March 1945 - The Marianas, Guam, Saipan, and Tinian were in American hands, bringing American bombers within range of Japan. With the subsequent capture of Iwo Jima, lying midway between the Marianas and Japan, American bombers would have fighter escort to Japan, and a place for crippled bombers to land on the return flight from Japan. Thus began the massive bombing raids that lay waste to Japan's major cities and industrial complex.
The atomic bomb was still in the planning and design stage and its efficacy could not be assumed. The Pacific command was planning the amphibious assault on Japan for September. But first, there was the matter of Okinawa, a mere 350 miles from Japan. Okinawa, the staging area for the major assault, and the adjacent island of Ie Shima with its three airfields, would have to be taken.
Ironically, and tragically, the Battle for Okinawa, the largest combined air-land-sea battle in history, is all but lost to the American public memory - for reasons to be covered in a future column. And if the Battle for Okinawa is lost to public memory, few Americans have ever heard of Ie Shima. It was on this small, obscure island adjacent to Okinawa that America's most celebrated war correspondent, Ernie Pyle, was killed by a Japanese machine gunner within a few yards of one of our local WWII vets, Jerry Hastings.
Ernie's road to Ie Shima led from Indiana to Washington, D.C. to Africa to Europe, back to his adopted home in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and finally to the Pacific and Ie Shima. Jerry's road led from northern Illinois to the east coast, back west to Hawaii, then the Marshalls, the Solomons, the Philippines, and to Ie Shima.
Ernie Pyle, the shy self-effacing journalist who wasn't happy with his own writing and dreaded meeting people because they might not like him, had won the hearts and minds of the common infantryman with whom he shared the mud, grime and constant threat of death in a combat zone. He, more than any other individual, brought home the unglamorous reality of the war to the American public and to the families of the troops.
He was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in 1944. He had won the respect and admiration of those in uniform from all branches of the service. He narrowly escaped death many times, including an erroneous bombing run by American bombers at St. Lo. He saw enough death that by the end of 1944 he was emotionally spent. "I don't think I could go on and keep sane," he wrote.
He returned to his adopted home in New Mexico to recuperate. But he was still haunted by the war, and would sit for hours staring across a lonely mesa. He felt compelled to go back to the front, this time to the Pacific. He had premonitions of death. "I feel that I've used up all my chances, and I hate it. I don't want to be killed."
So, it was off to the Pacific, including a stint on a small aircraft carrier. "I was completely amazed to find that I'm as well known out here as I was in the European Theater," he wrote. But he found the war in the Pacific to be different from the war in Europe, particularly with respect to opinion of the enemy and their tendency to fight to the death rather than surrender.
Pyle became familiar with the Pacific Marines, finding them to be "confident but neither cocky or smart-alecky" and having "fears and qualms and hatred for the war the same as anybody else ... They are Americans, with all the contradictions that the word implies ... (and) ... they do not thirst for battle but I have no doubt that they can do what they have to. They are O.K. for my money, in battle and out."
April 1 - The last amphibious landing of the Pacific war. The 10th Army, consisting of five Army divisions and three Marine divisions was charged with the mission of taking Okinawa. Pyle was reluctant, but against his better judgment hit the beach with the First Marine Division. The landing was uncontested - the Japanese had dug in farther inland where there would be fierce resistance.
Pyle went back aboard ship to write, and he briefly rejoined the Marines. A few days later they captured some Japanese - fortunately, he wrote, not the fight-to-the-death types; otherwise, he would have been killed along with the Marines. Pyle escaped death once again.
He went back to his ship to discover that the 77th Army Division was to land on Ie Shima.
April 16 - Units of the 77th hit the beach meeting stiff resistance. Pyle remained on ship and landed the next day, witnessing a soldier killed by a Japanese mine. The following day he met Lt. Col. Coolidge, Commander of the 305th Regiment of the 77th Division. With three other soldiers, they climbed into a jeep and traveled down a narrow road that had been cleared of mines and appeared safe.
In a ditch along this same road, Sgt. Jerry Hastings and his brother, Ike, were operating a radio. As the jeep passed them, Jerry and Ike heard a burst of machine gun fire. About one-third mile away, a Japanese soldier with his Nambu machine gun had fired a burst at the jeep. Pyle, Coolidge and another soldier jumped into the ditch a few yards from Jerry.
The machine gunner had zeroed in on where Pyle and Coolidge had landed. Machine gun bullets travel faster than sound. Coolidge and Pyle raised their heads to see if the others had been hit. As Coolidge ducked the next burst and turned, Pyle was already lying on the ground, blood flowing from his left temple.
