by Robin Hutton
General Amos turned to an aging but hale veteran in full military dress, a soldier who had known Reckless better than most Marines all those years ago. “Sergeant Wadley, will you give the command to unveil Staff Sergeant Reckless?”
Harold Wadley cut quite a figure. Nearly eighty, he appeared fit and strong, apparently the result of working his Idaho ranch for years after leaving the Corps following service in the Vietnam War. Wadley had retained his military buzz cut, although now his hair was understandably thinner and grayer.
“Aye aye, Sir,” Wadley said, turning to address two waiting Marines. “Unveil the Reckless statue.”
As thousands watched, the two soldiers lowered the camouflage netting hiding the monument. Onlookers gasped when they saw her standing there. One remarked about the striking sculpture, “I swear, I just saw her move.”
Sentries stand guard as the Young Marines look on in the background. Mark Tenally
Coinciding with the outdoor dedication was an exhibit inside the museum devoted to Reckless. “Thirty-seven hundred people came through the doors of the museum this day,” observed museum director Lin Ezell, “three thousand of them we attribute to Reckless.”2 The media also turned out in impressive numbers, filling the national news that day with stories recounting the unique Marine veteran’s adventures.
Perhaps the most important guests that day were those surviving Marines who had actually served with Reckless throughout her career in the Corps. Wadley was joined by Bob “Doc” Rogers, John Newsom, Mike Mason, Bill Janzen, Chuck Batherson, Paul Hammersley, Art Sickler, Art DiGrazia, Ken Riley, Fred “Dutch” White, Ken Latham, Guy Wagoner, and Nick D’Amber. Also in attendance were Larry and John Meyers, representing their father John Meyers Sr., who was too ill to make the trip himself, and Mary Alice Gehrdes and John Riley, representing their father, Bill Riley, who had recently passed away.
As if the emotional event needed any more natural drama, the July 26 date was selected because it was a single day before the sixtieth anniversary of the armistice that officially ended the Korean War.
Reckless and a few of her men who made the trip to honor her. Left to right: Paul Hammersley, John Newsom, Bill Janzen, Chuck Batherson, Nick D’Ambra, Kenny Latham. Mark Tenally
As such, the monument instantly seemed to honor all American heroes—so many of them forgotten—who’d served in Korea.
A second monument will be placed at Camp Pendleton in 2014, along with a long-overdue bronze marker on Reckless’s unmarked grave, still located out of harm’s (and attention’s) way behind Pendleton’s Stepp Stables office building.
But statues and markers lack the human element so important to keeping history alive for future generations. Sergeant Chuck Batherson put it this way: “Whenever I get together with Marines, I always ask them, ‘Do you remember Reckless?’ If they say ‘No,’ I pull up a chair and say, ‘Well, let me tell you about this incredible horse. . . .’ And the story lives on.”
Reckless in her glory. Rick Burroughs
“There will be a full moon coming up over the ridge,” Sergeant Harold Wadley reflected, so many years after he saw Reckless amid the chaos of war, “and there will be one of my horses standing in the corral, and I don’t know why, but that image of Reckless comes right with that first full moonlight through the trees.
“It’s an image you can’t get rid of. . . .
“I tell everybody I know that loves horses that here it is—here’s an incredible story and here’s something that you’ll never ever see again. You just can’t beat this story.”
“I’ll finish with this thought,” a reflective Sergeant Mike Mason said following the dedication in Virginia. “Reckless was and still is a highly respected animal. She had done more during her tenure in the Korean War than most Marines would have ever thought could be done.
“She had nerves of steel; firmly dedicated to the mission for which she was trained; a Marine who has earned the respect and admiration of everyone. She earned every award and rank bestowed upon her and certainly earned her place in history. The legacy of Staff Sergeant Reckless will live on forever.”
Perhaps Navy Corpsman Bob “Doc” Rogers said it best: “When you get right down to it, she’s a national hero and her story needs to be preserved.” In a letter, he wrote, “May her memory live as long as we have the Marine Corps.”
Amen to that. I like to think it will.
