Remembering Ernie Pyle

One of America's most famous combat correspondents was killed 80 years ago on the island of Ie Shima in Japan. Pulitzer Prize winner Ernie Pyle died when a burst of enemy machine gun struck him in the head.

His death was mourned throughout the country, from President Harry Truman to Eleanor Roosevelt to General Eisenhower to the masses of infantrymen Pyle wrote about throughout the war. He was a journalist of the old school, providing the facts from his experience embedded with combat troops and giving context to the tactical engagements of the boots on the ground.

Few people remember Ernie Pyle today, but his reporting from the Battle of Britain until his death gave readers in newspapers across America a better sense of World War II. While Americans could read about the war in the larger context of arrows on maps showing advances and retreats, Pyle's writing detailed the hardships of average soldiers trudging their way toward victory.

He showed the unvarnished realities of combat and revealed the non-glamours side of conflict and carnage that soldiers on the front lines witnessed daily. Unlike many reporters, he stayed embedded with soldiers, experienced their privations, and saw firsthand the challenges of command. He called his perspective a "worm's eye view" of the war.

Even though Pyle was an objective correspondent and tried to report the war as he saw it, when he noticed inequality in pay, privations, and pleasure, he worked these observations into his columns. His comparison of the branches of service and his evaluation of their performance and commitment, were, occasionally criticized.

The time he spent embedded with front line infantry made him an advocate for these common grunts. He saw their work as crucial to the success of the war effort and developed a myopic view of warfighting that tended to denigrate the missions of the Navy and Army Air Corps.

He could not understand why aviators received extra "flight pay" for time spent in aerial missions yet front-line soldiers and desk jockeys were paid the same. This criticism and comparison led Congress to pass a law, the "Ernie Pyle Bill," that paid infantry soldiers "fight pay" of 50% extra for time in combat. No doubt this endeared him to the troops he covered.

His greatest criticism came in his coverage of the Navy in the Pacific Theater. Even though Pyle was in the Navy Reserve, he failed to fully appreciate the difference in the war against Japan that required greater naval resources. If there was ever a low point in his career, it was the backlash received when he made unfavorable comparison with life on an aircraft carrier in contrast to his time with the infantry in Europe.

Pyle's writing was different as he uniquely explained the war effort, not in the larger context of strategy from a bird's eye view of territory gained, towns liberated, and battles won. Rather, he focused on the life of the common solider and wrote about the personal impact of the war. The Army allowed him to use the names of the soldiers he covered to punctuate the authenticity of his reporting. So good were his stories that he was the only civilian reporter whose columns routinely appeared in the armed forces newspaper, Stars and Stripes.

Pyle's style of telling a story from the ground up is now duplicated in documentaries by using letters service members sent home explaining their exploits. These accounts contained in letters and diaries help documentary filmmakers explain wars and other events based on the perspective of those who experienced and recorded them firsthand.

Explaining the big picture of any event can be accomplished with charts and maps. The same is true in the focus of leaders in war or in any movement. Generals with staff and public relations officers can give the overall context of any conflict, but what Pyle, and now documentary producers, did and do is to show the impact of the active participants by explaining their motivations, frustrations and accomplishments. Giving breath to their words, usually written contemporaneously, creates a much different feel and provides more awareness of the details that led to a success or resulted in a set-back.

Pyle was not immune from the stress and emotional toil of observing the conflict day after day. As a noncombatant, he was able to leave the battlefield and recuperate, but his commitment of giving voice to the common solider called him back time and again to witness bravery that would otherwise be undocumented.

With the war in Europe coming to a swift conclusion, Pyle left that theater of the conflict utterly exhausted. His goal was to return home, but he was drawn to the Pacific to give his unique perspective in recording the final battles of the war. He had been in harm's way since 1940, accepted the risks and even anticipated death. In fact, he had experienced a couple of near misses and thought nothing of the crack of a rifle or the sustained buzz from machine guns.

In 1945, as standard fare, Pyle was embedded with an army infantry regiment during the invasion of Okinawa. By the looks of things, the Japanese had been routed, and there was limited opposition as troops ventured further inland to establish a command center. While riding in a jeep, Pyle and others accompanying him heard enemy machine gun fire, so they jumped into a ditch for cover. After a few minutes, hearing nothing and assuming the danger passed, Pyle lifted his head to see the terrain.

He was killed instantly.

Pyle was buried with other soldiers from the battle. The survivors erected a simple monument inscribed: "At this spot the 77th Infantry Division lost a buddy, Ernie Pyle..." Years after the war, a more substantial monument was erected.

Ernie Pyle gave his life for something bigger than himself-explaining the calamity of war from the vantage point of the common soldiers who secured victory.

Will Sellers is a graduate of Hillsdale College and was appointed by Gov. Kay Ivey as an Associate Justice on the Supreme Court of Alabama. He is best reached at jws@willsellers.com.