A few weeks ago, it was revealed that the photograph of the death of War War II correspondent Ernie Pyle actually had been previously published, in 1979-1982. Earlier in February, the photo was "discovered" and thought to have been never seen before. Regardless of whether or not it had been published, the image is unique in that unlike many of the other photos of death and destruction to come out of that war, this one is eerily tranquil and serene. Pyle is lying on his back, hands folded across his chest, almost as if he is taking a nap on the ground. However, he is not sleeping, but rather had taken a bullet from the Japanese on the island of Ie Shima in the Pacific in April, 1945.
The University of Indiania School of Journalism has a great website dedicated to the life and work of Pyle, considered one of the finest war journalists of the era. They also have an archive of some of his most popular columns published during the war. One really stood out to me because I think the sentiment could be applied to today's war and those returning home from the battlefieds of Iraq and Afghanistan.
On September 11, 1943, Pyle wrote a piece "Fed Up and Bogged Down" about his own experience returning to the US briefly after over a year of being on the front lines reporting. In that column, he wrote:
It has been fifteen months since I left America. Things at home have changed a lot in that time, I’m sure. But at first glance there doesn’t seem to be much change.
When I rode in from the airport in New York, and checked into the hotel, everything was so perfectly natural that it truly seemed as though I had never been away at all. It was all so normal, so exactly like what it had been on other returns, that I couldn’t realize that now I was going through that beautiful hour that millions of our men overseas spend a good part of their waking hours yearning for and dreaming about. I do hope that when their hour comes, they’ll find themselves more capable of enthrallment by it.
When I rode in from the airport in New York, and checked into the hotel, everything was so perfectly natural that it truly seemed as though I had never been away at all. It was all so normal, so exactly like what it had been on other returns, that I couldn’t realize that now I was going through that beautiful hour that millions of our men overseas spend a good part of their waking hours yearning for and dreaming about. I do hope that when their hour comes, they’ll find themselves more capable of enthrallment by it.
Almost 65 years later, I am sure soldiers returning home must experience a beauty in the "ordinary" that we take for granted everyday. It is just a shame that over six decades later, men and women are still forced to go through the same nightmares to enjoy the simple things in life.
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