"You begin to feel that you can't go on forever without being hit. I feel that I've used up all my chances." - Ernie Pyle as he left for the Pacific.
April 18, 1945 - The battle for Okinawa had been raging for nearly three weeks. The assault on the small adjacent island, Ie Shima, was two days old. Sgt. Jerry Hastings and his brother, Ike, were in a ditch alongside a road, operating a radio. A Jeep with the Regimental Commander and Ernie Pyle passed by. A burst of Japanese machine gun fire, and the occupants of the Jeep hit the ditch. Jerry and Ike, out of the line of fire, remained pre-occupied with their radio.
Another burst of machine gun fire and Ernie Pyle was dead, hit in the left temple by a bullet from that second burst. The most famous and loved war correspondent of WWII had used up his last chance. A soldier yelled over to Jerry and Ike, "Hey, a famous reporter just got killed."
On Okinawa, the main island of the Ryukus, the Army and the Marines were in the largest and most bloody battle of the Pacific war, and ironically, the almost forgotten battle.
The 10-square mile island of Ie Shima would be secured by the Army's 77th Infantry Division in several more days. But Ernie Pyle, the war correspondent that had done more than any other individual to bring the reality of war home to the American public was dead.
After recovering Pyle's body, some soldiers moved it away from the front. Jerry remembers standing along side the body as it was in the photograph that wasn't released until years later. Soldiers built a coffin and buried him with others killed on Ie Shima. Two days later, about 200 men of all ranks and representing all branches of the service attended the burial service while guns were still blasting in the distance.
For three years, Pyle's writing had entered some 14 million American homes, almost as personal letters from the front. The families of soldiers prayed for Ernie as they prayed for their own sons.
President Truman, who had held office less than a week since Pyle's death, stated, "More than any other man, he became the spokesman of the ordinary American in arms doing so many extraordinary things."
Other high officials joined in the accolades:
Gen. George Marshall, Army Chief of Staff: "Ernie Pyle belonged to the millions of soldiers he had made his friends. He did not glorify war, but he did glorify the nobility, the simplicity and heroism of the American fighting man."
Gen. Eisenhower: "The G.I.s in Europe - and that means all of us here - have lost one of our best and most understanding friends."
James Forrestal, Secretary of the Navy: "More than anyone else he helped America understand the heroism and sacrifice of the fighting man."
Secretary of War Stimson: "The understanding of Americans in battle which ran through all Ernie Pyle's dispatches was drawn from hours spent with them under fire, sharing dangers they endure."
Ernie shared the post-war hopes of the men of whom he wrote. "If I could be fortunate enough to hang on until spring of 1946, I think I'll come home for the last time. I don't believe I have the strength ever to leave home and go to war again."
He would not have had to hold out until 1946 - only till mid-August. The atomic bombs ended the war, and the lives tens of thousand victims, while saving tens of thousands of others, including both allied and Japanese combatants who would have perished with the planned invasions of Kyushu and Honshu.
Although the war was over, danger and death was not. Jerry's unit was loaded on LSMs, headed for Japan - not for invasion, but for occupation duty. A September typhoon hit the Ryuckus. Six of 11 LSMs were wrecked or washed out to sea. Jerry and Ike's LSM was spared and they would see occupation duty in Japan.
Ernie Pyle's body was later moved from the grave on Ie Shima to Oahu in the Hawaiian Islands. The Ernie Pyle Historic site is located in his hometown of Dana, Ind. A visitor center is constructed from two authentic WWII Quonset huts.
The former Ernie Pyle home in Albuquerque, New Mexico currently serves as a branch library of the Albuquerque/Bernalillo County Library System.
Jerry and his brother, Ike, were among the fortunate survivors to return home and resume normal lives - wives, kids, homes, mortgages and all the rest of it. But not immediately.
There are still lovely women around Monroe who remember, as impressionable teenagers, riding around Monroe's Square in Ike's convertible. Ike later became an art teacher. Today, he sports a fashionable ponytail - fitting for an art instructor who spent his later teen years fighting the Imperial Japanese Army - a tough way to make a living.
Jerry ran a radio-TV shop, probably a holdover from his Army communication days, and later worked for the U.S. Postal Service. Both Jerry and Ike still fit into their WWII uniforms.
In recent years, the ever-youthful Jerry has taken up the banjo. He accompanies accordionist Del Heins on Friday nights at Turner Hall's weekly fish fry, and steals the show during Turner Hall's Squeezebox night every third Tuesday.
The Army should never have let these two teen-agers share the same foxhole in combat. But sometimes things turn out OK in spite of mistakes. Had Jerry not been preoccupied with that radio, who knows? He might have peered over that ditch on Ie Shima and been the target of that deadly Japanese machine gunner.
Okinawa - the last great battle of WWII, the battle that took more lives than any other battle of the Pacific. Yet, it is the war's forgotten battle - except by those who were in it.