To Reckless: Long live your memory.
Semper Fidelis—Always Faithful—Staff Sergeant Reckless
Korean War “Certificate of Appreciation” from the Secretary of Defense, Chuck Hagel, honoring SSgt. Reckless’s service
EPILOGUE: THE MAKING OF THE MONUMENT
“OPERATION: RECKLESS”
I have made it my mission in life to make Sgt. Reckless as famous as the other two acclaimed “S” horses, Secretariat and Seabiscuit. When I first learned of Reckless’s story in 2006, I felt a biography, documentary, and screenplay were certainly in order. But something was missing, something more tangible. Why not a national monument to honor this uniquely American heroine?
When I began researching this book, maybe the first person I tracked down was Navy Corpsman Bob Rogers from Coffeyville, Kansas. I discovered Bob when I googled “Sgt. Reckless” back in 2006. Bob suggested a statue. I agreed and asked his help to make it happen. A few years passed before I could take on that task, since I was deep into writing the book and screenplay.
In 2009, I had just finished the screenplay when I picked up the trade paper Variety and read Steven Spielberg was going to direct a film adaptation of War Horse. I could hardly breathe and began pacing around my office.
I felt ill.
I soon discovered it was a different war horse—based on Michael Morpurgo’s wonderful children’s book.
But because one of the greatest directors in the world was making a war horse picture, no one in Hollywood would touch my script. I couldn’t get a meeting.
So I shelved the script until War Horse came and went, hoping Hollywood would come around to appreciate the glory of my own war horse tale which, unlike the Spielberg film, was true.
By August 2009, the time seemed right. I set up the California 501(c)(3) tax-exempt, non-profit corporation Angels Without Wings, Inc. to raise money for the tax-deductible project. In February 2010, the IRS approved the application. Woo hoo! We could start raising money!
Next, I set up a DBA for the Sgt Reckless Memorial Fund that was specific to monument fundraising because Angels Without Wings, Inc. had a broader scope than just the monuments. I began registering in all fifty states so we could accept donations from across the country.
In late 2010, I turned to Bob for help in finding a sculptor. An artist himself, Bob’s beautiful portrait of Reckless still hangs above my desk. He offered up four names, with Jocelyn Russell’s at the top of the list.
Bob had known Jocelyn for more than twenty years. She was innovative, self-taught, and brilliant. Best of all, Jocelyn was a horse lover herself. She was just what we needed—and Team Reckless was formed!
Ride ’em Cowboy
Elizabeth Kaye McCall’s landmark article in the June 2011 issue of Cowboys & Indians reintroduced Reckless and included pictures I’d happily provided. Word of Reckless’s story began to spread.
The Cowboys & Indians article also helped bring Team Reckless member number four. What Sgt. Harold Wadley brought was invaluable: moving, first-hand accounts of life with Reckless. Even better, Harold, a published author on horsemanship,1 knew just how Reckless’s packsaddle was lashed with the canisters. His technical advice to Jocelyn was priceless during the design phase.
Picking a Site
With the team assembled, our next step was selecting a site for the monument. Or should I say, monuments. We wanted one at Camp Pendleton, where Reckless spent her final, fruitful years and was buried, plus one in the nation’s capital, near America’s other great monuments.
My friend Rebecca Rothwell, whose husband promoted
Reckless to staff sergeant, strongly suggested the National Museum of the Marine Corps in Triangle, Virginia. I wasn’t very familiar with the museum but loved the idea of Reckless being with her Marines. However, having always lived according to the phrase “Go big or go home,” I had my heart set on the National Korean War Memorial on the National Mall. In my early research, it appeared we’d need nothing short of an Act of Congress to get the monument placed there—which could take years.
At Harold’s suggestion, on August 1, 2011, I wrote of our plans to Marine Corps Commandant James Amos and Sgt. Maj. Micheal Barrett, the Corps’ highest ranking non-commissioned officer. Included were supporting letters from Harold, Bob Rogers, John Newsom, Dutch White and Col. Richard Rothwell. We also sent word to Camp Pendleton.
