Edward Mick Mannock: World War I RAF Ace Pilot
By O'Brien Browne

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On a pleasant April afternoon high above northwestern France in 1918, S.E.5as of A Flight, No. 74 Squadron, Royal Air Force, were on their second patrol. It was the unit’s first day of combat, and all the pilots except their leader, Captain Edward “Mick” Mannock, were novices. As his men watched wide-eyed, Mannock suddenly wagged his wings, alerting them that the enemy was nearby, then dropped down like a hawk on a formation of German Albatros fighters. Mannock centered a black-and-yellow Albatros D.V in his Aldis sight, sucked in a breath and gently squeezed the firing button, loosing a lethal stream of silky white tracers. The Albatros broke up in the air. Back on the ground, pilots congratulated their captain on his second victory of the day, but what left them full of undying admiration for him was Mannock’s combat report, in which he wrote, “The whole flight should share in the credit for the EA [enemy aircraft], as they all contributed to its destruction.”

That disclaimer was indicative of the unselfish and intense devotion to his comrades that characterized the life of Edward Mannock, one of Britain’s all-time greatest combat pilots and leaders of men. By any measure, he was a man of extraordinary gifts, a man who surely would have made as great an impact on the postwar world as he did on those who knew and loved him during his brilliant career as a fighter pilot.

Mannock was born in Cork, Ireland, on May 24, 1887, son of a soldier in the Royal Scots Guards who fought in Britain’s imperial wars. A rough man, he beat Edward and his siblings and drank heavily. While his father was posted to India, Mannock contracted an amoebic infestation that weakened his left eye. That misfortune would be subsequently transformed into the oft-repeated myth of Mannock’s being the “ace with one eye.” Despite early hardships, young Edward possessed a sharp analytical mind. He hated inequality and later became a fervent socialist.

When Mannock was in his early teens, his father abandoned the family, and Edward had to work to support them. He left home and boarded with the Eyles family. Jim Eyles later wrote that Mannock was a person “with high ideals and with a great love for his fellow mortals. He hated cruelty and poverty….A kinder, more thoughtful man you could never meet.” It seems likely that Mannock could have risen in the Labour Party, for he was an excellent speaker. But the coming global conflagration would soon shatter his high ambitions.

When war was declared in August 1914, Mannock was working for a British company in Constantinople. Since the Ottoman empire sided with Germany, he and other British citizens were thrown into prison camps, where they endured appalling conditions. Mannock quickly developed a hatred for the Turks and the Germans. In April 1915, with the assistance of Jim Eyles, he was repatriated. Shortly afterward, Mannock joined the Royal Army Medical Corps and then the Royal Engineers, where he was commissioned a second lieutenant. But he immediately transferred to the Royal Flying Corps (RFC) in August 1916, so he could be more involved in the fighting.

Despite his weak left eye, Mannock passed the medical exam. He was apparently a natural pilot with an excellent feel for his machine. One of his instructors, just returned from combat flying in France, was ace Captain James McCudden. The two got along well, and McCudden made a great impact on his pupil. “Mannock,” McCudden wrote, “was a typical example of the impetuous young Irishman, and I always thought he was the type to do or die.” He would do both in France.

With his flight training completed, on April 6, 1917, Mannock was posted to C Flight in No. 40 Squadron, which was flying the highly maneuverable French-built Nieuport 17 fighter armed with one Lewis machine gun mounted above the upper wing. A new phase in Mannock’s life had commenced, and as always for him it was filled with challenges. He made an awful first impression at his new home and rubbed just about everybody the wrong way, failing to appreciate the clubby public school atmosphere of an RFC squadron. Lieutenant Lionel A. Blaxland, a squadron mate, recalled that Mannock “seemed too cocky for his experience, which was nil….New men usually took their time and listened to the more experienced hands; Mannock was the complete opposite. He offered ideas about everything: how the war was going, how it should be fought, the role of scout pilots.” He also broke several unwritten rules of pilot etiquette, asking comrades how many “Huns” they had shot down and—a terrible faux pas—sitting in the seat previously occupied by a pilot who had just been killed.

Tags: Aces, Aerial Combat, Aviation History, Historical Conflicts, Historical Figures

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