My father at about 10-12 years old (3rd row from the front, 6th from left).
Interestingly, standing two boys to his left is Henley Vansant who is a direct descendant of Young Vansant who donated the land for the town of Douglasville. Also in this photo is Miss Sue McKelvey who is a direct descendant of the McKelvey clan that were early settlers of the area who arrived there from Laurens District, SC.
My father was born and grew up in Douglasville, GA, a small town about 30 miles west of Atlanta. Known as "Billy" as a child and young adult, my father dropped out of high school after the 11th grade to join Roosevelt's Civil Conservation Corps (CCC) at age 16. Much of the money that he earned he sent back home to his widowed mother in Douglasville. Most of his time in the "CCC Camps" (as he called it) was spent out west and his most notable assignment was in Zion National Park. The CCC Camps were run by the Army (my father entered the CCC program at Fort McPherson in Atlanta) and most of the kids were from poverty stricken areas and the boys were almost all very poor like my father. The CCC was one part of Roosevelt's vast government programs to get the country out of the Great Depression.
My father told some interesting stories of his youth and the ones that stuck with me were all of his "near death" experiences. When he was a kid in Douglasville he went to a lot of county fairs where they had elephants that walked among the crowds with their handlers. I don't remember all of the details but my father somehow was pushed or tripped and landed on his back on the ground just as an elephant was walking by and he found himself underneath the elephant watching the elephant's giant foot coming right down on top of him. At the last instant, the trainer/handler saw him and pulled the elephant away just enough that the elephants hoof landed directly beside my father - missing him by inches.
Another story he told was of him working at the movie theater in Douglasville when he was a kid. Apparently there was a thunderstorm that passed through that knocked out the power to the theater. My father was told to go down into basement and trip the breaker. The breaker panel was in a "hole" in the floor which he had to climb down into. There was water in the dark hole that he had to stand in while he "threw" the lever and the old circuit box was apparently not grounded so when he touched the lever he completed the electrical ground and was hit with a jolt of electricity so strong that he could not let go of the handle. I don't remember how he was finally freed but he survived with only skin burns but one of the burns left a permanent mark on the palm of his right hand.
The next near miss happened when he was a young adult. He apparently was driving a convertible car and lost control and it left the road rolling several times. But he was not thrown from the vehicle: He somehow managed to crawl down under the dash in front of the front seat and remain safely tucked away while the car was rolling. The car was totaled but he walked away with only a few scratches.
He also had several near death experiences that happened during his military service in World War II. The funniest story was of him and several of his buddies including an officer, all of whom had been drinking, piling into a Jeep one night and he was the driver. This was during "blackout" conditions in England. They were either leaving the airbase or returning when he somehow got out on the runway and managed to drive right into an airplane that was taking off! Apparently no one was hurt and the equipment was only slightly damaged. Had there not been an officer with them at the time they all likely would have been "run up the mast" but it was wartime, in pitch black conditions so they were given only a verbal reprimand. Another much more sobering story was that he was in sick bay recovering from an appendectomy when his regular crew went out on a March 1944 flight/mission and their plane was shot down with no survivors. This was the crew that he had trained with in the US before they were moved to England where they stayed together as a crew and flew numerous combat missions together.
Back in the 1990s I went to a reunion for his Navy unit and spoke with some men who remembered my father and one of the guys told a story of him almost falling out of the open bomb bay while flying at altitude. The same man thought it was my father who tripped and fell into a London stairwell while on leave. All of England was "blacked out" at night for most of the war due to the frequent air raids by the Germans.
The last story that I recall was much more recent, probably only a year or two before he died. My father loved to go camping and fishing. On one fishing trip in the springtime with a fishing buddy of his to Lake Lanier (north of Atlanta) one of them somehow managed to tip their small rented boat over throwing both of them into the very cold water and sinking the boat. They were in the middle of the lake at the time too far to swim to shore but they managed to swim to a nearby highway overpass support where they hung on for quite awhile until another boat came along and rescued them - they were almost hypothermic by that time.
It is not lost on me that his Hollis father and grandfather both died of injuries from an accident.
William Jackson Hollis, Sr. is on the 2nd row, the 5th from the left/right (kneeling, hands in his lap)
CCC Camp photo taken at Cedar Breaks National Monument, Zion National Park.
