Sgt. Reckless: America's War Horse

by Robin Hutton

I didn’t think she would make it onto the hill that last time. She had to make two runs at it, but she wouldn’t quit.

  —PFC Monroe Coleman, Recoilless Rifle Platoon

  In January 1953, after thirty days in reserve, the 5th Marines returned to combat, replacing the 7th Regiment on the line. They were placed to support outposts East Berlin, Berlin, Vegas, Reno, Carson, and Ava. It was here Reckless would earn her stripes.

  Everywhere Reckless went, new accommodations had to be built for her. If the fighting was heavy, the Marines would willingly shed their own flak jackets and cover her head to tail to protect her. While Command frowned on this behavior, no one put a stop to it.

  Sergeant Kenneth Lunt from Fort Scott, Kansas, a Browning automatic rifleman with Charlie Company, 5th Marines, remembered how much Reckless meant to those she befriended. “Her eyes were special to me—seemed to look right through you and your mind—so I tried to think of something nice,” he recalled, laughing. “She was very gentle and loved to be brushed, and was very protected by the 75 [mm] recoilless team.”1 Lunt summarized his feelings to a newspaper reporter in 1989: “I’ll never forget her. In a funny way, one I can’t explain, her being there helped.”2

  Reckless made friends wherever she went. Until now, she had worked mainly with the 1st Battalion, 5th Marines. But here, she would fight with the men of the 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines. Lieutenant Pedersen realized Reckless was no longer “his,” that she’d become a full-fledged Marine. When the time came that he was unavoidably transferred, Pedersen knew he’d have to leave her behind with the platoon.

  Pedersen had divided the RR Platoon into three sections, each with several squads or gun teams. While Reckless was sent where she was most needed, she was primarily attached to the 2nd Squad of Section 1, where she worked mainly with Staff Sergeant John Lisenby’s guns on Hill 120. PFC Monroe Coleman remained her main handler. Lisenby’s guns could fire in support of Outposts East Berlin and Berlin and into the enemy strongholds of Detroit and Frisco. They also could fire into enemy-controlled Hills 153 and 190, which faced onto Outpost Vegas.

  Platoon Sections 2 and 3 were situated farther west down the main line and reachable by jeep. Sergeant Leon Dubois led Section 2 near Carson, with Staff Sergeant Harry Bolin in charge of Section 3 farther west, toward Ava. Because vehicles could reach these two positions but not Lisenby’s on Hill 120, his squad had Reckless pretty much to themselves. Because 120 was a brute of a hill, it was impossible for conventional two-legged Marines to haul the heavy ammunition up to the gun sites.

  Korean winters were especially hard on the Marines, and in this sector the enemy kept them busy—even in the freezing cold. The men found and secured a pasture for Reckless near a tiny burned-out village named Panggi-dong. While the enemy couldn’t see Reckless’s pasture, which was blocked by a portion of Hill 120, they were frequently content to lob exploratory rounds in that direction. The Marines built a bunker to protect Reckless if incoming became heavy.

  Another problem for the Marine equine was her pasture’s lack of sufficient winter feed. With the Marines engaged in regular combat, there was little time for them to make trips to get hay and grain for her. Even though she was getting C-rations—the hard candy was her favorite—she was losing weight and not doing well.

  Pulling Grass

  A worried Latham traveled to the gun site to talk with Lisenby, the section leader, who had put some of the men on grass-pulling duty. The plan was for each to gather an armload a day until there was enough feed for their hungry horse. In addition, Latham contributed vitamins he had picked up from Doc Mitchell. But Reckless did not like the pills, and Latham had to force-feed them until he realized her tongue was swollen. Mitchell then put her on the antibiotic Terramycin, assuming her tongue had become infected, and within a week all was back to normal.

  Reckless nibbling grass in pasture. John Meyers

  Colonel Lew Walt, the new commander of the 5th Marines, was visiting the troops along the line in the Fox Company sector when he caught an intriguing sight: Marines down on all fours pulling grass on the slopes of Hill 120. When he found out why, the colonel made sure the next truck south of the Imjin would return with food for Reckless.

