Cpt. Kenneth Nicholson flew P-38J's and P-51D's with the 383rd FS/364th FG. I'm copying his story from the History of my grandfather's Fighter Group. It's not that long, but in its few lines relates the experiences of a USAAF pilot better than some books I've read. I posted this on AGW, but decided to share it over here also.
Enjoy,
What did you do in the war mister? Well, mostly I watched. I remember boxes of B-17's and B-24's disappearing into the mile wide ball of flak at Berlin, and now and then one of them would trial flames as it dropped out of the bottom. I recall chasing a Fw-190 into a cloud and seeing him right in front of me when we came out the other side, but nowhere in sight after the next cloud; closing to touching distance almost on an Fw-190 with gear down and blasting away, then because my guns were burned out and out of ammo, I saluted and left; going back for Johnny Kerr somewhere near the Freisian Islands and not finding a thing; watching the D-Day invasion from 10,000 feet and feeling guilty as hell; the takeoff at night in a heavy fog for D-Day when you couldn't see for 100 feet; instrument formation flak evasion over Denmark when the mission was aborted by spinning out with our P-51's to escape that red flak - and the bombers had already aborted anyway; catching a big chunk of flak through the fuel lines in my P-38 cockpit, and flying home drunk on 130 octane with my head out the window; being constantly amazed at the nice spacing of the 88mm flak - 6 to a box, and the way the predicted where we would have been if we hadn't turned 5 degrees every so often.
The war was not routine for us, especially the part about losing your friends. But we met it, I think, with a certain kind of numbness, that, coupled with a driving need to get the job done, kept us doing our best. We knew the other side was doing the same. Then there were the frivolous things:
At first I took most of my armor out, looking for performance, but when holes started showing up from flak, I had it all back by the 15th mission. Or once after a Berlin run I screwed up a single engine P-38 landing by forgetting to use full RPM on the remaining engine. It was 100% pilot error, and I couldn't argue. But the next day, Col. Osborn (364th's CO) was also faced with engine failure, and bailed out over the practice bomb range instead of trying to land (ironically, this was my grandfather's first day at Honington) I never heard another word about it. Or, Ayoub, when he followed me in for a landing one day and let loose a blast of .50's and 20mm at me by mistake and it hit the ground in front of me. He yelled over the horn, "Nick, are you OK?", I replied with what I hoped would be a death rattle-type of groan. He still reminds me about it.
The P-38 was one of the world's fastest diving planes. Unfortunately, it was hell to pull out. One of those experiences is enough. By using the servo tabs on the ailerons and rudders though, it became on of the world's fastest rollers. I've started after a Fw-190 in a roll and waited for him to finish. The P-51's were easier to fly, not nearly as maneuverable down low as my P-38 and 15 mph slower, but they surely did alright above 15,000 feet. I would up with two and a share, but it seems to be a unique category because some of the aces introduce me as one of their "half-aced" friends.
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Col Dune
C.O.
352nd Fighter Group"The Blue Nosed Bastards of Bodney" "Credo quia absurdum est." (I believe it because it is unreasonable)
- The motto of the Republic of Baja Arizona