My father was extremely proud of the time he spent with the CCC.
(Photo obtained from the publishers of the book "With Picks, Shovels and Hope, CCC Camps in the Colorado Plateau")
I have an interesting story about how I obtained the photo above. For most of my life, I knew very little of my father's activities while he was in the CCC. All that I remembered was that he spent time in Utah. In the summer of 2014, I took a 3 week car trip around the US. I had no plans to visit anything out west except the Grand Canyon, Mesa Verde and my niece in Jackson, Wyoming. I also was in the infancy of my genealogy research activities and was planning a stop in north Louisiana to see if I could learn anything about my great grandfather Hollis who grew up near Marion, LA.
I planned most of my route using Google maps and had each day planned out with possible alternate routes, stops, etc. I was in the car for almost 8 hours per day on many of the days. After leaving the Grand Canyon I went to Mesa Verde and then I drove to Grand Junction, CO. From Grand Junction I had a few options for different routes to take to get to Jackson WY to visit my niece. I decided to drive the west route which took me into Utah for a brief period. This was a "game day" change in my route because I didn't want to get sidetracked going the east route because of what I had heard about possible issues with the Million Dollar Highway.
Upon leaving the hotel in Grand Junction, I was quickly into the countryside with very few homes, gas stations or any sort of civilization. It was a beautiful drive into Utah. As with every morning, I had to make a bathroom stop about 2 - 2-1/2 hours into the trip but there were no bathrooms anywhere along my route. I kept driving thinking that if I didn't come across something soon, I would need to stop by the side of the road. The route I took was 129/191 through Vernal and then to Rock Springs. I was just about at my burst point when I crested a hill and saw a large dam with a huge beautiful lake backed up behind it and as I was driving by I noticed they had a visitors center (Vernal). So I pulled in the parking lot and parked and used the bathroom there. As I was heading back to my car, I got all the way back to my car when it occurred to me that I was in Utah and I suddenly remembered that my father was in Utah in the CCC camps and may have worked on a dam. So I turned around and went back into the visitors center and asked them when the dam was built and they said it was built in the 60's - so it couldn't have been a dam that my father worked on. As I was talking to the people that worked there, I noticed a sheriff standing off to the side and he said that dams built back in the 1930s would have been earthen dams anyway but he said that he was aware of a book that listed all the dams in Utah built by the CCC Camps and he walked over to the books they had for sale and pointed it out to me. I glanced through it thinking that it may have something for research value in the future so I bought it and threw it in the trunk of my car for later reading. I then finished that leg of my trip to Jackson, WY and didn't give the book or my father any more thought. I got into Jackson, did some activities with my niece and went back to my rented cottage. It was still too early for bed and I wanted something to read so I got the book out of the car and flipped through it and immediately found the picture above of my father. Unbelievable. And here is the eerie part: It occurred to me either that night, during the night or early the next morning that it was July 16th - the 40th anniversary of his death! I had not even thought about this at any time prior to my trip or anywhere along the way. This was out of the blue. It never occurred to me during my trip planning or my route planning. In fact, I didn't even realize I was actually driving through Utah until I was actually doing it and the memory of my father being in Utah only occurred to me as I was leaving the visitors center heading back to my car. In fact, I almost didn't go back inside the visitor's center because I didn't want to waste time - needed to get back on the road.
After leaving the CCC in 1941, my father worked in Atlanta, GA for a short time. He was employed by Southeastern Stages (a bus line) that was located at 457 Piedmont Ave. (This company is still in existence but in a different location.) When the US entered World War II, he enlisted in the Navy in March 1942. His work experience in the CCC probably helped him to enter the Navy as an aircraft mechanic/engineer trainee rather than the Army or Marines as an Infantryman. For his training, he was at the Navy Pier (Great Lakes training center in Chicago) and then later he was in Macon, GA, Newport, RI, Norfolk, Virginia and Hollywood & Key West, FL. He may have spent time in other training centers as well.
After his training, he was assigned to Fleet Air Wing 7, Hedron, VB-110 Squadron as an Aviation Machinist's Mate 2nd Class and qualified as a Naval Air Gunner.
My father, probably taken in early 1942 during his training - Notice that he has no rank shown on his uniform.
