Roving Reporter
By Ernie Pyle
Somewhere in France – (by wireless)
I’m sending this column for some rainy day when the regular piece doesn’t get through on time.
This one contains a few odds and ends which I didn’t get down before about our invasion voyage across the Channel to France.
I came on a Navy LST which was a veteran of Sicily and Italy. She went up to England during the winter and had just been lying around since then.
She has a very fine crew, from the captain on down. Most of the crew have been through other amphibious campaigns, but there is a new batch of gunners who have been in the Navy only since December and who had never been shot at before our crossing.
The skipper is Lt. John D. Walker Jr. of Houlton, Maine. He is a gentle, courteous bachelor of 35, fine-looking, fine-minded, and beloved by his whole crew. Morale is high on this ship. A sailor will get you aside and tell you what a fine ship it has been since Walker took command.
Walker ran a Chevrolet and Cadillac agency in his hometown, but he is not the high-powered-salesman type at all. Aboard ship his discipline is the kindly rather than the Simon Legree variety.
Not grouchy, just worried
For example, there was a little exchange that I witnessed between him and the table waiter in the wardroom.
We had so many Army officers aboard that they practically crowded the Navy staff out of its own ship. At mealtime, the few Navy colored boys were hard put to keep the tables waited on.
One of these was a little sailor nicknamed Peewee, who hasn’t been out in the big world very much. At first, you think he is sullen, but later you learn it is just a facial expression and he means all right. One day he went to Capt. Walker and said: “Captain, I guess you think I’m grouchy, but it ain’t that. It’s just that I’m worrying all the time.”
Capt. Walker had been trying to teach Peewee some nice dining room manners. Trying to teach him to put things before his guests delicately, and not to jostle the guests or throw things at them.
One day I was eating next to the captain, and an Army colonel was at the same table. Peewee wanted the colonel to get up and make room for somebody else, so he just reached over the colonel’s shoulder ad started mopping the table with a wet cloth, sort of pushing the colonel out of the way as he did so.
The colonel took the hint and got up and left. The captain saw it, and was a little embarrassed. So, he said to Peewee, in a very kindly voice: “Peewee, you kind of bruised the colonel, didn’t you?”
And Peewee, not getting the subtle hint, and taking the captain literally, replied: “No, sir, I didn’t push him hard enough to hurt him.”
The captain, just shook his head in despair and went on eating.
Gets bulldozer, plus 100 men
Among the Army personnel aboard our ship was Capt. Warren Pershing, son of Gen. Pershing. The captain who is not a professional soldier at all, started out as a private in this war. He is in the engineers.
He is a tall, blond, regular fellow and everybody likes him. He leans over backward not to trade on his father’s name. He doesn’t speak of the general unless you ask him.
I asked if the general was still at Walter Reed Hospital. He said yes and that his father was very excited because they had just built him a penthouse on the hospital roof.
I have been told that despite his age and poor health, Gen. Pershing is very close to this war, and that some of our general staff call on him almost daily for advice and counsel.
On the way across the Channel, Capt. Pershing’s commanding officer gave him a mission to perform the moment we hit the beach. His mission was to steal a bulldozer at a certain spot, right away.
I checked up a couple of days later to see if he had succeeded. He not only showed up with the bulldozer but with a hundred men as well. He even got the bulldozer without stealing it. Just talked somebody out of it.