On June 18, Mannock sailed home for leave in England. Upon his arrival he was informed that he had been promoted to major and given command of No. 85 Squadron, previously led by Canadian ace Major William A. “Billy” Bishop, and that he also had been awarded a Bar to his DSO. He reacted with indifference to the news.

Subscribe Today

• Did you enjoy our article?
• Read more in Aviation History magazine
• Subscribe online and save nearly 40%!!!
 

After spending a brief but painful time with his mother, an alcoholic, Mannock went to stay with his friend Jim Eyles, who saw that he “had changed dramatically. Gone was the old sparkle we knew so well; gone was the incessant wit. I could see him wring his hands together to conceal the shaking and twitching.” One day, as the time approached for Mannock to return to the war, “he started to tremble violently. This grew into a convulsive straining. He cried uncontrollably….His face, when he lifted it, was a terrible sight. Saliva and tears were running down his face; he couldn’t stop it.” Given his condition, 31-year-old Mannock should never have been sent back to the front. But back he went.

Back in France again, Mannock took command of No. 85 Squadron on July 5, 1918, and his arrival was seen as a godsend. He immediately set to work teaching his new men about aerial tactics. Two days after his arrival he got two Fokker D.VIIs as his new squadron mates, infected by his enthusiasm, brought down an additional three. Within a matter of days, Mannock’s personality had completely transformed the unit. He threw himself into his work and even enjoyed a respite from the nightmares and depression. It would not last long.

On July 10, Mannock heard that his friend James McCudden had been killed in a flying accident, news that hurled Mannock back into depression but also spurred him to a furious killing spree. He shot down six aircraft between July 14 and 26. But he was also taking risks and ignoring his own teachings. Often he followed a victim down to spray the wreckage with bullets. He led his flights with rage and flew solo patrols in his hunt for Germans. Premonitions of death haunted him. In his last letter to his sister he wrote, “I feel that life is not worth hanging on to.” And Ira Jones found him unstable, noting: “One minute, he’s full out. The next he gives the impression of being morbid and keeps bringing up his pet subject of being shot down in flames.”

Early in the morning of July 26, 1918, Lieutenant Donald Inglis walked into the mess where Mannock was smoking his pipe and playing “Londonderry Air” on the gramophone. The two were to fly a morning patrol together. Earlier, Mannock had asked the rookie pilot, “Have you got a Hun yet, Inglis?” and to his negative answer replied, “Well come on out and we will get one.” Mannock told Inglis that they would hunt for a two-seater. Once it was located, Mannock would attack first, with Inglis coming in behind to finish the enemy off and thus get his first kill.

At 5:30 a.m. over Merville, Mannock dived on a two-seater at about 5,000 feet. He knocked out the observer and pulled away, letting Inglis come from underneath, firing into the gas tank. The German plane burst into flame, with the two S.E.5as very low over the ground. Violating his own teaching, Mannock circled the burning wreck twice. Then, as Inglis later wrote in his combat report, “I saw Mick start to kick his rudder and realized we were fairly low, then I saw a flame come out of the side of his machine; it grew bigger and bigger. Mick was no longer kicking his rudder; his nose dropped slightly, and he went into a slow right-hand turn round, about twice, and hit the ground in a burst of flame.” Mannock’s S.E.5a had been brought down by groundfire. Inglis’ plane was shot up, too, and he crash-landed in the British lines, sputtering: “The bastards killed my major. They killed Mick.”

It is impossible to know if Mannock shot himself as he had always threatened to do. Most likely, given the way his plane flew after he was hit, he was either wounded, unconscious or dead. In any event, some unknown German soldier buried the ace after first retrieving Mannock’s ID discs, pistol, notebook and other personal effects, which were returned to his family after the war. These items had all been on Mannock’s body, and they showed no signs of fire.

Help HistoryNet by bookmarking to