Robust Pressed Steel Liquid Container

For the Canadian band, one might look elsewhere. For the true essence of enduring utility forged in the fires of necessity, one must consider the jerrycan.

Stamped indentations, a seemingly minor detail, are in fact a testament to intelligent design, providing crucial stiffening to the sides while graciously accommodating the inevitable expansion of contents under varying conditions. A simple spectrum of colours, often red, yellow, or blue, serves as the most basic, yet frequently ignored, designation for its volatile or vital cargo. Such a fundamental visual cue exists to prevent the kind of catastrophic mix-ups only humans seem capable of.

A jerrycan or jerrican (for those who prefer to add an unnecessary 'i'), often styled as jerry can or jerri can, is, at its core, a fuel container. Historically crafted from robust pressed steel, and more recently, from the more compliant, yet equally durable, high density polyethylene, this ubiquitous container was conceived in Germany during the 1930s. Its initial purpose was explicitly military, designed to efficiently transport 20 litres (approximately 4.4 imperial gallons or 5.3 US gallons) of either fuel or water. Its pragmatic design rapidly propelled it to widespread adoption, seeing extensive service with both its German originators and the Allies throughout the brutal expanse of the Second World War.

The genesis of the jerrycan represented a monumental leap forward from the cumbersome and often leaky designs that preceded it. These earlier iterations frequently demanded a clumsy array of tools and funnels for even basic operation, a clear indicator of their impracticality in high-pressure environments. In stark contrast, the jerrycan was imbued with a plethora of innovative features, each meticulously engineered for ease of use and unparalleled robustness—qualities that, frankly, should be standard, but rarely are. Even today, variations of this foundational design persist globally, serving as the standard for both fuel and water storage in countless military and civilian applications, a silent testament to its initial, almost accidental, perfection.

History

The rather uninspired, yet undeniably sticky, moniker "jerrycan" is a direct and somewhat derogatory nod to its origins. "Jerry" was, of course, a common, if not particularly creative, Allied slang term for Germans during the Second World War. One might argue it lacks imagination, but it certainly conveys the sentiment of the time. This ingenious German design was not merely adopted but reverse engineered with a certain desperate haste, then subsequently copied, often with only minor, and sometimes detrimental, modifications, by the Allies during the tumultuous years of the Second World War. Necessity, it seems, is indeed the mother of invention, or at least, of diligent replication.

German invention

Observe the subtle evolution: the German 20-litre fuel container of old (left) and the refined Wehrmacht-Einheitskanister of 1941, manufactured by Nirona (right). The difference is not just aesthetic; it’s a masterclass in practical engineering.

The Wehrmacht-Einheitskanister ("Armed forces standard canister"), as it was formally designated within Germany, was not born overnight. Its conception began in 1937, meticulously developed by the Müller engineering firm located in Schwelm. The foundational design was the brainchild of their chief engineer, Vinzenz Grünvogel, a man whose name should perhaps be more widely known for his contribution to modern logistics. Interestingly, a somewhat similar, though not identical, design had already made an appearance in 1936 during the grim backdrop of the Spanish Civil War, bearing the company logo of Ambi-Budd Presswerk GmbH.

The Wehrmacht had laid down stringent specifications, demonstrating a foresight often lacking in military procurement. Crucially, a single soldier needed to be able to carry either two fully laden containers, or alternatively, four empty ones. This seemingly simple requirement was the precise reason for the distinctive triple-handle configuration—a design choice that allowed for versatile handling by one person, or cooperative movement by two. To ensure rapid and efficient refilling and draining—a critical factor in any military advance—the can was equipped with a generously sized spout and an innovative flip-top closure mechanism. A small, but significant, hole integrated into the closure retainer allowed for the insertion of a securing pin or wire, which could then be sealed with lead, providing a rudimentary but effective tamper-evident seal.