Photo probably taken in 1943 at 20 years of age
The following photos I found at the National Archives in 1994. These photos appear to have been taken in England, probably in Dunkeswell, where they flew most of their combat missions. Most likely these photos were all taken on the same day and likely staged to simulate a typical day in the life of an Naval Aviator.
(Note: The fading/yellowing shown on several photos is due to the degradation of the photographs.)
My father is on the left
My father is likely the man on the very bottom of the photo (white cap).
You can't really tell from the photo but there is a huge oil puddle under the engine.
Those old rotary engines leaked copious amounts of oil.
My father is on the far right sitting on the table. This was likely inside one of the many "quonset huts" scattered across the airbase. Note the black sheet covering the window. This photo was taken during the "black out" of England.
Pre-flight briefing. My father is in the back row, 2nd from the left.
Typical cold and wet conditions at Dunkeswell
Navy PB4Y Anti-submarine aircraft (Converted B-24)
This probably is one of the actual airplanes that my father flew on while in England. Notice the "ball turret" on the front. This was a later version of the PB4Y. The earlier version had a fixed turret.
That's my father on top of the plane cleaning the top turret gun which was his gun/station. Note the fixed front turret denoting an early version of the PB4Y.
A US Navy PB4Y over England and the English Channel
A US Navy PB4Y somewhere over the Atlantic
US Navy PBM Mariner
My father trained on this aircraft before being sent to England
The following World War II photos are from my father's personal belongings.
My father and his fellow crewmates. (My father is standing on 2nd row, 1st on left)
This photo was probably taken in Virginia during training 1942 - the airplane behind them appears to be a PBM Mariner. I don't think my father was ever as skinny as he is in this photo.
My father is the bearded sailor on the right. The man next to him might be Dave Noddin whom I met and had some correspondence with in 1990s.
This photo was likely taken in England near the end of the war. My father is 3rd from the left.
The man that is 2nd from left appears to be a British officer which makes me wonder if a British officer accompanied them on some of their flights. The British flew their own missions and most of them were at night while the Americans flew the somewhat less dangerous day time missions.
This photo appears to have been taken prior to or just after a mission.
My father is standing, 5th from the left. Several of these men were later lost when their plane never returned from a mission. My father was in sick bay at the time.
My father and his crewmates in England, probably 1944 or 1945.
My father is standing, 5th from the left.
A photo of Normandy beach just prior to the American invasion in June 1944. Based on this serene and calm image, one could never imagine the carnage, chaos and death which took place here a few days later. My father flew several antisubmarine patrol missions over the area prior to the invasion. This photograph was likely taken by his unit's photographer from the side gunner's door during one of those missions.
My father is on the right.
My mother may have "doctored" this picture by removing the girl he was sitting with from the picture. I vaguely recall her telling us this years later.
Dunkeswell, England Naval Base during WWII
Today, only the runway and a few of the quonset huts remain.
Dunkeswell airfield today (2022)
(Google maps)
Joseph P. Kennedy Jr., brother of President John F. Kennedy
My father flew 12 missions with Joe. Joe's PB4Y was destroyed while on a special mission into Germany.
James R. Reedy, Commander of VB-110.
He was a graduate of the US Naval Academy where he played football. At one of the VB-110 reunions that I went to, the men told several stories and I remember one of the stories about how the Admiral hated the seat of the PB4Y - he could never get comfortable due to his stocky build. He may have even broken one of the seats.
He later was a Rear Admiral during the Vietnam War where he commanded Attack Carrier Striking Force, U.S. Seventh Fleet, from 23 July 1965 through 30 April 1966. He directly supervised the formulation of procedures designed to employ most effectively the three carrier division staffs and five attack carrier striking groups under his command in combat operations in Southeast Asia. The USS Kitty Hawk (a supercarrier) was one of the carriers under his command.
I met Admiral Reedy when he was in his 80s, shortly before he died in 1999. He is buried in the US Naval Academy cemetery.
The "narrow thing" that my father refers to here is the flight of his crew on March 31, 1944 where the plane was shot down with no survivors - my father should have been on that flight but was "laid up" in sick bay.
