Robin Hutton
$16.99 paper (our price $13.59)
Unlike Sergeant Stubby from World War I, or Simon, the only feline recipient of the Dickin Medal for bravery in World War II, or Chips, the German
Shepherd who captured four prisoners in World War II—all of whom were given
honorary titles and medals—Reckless was actually promoted to sergeant, and she
had the stripes on her blanket to prove it.
Originally a small mare of racing stock in Korea, Flame, as
she was then known, was bought by U.S. Marine Lt. Eric Pedersen for the Marine
division to carry the cumbersome loads of Recoilless (or Reckless, as they were
nicknamed) rifles and ammunition. Her heartbroken Korean owner needed the money
to buy a prosthetic leg for his sister, who lost hers to a landmine.
Flame—renamed Reckless—had no previous experience with
explosions, and needed to be trained to “take cover when there was artillery
fire.” She trembled and perspired with fear the first few times she heard
mortar attacks, but eventually she became bombproofed—literally—to the action
around her. Upon command to take cover, Reckless would kneel down, then when
the mortar was fired, she’d sprint to her bunker. As her “hoof camp” trainer
explained: “All I had to yell was ‘Incoming! Incoming!’ and she’d go.” He
eventually was able to just use hand signals.
But Reckless’s true worth to the Marines came at a pivotal
battle, when, amidst a rain of incoming fire and deafening explosions, she
repeatedly hauled the heavy Recoilless rifles and ammunition up steep inclines to
her fellow soldiers during the so-called “Battle of the Nevada Cities,” saving
many lives, and helping to secure the outpost. Reckless earned two Purple
Hearts due to injuries she sustained during that battle. But what is
particularly amazing is that she traversed the route over and over again by herself. In a single day, she made fifty-one round
trips to various gun sites, most of the time traveling solo. She knew her
mission, and she was determined to fulfill it. The Marines depended on her, and
she never disappointed them. As Marine demolitionist Harold Wadley recounts:
“The roar and crack of the 90 mm tank rounds . . . was
numbing. . . . I looked through the flickering light at the hillside beyond and
could hardly believe my eyes. In all that intense fire, in the middle of that
chaos, the image of that small, struggling horse—putting everything she had
into it, struggling up that ridge loaded with 75 mm rounds . . . —was
unbelievable.”
Reckless was also a companion to her “herd,” her fellow Marines.
She had the run of the camp, and was welcome inside tents, especially during cold
weather, to join in conversation, snacks, and to sleep by a warm stove. She
developed a taste—possibly an addiction—to Coca Cola, sweets, and alcohol,
especially beer, which her friends gleefully shared. Amazingly, the unhealthy
diet didn’t adversely affect her.
Anyone who has read Wendy Williams’s amazing book The Horse knows the insight and
intelligence horses possess, and might not be as surprised as Reckless’s fellow
Marines were at her cleverness and her intuition. Fortunately, the men
appreciated her, loved her, and were determined that she not be left behind, as
so many previous war animals have been. Reckless was moved to Camp Pendleton,
and, thanks to the author of this biography, her memory continues to be
honored. A beautiful bronze sculpture, depicting her carrying her load, was
unveiled last fall in Camp Pendleton. Reckless was buried with full military
honors at Camp Pendleton, along with her offspring.
Too often the sacrifices made by our military and the animals who accompany them are overlooked or under appreciated. Political savvy, tough talk, or an enormous bank account can deflect attention away from the true heroes among us. This book reminds us to honor and respect those who have given their lives, health, comfort and well-being for the safety of others, and to regard warily those who have chosen to accept the benefits without paying the costs.
