caps in their hands with tears streaming down their faces. That was Grandcamp, and though we did many news broadcasts there in the days that followed, nothing ever compared with the emotion of that first news bulletin.
And so it went on – in Carentan, then in Montebourg and Valognes, all the way up to Cherbourg as each town was liberated. Outside Cherbourg, the First US Army came to a halt. The port was surrounded, but the Germans had a strong garrison, enormous quantities of ammunition, and an arsenal in the centre of the town which was the nearest thing to an indestructible building the air force had ever met. They pounded it for three days with their heaviest bombs, seeming to make very little impression, while the infantry and artillery edged closer to the city boundary.
Finally, an American divisional commander had a bright idea. “What about that public address outfit loaned by the British?” he asked. “Wasn’t it a situation like this that it was intended for? Wheel it up then, fellah, and let’s see what they can do!” So it was that on the afternoon of June 26th, I found myself with my little unit at divisional HQ examining a map of the disposition of the enemy forces and trying to assess the state of their morale from interrogation reports from prisoners. At length, I found a spot that seemed as if it might yield some results. In a wood about ten kilometers from the outskirts of the town, an unknown force of German soldiers was known to be hidden. We were told they were comparatively few and in a very low state of morale. One of the reasons why they would not surrender, although quite well aware that they were surrounded, was that they had been told by their superior officers that the American infantry carried knives for the purpose of removing their more vital parts, and furthermore that the American army was composed almost entirely of negroes, from whom they could expect nothing but the most barbarous treatment should they surrender.
It was decided to send the amplifier unit up a lane leading into this wood, and once installed we were to talk to the Germans through the loudspeakers and explain to them that if they surrendered they would be treated honourably as PoW’s, would be removed to cages far from the battle, would be allowed to write home at intervals, and, in short, would be granted the normal rights of PoWs. On the contrary, should they not surrender, they would most certainly not live for long, as the big attack that was coming would grind every one of them to a pulp. At 1700 hrs that afternoon we moved slowly up the lane into position. The American infantry was behind us, slightly jittery about the result of our experiment. They were by no means the only people jittery that afternoon. As we rounded a bend in the lane and the last infantryman went out of sight I remember thinking of the joys of civilian life and whether I myself would be granted all the rights of a POW. We went on for about ten minutes until we judged we were about in the centre of the wood, and then stopped. The wood was very dense and the silence was almost unbearable. The only sound was the dripping of the rain onto the trees until the generator roared into action and the loudspeakers began to hum and crackle. In a few moments, we were ‘on the air’.
My sergeant spoke for five minutes or so, putting the facts to them squarely and telling them to walk towards the van with their hands above their heads, displaying a white handkerchief or other object. Within two minutes the bushes a hundred yards up the lane parted and the bedraggled figure of a German soldier was seen, hands above his head, a grimy handkerchief pinned in front of him. Behind him came another, then another, until the lane was a procession of German soldiers, all walking towards us as in some bizarre ceremonial parade. At that moment my electrician called out that more were coming from the rear. Sure enough another procession was coming up the lane behind us. And as the first soldier reached us others came in from each direction, until the van was surrounded and the lane was a mass of green-capped heads and waving arms. Fortunately, not far down the lane the wood thinned out and there was a fair-sized field. We shepherded our captives into the field and lined them up while somebody went back and fetched the infantry.
The look on the American infantry commander’s face was indescribable. “It works,” he shouted in great excitement. “Oh boy, what a Scoop!” We had hardly finished congratulating one another when our attention was once more drawn to some figures coming down the lane towards us. Even at a distance, we could see that these people were in rather better shape than our first batch, and though they were only three they marched abreast in step, the centre one carrying a white handkerchief. Halting in front of us, one of them saluted smartly and asked leave to speak. It seemed that the commanding officer of this ragged band was a colonel, and though he had heard our talk and all his troops had surrendered to us he was not willing to come himself until the surrender was more ‘honourable’. He considered it a great loss of dignity for posterity to know he had surrendered to ‘propaganda’ and would therefore only come in if we forced him to.
