Supacat HMT400 'Jackal' driven

To make all this function properly, there’s a four-wheel drive system, which can run in rear-wheel drive, with high and low-ratio gear sets, locking diffs and epicyclical wheel hubs. The mechanicals at each corner are identical, so if you lose a wheel, you can scavenge parts from another Jackal (or its three-axled sibling, the Coyote) and patch it up in an impressive two hours in the field.

Our test track was centred around a woodland near the historic airfields of Dunkeswell and Smeatharpe. Photographer Will went first, tentatively bumping his Kia Sorento around the track. I watched it heave and scrabble, and the Kia is a pretty capable off-roader.

I followed, trundling slowly past a crumbling WW2 hangar. The lofty driving position in the Jackal is predictably utilitarian. The seat is designed more for protection from mine blasts than for rigorous support, so you cling to the wheel as the vehicle leans heavily going around corners. There are no gears to worry about, courtesy of the five-speed torque converter auto, and the hydraulically assisted steering makes it remarkably easy to wield such a hefty bulk.

What is disconcerting initially is having the front axle beneath you, rather than in front of 
you, which can encourage an unintended early turn-in. Still, we hit the autumn-shrouded woodland, complete with an unrelieved carpet of leaves, at which point my guide and Supacat veteran Andy Roberts told me: “Floor it”.

I liked Andy. He clearly knew his stuff, and he seemed like the kind of bloke who would call a spade a spade, or indeed suggest a flat-out run only where it would be fine to do so. So I did. Regardless of tree roots, gaping potholes and an oncoming hairpin, we went for it.

There was a pause of old-school lag while the turbo took a deep breath, and before I knew it I was watching the digital rev counter tick up as I winced in readiness for the horrific suspension-jarring shudder that would come from travelling over that whacking hole in the ground. But it never came. I barely felt the body dip.

This was one of those moments when I’d convinced myself that I’d made a horrific error of judgement. I was bracing myself to deal with the consequences of damaging this £500,000 vehicle, only to discover that the engineering was way ahead of me. The Jackal was so within its limits that it was laughable.

Then we hit a hairpin, which involved some heavy braking that had the ABS kicking in, a hell of a lot of work at the steering wheel and an early throttle squeeze to get the jump on the lag, and we were off again, bowling along towards a hill that I would have struggled to walk down.

As a demonstration, we stopped when fully on this slope and, using the second brake pedal, held the Jackal on the throttle and accelerated gently back up the hill in reverse. No slip, no fuss, nothing. And that was in rear-wheel drive, on a bed of wet leaves and mud. I won’t deny that I’m susceptible to enjoying the sense of indomitable, go-anywhere feel you get from a Land Rover Defender. This was like that but 10 times better.

Yet, ultimately, there are reminders everywhere that this vehicle wears its undeniably appealing, brutish bravado for a reason. Everything on it has a function, from the smoke grenade launchers that provide cover around the entire vehicle to the infrared headlights that are invisible to anyone without night-vision goggles.