Two and a half years before their second son, Floyd “Junie” Mitch was drafted into the army at age 18, Grace Mitch, and her husband, Floyd, lost their eldest son and child, Merrill, on Thanksgiving Day.
As part of a widely followed tradition, the boys were out hunting that day, and while 20-year-old Merrell was making his way over a fence, a gun discharged, and he died in brother Junie’s 15-year-old arms.
“Because of him getting killed on Thanksgiving, we never celebrated it,” said the late Junie’s daughter Susan Hamilton. Nor, of course, did her grandparents.
Everyone stayed at home, where hotdogs were served instead of turkey on what could never, for them be a day of giving thanks.
And while all mothers and fathers worry about their sons and daughters in military service, Grace wondered much of the time Junie was away how she could possibly bear it if the world were to take another of her children.
She bore that burden from the day Junie entered the service until the day before Thanksgiving of 1946, on which he was honorably discharged.
Taken from the Mitch Papers in the archives of the Heritage Center of Clark County, here are excerpts from the letters Grace Yeoman Mitch and Junie Mitch exchanged during his army service at the close of World War II.
1945
March 9: Too hard on both of us
Dear Junie:
We came up past the Draft Board and saw Andy Anderson and his whole family crossing the street there at the library. I said they are going to the train and drove down that way, but Donna wouldn’t let me stop. She thought it would be too hard on both (you and me) if we stopped, so we went around the block, and I took her to the shop.
March 14: Not tough, just lonesome
Dear Mom:
Camp Atterbury, Ind. -- I saw you go by the side of the station just before we left. I pray every nite for you folks back home and you probably do the same for me. I worry about you and. You worry about me. I don’t worry about myself. There are thousands of other boys who took this army life with a smile so I guess I can, too. It really isn’t too tough, just lonesome.
April 1, Sunday Eve: A hole in the house
Dearest Junekins: It didn’t seem right down home today without you. Didn’t seem like there are very many of us anymore. You’ve no idea what a big hole your going has made in our family. Carolyn gave Johnnie a pup for Easter. He was so scared by all the attention he wouldn’t eat any dinner.
April 2: Camouflage and mud
Dear Mom:
Today we had physical training and camouflage. It is putting leaves branches on so the enemy can’t see you. Part of us would hide and the rest would try to find us. Had a lot of fun. (In physical training) We were running along, and they said, “Hit the ground.” And, of course, I was right in front of a big mud hole. My clothes … dried out before long in the hot sun. We have the same thing tonight while it is dark. Can’t see the mud at night, and we’ll have a lot of fun.
Monday, April 30, 1 p.m.: Right where the dust flies
Dear Mom:
I am writing this in a pit where I am holding a target for some of the other boys to shoot at. It is safe enough as long as you stay down, but if you ever got up, it would be too bad. The rifle shells light all around in the ground and make the dust fly. They whiz over your head about 1½ or 2 feet. This gets you used to combat, I guess.
Tuesday Eve. May 1: So long – and isn’t it?
My Dear Son:
I spose you’ve heard the announcement of Hitler’s death. I don’t think anyone believes what they said. I think they got the idea from Roosevelt’s death so he will go down in the minds of the German people as someone wonderful …. I am so glad you got Texas instead of Louisiana. It’s swampy and full of snakes. My paper is full so will stop. Well so long, as you always say. And isn’t it long, though?
May 2: The man in front of you
Dear Mom:
Camp Maxey, Texas --We started about 7 p.m. last nite and walked until sometime after 11 p.m. Of course, we had full field pack -- rifle, gas mask and everything else. That was about all I could take. It was pitch dark and all you could see was the man in front of you. When we finally got there, we were at the verge of collapse.
Thursday noon, June 7: It’s cold today
Dear Son:
They hurried me this morning, and I forgot about your needing money. We want you to keep your bonds. So, I am sending $5 and will send more some way Saturday. I want you to have enough to come home on if you should get an unexpected furlough. It’s cold here today. Think I will have to put the stove back up if it don’t warm up soon. Good luck and best wishes and lots of love.
July 4 Wed Eve: One of the hardest things ever
Hello, Juney:
Mrs. Powell and the girls got home at 6:30 this morning (from visiting a son in boot camp). He told his mother if she had come to see him during his basic, he would have come home with her. But he likes it better now and it isn’t so hard. She said it was one of the hardest things she ever did to get on that bus and leave him standing there. Must get to bed as I guess I’m elected to help with those last 15 bales of hay and almost must fix my berries and finish the ironing.
