Tesla’s Cybertruck Goes, Inevitably, to War

The Greeks had their chariots. Patton had his tanks. Now, a handful of soldiers are riding into combat in one of the most unusual-looking vehicles in the history of warfare: an armed Cybertruck.

In a video posted to messaging platform Telegram last week, Ramzan Kadyrov, the leader of Russia’s Chechnya region, showed off a pair of Tesla’s distinctive boxy electric pickup trucks painted forest green and armed with what appear to be Soviet-era DShK 12.7 x 108 mm heavy machine guns—vehicles he claimed had been sent to fight alongside Russian forces taking part in the country’s ongoing invasion of Ukraine.

The footage shows the vehicles patrolling down a dirt road as part of a four-vehicle platoon, with several soldiers manning their weapons mounted on their truck beds and blasting airborne targets out of the sky.

“Mobility, convenience, maneuverability: such qualities of an electric vehicle are in great demand here,” Kadyrov wrote on Telegram.

The new footage came just over a month after Kadyrov published an initial video to Telegram showing off a Cybertruck armed with a Russian Kord 12.7 x 108 mm heavy machine gun. That Cybertruck, Kadyrov claimed in a separate Telegram post made the day before unveiling the fresh pair of vehicles, had recently been disabled “remotely” by Tesla chief Elon Musk, who had previously denied gifting the notorious warlord the vehicle in the first place, likely because it’s prohibited under US sanctions on Russia.

“This is not manly,” Kadyrov seethed on Telegram over the remote shutoff. (Tesla did not immediately respond to WIRED’s request for comment.)

It was only a matter of time before some enterprising combatant somewhere slapped a machine gun on a Cybertruck. Both regular militaries and irregular forces around the world have been whipping up “technicals”—or “nonstandard tactical vehicles” improvised from civilian rides—for more than a century. While the general concept of armored cars outfitted with firearms presaged the outbreak of World War I by at least a decade, the conflict accelerated their production and fielding—and, in moments of necessity, innovation. In one of the earliest documented manifestations of the technical, French navy lieutenant Maxime François Émile Destremau prepared a defense of the strategically important coaling station in the city of Papeete in Tahiti against a pair of German cruisers in September 1914 by tearing six 37 mm cannons off the warship under his command and mounting them on six Ford trucks to repel potential landing parties, according to the 2004 book On Armor. As long as the automobile has existed, so has the technical.

The technical as most defense observers know it, built on commercial flatbed pickup trucks like the rugged and reliable Toyota Hilux and Land Cruiser, became a fixture of modern irregular warfare during the so-called “Toyota War” of the 1980s that saw militia forces from Chad achieve a decisive victory over the Libyan military thanks to the superior mobility and maneuverability afforded by their lightweight vehicles. (Chadian forces discovered that, at an appropriately high speed, technicals could traverse open areas mined with Soviet-era munitions without risk of setting them off.)

Since then, technicals have become a fixture of conflicts like the US military campaigns in Afghanistan and Iraq, the Syrian and Libyan Civil Wars, and now the Russian invasion of Ukraine. And those conflicts continued to prompt a flurry of novel innovations when it comes to improvised fighting vehicles. Examples include Libyan militants mounting a S-5 rocket pod meant for an aircraft on the back of a truck and a Land Cruiser outfitted with a Russian-made 14.5 mm ZPU-2 antiaircraft gun that American soldiers traded two cans of chewing tobacco for to secure Hamid Karzai International Airport in Kabul during the US withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021—the latter of which is now in a US military museum. (Does a DShK on a shopping cart count as a technical? That’s up for debate.)

All of those innovations open up the question: Will an armed Cybertruck actually make for a good technical on the battlefield?

Despite the many issues that have plagued the Cybertruck since its release, the vehicle isn’t necessarily the worst option. While the Cybertruck currently has a maximum range of 340 miles (or 500 miles with an extra battery pack)—well behind the roughly 570- to 700-mile range of the Hilux—the former is actually quicker, capable of accelerating up to 60 mph between 2.6 and 3.9 seconds, depending on the model, a noteworthy achievement given the vehicle’s size and weight.

