Good afternoon, honoured Guests, both those of you who are present here and all those who have joined us on line I have a formidable task ahead of me but I hope that in the next few minutes I can distil the 100 years of Dad’s remarkable life into a story which will give you a flavour of the man who Alison and I had the privilege to call Dad. It starts in1921. Ernie was born in Hebburn-on-Tyne to Agnes and Harold Holmes, a family experienced in hardship and sorrow. Three of their children had already died in infancy and Dad’s elder brother, my namesake, David McKenzie Holmes was drowned at sea when Dad was 8. The 1930’s depression hit the whole community hard. Harold queued outside the shipyard for work which rarely appeared and Agnes, the family matriarch a stalwart of both the labour and temperance movements, who prepared food for the Jarrow marchers and who was a leading member of St Cuthbert’s Church where Dad spent many hours, winning prizes for bible studies, reciting Catechisms and singing in the choir. He wasn’t all ‘goody two shoes’ however. Lis and I visited the church in 2018. I went round the back of the organ case to see where he had pumped the bellows after his voice broke and there, in glorious relief,were the initials EH, which he later admitted to carving out during a boring sermon. Fast forward to 1935. Dad was 14 when he left school and became a message boy during the day and in the evenings he used his wages to fund his studies of painting and decorating at night school. This background of poverty and strong family values gave Dad the robust moral compass, which guided him for the rest of his life. War broke out and, as soon as he could, he volunteered to join the RAF and left home.
From 48 Squadron he was selected for pilot training and was awarded his ‘wings’ in Canada. It seems that his potential as a teacher was recognised even then as he was sent to Scone to train as an instructor. This was fortunate for Alison and me, as it was here that he met Irene. Love blossomed, but their courting was somewhat inhibited by the presence of Glenna, Irene’s younger sister who was a constant chaperone. As Dad said, “it was an expensive exercise, because a tuppeny pie always cost me sixpence!” Ernie asked to be posted to Bomber Command and bid farewell to his beloved Irene. He flew Halifaxes, with 76 squadron, and then transferred to 35 Pathfinder Squadron where he me tthe other love of his life...his Lancaster. Aged 23 Dad had become a member of the elite of Bomber Command. There was, however a price to pay. 75% of the Pathfinder crews did not survive beyond 30 missions. On the night of 22nd May 1944 Dad was flying on his 30th mission. The Lancaster was shot down near the border between Holland and Belgium. 5 of the 8-mancrew died. Derrick Coleman, Frank Tudor and Dad, survived. I cannot do justice to the story of what happened thereafter in this brief eulogy. The events are known to many of you and I can only tell you that the bravery and sacrifice of the families from Holland who sheltered the few airmen who survived being shot down affected Dad for the rest of his life. We are privileged to have with us today the descendants of some of those brave men and women . and it’s a huge compliment that they wish to be here. Dad would particularly wish me to mention Fons van der Heijden, the farmer whose family hid and cared for him, but who was later shot for helping airmen evade capture. Three of Fons’ grand daughters are here today. He would also have been thrilled that the daughter of Willi Hasenbös, the student who befriended Dad when he was in hiding in Netersel, was hoping to be here, but sadly was unable to make the journey at the last minute. The link between our families continues and in 2018 was strengthened by Dad’s return to the farmhouse where he had been hidden to unveil a memorial placed by the local community in memory of the crew of Lancaster ND762.We have a miniature of that memorial on the altar today. Dad was eventually incarcerated in the infamous Stalagluft III where he remained until January 1945 when the inmates were force-marched to Germany as a human shield. It was the coldest winter on record. The ill equipped prisoners were exhausted and starving and endured snow and freezing conditions and many of the 10,000 died. Dad’s war ended just outside Lübeck where he was liberated, coincidentally by a footballing friend from Hebburn. On repatriation Dad found out that he had been awarded both the DFC, and promotion to Flight Lieutenant. He returned to Perth, married Irene and then flew over 300 trips during the Berlin Airlift, one of the biggest humanitarian aid exercises ever mounted. He recalled going into the city and was appalled at the extent of destruction he had been part of. .He encountered a child who had lost both his legs, and he broke down and cried, saying, “Did I do this?”