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William Jackson Hollis, Sr. - Service Summary World War II
Air Medal
Distinguished Flying Cross
3 years, 6 months and 19 days on active duty with the Navy
In combat for 10 months
Flew 34 Combat Missions, 12 of which were with Lt. (jg) Joseph Kennedy Jr
Navy Commendation
Fleet Air Wing Commendation
Normandy Campaign Star
American & European Theatre Ribbons with 2 stars
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He returned to Atlanta about October of 1945 where he was noted by the local selective service board as being 6' 2-1/2" tall, 200 pounds with blue eyes, brown hair and a ruddy complexion. (I think his height was closer to 6' 3-1/2").
My father's 1946 official discharge papers that placed him on inactive status with the US Naval Reserves were signed by Lt. Comdr. Robert L.S. Eidson who is probably related to my father but this relationship was likely not known by either man at the time. My father's Eidson ancestors were from Wilkes County, GA where Robert Eidson's ancestors were from.
Like most soldiers, he visited a tattoo artist at some point but he changed his mind about getting a tattoo before the artist was finished - the partial tattoo was still visible years later.
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After the war, my father returned to Georgia and lived in Atlanta at 451 Peachtree Street (now a parking lot owned by St. Lukes Episcopal Church). Note that this is only a few blocks away from where he lived on Lindon Ave just before the war. At some point in late '46 or early '47 he moved to a boarding house on Ponce de Leon Avenue where he happened to meet a pretty young lady from Franklin County, GA that was living in the same boarding house. Her name was Martha Ray Blair. Bill and Martha dated for a while and were married in 1947 at the First Methodist Church of Atlanta. Interestingly, this church was probably the first Methodist church to be formed in Atlanta in the 1840s. It initially shared the same log building as the First Presbyterian Church of Atlanta which was a church my father's DAVIS ancestors started in the 1840s.
My mother & father before they were married.
Photo probably taken in Piedmont Park in Atlanta.
My parents lived in Atlanta for a few years and then spent time in Greenville, SC and Birmingham, AL when my father was transferred for his job. They eventually returned to Atlanta settling in the suburb of Decatur. While back in Atlanta my father owned a body shop at the corner of Juniper Street and Ponce de Leon Ave. Years later, that same site became a men's club (scantily clad females) and my mother often joked that it was still a body shop. My father spent a few years in the personal loan business before getting his real estate license in the mid 1960s. He eventually became a successful real estate broker and spent time with at least 2 different companies (Barton & Ludwig was one), one of which where he was a partner. He then started his own company in Decatur (off Ponce, near the post office) in 1973 but was diagnosed with kidney cancer in 1974 and he died from the disease that same year.
My father, his mother (Zettie Jackson Hollis), my sister and myself (at the wheel). This photo was taken in the spring of 1958 - Mama Zett died in November of that year. We are in the driveway of the house on Mimosa Drive in Decatur (where I grew up). We are probably all piling in the car to take her back to her home in Douglasville after she visited with us in Decatur.
Bill & Martha: William J. Hollis, Jr. and Martha Blair Hollis
Late 1950s, standing in driveway of my childhood home on Mimosa Drive in Decatur, GA
Goodfellas? No - just my father and his finance company fellow coworkers.
My father is 2nd from left. Photo likely taken in the early 1960s in Atlanta, GA.
One of the last memories that I have of my father is of him having barely enough energy to move around the house due to chemotherapy and radiation treatments. He would sit on our front porch for hours just trying to get through the day. On one nice late spring day, one of his friends stopped by and chatted with him on the porch. My '65 Chevy was parked about where the car in the photo (above) is parked. This was a car that he didn't want me to buy because it needed a lot of work. I worked at a auto parts store/speed shop at the time and I had wanted a car that I could "hot rod". I bought it and spent thousands of dollars on the car rebuilding the engine and transmission, sanding the body to get it ready for paint and lots of other modifications. My parents had even bought a set of custom wide aluminum wheels for it as my Christmas present the previous year. It was starting to look like a hot rod but the problem was that the engine had a major problem and it was not running. But it was beautiful under the hood. I had chrome all over that engine compartment. As I was leaving the house that day, I walked by them on the porch and my father asked me to show his friend the engine. I popped the hood and showed them. They oohed and awed and his friend asked me all kinds of questions. It was only then that I realized that my father was very proud of what I knew about cars and what I had done despite my buying the car against his wishes and despite the fact that he knew it was not a complete success yet. It turns out that car was never a success and he was 100% right that I shouldn't have bought the car - but it was a life lesson for me.
This page was updated on 5/19/2023
