Athena (In- Memory)
Purrs and Love- to Mom and- Toulouse
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 | | Purred: Thu Jul 9, '09 9:38pm PST |  | |  | | RECKLESS
Alone, the small sorrel pony galloped through the stubble of the rice paddy heading toward the ridge beyond. The incoming artillery and mortar fire rained around her, on the paddies and slopes of the ridge, at the unparalleled rate of 500 rounds per minute. Strapped in the pony's saddle pack were 192 pounds of ammunition for the 75mm recoilless anti-tank rifles working desperately on the front lines.
She moved quickly with the heavy load across the paddy's rugged and uneven ground. Rivulets of sweat sliced down her haunches and streaked her crusty belly while the howl of mortar shells and the explosions of artillery blasted the sound of her own heavy breathing from her ears.
The nickname for the Marines' unit was "The Reckless Rifles," and so they had named the sorrel "Reckless," but she was surefooted as she raced across the rice paddy on swift, strong legs. Her destination, Hill 120, loomed 1,800 yards ahead. Positioned there were the 75mm recoilless rifles she serviced.
Suddenly the shriek of a mortar shell split the air too close. Reckless veered but kept going as it came screaming down. A mound of mushrooming earth shuddered and exploded in a flash as the shell struck. Dirt and shrapnel pummeled her and she flinched as hot metal sliced her eyelid and tore into her flank.
Under the heaviest fire attack ever placed on a sector by the Communist Chinese during the Korean Conflict, members of the Second Battalion, 5th Marines, were putting up a bloody fight that day in March of 1953. The stakes were a vital area of the Panmunjon-Bunker Hill Sector known as the Nevada Complex. Outpost Reno had already been lost with no survivors. Vegas had fallen. Elko and Carson were barely holding. Now, orders came directing the 5th Marines to retake Vegas, throwing the Leathernecks into a battle whose savagery would become legendary in Marine Corps history.
Essential to the outcome were the rapid-firing, accurate, recoilless rifles. It was a killing job, however, packing the 75mm shells over the Korean landscape of hills and paddies to their firing positions. This the Marines had learned during their earlier battle for Un-Gok Hill. At Un-Gok, troops packing ammunition for the recoilless weapons had been barely able to keep the thundering guns supplied in the intense exchange.
After experiencing Un-Gok, Lieutenant Eric Pederson, who'd been a horseman since his boyhood days in Arizona, had asked for, and received, permission to buy and train a horse to pack the ammunition. On a trip to Seoul, he had made the rounds of the war-impoverished stables at the city's racetrack. He had known what he wanted — a strong, swift animal as rugged as the native terrain.
Pederson's keen eye had bypassed most of the lean, hungry horses offered him. He had been about to give up. Then he spotted the dainty-footed, red Mongolian mare. Her name was Ah- Chim-Hai, which in Korean meant "Flame of the Morning." She sported three white stockings and a blaze, and at five years old stood a small 14 hands high. She had been tied along a mud wall, and when Pederson had stretched out his hand, she had pulled to the edge of her rope in greeting.
Flame of the Morning held promise of early speed in her compact body, and her owner had been reluctant to sell her. Pederson had known he'd found his horse, though, and — $250 later — the mare had made the trip back to the base with him.
The weapons unit had renamed her Reckless, and the spirited young mare had soon charmed the Marines. She ate the food the troops ate (including bacon and eggs), invited herself into their tents when it rained, and followed them into bunkers. Marine Sergeant Joe Latham had taken over her training and she had learned not to shy under fire, becoming accustomed to the crashing back-blast of the recoilless rifles. She had been taught to take cover from enemy fire, negotiate communication lines and barbed wire, and carry the heavy ammunition packs.
During her off hours, she had gained a reputation for downing white bread, beer and an occasional poker chip.
On the battlefield, the staunch horse had proven herself a true warrior. In an anti-tank company, the recoilless rifles were moved from unit to unit whenever their firepower was needed. From the first, Reckless worked with the company when they were rushed to the front lines. Hearing the noise of incoming artillery or mortar fire, she was known to bolt for the nearest bunker when off duty. On duty, however, Reckless never ducked when the pack was loaded on her back.
In the battle to retake the Vegas outpost, the thinned Marine ranks had difficulty keeping sufficient ammunition moved up for the constant firing of their weapons. Reckless had been called into action and led over the supply route to the roaring recoilless positions by Sergeant Latham. Without her, there would have been little hope of keeping the rifles supplied.
Wounded now, Reckless panted, arched her neck and kicked out with her front feet, straining to rise up the steep, rocky slope of the ridge. Saddle leather groaned. Another mortar shell slammed to earth, impacting close to her left. Artillery fire cut into a nearby crest.
Nearing her destination, the mare rounded an outcropping and slowed at the approach of a column of Marines. Several were bandaged and limping supporting one another along their cautious descent. Two of them carried a stretcher between them, where their bloody comrade lay. Reckless knew them. These were the men she'd eaten with, slept beside and nuzzled affectionately with her soft muzzle when wanting attention. She looked in their direction and blew softly, but didn't pause.
The trail got steeper. The sound of the battle roared, and at last Reckless pulled up under a small ledge, breathing hard. The final incline to the rifle positions rose at a preposterous 45-degree angle.
Surrounded by the hell of battle, Reckless lumbered toward the rifles and was greeted by a sweaty, streak-faced gunner. Grateful Marines rapidly unstrapped her precious burden. This was her fifth trip to the forward positions, but her first without command or direction. She'd made it entirely on her own!
The weight was lifted from her, and Reckless turned to clear the gun emplacement and head back down the hill for another trip to the munitions dump. But a hand reached out to stay her. The Marines had noticed her wounds.
Shouts went up for a medical corpsman. The medic dodged toward her as a fresh series of artillery blasts scorched over the ridge. Without a second thought, the nearest Marines pulled off their flack jackets, flinging them over the exposed horse. Together horse and men waited out the intense barrage. The corpsman applied a cold compress to the oozing gash on her flank, but painful as it was there was nothing he could do for the nick on her eye.
At last the barrage lifted. Reckless was released for the descent, and with her went the hopes of every man there. Each knew her courageous trips were saving lives.
On that one day, the brave, devoted horse made 51 solitary runs between the munitions dump and the front lines, each time lugging more than a third of her body weight across hostile ground being swept with intense shellfire. She was so effective that she kept three recoilless rifles in action; one able to fire so fast that its barrel overheated and the weapon had to be replaced.
The battled raged for three days, and with Reckless' help, Vegas was retaken and held. She'd covered a total distance of 35 miles on the first day alone, packing more than 9,000 pounds of explosives to the men she'd come to love.
The Marines did not forget her gallantry. After the battle of Vegas, her actions were reported in the press back in the States and were heralded in Life magazine. She was offered a spot on The Ed Sullivan Show, and became the heroine of the book, Reckless, Pride of the Marines. The Marine Corps brought the gallant horse home to serve out her days at Camp Pendleton, California, where a monument was later erected in her honor.
Finally, for her unmatched loyalty and complete disregard for personal safety, leading to the saving of countless lives, the little red pony was promoted — with full ceremony — to the rank of Marine Staff Sergeant.
~~from the book, Real Animal Heroes by Paul Drew Stevens |  |  | |  |
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