The Personal Diary of Major Edward “Mick” Mannock

The recent belated pardoning of servicemen executed for “cowardice” during the first world war makes this expertly researched diary of an undisputed hero of that bloodiest of conflicts—with its reproduced handwritten account of his personal experience of the condition now known as post-traumatic stress disorder and now recognised as the blameless cause of such breakdowns—of particular interest in the current era of wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

After service as a sergeant in the Royal Army Medical Corps, Mannock, although blind in one eye, requested transfer to the Royal Flying Corps (later the Royal Air Force) in 1916, aged 29. Knowing that if detected his defective vision would preclude allocation to flying duties, he avoided its discovery by memorising the medical officer’s test chart and was duly enlisted. Remarkably, in view of his disability, Mannock passed flying training with distinction and was posted to active service as a fighter pilot in France in 1917.

Although his bravery in combat was indisputable—as his medals and the downing of 73 enemy aircraft show—Mannock’s diary often describes the nervous stress he endured, which led to two breakdowns that needed periods of rehabilitation in England. Such stresses were not confined to fears for his personal safety. After colleagues’ deaths in action he would sit in his quarters and cry out the names of the dead men.

A particular cause of such stress, which is reminiscent of that caused by the shortage of helicopters and adequately armoured vehicles currently experienced by British troops in Afghanistan, was the regulation that airmen should not carry parachutes lest they bail out rather than face the enemy. Unsurprisingly, fear of being unable to abandon an aircraft shot down in flames, a sight he had often witnessed, was a recurrent theme in Mannock’s diary, which records that he always carried a revolver, intending to end his life in such circumstances.

His apprehension was tragically justified in his final sortie, before which he told a less experienced pilot, “I don’t feel I will last much longer; you watch yourself, don’t go following Huns too low or you’ll join sizzle brigade with me.” In an ensuing dog fight, inexplicably ignoring his own advice by following down a stricken German aircraft, Mannock suffered the fate he dreaded. Neither his plane nor his body was found, and it is not known whether he used his revolver. Mannock may well have survived it equipped with a parachute, and such incidents eventually led to the decision to end their ban. (An apology from the air force to the descendents of those who lost their lives in similar circumstances is still awaited.)

Other conclusions arising from Mannock’s tragic story are that the bravest of men may develop battle related post-traumatic stress disorder and that medical officers should not hesitate to speak out when life threatening deficiencies in equipment are apparent. They should also bear in mind that deception involving visual acuity testing is not confined to those wishing to avoid dangerous or unpopular postings.