I came across a sad and amazing story the other day. A new photo of one of my heroes, Ernie Pyle, was found. It's his death photo. The picture shows Ernie, with a trail of blood leaking out his mouth, arms folded on his chest, lying in a ditch on Ie Shima.
I've been to Pyle's home in Dana, Ind. I've read his books, and biographies. I have pictures and advertisements with his picture. His G.I. Joe watches me when I write. It was like seeing a friend's picture.
But I noticed the article quoted James Tobin, the author of "Ernie Pyle's War," a biography that came out a few years ago. I own the book, and have always loved it. Turns out Tobin, who used to write for the Detroit News, is now a professor at my alma mater, Miami University. Man! I wish I'd been able to study under him. But I'm an old-timer now. (He also used to work at The News with one of my current professors, Christy Bradford, who used to be managing editor).
It was a circle of coincidences. I still get shivers when I see that photo.