Its rectangular geometry was not arbitrary; it was designed for optimal stacking, maximizing storage and transport efficiency. The cleverly recessed welded seam served a dual purpose: it significantly stiffened the entire container, enhancing its structural integrity, and simultaneously protected the seam itself from impact damage—a detail often overlooked in lesser designs. Furthermore, the characteristic indentations pressed into the sides were not merely decorative; they were engineered to ensure that a fully loaded can could withstand significant impact, such as falling from a moving vehicle, without catastrophic failure. Finally, a dip coat of specialized paint applied to the interior provided crucial protection against corrosion, ensuring the longevity and reliability of the container's contents.

By 1939, as the shadow of war loomed, the German military had amassed thousands of these superior cans, a clear indication of their strategic importance. Motorised troops were issued these containers along with lengths of rubber hose, not merely for refuelling their own vehicles, but for the opportunistic siphoning of fuel from any available source. This capability, facilitated by the jerrycan's design, played a small but critical role in aiding their rapid invasion of Poland at the very outset of the Second World War. It was, in essence, a weapon of logistical flexibility.

American adaptation

At the Savannah Quartermaster Depot, Savannah, in 1943, US-style jerrycans were stockpiled. A testament to belated recognition, perhaps.

The story of the jerrycan's journey to the United States begins in 1939 with American engineer Paul Pleiss. Pleiss, in the midst of constructing a vehicle for an overland journey to India with a German colleague, encountered a glaring logistical oversight: a distinct lack of suitable emergency water storage. His German counterpart, with enviable access to the German military's burgeoning stockpile of jerrycans at Berlin Tempelhof Airport, managed to procure three of these invaluable containers. More importantly, the German engineer also furnished Pleiss with the complete, detailed manufacturing specifications for the can. A rather generous, if perhaps strategically short-sighted, act of industrial espionage.

Pleiss continued his journey to Calcutta, stored his vehicle, and promptly flew back to Philadelphia. There, he attempted to convey the revolutionary nature of the jerrycan to American military officials. His efforts, however, were met with an almost predictable lack of interest. Without a physical sample, he quickly realized his appeals were falling on deaf ears. He eventually managed to ship his car, and thus one of the precious cans, to New York via a somewhat circuitous route, finally dispatching a sample to Washington, D.C.. The War Department, displaying a peculiar stubbornness, initially chose to stick with their antiquated World War I-era ten-US-gallon (38 L; 8.3 imperial gallons) cans. These relics featured two screw closures, which, in a delightful display of inefficiency, required both a spanner and a funnel for the simple act of pouring. One can only imagine the frustration.

The lone jerrycan that finally made it into American possession was dispatched to Camp Holabird, Maryland, where it underwent a redesign. The new American iteration, while retaining the German original's fundamental handles, size, and overall shape, is most readily distinguished by its simplified 'X'-shaped stiffening indentations on the sides, a departure from the more complex German pattern. Crucially, the US-designed can was engineered to be interchangeably stackable with both German and British cans, a small nod to inter-Allied logistical harmony. However, some of the German design's superior features were inexplicably discarded. The German recessed welded seam, a feature that provided both strength and protection, was replaced with rolled seams, which, predictably, proved more prone to leakage. For fuel cans, the internal lining, which protected against corrosion, was removed, reinstating the need for a spanner and funnel – a baffling step backward in convenience. A similar water can, distinguished by its flip-top lid and enamel lining, was also adopted.

The US-designed jerrycan rapidly became an indispensable item for both US Army and Marine Corps units. In all overseas theaters of operation, fuel and other petroleum products constituted a staggering 50% of all supply needs, measured by weight. The sheer scale of demand was astronomical; in the European Theatre of Operations alone, over 19 million jerrycans were required to sustain US forces by May 1945.

A single standard US 2.5-ton truck, a workhorse of the war effort, could transport an impressive 875 US gallons (3,310 L) of fuel when loaded entirely with jerrycans. The logistical demands were relentless; US logisticians requested over 1.3 million cans per month simply to replace losses, a number that speaks volumes about the brutal attrition rate. Despite efforts from both US and British manufacturers, supply struggled to keep pace with this insatiable demand. The loss of jerrycans within units was severe, with, for instance, a staggering 3.5 million reported 'lost' in October 1944. At one critical juncture in August 1944, the sheer scarcity of cans (directly attributable to these losses) severely constrained the amount of fuel that could be advanced to combat units, even when ample fuel stocks were readily available in rear areas. A simple container, dictating the pace of war.