Tuesday, Aug 14, 8:15 p.m. Scandalous carryings-on in Vienna
Dearest, Junekins:
Well, the war is over. I hope they told you right away. People care carrying on something scandalous. Every siren in (South) Vienna was blowing, all the bells were ringing, and everyone was out on the street. But I am so glad and so relieved … my little boy won’t be in so much danger now …. Hurry home and tell them to give you 30 days now. Wouldn’t that be gorgeous? So long now.
Aug. 15, Wed 1:30 p.m.: 40 miles from nowhere
(Written after a long deployment in the Rockies)
Dear Mom and Dad:
I feel kinda homesick today. We have just been given 1 ½ days off. That may seem like a break, but I don’t think so. Here we are, 40 miles from nowhere in this God forsaken country with nothing to do but mope. I would rather do what work I was already doing then I wouldn’t have so much time to feel sorry for myself.
Sept. 13: The lone prairie
Dear Mom and Dad:
The (train) trip has been O.K. so far but awfully dirty. I met one of the boys in Chicago, and about 50 or more got on at Cheyenne. We (got) good eats several times along the way from the War Dads, Navy Mothers, Red Cross and U.S.O. I got a cake because of my birthday. Saw the Great Salt Lake and mountains and desert from the center of Nebraska to the western party of Nevada. Didn’t know there were such places in the U.S. Didn’t see a person hardly all day.
Oct. 5: A blip on the radar
Dear Mom and Dad:
In the Pacific, aboard the USS President Polk -- Last nite during the show, the radar picked up something that was believed to be a Jap mine. We went around it but radioed in its location so suppose someone will investigate …. I used to think before I got in the Army that soldiers eat a lot of beans. But now I know the sailors are the ones who eat the beans.
Wednesday Eve, Oct. 31: The ceiling comes off butter
Dear Junie:
So, you have been cutting weeds in Saipan. Looks kinda dangerous if there is ammunition laying around. I hope you don’t have to keep doing that kind of thing …. Shoe rationing ended today. Bet there was a mob in the shoe stores. The ceiling is off butter, and it has gone up 6 cents a pound. One of Joe’s sows was over here …. trying to get in the with pigs, and I was afraid she’d teach them to get out so watched her pretty close …
Dec. 1: Two hundred yards away
Dear Mom and Dad:
The Japs gave up this morning. Guess where they had been staying? Two hundred yards back of our theater. Forty-three well-clothed, well-fed and well-disciplined soldiers. They stood in formation and at attention for about five minutes so everyone could take pictures that had cameras. Lots of newspaper men. They were carrying all American guns from a carbine to a machine gun. I suppose they will put them in a stockade.
Xmas Day: Brine on his topcoat
Hello Juney Boy:
What a Xmas. The roads are one smooth glare of ice, and we couldn’t go down home. The sleet froze on the glass till we couldn’t see at all, and the defroster didn’t help a bit, but the salt did. I expect we took off a lot of paint but who cares? … Wen (his brother, Wendell) was up first this morning after myself, and you should have seen his eyes when he saw his watch. Ditto (brother) Dale.
1946
Jan. 1: Maybe May, maybe not
Dear Mom and Dad:
I heard some good news yesterday. A fellow came around asking how many months’ service we all had. He said I was due to start home sometime in May and be eligible for discharge in June. That sounds awful good. But don’t count on me getting home then. When I’m sure that I am coming home, I will let you know.
Wednesday night, Jan. 2, 46: A Russian finger in the pie
Hello, Precious
The Big 3 just had a meeting in Moscow. Not Truman & Stalin but Byrnes and Molotov and Bevin, and they want to help occupy Japan. …. Don’t see why Russia is entitled to a finger in that pie anyhow, but she aims to have it. (Note: Forty years earlier Japan had crushed Russia in a war between two then imperial powers.)
Saturday, 1 p.m. Feb. 9: Baking, husking, cleaning and hoops
Dear Junie:
How’s my boy? I’ve been baking all morning, 5 pies and a spice cake. Donna and Ed are coming to the (Catawba High School) ball game tonight and then stay all night here. They boys husked corn and cleaned the barn this morning and are going to husk some more. Dad got to work all day yesterday and will go back Monday but don’t know how long it will last as the steel strike isn’t settled yet.
Feb. 10: A time change in Saipan
Dear Mom and Dad:
Time is going very fast now. I hope it is the same with you. It only seems like a few days ago when I was home. One thing that surprised me was the way everything was just the same as when I left. Just like only being gone for a few days. Well, so long.
