they were there. if i recall from reading, even they were stretched to near their limits on the range. i think one of the accounts i read mentioned that it was pure luck that they spotted his flight......and of course the rest is history.
very nice.
Cap, here's some interesting stuff I found researching the P-38's long range cruise:
Until Lindbergh convinced the guys in the 5th AF to do otherwise, the P-38 was flown at low (about 16-18") MAP/autorich/2600RPM. This not only caused excessive fuel consumption, but also fouled plugs. Another problem it created was that it dropped cylinder head and oil temperatures well below proper operating levels. This caused the engines to run rough and hesitate when the throttles were advanced upon entering combat. It also caused the turbos to overspeed because the oil was congealed in the turbo regulators. This was yet another area where the USAAC and Lockheed dropped the ball.
Lindbergh told the guys in the squad he was flying with to try flying at 36"MAP/autolean/1600RPM. The mechanics went nuts, swearing the Allisons would be junk in one flight. However, Mac MacDonald, the CO, set about testing the idea out. After a few flights, they found fuel consumption was dramatically reduced, and that the engines actually ran smoother and responded much better to the throttles. The mechanics removed the engines from the plane and found they were in excellent shape, better than the engines in any other plane.
Here's narrative found in another article:
The second and critical passage made by the group concerned fuel consumption. With additional fuel cells in the J model P-38, Satan's Angels had been making six and one-half and seven-hour flights. On I July Lindbergh flew a third mission with the group, an armed reconnaissance to enemy strips at Nabire, Sagan One and Two, Otawiri, and Ransiki, all on the western shore of Geelvink Bay. Already Lindbergh's technical eye noticed something. After six and one-half hours flying time, he landed with 210 gallons of fuel remaining in his Lightning's tanks.
Two missions later, on 3 July, the group covered sixteen heavies on a strike against Jefman Island. Lindbergh led Hades Squadron's White Flight as they wove back and forth above the lumbering B-25s. After the attack the Lightnings went barge hunting.
First one, then two pilots reported dwindling fuel and broke off for home. MacDonald ordered the squadron back but because Lindbergh had nursed his fuel, he asked for and received permission to continue the hunt with his wingman. After a few more strafing runs, Lindbergh noticed the other Lightning circling overhead. Nervously the pilot told Lindbergh that he had only 175 gallons of fuel left. The civilian told him to reduce engine rpms, lean out his fuel mixture, and throttle back. When they landed, the 431st driver had seventy gallons left, Lindbergh had 260. They had started the mission with equal amounts of gas.
Lindbergh talked with MacDonald. The colonel then asked the group's pilots to assemble at the recreation hall that evening. The hall was that in name only, packed dirt floors staring up at a palm thatched roof, one ping pong table and some decks of cards completing the decor. Under the glare of unshaded bulbs, MacDonald got down to business. "Mr. Lindbergh" wanted to explain how to gain more range from the P-38s. In a pleasant manner Lindbergh explained cruise control techniques he had worked out for the Lightnings: reduce the standard 2,200 rpm to 1,600, set fuel mixtures to "auto-lean," and slightly increase manifold pressures. This, Lindbergh predicted, would stretch the Lightning's radius by 400 hundred miles, a nine-hour flight. When he concluded his talk half an hour later, the room was silent.
The men mulled over several thoughts in the wake of their guest's presentation. The notion of a nine-hour flight literally did not sit well with them, "bum-busters" thought some. Seven hours in a cramped Lightning cockpit, sitting on a parachute, an emergency raft, and an oar was bad, nine hours was inconceivable. They were right. Later, on 14 October 1944, a 432nd pilot celebrated his twenty-fourth birthday with an eight-hour escort to Balikpapan, Borneo. On touching down, he was so cramped his crew chief had to climb up and help him get out of the cockpit.