American's greatest war correspondent had used up his last chance.
To be continued:
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
The atomic bomb was still in the planning and design stage and its efficacy could not be assumed. The Pacific command was planning the amphibious assault on Japan for September. But first, there was the matter of Okinawa, a mere 350 miles from Japan. Okinawa, the staging area for the major assault, and the adjacent island of Ie Shima with its three airfields, would have to be taken.
Ironically, and tragically, the Battle for Okinawa, the largest combined air-land-sea battle in history, is all but lost to the American public memory - for reasons to be covered in a future column. And if the Battle for Okinawa is lost to public memory, few Americans have ever heard of Ie Shima. It was on this small, obscure island adjacent to Okinawa that America's most celebrated war correspondent, Ernie Pyle, was killed by a Japanese machine gunner within a few yards of one of our local WWII vets, Jerry Hastings.
Ernie's road to Ie Shima led from Indiana to Washington, D.C. to Africa to Europe, back to his adopted home in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and finally to the Pacific and Ie Shima. Jerry's road led from northern Illinois to the east coast, back west to Hawaii, then the Marshalls, the Solomons, the Philippines, and to Ie Shima.
Ernie Pyle, the shy self-effacing journalist who wasn't happy with his own writing and dreaded meeting people because they might not like him, had won the hearts and minds of the common infantryman with whom he shared the mud, grime and constant threat of death in a combat zone. He, more than any other individual, brought home the unglamorous reality of the war to the American public and to the families of the troops.
He was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in 1944. He had won the respect and admiration of those in uniform from all branches of the service. He narrowly escaped death many times, including an erroneous bombing run by American bombers at St. Lo. He saw enough death that by the end of 1944 he was emotionally spent. "I don't think I could go on and keep sane," he wrote.
He returned to his adopted home in New Mexico to recuperate. But he was still haunted by the war, and would sit for hours staring across a lonely mesa. He felt compelled to go back to the front, this time to the Pacific. He had premonitions of death. "I feel that I've used up all my chances, and I hate it. I don't want to be killed."
So, it was off to the Pacific, including a stint on a small aircraft carrier. "I was completely amazed to find that I'm as well known out here as I was in the European Theater," he wrote. But he found the war in the Pacific to be different from the war in Europe, particularly with respect to opinion of the enemy and their tendency to fight to the death rather than surrender.
Pyle became familiar with the Pacific Marines, finding them to be "confident but neither cocky or smart-alecky" and having "fears and qualms and hatred for the war the same as anybody else ... They are Americans, with all the contradictions that the word implies ... (and) ... they do not thirst for battle but I have no doubt that they can do what they have to. They are O.K. for my money, in battle and out."
April 1 - The last amphibious landing of the Pacific war. The 10th Army, consisting of five Army divisions and three Marine divisions was charged with the mission of taking Okinawa. Pyle was reluctant, but against his better judgment hit the beach with the First Marine Division. The landing was uncontested - the Japanese had dug in farther inland where there would be fierce resistance.
Pyle went back aboard ship to write, and he briefly rejoined the Marines. A few days later they captured some Japanese - fortunately, he wrote, not the fight-to-the-death types; otherwise, he would have been killed along with the Marines. Pyle escaped death once again.
He went back to his ship to discover that the 77th Army Division was to land on Ie Shima.
April 16 - Units of the 77th hit the beach meeting stiff resistance. Pyle remained on ship and landed the next day, witnessing a soldier killed by a Japanese mine. The following day he met Lt. Col. Coolidge, Commander of the 305th Regiment of the 77th Division. With three other soldiers, they climbed into a jeep and traveled down a narrow road that had been cleared of mines and appeared safe.
In a ditch along this same road, Sgt. Jerry Hastings and his brother, Ike, were operating a radio. As the jeep passed them, Jerry and Ike heard a burst of machine gun fire. About one-third mile away, a Japanese soldier with his Nambu machine gun had fired a burst at the jeep. Pyle, Coolidge and another soldier jumped into the ditch a few yards from Jerry.
The machine gunner had zeroed in on where Pyle and Coolidge had landed. Machine gun bullets travel faster than sound. Coolidge and Pyle raised their heads to see if the others had been hit. As Coolidge ducked the next burst and turned, Pyle was already lying on the ground, blood flowing from his left temple.
American's greatest war correspondent had used up his last chance.
To be continued:
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