. I have a lasting and enormous respect for Bernd, Alison’s late husband, who was one of those children in Berlin during the war. He and Dad developed a fantastic relationship of mutual respect, which overruled any possible awkwardness over those events. Fast forward again through various postings, the birth of Alison and then me, and his long absences from Perth where we grew up. He returned home when he became the Flying Instructor to Glasgow and then St Andrews University Air Squadrons. In 2021 during lock down the current members of the ESUAS able to put a face to the name on the Holmes trophy, which they compete for annually within the Squadron and were instrumental in the on line celebrations of Dad’s 100thbirthday.InSeptember 2021, shortly before Dad died, the Squadron HQ was re-named the Ernie Holmes building in his honour. Dad was present and at the same ceremony he was awarded the Netherlands Liberators Medal, by the Netherlands military attaché who has also honoured dad by his presence this afternoon, having driven himself from London to be here when his train was cancelled. What an incredible day that was! In 1960 Dad left the RAF and became a civil flying instructor at Scone. He was instructing two students in a twin engine Cessna aircraft. One engine failed on take off. The aircraft crashed and burst into flames. Dad pushed the student in the front out and then stayed beside the burning aircraft to release the seat to allow the remaining student to get out from the rear. He sustained severe burns to his hands and face, but thankfully the students were relatively unscathed. Were it not for Dad’s actions the outcome would have been very different.to his hands and face, but thankfully the students were relatively unscathed. Were it not for Dad’s actions the outcome would have been very different.
It was while he was working in East Africa that Ernie’ sight problems started, bringing his flying career to an abrupt end. Undaunted he enrolled at Perth College, the oldest student by some margin, and became an assistant social worker in the prison service, where he worked with young offenders until his retirement. My most vivid memory of that time was the expression on his face when I asked him how he had enjoyed one of the books he had been given to read as part of his course....The book was ‘Zen, and the art of motorcycle maintenance’! He was, shall I say, unimpressed. In retirement Dad continued to use his painting and decorating skills for friends and family, especially in this church building though I don’t think he ever carved his initials here. Sadly, as his sight deteriorated his eyes played tricks on him and the finishes on his paintwork were not as he would have wanted them to be. Talking of playing tricks. Dad’s grandchildren Vanessa, Laura, Alistair and James and many of the others who knew him as children all speak of his famous disappearing coin trick. He entertained us with this as young children, and I would be a rich man had I been able to keep all the coins he eventually extracted from his audiences ears. There was also the painless removal of a nose trick, the dislocating finger trick, the pencil and handkerchief trick and too many card tricks to mention. They also described the stories he created about fantastic characters called Pix Flutie and Honk Conk, the swimming bath strips, his incredible memory, his ability to tame birds, how he could find just the right spot behind a dog’s ear to scratch and make them putty in his hand, his singing, his pride in his appearance (for he was rarely without a white shirt and Pathfinder tie). They remember pocket money day and his constant enquiring after the wellbeing of the family, and ,this is one for those of us of a certain age who were brought up in Perth, his imitation of Davey Gannon’s famous cry of “Come in number 5, yertime’s up! ”His best trick of all,however, was his road-crossing trick.Vanessa says that “He would stand on the pavement, raise his white stick into the road in front of him......and then a few seconds later just fearlessly followed it into the road.” I am sure that many of Perth’s car drivers still have nightmares about encountering him, and I apologise to them today. Age crept up on him and mum, but right until the end he had a twinkle in his eye and a kind and understanding word for everyone. He was captivated by his great grandchildren; Alex, Henry, Arla, George and Skye, but sadly he never met Marley, however, there are already three babies who have been named after him, the latest was born yesterday. Ernie also had an unfailing sense of direction, which he described as “flying by the seat of my pants”. He would sit in the passenger seat of whatever car he was travelling in and direct the driver to wherever they were going. Sadly he didn’t keep up with new one-way streets in Perth. He insisted in directing the car up them the wrong way, and there were occasional utterances from the driver, normally me,of “Who is the one who is blind here? You or me?” The staff of Kincarrathie House (His Care Home) doted on him and could not have been kinder to both mum and dad. .Alison and I would like to acknowledge the huge contribution they made to their quality of life in their latter years.
RIP Dad .
David Holmes
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