THE “WOODEN WONDER” OF THE R.A.F.

Press, Volume XCVIII, Issue 29010, 26 September 1959, Page 3

THE “WOODEN WONDER” OF THE R.A.F.

The Wooden Wonder. The story of the de Havilland Mosquito. By Edward Bishop. Max Parrish. 168 pp. Index. Towards the end of 1938, in the dark days of Munich, realising Britain’s need for a fast reconnaissance bomber, Sir Geoffrey de Havilland and his fellow director, Mr C. C. Walker, waited on the Air Ministry with an offer to supply a high-speed, twin-engined unarmed bombing plane made completely of wood. The two were coldly rebuffed and their offer was flatly declined. Whilst driving home to their factory in dejected silence, after a while Sir Geoffrey suddenly turned to Walker and said. “We'll do it anyway!” From that courageous decision sprang one of the most romantic and exciting stories associated with aviation and World War ll—the story of the Mosquito, the R.A.F.’s wooden wonder. Having decided to go ahead with their “private venture,” in great secrecy the company set up a workshop in an old manorhouse far out in the countryside, and commissioned their chief designer, Mr R. E. Bishop, to get to work. Setting up his drawingboard, the designer soon made rough outlines of a sleek, clean, twin-engined ' monoplane incorporating features of the Comet Racer in which Scott and Black had won the famous England to Australia air race in 1934, and in which, four years later, A. E. Clouston and Victor Ricketts flew from England to New Zealand and back—more than 26.000 miles —in eleven days. The whole structure was to be made of plywood. The design was approved, and work on the prototype began Enthusiastically Sir Geoffrey then showed the drawings to the practical-minded Air Marshal Wilfred Freeman, a member of the Air Council for Development and Production; and so impressed was Freeman that on his own initiative and against formidable technical advice, he placed an order for 50 machines. This order was remarkable, for it was made "clean off the drawingboard,” but it was an order which eventually led to the production of nearly 8000 machines—in England, in Australia, and in Canada, and assisted materially in winning the war. This book retells the whole story; of the production of the prototype; of its successful trial by Sir Geoffrey’s son, Geoffrey (who later lost his life when the DHIOB experimental jet aircraft broke up in the air on September 27, 1946); of the constructional problems and difficulties met and overcome (for example, glue problems beset the Mosquito from its earliest moments, and the first Mosquito sent to India came literally “unstuck”); of the prejudicies to be overcome in the R.A.F. itself: The 1000 Bomber Raid was the breath of life to the C-in-C of Bomber Command, whose singleminded battering of Germany has since marched him Into history as Bomber Harris. Air Marshal Sir

Arthur Harris was busy making it abundantly clear at this stage of the war that he did not want the Mosquito, either as a bomber or as a fighter-bomber, in any of his squadrons. He was building up a force of heavy bombers to blast Germany out of the war. The enemy , had initiated the bombing competition, and now they were to swallow a dose of their own medicine. It was to be retribution by the ladle from the heavies, not by the teaspoonful with the Mosquito. . . . The suggestion of sending airmen out to bomb the enemy without arming them to fight their way home went very much against the grain of the Chief of Air Staff as well as Harris. Despite all these difficulties and prejudices, the Mosquito eventually proved itself capable of absolutely any task assigned to it. The exploits associated with it are in consequence varied beyond belief, with perhaps the most exciting ones to read being the pin-point low-level raids over Amiens, the Hague, Aarhuus, and Berlin, all in broad daylight. There could be no better tribute to British inventiveness, enterprise and courage than this unique story of the R.A.F.’s “wooden wonder,” and the author has done it full justice. He writes simply without going into technical details, and with a delightful sense of humour. His undisguised pride in the accomplishments of “the best all-round performer ever produced in any country” is infectious. Nearly 50 clearly reproduced photographs further enliven the book. This is a well-told story as unique as it is worth telling. FOR YOUNG READERS THE WIZARD OF BOLAND, by “BB” (Edmund Ward, 128 pp.), is a cheerful story for the seven to 10-year-olds. A thick dark forest grew on the outskirts of Boland village and in it there lived a host of creatures which no human had ever seen, not even the wizard. There were cowzies, strange rabbit-sized little animals, armless, but clothed in fur and looking like animated pincushions. There were cottonrod rabbits, henheads, stopple-peckers, and a colony of one hundred and three gnomes. Into this unknown world the wizard, who was not always a very efficient wizard, fled from the wrath of the villagers. And here he discovered the dragon which was just the thing he wanted to brew powerful magic and to deal with Helda, a village goose-girl, who had been cheeky to him. But might here is on the side of right and the unpleasant wizard comes to a deservedly unpleasant end. The Oxford Children’s Library offers two reprints in C. H. Abrahall's PRELUDE (Oxford, 240 pp.), the story of Eileen Joyce, the famous pianist; and Charlotte M. Yonge's THE LITTLE DUKE (187 pp.). Modern children may not find “The Little Duke” exciting enough to make up for all the hard words and long descriptive passages.