In terms of safeguarding its occupants from external threats like small arms fire, the Cybertruck’s steel “exoskeleton” offers purportedly superior protection to that of the conventional pickup truck, a feature that Tesla has been quick to flaunt on promotional materials. Finally, the Cybertruck, as an electric vehicle, is freakishly quiet, offering an element of stealth that the US Defense Department in particular has eyed in recent years compared to other fossil-fuel-powered ground vehicles.

“There are some attributes that work,” David Tracy, a cofounder of the car website The Autopian and a former auto engineer, tells WIRED. “It’s off-road capable and has big 35-inch tires and good ground clearance. It has stainless steel panels that can take some amount of abuse. From a defense standpoint—as in, ‘How safe am I in the vehicle?’—if you were to take a stock Hilux or a stock Cybertruck, the Cybertruck would probably be the better choice in a firefight.”

If technicals are built for speed and maneuverability, then the Cybertruck “offers significant benefits over the Hilux,” Tracy says.

“It is absolutely, absurdly quick,” he says. “In a drag race between the two, the Hilux would be an ant in the Cybertruck’s rearview mirror. If you need speed and agility, and it isn’t necessarily going through rigorous off-roading or being fired upon regularly, then it could actually work fine.”

Despite these potential tactical benefits, defense analysts aren’t convinced the Cybertruck has a place on the modern battlefield. As retired Marine colonel Mark Cancian, a senior adviser at the Center for Strategic and International Studies think tank, tells WIRED, the armed vehicles flaunted by Kadyrov on Telegram “are totally cool and totally useless.”

“They are cool because they look like something out of a video game and portray Kadyrov as a sort of futuristic warlord,” Cancian tells WIRED in an email. “They are useless because they don’t provide a new capability, except perhaps a bit of stealth.”

Indeed, the Cybertruck is not totally suited for hostile and chaotic environments like the front lines of the Russian invasion of Ukraine. First, the EV’s exoskeleton actually consists of steel panels attached to a standard “unibody” frame that’s more akin to the chassis of a conventional car rather than the “body-on-frame” design of most pickup trucks like the Hilux. This design, according to Motor Trend, makes the former a weaker and less resilient vehicle. Second, while the Cybertruck is certainly off-road capable, it’s still significantly heavier than Hilux, which can make maneuverability and traction on rough terrain a challenge. Third, while its armor portends to offer at least some additional coverage compared to the conventional pickup truck-based technical, the vehicle’s bulletproofing only appears to work with subsonic rounds like the .45 ACP ammo used in Tesla’s tests and not the ubiquitous NATO-standard 5.56 mm round or, say, a shot from a .50 caliber rifle. (Though, to be fair, aftermarket armor packages for the vehicle do exist.)

Beyond design and engineering challenges, there’s also the critical matter of maintenance and logistics, the lifeblood of any motorized conflict. As Tracy points out, the Cybertruck’s unique complexity and software-forward design (like the lack of a physical connection between steering wheel and wheels) means a distinct lack of spare parts and higher potential for catastrophic system failures, challenges that all but guarantee that the vehicle is unable to operate reliably and ensure consistent uptime—not necessarily ideal for troops whose lives may depend on them.

“Simplicity is everything; simplicity and parts availability,” Tracy says. “If you’re driving a complex vehicle and there’s a failure of some sort and you need someone to flash it with a computer, you’re hosed if you’re in the middle of nowhere. The beauty of the Hilux is that they’re very tough, for one, but they can be repaired with simple tools and fairly ubiquitous parts. The Cybertruck does not really make a whole lot of sense in that regard.”

“It’s great that it is safe in a crash and can take a bullet,” he adds. “But if you break a control arm and can’t get the part, it’s pretty useless.”

Plus, the Cybertruck’s reliance on charging stations would make a fleet of armed vehicles “likely impossible to support” in any sort of protracted conflict like that taking place in Ukraine, according to CSIS’s Cancian.

“I doubt there are garages or mechanics near the front lines who can fix these complex devices, which are so unlike the fossil fuel vehicles that the region is accustomed to,” he says. “Further, I doubt there are many recharging stations in the battle area. Unlike with fossil fuel vehicles, where the fuel can be brought to the vehicle if necessary, the Cybertrucks must go to the recharging point.”

How the Cybertruck will actually perform in a combat situation remains to be seen. But if the Kadyrov video is any indication, it’s only a matter of time before an armed Cybertrucks makes the transition from YouTube sensation to tried-and-true, battle-tested technical.