Roving Reporter
By Ernie Pyle
In Normandy, France – (by wireless)
One of the favorite generals among the war correspondents is Maj. Gen. Manton S. Eddy, commander of the 9th Division.
We like him because he is absolutely honest with us, because he is sort of old-shoe and easy to talk with, and because we think he is a mighty good general. We have known him in Tunisia and Sicily, and now here in France.
Like his big chief, Lt. Gen. Omar Bradley, Gen. Eddy looks more like a schoolmaster than a soldier. He is a big, tall man but he wears glasses and his eyes have a sort of squint. He talks like a Middle Westerner, which he is. He still claims Chicago as home, although he has been an Army officer for 28 years. He was wounded in the last war. He is not glib, but he talks well and laughs easily.
In spite of being a professional soldier, he despises war, and like any ordinary soul is appalled by the waste and tragedy of it. He wants to win it and get home just as badly as anybody else.
When the general is in the field, he lives in a truck that used to be a machine shop. They have fixed it up nicely for him with a bed, a desk, cabinets, and rugs. His orderly is an obliging dark-skinned sergeant who is a native of Ecuador.
Some of his officers sleep in foxholes, but the general sleeps in his truck. One night, however, while I was with his division, it got too hot even for him. Fragments from shells bursting nearby started hitting the top of the truck, so he got out.
The general has a small mess in a tent separate from the rest of the division staff. This is because he has a good many visiting generals, and since they talk business while they eat, they must have some privacy.
Usually, he stays at his desk during the morning and makes a tour of regimental and battalion command posts during the afternoon. Usually, he goes to the front in an unarmed jeep, with another jeep right behind him carrying a machine-gunner and a rifleman on the alert for snipers. His drivers say when they start out: “Hold on, for the general doesn’t spare the horses when he’s traveling.”
Carries telephone in jeep
He carries a portable telephone in his jeep, and if he suddenly wants to talk with any of his units he just stops along the road and plugs into one of the wires that are lying on the ground.
Gen. Eddy especially likes to show up in places where his soldiers wouldn’t expect to see him. He knows that it helps the soldiers’ spirits to see their commanding general right up at the front where it is hot. So, he walks around the front with his long stride, never ducking or appearing to be concerned at all.
One day I rode around with him on one of his tours. At one command post, we were sitting on the grass under a tree, looking at maps, with a group of officers around us.
Our own artillery was banging nearby, but nothing was coming out way. Then, like a flash of lightning, here came a shell just over our heads, so low it went right through the treetops, it seemed. It didn’t whine, it swished. Everybody, including full colonels, flopped over and began grabbing grass. The shell exploded in the next orchard.
Gen. Eddy didn’t move. He just said: “Why, that was one of our shells.”
And since I had known Gen. Eddy for quite a while, I was bold enough to ask:
General, if that was one of ours, all I can say is that this is a hell of a way to run a war. We’re fighting toward the North, and that shell was going due South.
The general just laughed.
The general also likes to get up at 4 o’clock in the morning once in a while and go poking around into message centers and mess halls, giving the boys a start. It was one of these night meanderings that produced his favorite war story.
It was in Africa. They were in a new bivouac. It was raining cats and dogs, and the ground was knee-deep in mud. The tent pegs wouldn’t stay in and the pup tents kept coming down.
Holds light for soldier
As he walked, he passed a soldier trying to redrive the stake that held down the front of his pup tent. The soldier was using his steel helmet as a hammer, and he was having a bad time of it. Every now and then, he would miss the stake with the helmet and would squash mud all over himself. He was cussing and fuming.
The general was using his flashlight, and when the soldiers saw the light, he called out: “Hey, Bud, come and hold that light for me, will you?”
So, Gen. Eddy obediently squatted down and held the light while the soldier pounded and spattered mud, and they finally got the peg driven. Then, as they got up, the general said: “Soldier, what’s your name?”
The startled soldier gasped, leaned forward and looked closely, then blurted out: “Goddelmighty!”