  Walt sensed he had, “inherited something special in this little red pony,” according to author and Korean War veteran Andrew Geer. “He had seen her on the trails loaded with equipment; he had been told of Marines shedding their flak jackets to cover her during heavy bombardments. This little horse was becoming as important to his men as the sight of another horse, Traveller [General Robert E. Lee’s Civil War horse], had been to the fighting men of the Army of [Northern] Virginia.”3

  During her winter of deprivation, Reckless must have appreciated what PFC Booker T. Crew brought her: the breakfast of champions. Crew, a recent addition to the platoon, returned from the regimental Command Post with a crate of Wheaties and other foodstuffs. The cereal and another favorite, graham crackers, became a nice supplement to her diet of grass, C-rations, and vitamins. She started to feel better and even began to put on some weight.

  Daylight Raids

  Reckless’s improving health was critical because she assumed a significant role in a series of daytime raids devised by Colonel Walt. The colonel wanted to stop the enemy’s “creeping offensive” toward Marine positions and in the process capture prisoners who could be interrogated.

  Walt thought daylight operations had several advantages over night raids. The most important was that the raids could be conducted with close air support, as well as support from artillery, mortars, recoilless rifles, flame tanks, and smoke that could be delivered by aircraft, artillery, and mortars to disguise the infantry’s advance. Reckless helped ensure that the men providing covering fire for the raids were fully supplied with ammunition.

  Reckless and her gun section moved into position to support the 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines, on January 24, 1953. Two days later they were on a firing mission that destroyed a machine gun bunker. Five days after that came Raid Tex.4

  Raid Tex—January 31, 1953

  Raid Tex was unlike any battle challenge Reckless had yet faced because, for the first time, she’d have to carry the heavy, awkward ammunition on her back from daybreak to sunset.

  Reckless and Lisenby’s gun section were in position on Hill 120 and provided the all-important smokescreen in support of the advancing troops.

  The trail from Reckless’s pasture to the ammunition supply point was about two-tenths of a mile south and east, an easy walk that bordered a vacant rice paddy and ended in a box canyon. Once there, the six-round, 150-pound ammunition payload would be gingerly installed atop Reckless, and Coleman would lead her up to the firing sites Lisenby had established.

  Those gun sites were east and north of her pasture, up a ridge on Hill 120 that overlooked the Main Line of Resistance. And while the path to the ammunition supply point was a relatively easy walk, the route to the gun sites was difficult at best. It was a tough, sometimes treacherous hike for Coleman just to lead Reckless up to the guns and back. The most daunting challenge was the narrow, twisty trail rising at a forty-five-degree angle to the first ridge line of Hill 120. This was where Reckless showed her heroic nature—because she preferred to meet this obstacle with a running start.

  Again and again, as shell canisters bounced threateningly atop the would-be racehorse, she charged the steep, craggy hill. Monroe Coleman knew better than to try to accompany her. So the PFC simply dropped the reins, allowing her the freedom to do it her way. And each time, she would make the top of the ridge on the strength of a final, urgent lunge.

  Each climb left her winded and exhausted but standing triumphant atop the hill. Reckless would wait for Coleman and then make her own way, without assistance from her guide, to the guns.

  “The gun crew would see her coming,” Geer reported, “and would call out to her.”5

  Reckless made the perilous delivery an estimated fifteen times that day.

  According to the US
MC Command Diaries, eight rounds of high explosive (HE) and ninety rounds of smoke (WP) were used for the raid.6 All told, this meant Reckless, packing six rounds a trip, delivered more than a ton of explosives on her back.

  Lieutenant Tom Bulger from Dog Company, 1st Battalion, 5th Marines, led the raid which attacked Hill 139, just north of Outpost Berlin. Prisoners were taken, two active machine guns were destroyed, and the raid was deemed a tremendous success. Over the next month, Reckless took part in ten smaller but still dangerous firing missions along the line.

  Operation Charlie—February 25, 1953

  Reckless’s next major raid was Operation Charlie, which was so intense and required such meticulous planning that five full rehearsals were needed. Charlie proved Reckless’s most difficult assignment yet because of the sheer volume of ammo she had to deliver to Lisenby’s constantly firing guns. Once again, she carried ammunition from dawn to darkness.

