Fort Campbell bridges ‘collapse’ under M10 tank’s fatal flaw

On May 1, 2025, the U.S. Army’s civilian leadership dropped a bombshell: the M10 Booker, a combat vehicle billed as the future of infantry firepower, was being scrapped. The announcement, delivered by Army Secretary Dan Driscoll at a Pentagon roundtable, cited mismanagement and inefficiencies that rendered the vehicle too costly and ill-suited for its intended role.

 

Perhaps the most damning revelation came from Fort Campbell, Kentucky, home of the 101st Airborne Division, where eight of the base’s eleven bridges were found incapable of supporting the weight of the so-called “light tank.”

This startling infrastructure failure, coupled with a decade-long development process that ballooned the vehicle’s weight and cost, has cast a harsh spotlight on the Army’s procurement system.

The story of the M10 Booker begins with a clear need. In the early 2010s, the Army identified a gap in its infantry brigade combat teams, formations that lacked the organic direct-fire capability to tackle fortified positions or lightly armored threats.

The retirement of the M551 Sheridan, a light tank designed for airborne units, in 1996 had left a void. The Sheridan, weighing just 15.2 tons, was air-droppable by C-130 and provided mobile firepower for units like the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions.

General Dynamics Land Systems, a titan of American defense manufacturing, won the contract in June 2022, and the M10 Booker—named after two fallen soldiers, Pvt. Robert Booker of World War II and Staff Sgt. Stevon Booker of the Iraq War—was unveiled as the solution.

The Army insisted it was not a “light tank” but an “assault gun,” designed to suppress fortifications and provide secondary anti-armor support. Yet, as testing began, it became clear that the Booker was neither light nor easily deployable.

The M10 Booker, on paper, is an impressive piece of engineering. Weighing between 38 and 42 tons depending on configuration, it is significantly heavier than the Sheridan but lighter than the M1 Abrams. Its V8 diesel engine, the MTU 8V199 TE-22, generates 800 horsepower, propelling the vehicle to a maximum speed of 40 miles per hour and offering a range of approximately 190 miles.

The vehicle’s composite armor offers protection against small arms and artillery fragments, though it falls short of the Abrams’ resilience against modern anti-tank weapons. Electronically, the Booker is a leap forward, incorporating an advanced fire control system derived from the M1A2 Abrams, complete with thermal optics and high-resolution displays for enhanced targeting.

Its hydropneumatic suspension ensures stability across rough terrain, and its communication systems are designed for integration into networked battlefields. Operated by a four-person crew—commander, gunner, loader, and driver—the Booker was envisioned as a versatile platform, with two vehicles fitting aboard a C-17 Globemaster III for rapid deployment.

The cracks in the Booker program began to show as units prepared to receive the vehicle. In 2024, as the 101st Airborne Division geared up to integrate the first Bookers at Fort Campbell, planners uncovered a critical flaw.

Eight of the base’s eleven bridges, essential for training and logistics, could not withstand the vehicle’s 42-ton weight. This was no minor oversight. Fort Campbell, a hub for infantry and air assault operations, is tailored to the needs of light, mobile forces.

Its infrastructure was never designed to accommodate a vehicle as heavy as the Booker, which had ballooned from its initial lightweight concept. Meghann Myers, reporting for Defense One, highlighted the issue, quoting Alex Miller, the Army’s chief technology officer: “This is a story of the requirements process creating so much inertia that the Army couldn’t get out of its own way.”

The situation was compounded by logistical challenges. The Air Force’s revised C-17 load restrictions limited the Booker to one vehicle per flight, halving the Army’s planned deployment capacity and undermining the vehicle’s rapid-response role.

The Fort Campbell debacle was not an isolated incident but the culmination of a flawed development process. The MPF program, launched with the goal of a lightweight, air-droppable vehicle, fell victim to what defense analysts call “requirements creep.”

Yet, even this compromise failed to account for ground infrastructure limitations at bases like Fort Campbell. Posts on X, including one from the influential defense account Rakunten on April 29, 2025, underscored the absurdity: “The infrastructure at Fort Campbell, home of the 101st Airborne Division, couldn’t handle the heavy and oversized M10 Booker, with several bridges collapsing under its weight.”

The Army’s failure to conduct mobility reviews or environmental assessments before deliveries began further exposed the program’s lack of foresight. Units at Fort Bragg, Fort Carson, and Fort Johnson, where Bookers were also stationed, faced similar challenges, with training facilities unprepared for the vehicle’s demands.

To understand the Booker’s failure, it’s worth examining the broader context of U.S. Army procurement. The program is not the first to succumb to bureaucratic missteps. In the 2000s, the Future Combat Systems [FCS] initiative, a $200 billion effort to modernize Army vehicles and networks, was canceled in 2009 after years of delays and cost overruns.

The RAH-66 Comanche, a stealth helicopter, met a similar fate in 2004, with $6.9 billion spent before its cancellation due to escalating costs and shifting priorities. These programs share a common thread: an inflexible acquisition process that prioritizes contractor-driven solutions over practical needs.

The Booker, as Myers noted, became “a platform in search of a war, a concept in search of a doctrine, and a solution in search of a problem.” Its weight and logistical demands made it ill-suited for the light infantry units it was meant to serve, while its capabilities overlapped with existing platforms like the Stryker or the developing M1E3 Abrams, a lighter variant of the main battle tank.

Russia’s Sprut-SDM1, at 18 tons, is air-droppable and amphibious, offering versatility for airborne and marine units. Both vehicles, while not perfect, align closely with their intended roles, avoiding the over-engineering that plagued the Booker. The U.S. Army’s insistence on classifying the Booker as an assault gun rather than a light tank—despite its tracked chassis and turret—further muddled its purpose.

Maj. Gen. Glenn Dean, the Army’s program executive officer for ground combat systems, emphasized this distinction in 2025, stating, “The M10 Booker is intended to support our Infantry Brigade Combat Teams by suppressing and destroying fortifications, gun systems, and trench routes.” Yet, this nuanced designation did little to address the vehicle’s practical limitations or the Army’s inability to integrate it effectively.

The Booker’s cancellation raises questions about the Army’s path forward. The 101st Airborne, along with the 82nd Airborne and 4th Infantry Division, must now pivot to alternative solutions. The Army is reportedly accelerating the development of the M1E3 Abrams, a lighter version of its main battle tank, which could fulfill a similar role with greater armor and firepower.

These alternatives, however, will take years to field, leaving infantry units in a familiar position: under-equipped for rapid-response missions. The Booker’s failure has also sparked calls for procurement reform. Analysts argue that the Army must adopt a more agile acquisition model, one that prioritizes iterative testing and real-world feedback over rigid specifications.

The Pentagon’s own audits, including a 2023 Government Accountability Office report, have long criticized the Army’s tendency to overcommit to programs before validating their feasibility.

Yet, its inability to meet the needs of the soldiers it was designed to support underscores a deeper malaise in the Pentagon’s acquisition culture. The bridges of Fort Campbell, crumbling under the weight of a vehicle meant to empower the 101st Airborne, serve as a metaphor for a system strained by its own excesses.

As the Army moves on from the Booker, it faces a critical juncture. Will it learn from this misstep, streamlining its processes to deliver equipment that aligns with the realities of modern warfare? Or will it continue to chase solutions that sound good on paper but falter in the field? The answer, for now, remains an open question, one that will shape the future of America’s ground forces for decades to come.

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