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Ernie Pyle Biography

Ernest Taylor Pyle (August 3, 1900 – April 18, 1945) was a Pulitzer Prize–winning American journalist. As a roving correspondent for the Scripps-Howard newspaper chain, he earned wide acclaim for his accounts of ordinary people in rural America, and later, of ordinary American soldiers during World War II. His syndicated column ran in more than 300 newspapers nationwide.

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Ernie Pyle Quotes

The closest fires were near enough for us to hear the crackling flames and the yells of firemen. Little fires grew into big ones even as we watched. Big ones died down under the firemen's valor only to break out again later.

Break Out, Fire, Firemen, Fires, Flames

Some day I'd like to cover a war in a country as ugly as war itself.

Country, Ugly, War

For me war has become a flat, black depression without highlights, a revulsion of the mind and an exhaustion of the spirit.

Black, Mind, Peace, Spirit, War

Below us the Thames grew lighter, and all around below were the shadows - the dark shadows of buildings and bridges that formed the base of this dreadful masterpiece.

Bridges, Buildings, Dark, Lighter, Shadow

There is no sense in the struggle, but there is no choice but to struggle.

Choice, Choices, Sense, Struggle

Marines have a cynical approach to war. They believe in three things; liberty, payday and that when two Marines are together in a fight, one is being wasted. Being a minority group militarily, they are proud and sensitive in their dealings with other military organizations. A Marine's concept of a perfect battle is to have other Marines on the right and left flanks, Marine aircraft overhead and Marine artillery and naval gunfire backing them up.

Artillery, Backing, Believe, Left, Military, War

In their eyes as they pass is not hatred, not excitement, not despair, not the tonic of their victory - there is just the simple expression of being here as though they had been here doing this forever, and nothing else.

Despair, Expression, Eye, Hatred, Simple, Victory

Our artillery. . . The Germans feared it almost more than anything we had.

Artillery, Feared, Germans, Military

It was a night when London was ringed and stabbed with fire.

Fire, Literature, London, Night, Stabbed

For a lifetime I had bathed with becoming regularity, and thought the world would come to an end unless I changed my socks every day. But in Africa I sometimes went without a bath for two months, and I went two weeks at a time without even changing my socks. Oddly enough, it didn't seem to make much difference.

Becoming, Differences, Months, Time, Two, Unless

War makes strange giant creatures out of us little routine men who inhabit the earth.

Giant, Giants, Men, Strange, War

I've been immersed in it too long. My spirit is wobbly and my mind is confused. The hurt has become too great.

Confused, Hurt, Peace, Wobbly

If you go long enough without a bath, even the fleas will let you alone.

Alone, Fleas, Funny, Let, Long

I love the infantry because they are the underdogs. They are the mud-rain-frost-and-wind boys. They have no comforts, and they even learn to live without the necessities. And in the end they are the guys that wars can't be won without.

Boys, Comforts, Guys, Rain, War, Won

I was away from the front lines for a while this spring, living with other troops, and considerable fighting took place while I was gone. When I got ready to return to my old friends at the front I wondered if I would sense any change in them.

Away, Fighting, House, Place, Spring

But to the fighting soldier that phase of the war is behind. It was left behind after his first battle. His blood is up. He is fighting for his life, and killing now for him is as much a profession as writing is for me.

Blood, Military, Phase, War, Writing

If I can just see the European war out I think I might feel justified in quitting the war.

Might, Quitting, See, Thinking, War

The American soldier is quick in adapting himself to a new mode of living. Outfits which have been here only three days have dug vast networks of ditches three feet deep in the bare brown earth. They have rigged up a light here and there with a storage battery.

Deep, Feet, Light, Living, Quick, Soldier

Swinging first and swinging to kill is all that matters now.

Firsts, Kill, Literature, Matter, Matters, Swinging

About every two minutes a new wave of planes would be over. The motors seemed to grind rather than roar, and to have an angry pulsation like a bee buzzing in blind fury.

Angry, Grind, Literature, Two, Wave, Would Be

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