It is unlikely that Edward Mannock would have been permitted to fly in any modern air force because of his physical and mental limitations. His vision in one eye was impaired due to an amoebic infestation as a child. More seriously, he was an emotional wreck for much of his brief fighting career.

He was prone to irrational phobias as well as occasional fits of weeping. But in the chaotic days of World War I, any pilot foolish enough to agree to fly without a parachute was welcome. Unbelievably, unlike their German foes, Britain’s Royal Flying Corps (RFC) aircrew were not permitted parachutes because their army commanders feared they might use their parachutes to escape, rather than engage in combat or attempt to save their bulletridden aircraft! An appalling 14,000 allied aircrew died during the War, with well over half perishing during training. Life expectancy was reckoned in weeks, and “here today, gone tomorrow” became something the surviving pilots experienced repeatedly as one close comrade after another failed to return safely to base. Despite his nerves, Mannock flew into combat repeatedly and become one of Britain’s highest scoring fighter aces of the War. He was also one of the world’s first combat aviation tacticians.

Edward ‘Mick’ Mannock was born on May 24, 1887, in Ireland. Ill-treatment by his father, a brutal drunkard who abandoned the family when Mick was 12, was a possible reason for the terror attacks in later life. At the outbreak of World War I, he was in Turkey which was a German ally and his cruel incarceration there, till the brink of death, may account for the pathological hatred of Germans he developed.

Back in Britain, Mannock joined the army. In August 1916 he was transferred to the RFC and was assigned to the Western Front. Over the next couple of years he performed three tours of combat duty. He had a rather shaky debut when it came to engaging German aircraft in combat and his comrades began to suspect that he was a congenital coward. However, the considerate commanding officer gave Mick a chance and encouraged him as he conquered his fears, worked doggedly at his combat technique and made it a point to get in close to the adversary. He soon began to score aerial victories. He was exceptionally gifted in gunnery, yet he never fired till he was practically at risk of colliding with the target aircraft. His mounting victories fetched him several awards for gallantry. When he was flight commander of the newly formed No. 74 Squadron located in France, he claimed 36 victories in just three months of early 1918. In May alone he shot down 20 planes and won the Distinguished Service Order thrice. But instead of hogging the credit, he preferred to let newer pilots get it.

Mannock showed symptoms of severe phobia related to combat flying and did not attempt to hide his fears. He was scared not so much of being killed, as about going up in flames. He carried a revolver with him at all times. When his friend questioned him about it he replied, “The other fellows all laugh at me for carrying a revolver. They think I’m going to shoot down a machine with it, but they’re wrong. The reason I bought it was to finish myself as soon as I see the first signs of flames. They’ll never burn me.” He was also deeply affected by the bloodshed he witnessed on the ground as well as in the air, especially the Germans he was killing himself. Once, after visiting a crash site and seeing the lifeless body of one of his victims, he confided in his diary, “I felt exactly like a murderer.”

By mid-1918, as the air battle intensified, the signs of a highly-strung person rapidly going to pieces were there for all to see. His friends sometimes noticed him sobbing and trembling violently, his collar and shirt soaked with tears. His health also deteriorated due to a lingering bout of influenza. Yet he never once tried to evade combat duty. In June 1918, he was promoted to Major and placed in command of No. 85 Squadron in France. He taught crews new combat tactics and helped them work more effectively as team members. But his fears never abated.

On July 26, 1918, Mick Mannock’s emotional agony finally came to an end. He was brought down by ground fire over Lillers, France, as he circled for a closer look at the wreckage of a plane he had shot – something he had warned other pilots not to try. His body was never found and the precise cause of his death remains uncertain, not even whether his overpowering phobia of a fiery death came true or not.

Mannock was widely recognised as a prudent but aggressive leader and a nurturing superior, who loved to teach younger pilots the art of survival and success. He often helped the youngsters in his squadron achieve kills to boost their confidence, electing to give them all the credit in joint missions, rather than claim his share. There are varying estimates of Mannock’s tally of victories. According to reputed historians he downed at least 61 German aircraft and balloons.

Major Edward Mannock received the Military Cross twice, the Distinguished Service Order thrice and was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross – Britain’s highest military decoration awarded for valour in the face of the enemy. Yet his life was an enigma, hard to figure out. It left unanswered the question – does courage mean being unafraid or is it more about continuing to fly into danger despite being the victim of unbearable fear?