Sgt. Reckless: America's War Horse

by Robin Hutton

  Now what?

  I tracked down “The President’s Own” Marine Corps Band at Marine Corps Barracks and called the scheduler. After all, these guys play for the president of the United States.

  I wasn’t above cajoling, pleading, or simple, abject begging. And wouldn’t you know it—by the grace of God they said yes. Plus, we received special permission to play echo taps at the end of the program.

  Friends to the Rescue

  Fred Smith, the founder and chairman of FedEx, was next up. A retired, highly-decorated Marine captain, Fred served two tours of duty in Vietnam. And like Art Allen, he also was an ardent, longtime supporter of the Corps’ museum. I’d met Fred years earlier through my dear friend, filmmaker Tom (“Billy Jack”) Laughlin. Fred and his lovely wife, Dianne, were incredibly gracious and generous. Fred found Reckless’s story poignant and felt the monument would be important to the museum.

  Also gratifying was the loyalty of friends. Over dinner one night, my former college roommate Karen Storms said she wanted to donate because she knew how hard I’d worked on the project. Sisterhood forever.

  Breaking Ground

  At last, in June we broke ground for the site. I flew to Washington for the photo op of me putting foot to shovel and slinging dirt. I was excited but anxious—I still hadn’t raised nearly enough money.

  Rick Burroughs of Kline Memorials in Manassas, Virginia, was our monument installer. Rick was at the groundbreaking with his son, Nick, to mark off exactly where we wanted the plaza built and what we hoped to do.

  When it was time, I could not for the life of me get that shovel into the ground. In my defense, it was a flat head tool, not a pointed spade and wouldn’t penetrate earth, even when I jumped on it. I felt like such a chippy. Finally, Rick got the shovel started and I scooped and tossed. Mission accomplished.

  Regnery Publishing

  God winked so many times throughout this journey, you might think He had an eye twitch. That Divine tic showed up again in Washington at the groundbreaking. I was staying with a lifelong friend, Cheryl Shaw Barnes, who illustrates children’s books and whose day job is with Regnery Publishing. After Cheryl briefed Alex Novak, who runs the company’s history imprint, Alex asked for a meeting.

  Alex loved the story and I admired what he was doing with their history books. So I submitted my book proposal to Regnery History. They offered a generous publishing deal—quite a thrill for a first-time author. Even better, they understood how I wanted the book presented and they felt the same way.

  Help Is on the Way!

  Another person I heard from, Rosary Bovello, was a member of the fan club. Rosary and her family wanted to help with the event, since they lived nearby in Maryland.

  “Do you know a good local printer?” I asked. “I need to get five hundred programs printed and I don’t want to have to ship them from LA.”

  Her response blew me away. “My husband manages a print shop. We would love to print the programs and donate them to you.”

  The July deadline was closing in, I remained far short of our financing goal and bills were piling up. I had a great main event planned—with Gen. Amos and Sgt. Maj. Barrett, the top two Marines on the planet, now on board. I also had a dozen Marines who’d served with Reckless (and their families) coming to pay respects.

  In total, more than five hundred people were committed to attending, including Rep. Ander Crenshaw, the Florida congressman whose daughter, Alex, has been a devoted supporter of the fan club for years.

  So it was unthinkable that the celebration could be staged without the guest of honor. I just had to get the statue there. But I had no idea where to find the rest of the money—until my Guardian Angel stepped up to the plate to offer a loan.

  It was Alda Vandling. My mom.

  She and my brother, Michael Holzbeierlein, both knew the stress I was under. They were proud of what I’d done and believed once people saw this beautiful monument, they’d step up to help pay it off.

  I also think they didn’t want to see me publicly humiliated if I failed to deliver the star of the show. I’ve never been more grateful for anything in my life.

  The Installation

  We were scheduled to install the monument just a week before its dedication. Dave Thompson, media relations director for the Commemorative Committee, suggested a “Where is Reckless now?” media campaign tracking her cross country trek from the foundry to our installer in Manassas, Virginia.

  FedEx was the only shipper we trusted. I contacted Fred Smith and not only was the promotional tracking campaign implemented on our fan club site but FedEx shipped the monument for free. Only FedEx broke their sacred promise to deliver Reckless on time.

