Leslie's Last Visit to His Home
Of all 97 Squadron's crashes, involving 35 men, the only one to sleep in Bourn Station Sick Quarters that night was Leslie Laver, the rear-gunner of K-King.
Joe, the W/OP of K-King, was critically ill in hospital and all the other five crew members were dead.
Leslie is recorded in the Medical Report of SSQ as having "received slight abrasion of cheek with shock". Terribly wearied, grief-stricken for his crew, the poor lad must have been half dead on his feet.
The next morning, he was given forty-eight hours survivor's leave. He went home to his house in Upper Sydenham, South London, to the old familiar scene of warmth and normality, to his mother Jenny and his brother Wally and sisters.
Leslie must still have been in deep shock after the devastating events of the previous night, his feelings in turmoil as he walked up the steep hill to the house and the family he had left only nine months before. By the time the door was opened, however, he had steadied his composure, and neither his mother, his brother, nor his sisters would read in his face anything of the nightmare he had just passed through.
No 47 (now 49) Panmure Road was a decorative Victorian house, one of a semi-detached pair subdivided into four maisonettes. It was here that Leslie had grown up.
As the house stood on very high ground, the back rooms had a panoramic view over south London, across Dulwich College grounds towards Crystal Palace and Norwood. During the Blitz, in 1940-41, the family could see plainly what damage was being wrought every night. None of the family would have had the slightest qualms about Leslie giving the Germans a taste of their own medicine, but no one had wanted him to become a rear gunner in the very hazardous way of life in Bomber Command.
Leslie was the youngest of the family, he had been a most endearing little child and they had all made of him something of a pet. Though Leslie was a young man now, it was hard to overcome the old habit of looking on him as the baby of the family. His mother in particular was very fond of him.
His brother Wally would always remember the severe shock all the family received when they learned for the first time, as they gathered together to celebrate his leave, that Leslie had been on operations and had actually been over Germany only two nights before.
"Just before he died, he came home on leave for the weekend. On the Saturday we were sitting at the table, all talking about different things, family things. Then the conversation all went quiet. Just as it did so, Leslie said something I might have missed otherwise - he said:
"What a load of shit came up at us over Berlin the other night"
My mother said "What's that, Les?"
"Nothing, Mum, nothing."
"You've been over, haven't you?"
"Yes, we've been over."
Well, it was a shock to all of us; we didn't know he was flying [on ops]. It came out of the blue and we were really shocked.
Joe, the W/OP of K-King, was critically ill in hospital and all the other five crew members were dead.
Leslie is recorded in the Medical Report of SSQ as having "received slight abrasion of cheek with shock". Terribly wearied, grief-stricken for his crew, the poor lad must have been half dead on his feet.
The next morning, he was given forty-eight hours survivor's leave. He went home to his house in Upper Sydenham, South London, to the old familiar scene of warmth and normality, to his mother Jenny and his brother Wally and sisters.
Leslie must still have been in deep shock after the devastating events of the previous night, his feelings in turmoil as he walked up the steep hill to the house and the family he had left only nine months before. By the time the door was opened, however, he had steadied his composure, and neither his mother, his brother, nor his sisters would read in his face anything of the nightmare he had just passed through.
No 47 (now 49) Panmure Road was a decorative Victorian house, one of a semi-detached pair subdivided into four maisonettes. It was here that Leslie had grown up.
As the house stood on very high ground, the back rooms had a panoramic view over south London, across Dulwich College grounds towards Crystal Palace and Norwood. During the Blitz, in 1940-41, the family could see plainly what damage was being wrought every night. None of the family would have had the slightest qualms about Leslie giving the Germans a taste of their own medicine, but no one had wanted him to become a rear gunner in the very hazardous way of life in Bomber Command.
Leslie was the youngest of the family, he had been a most endearing little child and they had all made of him something of a pet. Though Leslie was a young man now, it was hard to overcome the old habit of looking on him as the baby of the family. His mother in particular was very fond of him.
His brother Wally would always remember the severe shock all the family received when they learned for the first time, as they gathered together to celebrate his leave, that Leslie had been on operations and had actually been over Germany only two nights before.
"Just before he died, he came home on leave for the weekend. On the Saturday we were sitting at the table, all talking about different things, family things. Then the conversation all went quiet. Just as it did so, Leslie said something I might have missed otherwise - he said:
"What a load of shit came up at us over Berlin the other night"
My mother said "What's that, Les?"
"Nothing, Mum, nothing."
"You've been over, haven't you?"
"Yes, we've been over."
Well, it was a shock to all of us; we didn't know he was flying [on ops]. It came out of the blue and we were really shocked.
That weekend, that was the last time I saw him."
Leslie never told his family about the terrible aftermath of his Berlin flight. He told them nothing about the crash or the loss of his crew. Like all service people, he had had it drummed into him not to say anything to civilians, even to his closest family. But, more than anything else, his silence was probably due to his realisation of just how shocking and upsetting the revelation would be. He had already seen his mother's appalled reaction to the statement that he had been over Berlin. Probably he just could not bring himself to say anything further. Instead, he took his baby nephew, Michael, from his sister Jessie, smiling and laughing, "Isn't he lovely?", and with everyone petting the baby the subject was changed.
On the Sunday night, still keeping the matter secret within his own breast, Leslie returned to Bourn. None of the family was to know what had happened to him on the crash night until Jennie Gray managed to get in touch, over half a century later, with his by then seventy-nine year old brother Wally.
Panmure Road in modern times
December 16/17 1943 & The Battle of Berlin