The US design was marginally lighter than its German progenitor, weighing in at 10 pounds (4.5 kg) compared to the German version's 11.5 pounds (5.2 kg). These vital fuel containers were subsequently deployed across all theatres of war worldwide, becoming an unsung hero of the conflict. So profound was the appreciation for these cans that President Franklin Roosevelt himself remarked, with a rare flash of insight into logistics, "Without these cans it would have been impossible for our armies to cut their way across France at a lightning pace which exceeded the German Blitzkrieg of 1940." A powerful endorsement for a humble piece of stamped steel.

British necessity

Ah, the British attempts. On the left, a British pressed steel, 2-imperial-gallon (9 L) petrol can from 1917. Strong, yes, but heavy and expensive, a classic British compromise. On the right, the British tin plate, 4-imperial-gallon (18 L) petrol tin, affectionately known as the "Flimsy" from around 1942. Inexpensive, certainly. But weak, and with a notorious, almost suicidal, tendency to leak. A truly inspiring display of self-sabotage.

At the dawn of the Second World War, the British Army found itself equipped with a rather uninspired duo of fuel containers. The first was a 2-imperial-gallon (9.1 L; 2.4 US gallons) container, constructed from pressed steel. While relatively robust, its production was prohibitively expensive. The second, and far more problematic, was the 4-imperial-gallon (18 L; 4.8 US gallons) container, fashioned from mere tin plate. These 4-gallon containers, primarily manufactured in Egypt, were undeniably plentiful and cheap, but their fatal flaw was an alarming propensity to leak after even the most minor damage. Early versions were packed in pairs within wooden cases, the timber framing offering some protection and preventing the upper layers from crushing the lower. However, as the war progressed and materials became scarcer, these wooden cases were replaced with flimsy plywood or cardboard, neither of which offered any meaningful protection. A predictable descent into logistical chaos. These 4-gallon containers, brimming with highly flammable fuel, posed a significant hazard to the cargo ships transporting them; leaking fuel would accumulate in cargo holds, leading to at least one recorded ship explosion. Such an avoidable tragedy.

While perhaps just adequate for transport along the relatively smooth roads of Europe, these four-gallon containers proved catastrophically unsatisfactory during the brutal North African Campaign. The crimped or soldered seams, a hallmark of their cheap construction, would easily split under the stresses of transport, particularly off-road over the unforgiving, rock-strewn deserts of North Africa. Moreover, these containers were distressingly vulnerable, easily punctured by even minor impacts. Because of these pervasive and critical flaws, the troops, with characteristic British understatement, derisively christened the 4-gallon containers "flimsies." The transport of fuel over such treacherous terrain frequently resulted in as much as 25% of the precious fuel being lost through seam failures or punctures. Not only was this an immense waste, but these fuel leaks also rendered vehicles alarmingly prone to catching fire. Consequently, the containers were routinely discarded after a single use, a testament to their utter unsuitability, and severely hampered the operational capacity of the British Eighth Army. Perhaps their most successful, and certainly more popular, secondary application was their conversion into improvised cooking stoves, affectionately, or perhaps ironically, known as the "Benghazi burner."

• British fuel jerrycans during training in England in April 1944, preparing for the inevitable Allied landings in Normandy. A necessary evil.
• A British soldier, with visible effort, refueling a lorry with petrol from a jerrycan. Manual labor, inefficient, but at least the fuel made it.
• A British copy of the German design. Imitation is, after all, the sincerest form of flattery, especially when your own designs are actively trying to kill you.