Monday Eve, March 4: Abbott, Costello and Japanese dolls
Hello, Honey:
I got my washing done by noon and went with Dad to town. We tried to get alfalfa but couldn’t’. So, he went to the stock sale, and I went up town and saw Abbott & Costello. I got the pictures from the negatives you sent me, and they are very plain. It’s the funeral of those unburied fliers you told us about, isn’t it? …. Got the two pictures of your Japs today in one of your letters …. I don’t think they look mean. Are any of them making dolls?
Wednesday 9 a.m. April 10: An April Fool?
Hello, Honey:
I got all three of your letters yesterday about the hurricane over there and was surely glad they all came at once. We are very proud of our brave boy volunteering to stay where it was so dangerous when you didn’t have to. You were always that kind of boy, so steady and sensible, too, even if you do plan to marry in 6 weeks after you get home. Well, I wouldn’t mind if you get the right kind of girl.
Saturday, 10:30 a.m., May 4: A dirty deal in Lawrenceville
Dear Junekins:
Catawba got two big disappointments yesterday. They went to Lawrenceville for their ball game, and old Blair Folck was the umpire and he gave us a dirty deal. Fred Haddix pitched and only allowed three hits. Dale said it was a good game, except Blair’s umpiring. 1-0 was the score. Then they hurried home and did up the work and I took them back to go play that concert at the Giants (minor league team in Springfield) game. They went into Cliff Park and were all lined up ready for the parade and then were told the game was postponed again. So, they are trying it again Monday, but I don’t think those boys will wear white pants. The must think I like to do up white pants. Just wearing them around for the fun of it.
May 12: Mother’s Day and the Mitch blood
Dear Mom and Dad:
I never have said much about how I feel toward you. Maybe that is the Mitch blood in me. But we kids have an admiration for you that is unsurpassed by any family. I have met all kinds of boys since I left home. Their lives haven’t been nearly as full as mine. I appreciate everything you have ever done for me, and that is a lot. I love you dearly and worship you in the depth of my heart. I hope that I never do anything to hurt you. If I get married, I hope my wife can be half the mother you are. Well, so long for now and I hope we will be together next year.
Sunday 9 p.m. June 30: Those little squirts
Hello, Sonny:
Ed and Dale …. went to Catawba to a ball game. Catawba was ahead 7-1 when they left. Ed said Dulaney was playing, and he is to get his discharge right away. I can’t understand it. He enlisted for 6 years, didn’t he? If Shinkle comes home before you I am sure going to be mad. It isn’t fair, no, it isn’t’. Those little squirts would be better off in the service. Its fellows like you that should come home.
July 1: Just another mushroom cloud
Dear Mom and Dad:
We are coming back as fast as the ships can get here, all fathers and 24- to 18-month men go before I do, so September is the earliest possible date. The atom bomb was dropped (in the Bikini atoll of the Marshall Islands) today, but it didn’t affect us any.
Thursday, 4 p.m., July 11: The tender-hearted boy
My Dearest Junie:
In today’s letter, you seem so blue. You are still fundamentally my Sweet Tender-Hearted little fat boy. And you always were the most tender hearted of all the kids. When you heard sad things over the radio, you were always the first to shed tears. Then, in addition to that, you. Were always so wise beyond your years – much wiser in many things even than your mom.
Aug. 3: A Three-star Depot
Dear Mom and Dad:
Well, yesterday the major came to the depot and told me what the Three-star general had said about our depot: It was the best quartermaster depot that he had seen. The general is sending the fellows from Hawaii over to look things over and study how we run things here. You should see the officers; they are really happy.
Friday noon, Sept. 6: 2,500 ships at bay
Dearest Junekins:
I heard on the air this morn that all the seamen are on strike, and I’m just scared your boat won’t get there on the 12th unless its already on its way. They say there are 2,500 ships tied up U.S. ports. Just makes me sick … I also heard Sec. of State Byrnes made a speech from Stuttgart, Germany, about getting this settled up over there. He has a good idea if they can just get them worked out.
Oct. 3: The wisdom of the quartermasters
Saipan -- Dear Mom and Dad:
When I came to the quartermaster (corps), some of the fellows that were starting home said, “If you are going to write a letter, write home and then, if you have time, write to someone else. The folks at home will always write, but the other people will forget even where you are.” That is an exaggeration, but partly true.
Well, this is the last letter you will get from me while I am still in the army. It has been a long, rough time but now the curtains are falling on a portion of our lives that we will never forget.
I’ll always be grateful and love you for writing me when I needed it most. See you in about 10 days after you get this letter.
Love, June
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