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| Sergeant Julius Holland |
Sergeant/Observer, 107 Sqdn., Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve
Service No: 745631
Died: 23/07/1940
Age: 19
Interred in Tangmere (St. Andrew) Churchyard
Remembered on family memorial in Bangor Cemetery
Julius Charles Chennell Holland was born on 17 October 1920 in Bombay India. He was the son of Julius Alfred Holland and his wife Beryl Ethel De La Hoyde Chennell. Julius, 24, who was working in the Imperial Civil Service, had married 17-year-old Beryl in Poona, Bombay, the previous January.
The family moved to England where his sister Phyllis was born in 1923, and thence to Bangor when his father joined the Northern Ireland Ministry of Finance.
On 23rd July 1940 his aircraft, a Bristol Blenheim Mark IV, was returning to RAF Wattisham in Suffolk after a night raid on an airfield near Criel in Northern France when it was lost over the channel. His body was washed ashore and he was buried in Tangmere Churchyard in Sussex. The bodies of his crew mates Sergeant William Patrick O'Heney and Pilot Officer Peter George Anthony Watson where never recovered and both are remembered on the Air Forces Memorial at Runnymede.
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| A Bristol Blenheim Mark IV |
BANGOR AIRMAN MAKES SUPREME SACRIFICE
SERGEANT-OBSERVER C. J. HOLLAND
BRILLIANT R.A.F. CAREER
OLD GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOY
We regret to record the death on active service of Sergeant-Observer Charles Julius Holland Royal Air Force.
The deceased airman, who was only 19 years of age, was a member of the R.A.F. Reserve and on the outbreak of hostilities joined his unit in England as an Aircraftsman. He took a very keen interest in the Air Force and was successful in passing the rigorous examinations. On 1st July he was posted as a Sergeant/Observer and began his short career of active service. He took part in several raids over enemy territory and it would appear it was whilst returning from a raid that he lost his life.
Sergeant Holland attended the Central P.E.S. and passed to the Grammar School on an entrance Scholarship. It is probable that he is the first Old Boy to make the supreme sacrifice in the present war. During his school career he was a prominent member of the Debating Society and the Dramatic Society, and took part in a number of the public performances of the latter Society.
He entered the Northern Ireland Civil Service two years ago and was employed in the Ordnance Survey Department. Possessed of a cheerful, winsome personality, Sergeant Holland was extremely popular and highly-respected by his colleagues.
The deceased airman was gifted with a distinct literary ability and it is possible that he might have made a name for himself in literary circles if his life had not been cut short.
Sergeant Holland’s father transferred from the Imperial Civil Service to an executive post in the Ministry of Finance. He was a great admirer of the town and came to live in Bangor seven years ago. Unfortunately he succumbed to an illness shortly after his arrival.
The first news of Sergeant Holland’s mishap was the receipt of a telegram by his mother on 23rd July stating that her son was missing. On Tuesday she received a further telegram stating that the body had been washed ashore on the Sussex coast and had been buried with full military honours.
To the bereaved mother and sister, who reside at 8, Hazeldene Park, we tender our sincere sympathy and trust that they wall receive consolation by the thought that their loved one sacrificed himself willingly in a noble and righteous cause.
County Down Spectator, 3rd August 1940
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| Memorial in St Comgall's Parish Church, Bangor |
DEAD BANGOR AIR HERO'S MOVING LETTERS
NOBLE SENTIMENTS FINELY EXPRESSED
“WE WILL WIN THE WAR”
We are privileged to print extracts from letters written to his mother by 19-year-old Sergeant-Observer Charles Julius Holland, R.A.F., during the weeks immediately before his death in a raid over Germany. The fine, manly, Christian spirit that breathes in every line may well give us confidence in the knowledge that our glorious Air Force, manned by Britain’s steadfast, fearless youth, cannot know defeat.
In his last letter, dated 20th July, Sergt.-Observer Holland gives, to use his own words, “a wee word of advice and comfort.” “Don’t let the situation get you down,” he writes. “There is absolutely no danger of England losing this war. This is a time of hardship for everyone, and each Briton, worthy of that name, stands shoulder to shoulder with his fellow. Every farmer, every citizen, is a soldier. There is no panic here. That Elizabethan spirit of adventure and courage is stirring this country in a way that only the beacons and lands could do in the Middle Ages. I never thought we could be so aroused — perhaps England is like a lion wakening from sleep, a little drowsy, but in a minute ready to roar and, more effective still, ACT! Don’t listen to that foul traitor whose nickname is Lord Haw Haw; he reminds me of a viper. His subtle outpourings are really made for the ears of the credulous. Never yet has one been true. When he fades off the air suddenly, one of us is going near his little haunt at Bremen. Then he fears and trembles and tells his wireless station to close down, so terrified is he of our bombers.
