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The DH103 Hornet was designed based on the successful wooden construction principles of the De Havilland DH98 Mosquito. It featured a pair of 2,070 hp Merlin engines with counter-rotating propellers. During trials at Boscombe Down, the Hornet achieved an impressive maximum speed of 485 mph at 22,000 feet. The aircraft was also praised for its ‘superb handling characteristics,’ notably its high rate of roll.

Superb Handling at 485 mph: The De Havilland Hornet – The Fastest Wooden Marvel of Its Time

When we picture high-performance fighters of World War II and the years immediately after, we often imagine sleek all-metal airframes—bristling with guns, gleaming with innovation, and roaring with the promise of jet propulsion on the horizon. But De Havilland’s DH103 Hornet stood apart as a remarkable exception: a wooden wonder conceived in the crucible of war, refined in the postwar years, and remembered by test pilots and aircrews alike as an aircraft of extraordinary speed and handling.

From Mosquito Roots: The Genius of Wooden Wings

To understand the Hornet’s magic, one must first appreciate its lineage. The De Havilland company had already shocked the aviation world with the DH98 Mosquito—a twin-engined, fast, and agile aircraft built from wood at a time when strategic materials like aluminum were in short supply. The Mosquito became a legendary multi-role platform: bomber, fighter, reconnaissance aircraft, and more, racing across enemy skies at speeds few could touch.

When the Royal Air Force expressed the need for a long-range, single-seat fighter capable of operating in the vastness of the Pacific theater, De Havilland looked to many of the Mosquito’s lessons: streamlined wooden construction for low weight and easy repair; the mighty Rolls-Royce Merlin engine for brute power; and, above all, aerodynamic finesse. The Hornet was born out of this crucible, designed as if the best of the Mosquito’s DNA had been distilled into a leaner, meaner, fighter’s body.

The Heart of a Lion: Merlin Power, Counter-Rotating Precision

The beating heart of the Hornet was an engineering marvel: a pair of Rolls-Royce Merlin 130/131 engines rated at 2,070 horsepower each. What set the Hornet apart from its twin-engine contemporaries, however, was its use of counter-rotating propellers—meaning the left and right engines spun their blades in opposite directions. This sophisticated solution eliminated much of the torque effect that plagued single and even many twin-engine fighters, allowing the Hornet to be flown with confidence and aggression at the limits of its performance envelope.

This also resulted in a radically improved rate of roll, a characteristic that delighted pilots accustomed to more sluggish and nose-heavy twin-engine aircraft.

485 mph: Speed, Elegance, and Lethality

When the DH103 Hornet underwent trials at Boscombe Down, the numbers left onlookers in awe. She clocked an astonishing 485 miles per hour at 22,000 feet—faster than almost any other piston-powered propeller aircraft of its generation. For perspective, the groundbreaking (and all-metal) North American P-51 Mustang Mustang achieved maximum speeds just under 440 mph; the Hawker Tempest V, another late-war British great, managed 435 mph.

But the Hornet was not just about raw speed. Thanks to its light wooden construction, small frontal area, and meticulous aerodynamics, it was also beautifully efficient—boasting exceptional range as well as breathtaking acceleration. The Hornet’s performance made it ideal for long-range missions in the vast Pacific, where distances swallowed entire squadrons and speed was life.

Superb Handling: The Fighter that Danced on the Wind

Test pilots at Boscombe Down heaped praise on the Hornet’s “superb handling characteristics.” Elegant as a ballet dancer, yet as fierce as a hunting falcon, the Hornet’s ailerons, rudder, and elevator responded to the pilot’s every nuance. It was singularly “docile” on takeoff and landing, a point of pride for a high-powered warbird.

But it was the rate of roll that stole the show. The counter-rotating props, stiff wooden structure, and balanced control surfaces meant the Hornet could literally flip from one bank to the other in a heartbeat. In dogfight training, it turned inside many single-engine fighters; in ground attack, it translated pilot input instantly into deadly action.

Veteran test pilots described it in glowing terms— “The best handling twin I ever flew,” wrote one, his logbook filled with the tough-nosed machines of the era. Another called it “an aircraft which really felt like part of you. At full chat, it was as light on the controls at 400 as it was at 200.”

The Hornet in Service: A Missed Opportunity?

The Hornet arrived almost too late for World War II. By the time it entered service in 1946, the global conflict had ended, and the jet age was advancing rapidly. Nevertheless, the RAF found the Hornet invaluable in the early post-war years, especially in the jungles of Malaya, where its speed and agility allowed it to conduct strike and reconnaissance missions with impunity.

Although eventually outpaced by all-metal jet fighters, the Hornet’s impact resonated with every pilot who flew it. It proved that wooden construction—a method sometimes dismissed as an anachronism—could compete and even excel against the era’s best.

Enduring Legacy

Today, the DH103 Hornet remains a testament to the brilliance of British aeronautical engineering in the 1940s. Its blend of lightweight construction, high-powered propulsion, and sublime control surfaces has rarely been matched in the propeller-driven world.

In the words of those who flew her, the Hornet was not simply an aircraft. She was a living rebuke to the limits of wartime imagination, proving that the combination of innovation, tradition, and daring could produce not just a war machine, but a wooden masterpiece that soared faster—and rolled brighter—than almost any of her rivals.

As we look back at the photographs from Boscombe Down—silver-grey fuselage gleaming in the sunlight, propellers turning in opposite dance—we see not just a machine, but a promise kept: that in the hands of genius, even wood could touch the sky at 485 miles per hour.