  Instead, they got her there three days early.

  We were so very grateful for FedEx’s incredible act of generosity and support for this great heroine.

  The installation was July 18, 2013. That morning, Lt. Gen. Robert Blackman, president and CEO of the Marine Corps Heritage Foundation and I walked down together to oversee the installation and address news media covering the event. Rounding the curved sidewalk, I saw workmen already had uncrated her and that Reckless, so mischievous in life, seemed alive and vital again, peeking out across the field.

  My heart raced. I burst into tears. I got the pony to the show.

  I went up and touched the saddle straps; they looked so real. Then, Gen. Blackman provided one of my favorite moments of the trip. He continued up the sidewalk for a look from a different angle, bowing his head as if paying silent tribute to this heroic Marine. The moment is frozen in my mind’s eye and tattooed on my heart.

  When museum director Lin Ezell arrived to see Reckless, I asked what she thought. “I expect her to move,” Lin said, grinning.

  As they lowered her onto the pedestal, I slipped some tail hair from the real Reckless into the base. There’s a little piece of Reckless inside the monument, thanks to Debbie McCain, who collected the hair when she was a young girl at the Camp Pendleton stables.

  It’s Show Time!

  The big three-day weekend finally arrived. Thursday night was a special Evening Parade for Korean War vets and their families, hosted by the Commandant and Mrs. Amos at Marine Corps Barracks in Washington; Friday was the dedication—our main event; and Saturday was the big show at the National Korean War Memorial when President Obama would speak.

  The Evening Parade was amazing for its patriotic pageantry. It was hard not to feel proud to be an American.

  On Friday—D-Day, as in Dedication—I was up at dawn. Actually, I’d hardly slept, worrying about heat and rain. But it was an absolutely perfect day.

  First was the 10:30 a.m. unveiling of the indoor exhibit about Staff Sergeant Reckless. Only a few family and friends attended because it was a small area.

  Lin Ezell led the way through the museum to the display, where the lead quote on the wall had been culled from one of Lt. Bill Riley’s letters: “During the time of attack she hauled quite a bit of ammo up the hills and earned her feed.” Riley’s daughter, Mary Alice Gehrdes, and son John Riley were as moved as I was.

  The exhibit included Reckless’s original shoe; a halter tag on loan from the Marine Corps Recruit Depot Museum in San Diego; a bronze model of the monument; and a life-sized, three-dimensional cutout of Reckless with hands painted up the side so children could measure how many hands high they stood compared to Reckless.

  Lin handed me scissors to snip a bowed ribbon she’d strung across the exhibit. A beautiful commemorative museum challenge coin was attached to a card as a keepsake. What a wonderful way to launch Reckless Day.

  Working with both the Marine Corps Heritage Foundation and museum personnel was delightful. Everything was done with such precision; they even had golf carts shuttling people back and forth to the site because of the heat and the distance to the monument.

  Robin Hutton cuts the ribbon opening the exhibit as Debbie McCain (R) and Mary Alice Gehrdes (L) watch. Mark Tenally

  Joe Bles of The
Young Marines—a national group comparable to the Boy and Girl Scouts organizations—brought more than a hundred youngsters to help out. They came from across the country to pitch in by handing out programs, seating guests, pushing wheelchairs to the site in the woods, and offering water bottles.

  At last, it was show time.

  Emceeing was GySgt. Allyson Fagga, a Young Marine from West Virginia. The bright, articulate girl had received the script only that morning, but recited beautifully, right in front of the Commandant and sergeant-major of the Marine Corps. Pretty heady stuff for a seventeen-year-old.

  When the gunnery sergeant called for the entrance of the Official Party, Lt. Gen. Blackman, myself, Jocelyn Russell, and Harold Wadley strode to our seats. I was heartbroken that Team Reckless’s own Bob Rogers couldn’t be part of the speeches. But because of time constraints, the program had to be on the short side. At one point, they nearly cut me out of the program. At least Bob was in the front row cheering us on.

  Then came the March on Colors by the Commandant’s Official Color Guard. When the band played the national anthem, I got goosebumps.

