From Battle of Britain Airman to PoW Escapee: The Story of Ian Walker RAF by Angela Walker

Author:Angela Walker [Walker, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Pen and Sword
Published: 2017-01-30T16:00:00+00:00

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Back in July 1941, my father was due some leave having worked solidly for more than six weeks. He and a friend decided to take advantage of the fine summer weather and took the train to Bournemouth. As the English countryside whizzed past, fellow travellers offered them sandwiches, cakes, chocolates, cigarettes and books, keen to express the gratitude they felt towards those in the service. My father appreciated how kind everyone was as they journeyed to the seaside.

Smelling the sea air on arrival at Bournemouth, he wasted no time escaping to the beach. The long pier stretched into the English Channel like a bridge to nowhere. Quaint and colourful beach huts added to the charm of the long, sandy expanse. With the sand trickling through his toes and the sun warming his head, he paused to experience a rare moment of pure contentment. Even if bustling Bournemouth was a far cry from the rugged, untamed beaches he was more at home with in New Zealand, there was nothing quite like a day at the beach for this island boy.

20 July 1941 – Went down on the Bournemouth sands. The beach was teeming with people. Sea beautifully calm and warm sunshine. Had a dip. Water was fine. Great place this Bournemouth. Full of huge hotels and cinemas, flash restaurants etc. Lots of New Zealanders about that have just arrived in England. I met a chap named Young that used to ride for the Whangarei Cycle Club… Talked for hours with some of the others. Mushroom omelette for supper.

After savouring the sea and sunshine at Bournemouth, he headed to London, towards the end of his week’s leave, to enjoy a couple of days there. I suppose the knowledge that he would be off to bomb Germany again within days was always in the back of his mind. Or perhaps he preferred to try not to worry about future events that he couldn’t prevent from happening anyway. By pure chance, my father ran into his good friend Les Russell in London. He and Les talked until 2.00am. Comparing notes, they discovered they were both feeling ‘pretty fed up.’ My father was interested to learn that Les had destroyed a Me 110 during an intruder patrol to Lille a couple of months earlier. The two men met up again the next morning at the Lyons Corner House in the Strand. They continued their catch-up over a salad and coffee before taking the tube to Waterloo. Here they parted, each one returning to their respective squadrons.

My father never saw Les again. While Les would survive a crashlanding near Oakington in March 1942, he wouldn’t be so lucky two months later. He was killed when his Halifax crashed during a raid to Germany. Flight Sergeant Leslie Plimmer Russell was originally buried in the Central Cemetery in Mannheim and later reinterred at Durnbach War Cemetery in Germany. Les, like so very many, gave his life during the war, in the service of humanity, that others might be free.

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