“Dearest Mother — England’s stake in this war can be helped by you and the thousands of Home Front soldiers as much as by us. If I repeat myself remember “Every careless, thoughtless word spoken at home is but another bullet in my ’plane.”
“I Have Got my Flying Badge.”
The young airman’s pride when he gets his flying badge gives an exultant note to his letter of 24th June.
“To-day is the grandest day in my life,” he writes, — “it ranks with my scholarship exam, and my Civil Service Exam.; — I have got my flying badge. I am now a real observer. I look at it every minute to make sure it does not fade away — oh! I am so pleased. It has been a long time in coming but now it’s here, resting above my left hand top pocket.
“Cheer up and don’t be upset because France is out,” the letter continues. “There is no need to worry. That spirit that won Waterloo and the Grand Armada has suddenly risen up again in this slow moving country. The ghosts of the past, Nelson, Drake and Wolffe, will rejoice at the grim determination that is sweeping over the country. It has taken this to awake Englishmen and Irishmen too. What greater watchword can we have than “No Surrender,” that glorious cry which awoke fear in the attackers of Derry. We, in the 20th century, can well turn back the pages of history and find that invincible spirit of England, Britain, Youth and glory. Who can fear now — are we cowards, are we down-hearted? — No! Life is given man to enable him to accomplish things and what greater cause is there than that of right, freedom and God. Tough and terrible as we are, we still look to God for victory and the support of his angels.”
Action at Last.
“Action at last!” he writes further on. “Where I am going is a secret which I do not know. Roaring over Germany or Italy to destroy pestilence and to endeavour to hit only military objectives. I am going to be careful where I drop my bombs and I hope the German airmen will respect our hospitals even as we have pledged ourselves to respect theirs.
“Tell my friends that we are going to win, because we are (I can easily see this from a Service viewpoint). So tell them this and together we can help to smash some filthy lie or foul propaganda that is the secret weapon of Hitler. I am sending you in this letter one of my props (I won’t need it, I hope). Keep this in your hand-bag. Every time you hear someone, or feel inclined perhaps yourself, talking morbidly or downheartedly, show it to. them (do not be afraid) and say “Here is a token of an airman who may be at this time flying over. Germany; he is my son and he is not downhearted; his friends and he rely upon you not to let them down by even thinking of defeat.”
“The Sweetness of Life.”
Here is another poignant extract:—
“You have heard often that proverb: ‘One good moment is enough for any man.’ My moment will come I know and I am sure I shall be ready and do the right thing before it passes. The sweetness of life is not in merely living, the greatest thing I can think of to do will be nothing in the sight of those who have gone before me. Even although I am going to more or less “live by the second,” I am sure the Great Lord will consider us in our struggle for Christianity, Freedom and the ultimate emancipation of all nations. No man is fit to live who has not put something into life, and we Britons have the chance to make the greatest history that has ever been written. Hastings will be mild compared to our glorious stand at this present critical hour. To me, life and death are so near and are such partners of mine, that I feel if I die I shall only see a transition. Mother, I want you to remember England in her struggle every day and with your prayers and thoughts combined with the thousands of others on the Home Front, victory is already won.
“My pilot is here with me and we are going to see if we can fox the Huns as much as possible. I am working out all sorts of marvellous dodges to fool them (I hope they work). I have even started playing with toy aeroplanes trying to evolve some intricate manoeuvre that will beat ’em. There is no doubt that they are windy— windy as anything. I would hate to fly with a Hun pilot. At any rate, I am not underestimating them — some of them are the “goods.”
“The Sustaining Power.”
“Please don’t worry about me,” Sergt Observer Holland writes elsewhere, . . . “I want you to thank personally those people who have been thinking and praying for me. . . . I have felt the sustaining power lately that comes only from God. This is another reason why I am not afraid any more. I have been near it once or twice then I have felt the protection of a Power that is higher and more powerful than we can imagine. I don’t profess to have changed much, mother. I am not a person who could. I still smoke, go to pictures and enjoy worldly pleasures, but I hope I am not irreverent when I say at the same time I enjoy thinking of God, of life after this, and I am trying to develop the qualities that Daddy had. I want to be as strong minded, as respected as he was but I am afraid I am too easily won by things that are not so good.”
The dead airman’s mother lives at 8 Hazeldene Park, Bangor. His last letter (July 20) was written three days before she received a telegram reporting him as “missing.” A week later she received a second telegram informing her that his body had been washed up on the English coast and had been buried with full military honours. He was formerly a pupil at Bangor Grammar School.
County Down Spectator, 10th August 1940