  When Lt. Gen. Blackman addressed the crowd, a cell phone in the audience began to ring. But it wasn’t just anyone’s phone. It was mine, stashed in my purse on the ground beside Karen Storms, just two rows back from the Commandant. Karen tried discreetly kicking it under the chair in front of her—the chaplain’s chair—as the Commandant looked around for the source of that annoying ringtone.

  I chuckled to myself as Karen struggled to hide it.

  I was up next, followed by Harold Wadley, whose majestic speech from the heart included mesmerizing first-hand accounts of Reckless. Besides the red Mongolian mare herself, the good sergeant was the undisputed star of the ceremony.

  After Harold, the band played “Anchors Aweigh” and “The Marines’ Hymn.” By then, I wanted to be a Marine. We then adjourned to the site to unveil the monument.

  Hundreds slowly worked their way down the pathway to the memorial. Reporters and camera crews pushed through to get primo spots from which to shoot the unveiling. We had more news coverage that day than any other museum event since the Iwo Jima Memorial dedication. The broadcast networks, C-SPAN, newspapers, and South Korean television all clamored for spots.

  Reckless was shielded by a camouflage netting held by two Marines in dress blues. The Young Marines formed a backdrop behind the monument—standing at attention, so proud.

  As we waited for everyone to arrive, I saw the Commandant give something to Sgt. Maj. Barrett, who then turned to me. “Looks like you’re about to get a love letter.”

  “Wha—? From whom?” Before he could say, I got the signal to begin the ceremony.

  I introduced Jocelyn, whose beautifully descriptive remarks culminated with the admission she’d sobbed when Reckless left in the FedEx truck and she turned back to see a suddenly empty studio.

  General Amos came forward. Instead of ordering the unveiling, he asked me to step up. Which was when Sgt. Maj. Barrett read a certificate of appreciation from the Veterans of Foreign Wars. For me!

  As I stood there, I got the shakes. I tried to hold back tears. The Commandant wrapped an arm around me, steadying me during the pronouncement.

  When the sergeant-major finished, he handed the citation to the Commandant, who presented it to me. This was nothing short of an out-of-body experience. So afterward, how did I thank the VFW?

  Call it a Jim Thorpe Olympics moment. In 1912, Sweden’s Gustav V told the double gold medal–winning American, “Sir, you are the greatest athlete in the world.”

  To which the unsophisticated Thorpe casually remarked, “Thanks, King.”

  Only in my case, I blurted out, “This ROCKS!”

  Seriously.

  I’m still cringing.

  The Commandant called Harold front and center. “Sgt. Wadley, will you give the command to unveil the Reckless statue?”

  What a well-deserved moment for Harold! Our own Sgt. Wadley, standing straight and proud and with a vigorous, “Aye, aye, sir!” turned to the corpsmen poised and ready at the covered sculpture. “Unveil the Reckless statue!”

  Robin Hutton proudly shows her VFW Certificate of Appreciation. From left to right: Gen. James Amos, Robin Hutton, Sgt. Michael Mason, Sgt. Maj. Micheal Barrett. Kathy Reesey

  As the camouflage drape dropped, a collective gasp rose. There aren’t words to describe those next moments. The hundreds looking on froze in a human tableau, taking in the image of a magnificent creature depicted scaling a hill, her tail waving in the breeze like Old Glory, the heavy ammo canisters strapped to her side unable to slow her pace, stunt her will, or diminish her grace.

  An almost palpable wave of emotion swept through the crowd.

  Gen. James Amos salutes as Echo Taps is being played to honor Reckless and the other fallen heroes of the Korean War. Robin Hutton (L) and artist Jocelyn Russell stand proudly. Official USMC Photo by Kathy Reesey

  The benediction, by Chaplain Hodges, was the prelude to my favorite moment of the eventful day. The Commandant called Jocelyn and I up to share a moment of silence, followed by the playing of echo taps. Hearing it and watching the onlookers crowded together was something I will never forget.

  A Final Push

  A temporary plaque adorned the monument with just the names of donors to date. I knew more gifts would come, once people caught news coverage of the monument.