I also started on the political side. My own senator from California, Dianne Feinstein, was an avid horse lover and had supported legislation against horse slaughter. Her aide, Molly O’Brien, agreed to a meeting in late September. Jocelyn flew in from Washington state for it, and we used her presence as a reasonable excuse to visit Camp Pendleton, to scout locations and meet the powers that be.
Let the Meetings Begin
On September 28, Jocelyn and I drove south to Pendleton, where Capt. Andrew Wallace of the Judge Advocate’s Office couldn’t have been more supportive. But due to the huge cost of installing the monument there, we’d need approval all the way up the chain of command—to the Secretary of the Navy himself. This could take months.
Capt. Wallace said something that warmed our hearts: “I’m looking forward to one day, maybe ten years or so from now, bringing my kids to the base and showing them this monument and saying, “Kids, your dad had something to do with this.”
We left the meeting stoked. “He’s already bringing his kids!” We squealed like schoolgirls.
Next morning with Molly O’Brien, the light went on when she realized we weren’t looking for money—we wanted to donate the monument. She promised to personally contact people in Congress and a friend at the Smithsonian Institution about getting the monument situated on the National Mall.
Alas, I soon learned the National Mall was off-limits for new monuments. And a nice gentleman from the National Capital Regional Office said animals weren’t honored this way.
I cleverly countered with, “She wasn’t a horse—she was a Marine!” I argued that while the memorial didn’t fall under 8903 (b) Military Commemorative Works, maybe it could qualify under 8903 (c)—Works Commemorating Events, Individuals, or Groups.
It was a no-go. I was beating a dead horse.
Ironically, that rejection was the BEST thing that could have happened to us because it opened a window on Plan B—the National Museum of the Marine Corps in Triangle, Virginia.
What an amazing place and incredible opportunity to have Reckless showcased. The museum was just finishing the adjacent Semper Fidelis Park, a mile walk through beautiful woods with Marine Corps memorials along the way.
It was the ideal site.
Sorry . . . Wrong Number!
I still hadn’t heard from the Commandant’s office about my monument material. I didn’t have his number, so I googled the Commandant’s phone number at the Pentagon. It came up!
“Hi, I’d like to speak to the Commandant’s aide, please,” I said in my most professional voice.
“Ma’am?” replied the nice-sounding sergeant manning the phone. “You what?”
“I’d like to speak to the Commandant’s aide. I’m following up on a letter I sent to the Commandant about a horse.”
“One moment please, Ma’am.” He put me on hold.
“Ma’am? Where are you calling from, ma’am?”
“Camarillo, California.”
“Ma’am. One moment please, ma’am.” He put me on hold again, this time for a good minute. Silly me. I realized he wasn’t asking me for my location, but my company.
“Ma’am. You’re calling about a horse, ma’am?”
“Yes, a horse. Sgt. Reckless, the Korean War horse. Ever hear of her?”
“No, ma’am. One moment please, m’am.” As I waited some more, it occurred to me he might be tracing my call. Helicopters could be hovering overhead any minute. He put me on hold a few more times until it dawned on me what number I’d called.
“Sir,” I began nervously, “I’m very sorry but—is this the . . . War Room?”
Long pause. “Ma’am, yes ma’am.”
My cool demeanor collapsed. “Oh, my God. I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to call the War Room.”
I started to blather. I must have sounded like a complete idiot.
“Ma’am, that’s okay, ma’am.”
Finally, he transferred me to the right number.
We Found a Home!
On March 7, 2012, our proposal for the monument and exhibit at the National Museum of the Marine Corps was approved. On June 1, much of Team Reckless made the journey to Triangle, Virginia, to pick a site. Director Lin Ezell led us down a winding path to a lovely pastoral area surrounded by trees. There was no other site like it in Semper Fidelis Park and we jumped at it and started planning the ceremony.