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
April 18, 1945 - The battle for Okinawa had been raging for nearly three weeks. The assault on the small adjacent island, Ie Shima, was two days old. Sgt. Jerry Hastings and his brother, Ike, were in a ditch alongside a road, operating a radio. A Jeep with the Regimental Commander and Ernie Pyle passed by. A burst of Japanese machine gun fire, and the occupants of the Jeep hit the ditch. Jerry and Ike, out of the line of fire, remained pre-occupied with their radio.
Another burst of machine gun fire and Ernie Pyle was dead, hit in the left temple by a bullet from that second burst. The most famous and loved war correspondent of WWII had used up his last chance. A soldier yelled over to Jerry and Ike, "Hey, a famous reporter just got killed."
On Okinawa, the main island of the Ryukus, the Army and the Marines were in the largest and most bloody battle of the Pacific war, and ironically, the almost forgotten battle.
The 10-square mile island of Ie Shima would be secured by the Army's 77th Infantry Division in several more days. But Ernie Pyle, the war correspondent that had done more than any other individual to bring the reality of war home to the American public was dead.
After recovering Pyle's body, some soldiers moved it away from the front. Jerry remembers standing along side the body as it was in the photograph that wasn't released until years later. Soldiers built a coffin and buried him with others killed on Ie Shima. Two days later, about 200 men of all ranks and representing all branches of the service attended the burial service while guns were still blasting in the distance.
For three years, Pyle's writing had entered some 14 million American homes, almost as personal letters from the front. The families of soldiers prayed for Ernie as they prayed for their own sons.
President Truman, who had held office less than a week since Pyle's death, stated, "More than any other man, he became the spokesman of the ordinary American in arms doing so many extraordinary things."
Other high officials joined in the accolades:
Gen. George Marshall, Army Chief of Staff: "Ernie Pyle belonged to the millions of soldiers he had made his friends. He did not glorify war, but he did glorify the nobility, the simplicity and heroism of the American fighting man."
Gen. Eisenhower: "The G.I.s in Europe - and that means all of us here - have lost one of our best and most understanding friends."
James Forrestal, Secretary of the Navy: "More than anyone else he helped America understand the heroism and sacrifice of the fighting man."
Secretary of War Stimson: "The understanding of Americans in battle which ran through all Ernie Pyle's dispatches was drawn from hours spent with them under fire, sharing dangers they endure."
Ernie shared the post-war hopes of the men of whom he wrote. "If I could be fortunate enough to hang on until spring of 1946, I think I'll come home for the last time. I don't believe I have the strength ever to leave home and go to war again."
He would not have had to hold out until 1946 - only till mid-August. The atomic bombs ended the war, and the lives tens of thousand victims, while saving tens of thousands of others, including both allied and Japanese combatants who would have perished with the planned invasions of Kyushu and Honshu.
Although the war was over, danger and death was not. Jerry's unit was loaded on LSMs, headed for Japan - not for invasion, but for occupation duty. A September typhoon hit the Ryuckus. Six of 11 LSMs were wrecked or washed out to sea. Jerry and Ike's LSM was spared and they would see occupation duty in Japan.
Ernie Pyle's body was later moved from the grave on Ie Shima to Oahu in the Hawaiian Islands. The Ernie Pyle Historic site is located in his hometown of Dana, Ind. A visitor center is constructed from two authentic WWII Quonset huts.
The former Ernie Pyle home in Albuquerque, New Mexico currently serves as a branch library of the Albuquerque/Bernalillo County Library System.
Jerry and his brother, Ike, were among the fortunate survivors to return home and resume normal lives - wives, kids, homes, mortgages and all the rest of it. But not immediately.
There are still lovely women around Monroe who remember, as impressionable teenagers, riding around Monroe's Square in Ike's convertible. Ike later became an art teacher. Today, he sports a fashionable ponytail - fitting for an art instructor who spent his later teen years fighting the Imperial Japanese Army - a tough way to make a living.
Jerry ran a radio-TV shop, probably a holdover from his Army communication days, and later worked for the U.S. Postal Service. Both Jerry and Ike still fit into their WWII uniforms.
In recent years, the ever-youthful Jerry has taken up the banjo. He accompanies accordionist Del Heins on Friday nights at Turner Hall's weekly fish fry, and steals the show during Turner Hall's Squeezebox night every third Tuesday.
The Army should never have let these two teen-agers share the same foxhole in combat. But sometimes things turn out OK in spite of mistakes. Had Jerry not been preoccupied with that radio, who knows? He might have peered over that ditch on Ie Shima and been the target of that deadly Japanese machine gunner.
Okinawa - the last great battle of WWII, the battle that took more lives than any other battle of the Pacific. Yet, it is the war's forgotten battle - except by those who were in it.
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
