Media Review
Jack Pulwers signs copies of his book, "The Press of Battle: The GI Reporter and the American People." The 850-page book tells the story of military reporters, photographers and artists who covered World War II.
Spc. Lorie Jewell
Author tells the story of WWII military journalists
By Spc. Lorie Jewell
December 19, 2003
WASHINGTON, D.C. - (Army News Service, Dec. 19, 2003) Putting journalists at the front, in the middle and toward the rear lines of combat brings immediate and dramatic urgency to news reports, as the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have proven.

But the practice is nothing new, as Jack Pulwers details in his new 850-page book, “The Press of Battle: The GI Reporter and the American People.” It's the story of reporters, photographers and artists in uniform, fighting in all branches of service while at the same time keeping fellow service members and the public informed of World War II's progress.

“We need to talk about the press troops of World War II, and bring out the fact that these reporters were hard working but didn't get much publicity for what they did,” Pulwers said at the recent debut of his book in a National Press Club reception in downtown Washington, D.C. “They helped promote the information needed to run the war, while suffering the same homesickness, fear and shock as their subjects.”

Pulwers, 79, was an infantryman toward the end of that war, breaking into journalism not long after leaving the Army. In his civilian career, he made a name for himself by scoring coveted interviews with such subjects as Elvis Presley, The Beatles, Malcolm X, and President Harry Truman. His career traveled full circle, bringing him to Armed Forces Radio and Television as chief of broadcasting and news supervisor in the late 1960s. He was working for the Office of the Secretary of Defense Public Affairs at the Pentagon when he retired in the late 1980s.

The research and development of the book was a 30-year project. It explains the histories of military publications like “Stars and Stripes,” “Yank,” “Leatherneck,” “All Hands,” and the Army News Service. He tells the stories with about 360 photographs and interviews with more than 350 people, including well-known war illustrator and cartoonist Bill Mauldin.

Describing the forced resourcefulness the press showed under fire, Mauldin told of how he enlisted help in scraping together enough zinc to create print fonts for field presses in Italy. When they ran out of print, Mauldin dispatched fellow G.I. reporter Bill Estoff out in search of zinc. Estoff collected enough to get the job done by scrounging through coffins in nearby cemeteries, Mauldin related.

Pulwers is working on a sequel that will focus on military reporters, photographers and artists who have covered wars and conflicts after World War II. To contribute, or to get more information about “The Press of Battle,” contact Pulwers at jpnews@cox.net.

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Posted on Mon, Dec. 15, 2003
Enola Gay exhibit prompts outcry
The restored bomber will go on display today, with no mention of the 140,000 people killed.
By Frank Davies
Inquirer Washington Bureau

WASHINGTON - The Enola Gay, the simple plaque tells us, was the most sophisticated bomber of World War II. The two paragraphs of text compress its momentous impact on the world to one spare sentence:
"On Aug. 6, 1945, this Martin-built B-29-45-MO dropped the first atomic weapon used in combat on Hiroshima, Japan."
The unmistakable icon of the nuclear age, the fully restored Enola Gay goes on public display for the first time today in the Smithsonian's new, cavernous Virginia addition to the National Air and Space Museum.
There is no mention of the 140,000 people killed by that bombing. Nor is there mention of the claims that the bombing was necessary to force Japan's surrender or of the wider controversy about using weapons that could destroy humanity.
The unveiling of the Enola Gay and its presentation are touching off a debate about how a museum deals with the pride and pain surrounding one of history's great turning points: President Harry S. Truman's decision to drop two atomic bombs on Japan.
John Dailey, director of the Air and Space Museum, has described the B-29 Superfortress as a "magnificent technological achievement," one of the crown jewels in a vast space that contains some of aviation's most notable craft.
Terumi Tanaka, who was 13 when the bomb fell on his city, killing five family members, sees the plane differently: "To the survivors, it is a symbol of evil in the world. I am surprised, angry and sad that it is on display."
Tanaka and four other Hiroshima survivors, called hibakusha in Japan, went to Washington this weekend with petitions and plans for a protest today when the museum opens. They seek recognition of the human cost of the atomic-bomb attack.
About 400 historians, scientists and activists signed a petition urging the Smithsonian to "rethink its exhibit to include a balanced discussion of the atomic bombings and of current U.S. nuclear policy."
"This plane began the era of ultimate destruction," said Peter Kuznick, who heads the Nuclear Studies Institute at American University in Washington. "It's just unconscionable for this country to display the Enola Gay in the national museum while whitewashing its role in history."
Smithsonian officials rejected the petition, saying the simple plaque identifying the plane "does not glorify or vilify" its role in history. The labeling is "precisely the same kind used" for the 81 other military and civilian craft in the museum.
Dailey, a retired Marine general, said the bombing helped prevent later use of nuclear weapons during the Cold War because "it showed what can happen." He added, "But we don't tell people what to think about it."
The atomic-bomb controversy is not new to the Smithsonian. In 1995, to mark the 50th anniversary of the end of the war, the museum planned a wide-ranging exhibit - including death tolls, photos and the debate about necessity of the bomb - with part of the plane's fuselage as the centerpiece.
After a firestorm of criticism from veterans and other groups, the museum dropped most of the exhibit and gave a bare-bones description of the plane, with video footage of the crew talking about the mission. One Army veteran from Virginia, Jack Pulwers, said that approach in the permanent display was fine with him: "It's just the facts. They're not saying it's a wonderful thing."
Paul Boyer, a historian at the University of Wisconsin, has researched the cultural aspects of the atomic age and said he was not surprised there was such disagreement over how to portray nuclear history.
"These life-and-death issues are difficult to deal with," Boyer said. "I'm not outraged by the caption, but given the emotional, political and cultural impact of this act - whatever your position - the museum's brief treatment of this seems inappropriate."
Summarizing the controversy over dropping the bomb is not easy, many historians concede. Some of Truman's advisers, research shows, wanted to use the bomb quickly to intimidate the Soviets, who had just entered the war against Japan.
The specter of high U.S. casualties in an invasion of Japan haunted many leaders and soldiers. More than 12,000 Americans died on Okinawa, as Japanese soldiers fought to the last man.
"It's very important to understand the context of wartime attitudes in 1945," Boyer said.
Many American veterans see the atomic bomb as a godsend that may have saved their lives. Pulwers, whose new book, Press of Battle, recounts the work of GI reporters during the war, said that was the sentiment in his unit.
Truman expressed that certitude many times. Pulwers, who worked for WABC News in New York, once interviewed Truman and told him how his infantry battalion was about to ship out for the Pacific when it heard about the atomic bomb.
Pulwers said: "I'll always remember what Truman told me: 'I saved your ass, son.' "