  That’s just what happened. Joanne Pearson of Santa Barbara sent a check, then enlisted her daughter and son-in-law’s support, Jill and Alan Rappaport. Joanne’s late husband, Andrall Pearson, had been CEO of Pepsi.

  Mike Mason, my VFW friend who’d served with Reckless in Korea, and his wife Reva also contributed. Mike had such a great time at the dedication that he just wanted to be a part of the monument.

  Sadly, Art Allen couldn’t make the ceremony, so I sent him pictures of his name on the temporary plaque and a link to C-SPAN’s coverage of the dedication. I mentioned that the plaque was temporary because I’d borrowed money to deliver the sculpture, so new names would be added as I paid off the loan. He responded to say he wanted to help with the loan. I thought he meant he wanted to pay his pledge now instead of the following February.

  “No,” Art corrected me. “I want to give you $50,000 to help pay your loan.” I screamed loud enough to rattle windows in Seoul. Not only was he sending his pledge immediately, but he’d effectively doubled it. I.was.stunned. What an amazingly generous man!

  With Art’s incredible largesse, all my pledges coming through and new donors popping up—including many smaller donations not reflected on the plaque—the monument at the National Museum of the Marine Corps was paid in full by December 1, 2013.

  But our work wasn’t quite finished yet.

  An Update on Camp Pendleton

  The Sgt Reckless Memorial Fund has joined with the Camp Pendleton Historical Society to raise funds for Reckless’s monument and grave marker at Camp Pendleton. Our projected dedication date is November 10, 2014, the sixtieth anniversary of the day Reckless first clopped onto American soil. There’s still time to be part of this unique piece of history!

  Kids Say the Darndest Things

  In November 2013, the museum and I were co-hosting a booth at the Equine Extravaganza in Doswell, Virginia. Museum docents helped at the event, where children could pose for pictures beside a life-sized pop-up drawing of Reckless.

  An energetic docent named Sam absolutely nailed every question and presentation he gave on Reckless. And every time he’d hear a new tidbit from me, he’d add it to his repertoire. I was impressed and told him so.

  “Thanks,” Sam replied, “but did you hear how I got schooled by an eight-year-old?”

  Turns out it was Adam, whom we’d met a week earlier at another event. Adam fell in love with and became an expert on Reckless.

  At one point Adam was listening to Sam describe how, “ . . . the horse did this, and the horse did that . . . ”

  S
uddenly, Adam was tugging on Sam’s arm, protesting, “She wasn’t a horse!”

  Sam looked at him, then turned back to the audience. Again, Adam interrupted. “No,” the lad insisted, “she wasn’t a horse!”

  Finally, an exasperated Sam looked at Adam. “Son, what do you mean she wasn’t a horse?”

  Adam ran to the table, retrieved a flyer, pointed to the cover blurb and read aloud: “She wasn’t a horse—she was a Marine!”

  Smart kid.

  And the legend lives on. . .

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  WITH THANKS AND GRATITUDE

  Reckless was an amazing horse, a valiant warrior, and an incredible hero. It’s been an honor, a privilege, and a blessing getting to know her. I hope you feel the same.

  I have met some wonderful people on my journey with Reckless—individuals who never would have crossed my path were it not for that remarkable horse. Some served with her, some educated me on the horrors of the Korean War—especially the Outpost battles of March 1953—and others knew her only in her retirement or only by legend.

  I don’t know where to begin, so let’s start with TEAM RECKLESS:

  Debbie McCain, for becoming such a good friend and for so generously sharing some of Reckless’s tail hair and her hind shoe;

  Bob “Doc” Rogers, for his great stories, the beautiful painting of Reckless he sent, for helping with the memorial statues, and especially for recommending our amazingly talented artist, Jocelyn Russell;

  Jocelyn Russell, for becoming a forever friend, for her magnificent design of the monuments for Reckless, and especially for letting me work on the monument and leaving my handprint on her;

  Harold Wadley, for his remarkable stories of wartime heroics. They made me cry and helped get the wheels rolling for the monument;

  The late Colonel Richard Rothwell and his lovely wife, Rebecca, who had my back;

  And Private John Newsom, for helping track down as many people who knew Reckless as possible and for being my Number One.