A thing of grace, beauty and Nazi fear

The Mosquito was the RAF’s great all-rounder, as Rowland White’s fascinating history sets out

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Had the Second World War in the air been decided on aesthetics alone, the RAF would have beaten the Luftwaffe hands-down. The Spitfire fighter had a deadly elegance that outshone its homelier rival, the Messerschmitt 109. In monumental majesty, the Lancaster dwarfed anything in the enemy’s bomber fleet. And as for the all-rounders in between, the Germans produced nothing to hold a candle to the marvellous Mosquito.

It was the looks that everyone noticed first. The “Mossie” seemed like a thing of nature, sculpted by the wind like a Saharan sand dune, proving the truth of the old aviation adage: “If it looks good, it flies good.” Most variants could manage at least 400mph; some had a range of more than 1,500 miles. It was the creation of the great aircraft designer Geoffrey de Havilland, whose BE 2 biplane was a Royal Flying Corps stalwart in the previous war. When the RAF was looking for a fast twin-engined bomber, his design won through, not least because its unusual construction relieved the pressure on strategic metal supplies. The airframe was a combination of wood and plywood, which reduced weight, added speed and improved aerodynamic slipperiness while losing nothing in structural strength. The Mosquito first flew in November 1940, with the company’s chief test pilot, de Havilland’s son Geoffrey Jr, at the controls. He was “dressed for the occasion in a stylishly tailored lounge suit and bright socks”.

The Mossie was a thoroughbred that required a fair degree of skill from its two-man crew. But in the course of the war, it operated as a day and night fighter and bomber, a low-level intruder and in photoreconnaissance and pathfinder roles, dropping marker flares for the heavies to bomb on. Its numerous battle honours included some of the RAF’s most celebrated feats, including the daylight raid on Berlin in January 1943, timed to arrive as Hermann Göring was making a radio speech to mark the 10th anniversary of the Nazi takeover. The Reichsmarschall was cut off by the sound of 500lb bombs exploding across the capital.

In Mosquito, Rowland White uses the history of these operations to weave stories of courage and fortitude into the story of a great machine. As readers of his previous histories will know, White can convey his great knowledge of, and enthusiasm for, aeroplanes without smothering you in technicalities. It’s also heartening

to be reminded of how Britain rose to the demands of the war with boldness and ingenuity. The Mosquito may have not required much metal, but it did need specialised wood, especially balsa. To ensure a back-up, should demand outstrip supply, an expert was dispatched to find alternatives. He combed seven countries before discovering

that the cuipo tree of Panama would do nicely. By the end of 1942, a modern sawmill had been built on a remote river island – and a local workforce trained to operate it.

Patrick Bishop’s Paris ’44: The Shame and the Glory will be published next year

i On cloud nine: the ‘Mossie’ proved integral to many of Britain’s wartime feats