Despite decades of armored vehicle development, Russian soldiers continue a wartime habit rooted in both necessity and survival instinct—riding atop tanks and armored personnel carriers rather than inside them.
The practice, visible since the Second World War, has nothing to do with tactical innovation. Archival footage often shows Soviet troops clinging to the turrets of T-34 tanks during assaults, braving bullets, frost, and heat.
Inadequate numbers of armored personnel carriers (APCs), along with a lack of design doctrine for their use, left soldiers little choice.
Of the 1,200 U.S.-supplied M3, M5, and M9 half-tracks delivered under Lend-Lease in 1942, just 118 made it to Soviet mechanized units. The rest served in support roles.
This improvisation continued into the Cold War. After the war, the USSR began producing its own APCs, but early models introduced new vulnerabilities. During the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, poor engine protection and insufficient armor became deadly liabilities when encountering mines or ambushes. Soldiers began riding on top of vehicles, preferring the risk of being thrown clear over burning alive inside.
The pattern persisted in Chechnya. In that war, cramped troop compartments were often packed with ammunition due to irregular resupply. Soldiers sat outside to stay alive, as interior space was consumed by gear. This forced adaptation reveals a harsh truth: Russian BMPs and BTRs, including modern models like the BTR-82 and BMP-3, offer limited protection.
BMP-3s feature formidable firepower, with a 100mm semi-automatic cannon paired with a 30mm automatic gun. But as one military analyst noted, “none of that matters when the armor can’t keep you alive.” The frontal armor of the BMP-2, just 16mm thick, provides minimal protection even when angled. Its side and rear plating is often vulnerable to small arms. The BTR-80’s 7mm sides can barely resist rifle fire and are easily pierced by heavy machine guns like the DShK from 500 meters.
In today’s conflicts, those weaknesses are magnified. Russian troops face Javelin missiles, mines, and FPV drones capable of precision strikes. Soldiers riding atop vehicles are exposed, but often better off than those inside. In some cases, armored vehicles have become what Ukrainian troops sarcastically call “mobile grills”.
Russian manufacturers continue to tout the mobility and firepower of their platforms, but battlefield footage often tells another story—one where the safest place is outside the armor.
The enduring reliance on this method shows not only the structural vulnerabilities of Russian vehicle design but also the ongoing gap between theoretical capability and battlefield reality. As long as internal protection remains inadequate, riding on top—however exposed—will remain the preferred option for many Russian troops.