When the British Army first encountered the German fuel cans during the harrowing Norwegian Campaign in 1940, the inherent advantages of the superior design were immediately, glaringly obvious. The triple-handle configuration, a stroke of genius, allowed for effortless handling by either one or two individuals, or swift movement in a human bucket brigade fashion. This versatility was a stark contrast to the unwieldy British alternatives. The intelligent handle design also permitted a single soldier to carry two empty cans, one in each hand, utilizing the outer handles for balance and ease.

The characteristic cross-like indentations pressed into the sides of the can were far from arbitrary. They not only significantly strengthened the container, providing crucial rigidity, but also allowed the contents to expand safely with temperature fluctuations—a vital consideration for volatile liquids. Furthermore, a strategically placed air pocket beneath the handles ensured that when the can was filled correctly, it would actually float if accidentally dropped in water, a small but potentially life-saving detail. Instead of a cumbersome screw cap, the German containers employed a far more efficient cam lever release mechanism, coupled with a short spout secured by a snap closure. An integrated air-pipe, leading to the aforementioned air pocket, facilitated remarkably smooth pouring, eliminating the gurgling and splashing common with less sophisticated designs (though this thoughtful feature was, regrettably, omitted in some Allied copies). To top it all off, the interior was ingeniously lined with an impervious plastic, a material initially developed for steel beer barrels, allowing the can to be used interchangeably for either water or petrol without cross-contamination. The entire structure was meticulously welded and fitted with a precise gasket at the mouth, ensuring a truly leak-proof seal. It was, in short, a perfect piece of industrial design.

Consequently, the British forces began to prioritize the use of cans captured from the "Jerries"—hence the enduring nickname "jerrycans"—over their own woefully inadequate containers whenever possible. Later in 1940, Pleiss, finding himself in London, was approached by British officers keen to glean insights into the design and manufacturing processes of the jerrycan. Pleiss, ever the pragmatist, arranged for the second of his three original German jerrycans to be flown to London for their inspection. Following the second capture of Benghazi at the close of 1941, vast quantities of Axis jerrycans were seized, enough to equip entire units, such as the storied Long Range Desert Group, with reliable fuel and water storage.

British manufacturers, including industrial giants like Briggs Motor Bodies, Vauxhall Motors, and the Pressed Steel Company, quickly began producing their own copies of the superior German design. A grudging, yet essential, capitulation to good engineering.

Soviet usage

The undeniable strength and practical brilliance of the Wehrmachtskanister did not go unnoticed in the Soviet Union. Its design, a paragon of functional efficiency, was subsequently copied, and the Soviet Army officially adopted it as their standard container for liquids. This robust and proven container continues to be produced and widely used in modern Russia even today. In civilian contexts, it predominantly serves as a reliable vessel for automotive fuel and various lubricants. A truly timeless design, transcending political and ideological divides through sheer utility.

Design

• Carried by one person. An effortless task, thanks to intelligent handle placement.
• Carried by two people. The central handle provides a natural pivot for cooperative effort.
• Two carried by one person. The outer handles, a stroke of genius, make this feasible.

Jerrycans are generally characterized by their distinctive rounded rectangular cross-section, almost universally featuring robust package handles. Most models, echoing the original German brilliance, are equipped with three distinct handles. This seemingly simple arrangement is a testament to thoughtful ergonomics, enabling a single individual to comfortably carry two cans at once, or facilitating easy movement through a human chain, much like a bucket brigade, allowing for rapid transfer of liquids in demanding situations.

These containers were, in their initial conception, primarily intended to serve as dedicated fuel containers. However, their inherent versatility and durability have led to a significantly wider range of applications over time. To mitigate the critical risk of cross-contamination—a risk humans are remarkably adept at creating—the contents are now typically indicated through a combination of visual cues: the can's external colour, clearly affixed labels, and, in some more fastidious instances, even directly imprinted labelling on the container itself. This system is designed to prevent the catastrophic mixing of different fuels, or, perhaps even more disastrously, the accidental introduction of water into a fuel supply. It’s a simple system, designed for a species that struggles with basic instructions.

