January 1, 1942 was a normal working Thursday for my grandparents, John and Jane Chapman. No Bank Holiday.
There was a war on, and my grandfather worked for nearby De Havilland that made vital aircraft such as the Mosquito for the RAF.
But New Year’s Day 1942 was when they received the news – in an official telegram, delivered to their semi-detached house home at 35, Napsbury Avenue, London Colney, Herts.
Their son, Flt Sgt Ron Chapman had been in a plane crash.
Only weeks before they had said goodbye to him as he headed overseas to West Africa.
Now he was recovering from his injuries in a hospital in Palestine (today’s Israel.) Concussion, leg wounds, a smashed jaw and no teeth, but he was alive. Thankfully he’d received medical attention soon after the crash in northern Sudan the day after Boxing Day, 1941.
British surgeons fixed him up so that he was back flying by March, 1942.
The picture shows him climbing into the cockpit of a Hurricane Mk IIc – one of the first planes he flew on his return to piloting fighter planes from West to North Africa.