A Memorial Day reflection

“At a time in their lives when their days and nights should have been filled with innocent adventure, love, and the lessons of the workaday world, they were fighting in the most primitive conditions possible across the bloodied landscape of France, Belgium, Italy, Austria, and the coral islands of the Pacific. They answered the call to save the world from the two most powerful and ruthless military machines ever assembled, instruments of conquest in the hands of fascist maniacs. They faced great odds and a late start, but they did not protest. They succeeded on every front. They won the war; they saved the world.”    — Tom Brokaw in “The Greatest Generation

H.A. Mitchell

My father joined the Army when he was 16. He lied about his age.

He knew what was coming and was there when it came. He was in Pearl City that Sunday morning in 1941 when World War II began.

He spent the rest of the war hopping from island to island with his artillery unit. He said he chose artillery because he wanted to make a lot of noise.

I know he was in the Philippines about the time the survivors of the Death March of Bataan were rescued. The rest are a blur in my memory, though I recall him telling about how they censored letters home lest they fall into enemy hands and give away troop locations — you couldn’t write that the food was “good enough,” because the ship was at Goodenough Island.

He was a decorated hero, but said he refused to wear the Purple Heart so he wouldn’t have to explain exactly where the wound was located.

When he and his war buddies got to together they seldom talked about the fighting, only the antics, like climbing on the hood of a truck and stealing eggs out of the back of another truck as it slowly climbed a steep hill.

But one of his friends once let slip that Dad, a bulldozer operator, actually did that scene from a John Wayne movie in which the bulldozer operator raised the blade to deflect bullets while rescuing pinned down soldiers.

To hear him and his friends talk, it seemed like they spilled more beer than blood, but somehow still managed to win the war and save the world.

(Reprinted from a previous post.)

6 comments on “A Memorial Day reflection

  1. Randa Todd says:

    My sincere thank you to your dad, H.A. Mitchell. A handsome and brave man.

  2. John Smith says:

    Really nice.

    Sent from my iPhone Ce >

  3. The morning paper has a front page article about the base in Utah where the Enola Gay was prepped by the atomic bomb drop that ended the war. Which begs the question: How many American soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines would not have lived to become our fathers, grandfathers and great-grandfathers if the Enola Gay had NOT dropped that bomb? https://www.reviewjournal.com/news/military/veteran-works-to-turn-historic-airfield-into-first-army-air-force-museum-2365725/?fbclid=IwAR3KfSNJes1AS38vEQ2tZl4Unb914x7aMJZABWmp6HyjCGtbiHVENIkKTcE

    This past August — on the eve of the 75th anniversary of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki — a WSJ piece attempted to answer that question. The answer on both sides of the conflict was: millions.

  4. Steve says:


    Always a great read.

  5. noodle35 says:

    I read this every year with the same admiration for those boys. Pray there are enough patriots to continue to keep our country free. With the adversaries we now face from within, our odds of survival diminish with each new group of elected officials. God Bless America.

  6. Anonymous says:

    Imagine what your father’s generation would have made of a national security advisor who said that what we need in this country is a military coup? Which followed closely on the heels of an insurrection at the Capitol that cost of the lives of law enforcement officers sworn to protect our Constitution?

    The adversaries to this country we now face from within, would never have been imagined I dare say by those guys that fought against the fascists from other countries.

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