American legend is lost at war
He had quite a following with the public during the 1930s but
after the nation was thrust into World War II, Ernie Pyle became a
legend.
Pyle was born Aug. 3, 1945 on a farm in Indiana. He enlisted in
the Navy for World War I when he was 18, but it ended shortly after
and he returned to civilian life. He enrolled at the University of
Indiana’s journalism course not because he wanted to be a newsman
but that he thought it would be a snap.
American legend is lost at war
He had quite a following with the public during the 1930s but after the nation was thrust into World War II, Ernie Pyle became a legend.
Pyle was born Aug. 3, 1945 on a farm in Indiana. He enlisted in the Navy for World War I when he was 18, but it ended shortly after and he returned to civilian life. He enrolled at the University of Indiana’s journalism course not because he wanted to be a newsman but that he thought it would be a snap.
In no time at all, he was bitten by the newspaper bug and spent most of his leisure time around the campus newspaper office.
After graduation, Pyle got a newspaper job. Within the next decade he had been a columnist, reporter and editor. He persuaded his editors to let him become a roving columnist. For seven years, he and wife Jerry (to whom he always referred as “That Girl” in the column) crossed the country 35 times, reporting on little stories concerning people more than events.
When the United States entered the war in December 1941, Pyle was determined to cover it, even though he was already in his 40s. Accordingly, he was soon in the United Kingdom and filed stories on how GIs were becoming familiar with different customs far from home.
Pyle’s column soon became a must read for all Americans. He related little anecdotes that exposed the loneliness, the fatigue and even fear of soldiers in a hostile country. He never glorified war. He reported on the common soldier, his discomfort from weather extremes, the fear that dogged him constantly, and his hope of making it back home in one piece.
Next to letters from their own family members in military service, Americans welcomed his column more than any other writing. The GIs regarded him as one of them because he shared the same dangers, ate the same food and reported the war how it was. Privates and generals alike called him Ernie.
His columns were made into books, and in 1944 Pyle won the Pulitzer Prize for journalism. His nerves were shot and he returned to the United States for a rest at the end of that year.
He could not rest as he had hoped to do. His mind kept returning to the soldier in the field who did not have the option of leaving. Finally, he gave it up and asked to return to the front.
With the war winding down in Europe, he was sent to the Pacific. On April 18, 1945, he was a passenger in a Jeep on Ie Shima when a burst from a Japanese machine gun penetrated his brain.
The word of Pyle’s death swept through a nation that had suffered the death of President Franklin D. Roosevelt a week earlier. President Harry Truman and General Dwight D. Eisenhower called it a tragedy.
But those who felt it the most were his embattled GIs. They had lost their best friend.