For the dedication date, we wanted July 27, 2013, the sixtieth anniversary of the end of the Korean War. But the Department of Defense’s 60th Commemorative Committee (KW60) had already reserved that date for the big national celebration featuring President Obama. Here’s where I met Maj Guillermo (Billy) Canedo who was coordinating everything for the KW60—and thankfully his duties included helping us with the Reckless monument. Maj Canedo convinced us to move our dedication up one day, to Friday, July 26, so that instead of competing with the national celebration, we’d complement it and other events.
So, we had the site and the date. Now all we needed to get Reckless to the starting gate . . . was money.
Playing Beat the Clock
I had a year to raise the $165,000 for the monument and dedication ceremony. And I had to do it in a disastrous economy. But with such a great story, I knew I could get this done. I didn’t know how—I simply believed it was going to happen.
I snagged a list of supporters of the Marine Corps Heritage Foundation and began cold-calling. I also turned to friends, family, the internet—anyone who could help—including celebrities.
We worked out a tax-deductible fundraising plan for donations ranging up to $25,000—where with a certain gift level you would receive the bronze model of the monument as our gift.
But we were fighting the clock. In particular, Jocelyn hadn’t yet finished her initial design and I needed funds to cover every step of the process. Amazingly, whenever another bill would come in, so would the money to cover it. The first to come in was none other than PFC Johnny Newsom—who will always be my Number One.
Funds came in from the website and the store, while the Sgt. Reckless Fan Club on Facebook was tremendously supportive.
A Horse of Blue
On December 14, I made the trek up to Jozzy’s studio in Friday Harbor, Washington state to get my fingernails dirty working on the statue and to carve my initials into the base. What an amazing weekend and best of all—I did the tail! Actually, I covered it in clay and tried to add a sense of fluidity and motion. But it still seemed heavy; Jocelyn must’ve fixed the tail after I left. But when historians come calling, I’ll stick to my story: I did the tail!
So there. Jozzy will cover for me.
I wanted to carve my initials into the base, but where? I considered the tail, where I’d worked so diligently. Jocelyn’s husband, Michael, suggested, “What about putting them on the base, because you are the foundation of this monument.”
Through tears of gratitude—prodded on, I think, by plum wine Harold had sent—I agreed. Ultimately, I etched my initials under her right rear leg—a moment that will stay with me always.
People Start Responding
Around Christmas time, I sent queries to horse-loving celebrities. Betty White and William Shatner responded immediately. I was truly touched. It’
s hard reaching out to well-known people because they’re always being hit up for cash. That I quickly received checks from both stars was incredible.
Again I tried reaching Arthur Allen of ASG Software in Naples, Florida. For months, I’d left messages, after sending him photos of Reckless posing with Gen. Chesty Puller, whose monument at the Marine Corps museum Art had generously supported. But this time, Art answered the phone. When I introduced myself, he admitted somewhat sheepishly, “I owe you a phone call.” I laughed and we talked. He was gracious and kind but said he could only make a pledge and needed a year to fulfill it because of other commitments.
“I can work with that!” I burst out, giddy and grateful for his generosity.
At 6 the following morning I nearly fell out of bed when my phone rang. Like most people, a call at that hour sends my mind racing in fears of an emergency. But when I recognized the churning sound of my noisy fax machine, I shrugged and drifted back to sleep.
Later, I wandered into my home office without my glasses and could only make out a completed, faxed pledge form from Art.
I thought, “That was sweet, he pledged $5,000.” I was so grateful—until I finally put on my glasses and saw it said $25,000! I trembled so much, I thought I might faint.
A few weeks later, a pledge came in from Watts and Sally Humphrey, who bred Genuine Risk, the chestnut filly who won the 1980 Kentucky Derby. Sally was so excited about the Reckless project that she even referred us to friends who were potential donors. Sally said both she and Watts found their bronze model of the monument so moving that when they received it, they wept.
“The President’s Own” to the Rescue
I rushed invitations out to people. Maj Canedo provided his Department of Defense mailing list of a bazillion VIPs. I also sent a personal invitation to the Commandant, Gen. Amos and Sgt. Maj. Barrett.
I received word that the Quantico Marine Corps Band, which I so desperately wanted for the dedication, had another engagement that day.
