Traveling home
The day was long, and everyone was exhausted.
Today, we took “walking in the footsteps of Ernie Pyle” to a whole new level.
The day began on an exhaustive note. The several days of near-nonstop travel had begun to take a toll on the group. As we huddled around waiting to be led to our next destination, some members of the group complained about their lack of sleep; others began developing scratchy throats as a result of cold, windy days. One member of the group was battling blistering feet and had already accumulated seven of them. Nonetheless, we maintained an upbeat attitude, knowing a historic day awaited us.
On the way to our destination, unknown to many of us, we gazed out at the Normandy countryside. I was stunned by the vibrant foliage, marshes and luscious green grass that appeared untouched by human behavior. Along the way, we spotted cows grazing and sheep wandering around. The bus started making its way up a narrow, winding road. Looking ahead, we spotted a gorgeous cobblestone castle in the distance.
The bus came to a stop, and we all jumped out, eager to learn what significance this beautiful building had. Our tour guide revealed to us that we were in the presence of the Chateau De Vouilly, a castle that had been converted into a bed and breakfast. As we got closer, a large plaque hung before the entrance. One by one we went up to read the sign and were blown away when we realized what we were reading. We were entering the chateau famously known as the headquarters WWII correspondents reported from during the battles of the liberation of Normandy.
“No way! Does that mean … ?” asked one member of the group.
“Yes. Yes!” replied our professor, Bonnie Layton, already knowing what the student was asking.
“Ernie Pyle stayed here and wrote in this very spot!” she said.
As we walked inside the main room of the chateau, we saw a poster hanging at the front, making it the spectacle of the room. The banner displayed a large photo of journalists taken during WWII hurriedly writing away at their typewriters. One of us shrieked in excitement as we spotted a scrawny, short man wearing a hat near the background of the photo. Scribbled on top of his image was our confirmation: “Ernie Pyle, Scripps Howard.”
We looked at one another in amazement as we realized we were standing in the EXACT spot that Ernie Pyle was photographed typing up one of his columns.
During WWII, war correspondents worked out of this building, and they slept outside in tents. The censors were located down the hall. Reporters had their columns reviewed by the censors before being allowed to publish. Accompanying Pyle in this famous chateau were other iconic war correspondents such as Walter Cronkite, Ernest Hemingway and Andy Rooney.
Bonnie looked around at us, grinning from ear to ear, knowing she was about to suggest something cheesy.
“Guys!” she exclaimed. “Gather around! We are actually IN the footsteps of Ernie Pyle! Everyone put your foot in so I can take a picture,” she said.
We did as we were told and snapped a photograph. Seconds later, our tour guide pulled out a desk used by the war journalists. He placed it in front of the banner and we took turns sitting at it, giving our best Ernie Pyle impersonation.
It was the closest I felt to Pyle this entire trip.