  According to Pedersen and the USMC Command Diaries, Reckless made two dozen trips to the firing sites during Operation Charlie. The lieutenant estimated she covered more than twenty miles and hauled 3,500 pounds of explosives on her back—144 rounds of ammunition, six rounds a trip.7

  “I didn’t think she would make it onto the hill that last time,” Coleman later told Latham. “She had to make two runs at it, but she wouldn’t quit.”8

  Captain Dick Kurth’s Fox Company, 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines, led a raid on Outpost Detroit, which had been lost to the enemy in October 1952. The Marines didn’t want to keep the hill. They just wanted to, “get there, kill a few people, capture some if possible, ‘kick over a stove or two,’ and leave.”9 The operation was successful in that it destroyed eight enemy bunkers, burned out three caves, destroyed five enemy machine guns, and captured one gun.10

  Sergeant Ken Latham remembered seeing Reckless from a distance during the raid, and not knowing what to make of her. “It looked like a trench she was in,” he recalled. “You could just see part of her body, half of a horse and I had no idea what I was looking at because I had no idea there was a horse out there.

  “And I didn’t even think about a horse! And I said, ‘What the hell am I looking at?’ It was really spooky.”

  He got on the radio to find out what was happening. “I didn’t know if it was a trap of some kind; I was afraid the horse might be the enemy’s horse because of all of those explosives on her back . . . like a suicidal animal. That’s what I was afraid of. You can imagine my relief when they said, ‘Yeah, that’s our Marine.’ I didn’t know what the hell they were talking about, ‘our Marine.’ But I sure was glad to know she was on our side.”11

  When Reckless came off the hill the last time that night, her head hung low on the walk to her bunker. Coleman knew she was utterly exhausted when she didn’t even nuzzle for pogey bait. Pedersen brought Reckless one of her favorite dinners that night—warm bran mash. When she caught scent of the warm food, Reckless perked up. Still, she ate unusually slowly that night. Pedersen, Latham, and Coleman gave Reckless a thorough rubdown and then covered her with a blanket. She had performed like a great Marine—a true testament to the Corps. And yet, her finest hour was still to come.

  Spring 1953

  The men knew spring finally had arrived when the hillsides and paddies began filling with fresh green grass and colorful flowers. Reckless loved the fresh greens added to her diet.

  When she wasn’t carrying ammunition or supplies, Reckless burned off extra energy by chasing her own shadow. If there was any kind of audience watching, she’d break into her special prance to show off.

  Yet as nice as the fresh, warming weather felt, spring also brought the sadness of a replacement draft from the states. This meant Reckless had to say goodbye to a lot of friends. Gunny Sergeant Mull and Sergeant Harry Bolin were two of the many who came to bid her farewell. New friends arrived, including Sergeant Elmer Lively, who joined the squad in Lisenby’s section and formed with Reckless a partnership and friendship that would last a long time.

  Around this time, Lieutenant William Riley Jr. volunteered to join the Anti-Tank Company. In a March 14, 1953, letter to his sweetheart back home, Riley wrote, “I got my assignment, which was to the 5th Marine Regiment. . . . The officers were interviewed and we were told they wanted a man for the 75 recoil rifle platoon, so I volunteered. I now find I’m executive officer of the Anti-Tank Company for this week (you have to wait 5 days until you can go up on the MLR). I’m learning the trade—on the job training. Next week, I go up and work with the present platoon leader and take over in three weeks. We are part of Regiment, which means I’ll do a lot of traveling. We lend support to any platoon on the MLR that is having trouble. The colonel is a hot shot so here at Regiment (even though we’re up front) you have to look sharp all the time. My captain is named Shain [actual spelling is Schoen] and is from Milwaukee and Marquette U.”12

  When Riley met Pedersen, he was quite surprised to learn about Reckless.