We said immediately that if he needed force he could have it, and plenty of it, though whether he would be in a position to surrender or not afterward was a matter of doubt. But it seemed the gallant colonel was not at all keen to be forced. All he wanted was some token attack that would make his surrender look more dignified. The leader of the deputation, a captain suggested we might throw some phosphorous grenades in the direction of the colonel (taking care not to harm him, of course) and as the Germans had no effective answer to phosphorous he could surrender with a clear conscience and history would know that the surrender was honourable!
Well, this was a bit of a problem. I waited for the American to voice his opinion as, after all, it was his show and we had done our part. The American considered the request for some minutes, conferring with a junior officer who had arrived in the meantime, and it was at length agreed to throw three phosphorous grenades toward where the colonel was hiding.
The American, with a sense of the dramatic, decided that the grenades should be thrown by each representative of the army ranks. He therefore threw for the officers, I for the warrant officers and sergeants, and a buck private for the other ranks. Solemnly the little procession moved through the wood led by the Germans to a spot near which their CO was. It was a little clearing in the wood, with tall grass and low scrub, the whole soaked through with the torrential rain. At a signal from the American officer, we threw the grenades, watched closely and approvingly by the Germans. Owing to the intense wet the explosion was rather an anti-climax, as each grenade produced a puff of whitish smoke and a few crackles, seeming to be no more harmful than a penny squib on Guy Fawkes night. The Germans conferred, but after some discussion, it was agreed that the wind was in their ‘favour’ and the phosphorous smoke must have been seen by the colonel. They left us to investigate, and a few moments later came back with the colonel. All was well. He surrendered ‘honourably’. So ended our first real propaganda job.
The following day, we entered Cherbourg and found the general in charge of the German garrison sitting in the arsenal refusing to come out. Once more we wheeled up the loud-speaker van to a spot under the arsenal walls, trying to keep our voices steady in view of the ugly-looking 88’s we could see pointing in our direction. Two minutes talk and the white flag went up on the arsenal wall, and out poured German soldiers, Russian slave-workers, Frenchmen and a rabble the like of which I have never seen. But again the question of honour cropped up. It was the same story as the day before, but this time the general wanted a tank. Quickly we got on the phone, and in a short time a large Sherman ambled up to the arsenal gate and took up a position in a marked manner where the general could see it. A few minutes later the gorgeously-clad figure of the general appeared. Appearing to ignore the presence of the amplifier van, he walked past us with his nose in the air and surrendered to the tank commander. The news of our success spread swiftly and reporters followed us about for days attempting to get the full story. From that moment we were in great demand on all fronts.
And so we went on across Europe talking the enemy into surrender, sometimes living in comparative comfort and only going forward for specific jobs, at other times living for weeks on end with the forward infantry and doing most of our work in front of them in no man’s land, where we could best be heard. All five of the amplifier units in the Second Army were usually to be found well forward, and we worked our way up through Vernon, Lille, Ghent, Louvain, and Eindhoven, where, in common with the rest of the army, we went to earth for about six months, mostly giving news Bulletins. Once we returned to Belgium for the Ardennes counter-attack, and later we were called back to Dunkirk, where the German garrison was holding out, though completely cut off. After we had talked to the garrison for an hour one evening with no result, they sent over a civilian to ask us to play some Nat Gonella records as they were holding a dance in the officers’ mess!
However, we were soon back again and joined 3rd British Division in time to go into Bremen with them, after a little shouting at a vastly demoralised enemy. Bremen fallen, we tore across the country to join 7th Armoured Division, who were sitting outside Harburg, and with them, we worked on the SS astride the Soltau-Harburg road. Finally, we prevailed on them to send two peace envoys over, but not until they had counter-attacked the battalion we were working with at the time and lost far more men than they had intended.
My amplifier van had the honour of being one of the first army vehicles to enter Hamburg on May 3, 1945. We rolled in with the tanks of the 131st Brigade. When the war in Europe ended a few days later, we could congratulate ourselves on having caused the surrender of over 4,000 German troops with our one van, fully justifying the name given to us by the Americans in the far-off Cherbourg days: ‘Surrender Salesmen’.
