"Off we go into the wild blue yonder" was a familiar cry of many a man in Uncle Sam's Army Air Corps in World War II. But it was also sung by Marjorie Rees, of Prairie Village, and 1,073 other Women Airforce Service Pilots, or WASPs.

And for that great service to the country, Rees has received the Congressional Gold Medal. Actually it's a gold-plated bronze replica medal, because the original medal, worth upwards of $35,000, is on display in Washington, D.C.

The Congressional Gold Medal, the nation's highest honor for civilians, was bestowed on Rees and her fellow women pilots in a ceremony in Washington that 100 WASPs and 200 family members or friends attended.

When World War II began, the nation needed every man, woman, and child to join the war effort—so the call went out for young women to be part of a new group who would go through the same pilot training as the men. After flight training, they would ferry planes from base to base, check out planes after repairs and tow targets.

More than 25,000 women, all over 21 years of age and all volunteers, answered the call. About 1,800 women were selected; 1,074 completed the training and became WASPs. Thirty-eight WASPs lost their life during training and in other accidents.

Although they performed some of the duties of Army Air Corps pilots, the WASPs were civilian pilots. In 1977, under Pres. Jimmy Carter, they were retroactively designated "military" and became eligible for veterans' benefits.

Rees' love of flying began while she was attending Kansas City University and a boyfriend took her up for her first ride.

"I was hooked," she said. "I took graduation money I received and got flying lessons. So I was already a pilot when the call came for women to join the WASPs. It took me two times to qualify because I didn't weigh enough. I ate like a horse for a week and then made the minimum weight."

Off to Sweetwater, Texas, she went, going through primary, basic, and advanced pilot training just like the men at other bases.

"I graduated in the first class of 1944 and was sent to Douglas Army Airfield in Douglas, Ariz., near the Mexican border," Rees recalled. "I was glad for my civilian pilot training experience, because about 45 percent of my class had washed out. I was 22 years old when I got my wings in February 1944, a proud day."

WASPs served at 125 air fields in the United States.

"Since Douglas was a pilot training base, there were all kinds of breakdowns of planes," Rees said. "My job was to test a plane after it had been fixed—or I hoped it had! I never had any serious problems while in the air."

While at Douglas, Marjorie met her future husband, Bill, who was a pilot in charge of maintenance at the base.

Fast forward. The war ends. They eventually get to Kansas City and have three children. Bill owns a business. Life is good.

During this time, Rees completed a master's degree and received a doctorate in education. She was interested in working with children who have learning disabilities, and spent many years at venues including Barstow School, the Crittenton Home, and Children's Mercy Hospital.

Bill died in 2001.

Community Service has been her hallmark during the past several years. She served with the Silver-Haired Legislature, the Foundation on Aging, and other boards and organizations too numerous to mention. The plaques on her wall attest to her many contributions.

What is she up to now? With a twinkle in her eye, Rees mentions dancing.

"I took tap dancing when I was 5 and continued to dance until motherhood and community service took over," she said. "Then, after 35 years, I started to dance again."

She takes private dance lessons twice a week and is still dancing in competitions—and winning. If "Dancing With the Stars" calls, she is already well-versed in the rumba, mambo, cha-cha, fox-trot, and swing, and is working on her West Coast swing.

Rees never flew after her tour as a WASP was over, but she did get the chance to fly in the co-pilot seat on a B-25 a year ago when it came through Kansas City.

What does it mean to Rees to have served her country as a WASP?

"I was glad to serve," she said. "It was challenging. I felt like a pioneer."

Wings Across America produced "legacy" trading cards for WASPs. On the back of Rees' card are these words:

"There is no learning without mistakes nor personal progress without setbacks. Never let fear of failure deter you. Most of our regrets in life have less to do with what we did, than with what we failed to do."

After all these years, Marjorie Rees is not letting any grass grow under her dancing shoes.

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