"The following episode, found in Thunderbolt! by the World War II USAAF ace Robert S. Johnson, is one of the best examples available of the use of energy tactics (diving extension/pitch-back) to defeat a double-superior opponent. The encounter described is a mock combat engagement over England between Johnson (P-47C) and an unidentified RAF pilot in a new Spitfire IX. the Spitfire had about a 25 percent better power loading and nearly a 25 percent lower wing loading. The Thunderbolt's only performance advantages were faster top speed, greater acceleration in a dive (because of the P-47's heavier weight and higher density), and better roll performance.
I opened the throttle full and the Thunderbolt forged ahead. A moment later exhaust smoke poured from the Spit as the pilot came after me. He couldn't make it; the big Jug had a definite speed advantage. I grinned happily; I'd heard so much about this airplane that I really wanted to show the Thunderbolt to her pilot. The Jug kept pulling away from the Spitfire; suddenly I hauled back on the stick and lifted the nose. The Thunderbolt zoomed upward, soaring into the cloud-flecked sky. I looked out and back; the Spit was straining to match me, and barely able to hold his position.
But my advantage was only the zoom--once in steady climb, he had me. I gaped as smoke poured from the exhausts and the Spitfire shot past me as if I were standing still. Could that plane CLIMB! He tore upward in a climb I couldn't match with the Jug. Now it was his turn; the broad elliptical wings rolled, swung around, and the Spit screamed in, hell-bent on chewing me up.
This was going to be fun. I knew he could turn inside the heavy Thunderbolt; if I attempted to hold a tight turn, the Spitfire would slip right inside me. I knew also, that he could easily outclimb my fighter. I stayed out of those sucker traps. First rule in this kind of fight: don't fight the way your opponent fights best. No sharp turns; don't climb; keep him at your own level.
We were at 5,000 feet, the Spitfire skidding around hard and coming in on my tail. No use turning; he'd whip right inside me as if I were a truck loaded with cement, and snap out in firing position. Well, I had a few tricks too. The P-47 was faster, and I threw the ship into a roll. Right here I had him. The Jug could outroll any plane in the air, bar none. With my speed, roll was my only advantage, and I made full use of the manner in which the Thunderbolt could roll. I kicked the Jug into a wicked left roll, horizon spinning crazily, once, twice, into a third. As he turned to the left to follow, I tramped down on the right rudder, banged the stick over to the right. Around and around we went, left, right, left, right. I could whip through better than two rolls before the Spitfire even completed his first. And this killed his ability to turn inside me. I refused to turn. Every time he tried to follow me in a roll, I flashed away to the opposite side, opening the gap between our planes.
Then I played the trump. The Spitfire was clawing wildly through the air, trying to follow me in a roll, when I dropped the nose. The Thunderbolt howled and ran for earth. Barely had the Spitfire started to follow--and I was a long way ahead of him by now--when I jerked back on the stick and threw the Jug into a zoom climb. In a straight or climbing turn, the British ship had the advantage. But coming out of a dive, there's not a British or German fighter than can come close to a Thunderbolt rushing upward in a zoom. Before the Spit pilot knew what had happened, I was high above him, and the Thunderbolt hammering around. And that was it--in the next few moments the Spitfire flier was amazed to see a less-maneuverable slower-climbing Thunderbolt rushing straight at him, eight guns pointing at his cockpit." (Fighter Combat, Robert Shaw)