Other ‘Sonic’ Vehicles
The British were not the only operators of these public address vehicles designed for Psychological Warfare (PSYWAR). Among the Allies, the biggest proponent and operator of loudspeakers on the battlefield was the US Army, where they were used by Mobile Radio Broadcasting Companies. As well as unarmored vehicles such as Willy’s Jeeps and trucks, armored vehicles such as tanks would carry the speakers. Most commonly, they were carried by either M5A1 Stuarts or M4A3 Shermans – these vehicles received the comical nicknames of ‘Talking Tanks’, ‘Baloney Wagons’, ‘Bullshit Wagon’s’, or ‘Big Boy Talkers’. The loudspeakers was mounted on the turret above the gun with a power pack located in an armored box on the rear of the turret. Electrical amplifiers were stored in the internal ammunition bins. In operation, the co-driver or commander of the tank (depending on it whether it was an M5 or m4 base) was replaced by an announcer who spoke German, with a technician replacing the loader.
Perhaps the most famous use of the ‘PSYWAR’ vehicles was by the U.S. Army’s 23rd Special Headquarters Troops who became known as the ‘Ghost Army’. Among the 23rd’s exploits was using sound to convince a Wehrmacht unit in the port city of Brest that they were surrounded by an entire Allied army. The 23rd were one of many units to use so-called ‘Sonic Halftracks’. These were specially adapted M3 Half-Tracks, with a large rotating bank of loudspeakers attached to the bed. A version was also built on the M18 Hellcat-based M39 Utility Vehicle.
The most common ‘Soft-Skinned’ loudspeaker carriers used by the US Army were Dodge Ambulances with 4 large loudspeakers attached to the roof. These were known to be used by US forces moving through France in 1944. The Germans also utilized these vehicles in a similar fashion, broadcasting pro-Reich and anti-Allied propaganda. Many of these vehicles – based on the ubiquitous Opel Blitz – were captured by Allied troops, which then turned them into their own ad hoc amplifier vans. Again, these are known to have been used by the Allies in France.
Over the course of the War, almost every nation employed the use of loudspeakers in one form or another across the various Theatres, whether it be Germans to Soviets/Soviets to Germans on the Eastern Front, or British and Americans to the Japanese in the Far East and Pacific Campaigns.
Conclusion
Psychological Warfare – PsyOps as it is known these days – is an often overlooked and forgotten aspect of warfare. One forgets that the mental toll of everyday war-fighting is great, and this can easily be taken advantage of in the practice of PsyWar. It can be quite easy to conduct this type of warfare without the use of dedicated vehicles. Even in the earliest use of tanks on the battlefield, it was found that the mere presence of a large, gun-toting armored box could induce an enemy into surrendering.
Although none of the ‘Amplifier Vans’ survive, similar vehicles are still in use to this day, with multiple accounts coming out of the Ukrainian conflict detailing the use of the ZS-88 version of the BTR-80 made for psychological warfare and propaganda in the Donbas region, in 2023.
Russian ZS-88 based on the BTR-80. Note the the large loudpspeakers. Photo: SupMTI
Both illustrations by Pavel Alexe ‘Carpaticus’, based on work by David Bocquelet.
Sources
CSM John Camp, ‘Surrender Salesman’, Soldier: The British Army Magazine, April 13th, 1946
Daniel Lerner, Psychological Warfare Against Nazi Germany – The Sykewar Campaign, D-Day to VE-Day, M.I.T. Press, 1971
Wheels & Tracks No. 5: ‘Amplifier Vans’, Pg. 8 – 13, Battle of Britain Prints, 1983
R. P. Hunnicutt, Armored Car: A History of American Wheeled Combat Vehicles, Presidio Press, 2002
Jared M. Tracy, Victory Through Influence: Origins of Psychological Operations in the US Army, Texas A&M University Press, 2022
James Baxter, Kevin Browne & František Kořán, British WWII K2 Ambulance in Detail, Wings and Wheels Publications, 2023
SGM Herbert A. Friedman (Ret.), Loudspeakers At War, 2022