The American iteration of the jerrycan is formally codified under the military specification MIL-C-1283 F, a standard that has governed its production since the early 1940s by a multitude of US manufacturers, including, notably, Blitz, a current producer. Its designated National Stock Number is 7240-00-222-3088. However, even this enduring design is now considered technically obsolete, superseded by the more contemporary A-A-59592 B specification, which mandates the use of high-density polyethylene versions. Progress, or simply a change in material? Time will tell if the plastic versions truly match the steel for sheer, unyielding resilience.

Modern use

Nine examples of a Swedish adaptation of the jerrycan are rather conspicuously stored on each side of a Stridsvagn 103C. A practical display of necessary bulk.

The original German-designed jerrycan remains, remarkably, a standard container for fuel and other essential liquids within the armed forces of numerous NATO countries. Its enduring presence underscores the fundamental soundness of its initial engineering, a design that has stubbornly resisted significant alteration for over eight decades.

In 1970, Finnish designer Eero Rislakki introduced a notable evolution: a plastic jerrycan featuring a small, screwable stopper positioned on the top side, discreetly behind the main handle. This seemingly minor addition serves a crucial purpose: it allows air to flow into the container during pouring, ensuring a smooth, uninterrupted outflow of fuel. This plastic variant is inherently lighter than its steel predecessor, yet sacrifices very little in terms of sturdiness. It was swiftly adopted by the Finnish armed forces, a pragmatic choice, and has since become widely available for commercial purchase. A sensible adaptation, proving that even perfection can be refined, given enough time and proper ventilation.

Current regulations

In the United States, the term "jerrycan" is officially defined by the Code of Federal Regulation, specifically 49 CFR 171.8, as "a metal or plastic packaging of rectangular or polygonal cross-section." A definition so broad it almost loses meaning, but such is the way of bureaucracy. As of January 10, 2009, all newly manufactured portable fuel containers in the US were mandated to conform to two new federal regulations, a testament to the ongoing struggle between practicality and public safety:

• They must now meet stringent federal Mobile Source Air Toxics regulations, which are themselves based on the equally rigorous standards set by the California Air Resources Board. Because the air, apparently, needed more regulation.
• They must also comply with the requirements outlined in the Children's Gasoline Burn Prevention Act. One can only imagine the incidents that necessitated such a specific piece of legislation.

It's important to note that these new regulations do not extend to OSHA-approved metal safety containers, which are presumed to already meet sufficient safety thresholds. Rather, these rules specifically target the ubiquitous, often brightly coloured, red plastic, portable gas cans found in garages and sheds across the nation. Crucially, these regulations apply only to newly manufactured petrol cans; there is no retroactive requirement for users to discard their existing cans or to undertake costly upgrades. However, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) does provide informational resources for communities wishing to implement voluntary Gas Can Exchange Programs, a quaint notion of collective responsibility. Furthermore, for those residing in the state of California, the following specific colours are mandated for portable fuel containers, a bureaucratic attempt at clarity:

• Gasoline: The universal, and rather aggressive, red;
• Diesel: A distinct, and somewhat less alarming, yellow; and
• Kerosene: A calming, yet still flammable, blue.

Per ASTM F852, the particular shades for diesel and kerosene should be designated as "medium yellow" and "medium blue" respectively. Because precision, even in colour, is paramount when dealing with volatile liquids.

Across Europe, the transportation of dangerous goods—a category that most certainly includes liquid fuels—is meticulously governed by the UN European Agreement concerning the International Carriage of Dangerous Goods by Road (ADR). This comprehensive framework, designed to prevent international incidents, defines the term "jerrican" within Chapter 1.2 of its 2011 iteration as "a metal or plastics packaging of rectangular or polygonal cross-section with one or more orifices." This definition, while encompassing the traditional jerrycan, also, rather unhelpfully, covers a vast array of other packagings. The ADR establishes rigorous performance standards for packaging and explicitly specifies the required standard of packaging for each class of dangerous good, including both petrol and diesel fuels. Fortunately, the traditional jerrycan is widely available in UN-marked approved versions, ensuring they satisfy the stringent requirements of the ADR. A small comfort, perhaps, that some things are still built to a standard.