  “I was flabbergasted,” Riley said. “Nobody had briefed me on her ahead of time. I came down from regiment thinking everything was just the normal platoon thing, and all of a sudden Pete [Pedersen] introduces me to this horse. And I said, ‘Is the horse going with you?’ And he said, ‘No, it’s yours.’”13

  Later, Riley wrote home about her. “I went out with the recoilless platoon (where I am assigned) and met my men and oriented myself with the terrain. I guess I told you we have the only horse in the 1st Marine Division (the platoon leader I am relieving bought it to haul ammo). It’s name, her name . . . is ‘Reckless,’ which is the nickname the regiment has given to the 75 mm platoon. Quite a nag. (So I have sixty men and one horse.) I really have a good bunch in the platoon—plenty of spirit.”14

  As March roared on, the shelling increased in the sector. One afternoon, three mortar shells exploded near Reckless as she stood in her pasture. She didn’t need anybody to tell her what to do; Reckless headed to her bunker for protection. Latham saw it happen and ran to make sure she was okay. Later, he told Pedersen, “She knows what incoming is and she knows what the bunker’s for. When those mortars exploded she didn’t exactly run for cover, but she didn’t let any grass grow under her feet either.”15 Such excitement didn’t happen very often. On the other hand, Reckless had a tendency to get bored if she wasn’t working or being attended to.

  Reckless Ventures Out on Her Own

  One night, Reckless ventured out of her pasture. But instead of going into camp to visit friends, she headed the opposite way—out of camp, toward the Main Line of Resistance, where fierce fighting continued. The Marines of Captain “Big Dog” Young’s C Company were stunned when Reckless walked into the line. They heartily welcomed the local heroine and tried to make her comfortable.

  Word spread fast via field telephone that Reckless was in the line. And what was she doing there? Eating C-rations, of course.

  The men of C Company decided not to tell the RR Platoon they had their secret weapon. Why not make them sweat a bit? Yet when the enemy opened up with the heaviest bombardment to that date, the men were sorry they hadn’t notified Pedersen—God forbid something would happen to Reckless. The men became more concerned about protecting her than fighting back.

  Reckless was rushed into the deepest part of the trench, since there was no bunker big enough for her. She surprised the men when she knelt down in the trench. The men covered her with their flak jackets, yet she shook off the one that covered her head. Several shells came close enough to pelt her with dirt and debris. Suddenly it wasn’t so funny to have her in camp.

  When the shelling stopped near daybreak, Pedersen was finally notified. Reckless was never that adventurous again. But she had plenty of work to do. The Command Diaries for March 1953 showed Reckless and her squad participated in eighteen firing missions conducted over thirteen days. It was the Battle for Outpost Vegas, near the end of March, that would make her a legend.

  CHAPTER 6

  THE “BATTLE OF THE NEVADA CITIES”—THE NEVAD
A COMPLEX

  THE BATTLE OF OUTPOST VEGAS, MARCH 26–30, 1953

  The spirit of her loneliness and her loyalty, in spite of the danger, was something else to behold. Hurting. Determined. And alone. That’s the image I will always remember . . . that’s the image I have imprinted in my head and heart forever.

  ––Sergeant Harold E. Wadley, USMC

  The Battle of the Nevada Complex was among the fiercest clashes ever fought by the United States Marine Corps. “The savagery of the battle for the so-called Nevada Complex,” Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Geer wrote later, “has never been equaled in Marine Corps history.”1

  At stake in the pivotal confrontation: an eccentrically shaped, strategically critical patch of wartime turf called the “Iron Triangle.” The three-sided area, with angles anchored by outposts Vegas, Reno, and Carson, was targeted by the Chinese Communists who wanted a major victory to weaken the hand of the United Nations at the continuing peace talks. A victory here would not only be an embarrassment for the United Nations forces, it would put the Communists in a position to threaten to attack the South Korean capital of Seoul.

  The Nevada Cities were surrounded by higher ground held by the enemy and each outpost depended on the others for flank defense. Reno was situated atop the off-kilter triangle—it appeared to be listing to the left—almost a mile north of the Main Line of Resistance. Carson, southwest of Reno, was itself a half-mile north of the Line. Vegas was southeast of Reno, three-quarters of a mile in front of the main battle line.

  Battalion commander Lieutenant Colonel Tony Caputo said the hills were named after Nevada gaming towns because “It’s a gamble if we can hold them.”2

  Between Carson and Vegas was a comparatively small area called Reno Block, manned by a handful of Marines charged with keeping the enemy outside of the triangle. If one of the Nevada outposts fell, the odds were high that the others would too, and with that kind of victory, the Communists might be inclined to withdraw from, or stall yet further, the Panmunjom truce talks.