At 1730hrs local time I headed to the hangar to check out some new paint jobs. I chose an F4U-1A that's a little dinged up, and at some point the port wing outboard of the wing-fold joint had been replaced by one from an older plane, that still had the plain disk-style roundel on both upper and lower surfaces on that side. I strap in and fire up the engine, taking of southwest. I extend out a few miles to gain altitude and speed, then enter a gentle climbing turn northwest.
A contact appeared on radar, and I confirmed visual sighting just northwest of the field. However the contact was at extreme altitude, and proceeded to my north. I chose to continue on my course, checking occasionally to confirm the bogey didn't turn back in. I drain my left wing tank and, leaving my right at 1/4 full, switch over to main. I end my climb out at Angels 15, and throttle back to cruise settings on approach to the combat zone. There's a few friendlies nearby, most of them at my altitude. I shortly spot an enemy P-51 closing from below on a lower friendly. I throttle on full power and warn him of the situation as I turn to follow and keep an eye on the bandit, but before I can dive in I spot another slightly above me, about 5000 yards northeast of me and closing. After ensuring the friendly has the situation in-hand I'm forced to turn to deal with my immediate threat.
The contact is an Fw-190, and he doesn't disguise his intent to force a head-on. I displace to starboard and go nose-low to force deflection and generate speed. Before he can fire I pull up into a shallow climb. He tries to correct for the difference in phase but his shots miss. The 190 zips harmlessly past and I pull up into a high-yo to pursue. However the 190 still has more speed on me, and though I'm able to put him in front of me I'm outside of gunnery range. He attempts to swing back in but is unable to get another shot, and once again I keep him out in front. At this time I spot another bandit off my inside wing as I swing around behind the Fw, an N1K2, low but closing, though he appears to be focused on another friendly.
Forker arrives with altitude, and takes control of the 190 and drives him off sufficiently so I can deal with the N1K. He's 2000yds below me and closing, so I roll in. He sees me and pulls up in an attempt for a head-on, but I dodge the shot and go high into another yo-yo, intending to roll over the top and drop back down. This I achieve and have the N1K in front of me. As I set up to position myself for a shot, the radio crackles and another friendly announces he has the N1K. I pull off, but don't break entirely as I take stock of the situation. The friendly is out of view in a blind spot, so I can't see him. The N1K is almost within my gun range. I keep a loose pursuit of the target, but the friendly calls out again: "I've got the Niki!" Here I make the first mistake that should have sent me back to the tower. Had I tightened up my pursuit I'd have had the N1K. I'm in gun range, and if I maneuver for him I'll have him.
Instead, I position for a quick snapshot, which misses, then pull off to give him to the friendly who called for him. Another contact, an F4U, enters the fight low and makes a pass on me, but I duck him with ease. I pull up and let him go: Two other friendlies are on his six, and I have too much energy and altitude. Suddenly, someone calls out over the radio, "Sax check 6! Niki!"
I glance over my shoulder just in time to see the N1K firing from about 600 yards and closing. I snap hard into a dive and begin rolling hard. My Corsair whines as she accelerates, the airframe groaning as I pull out at the edge of a blackout into a shallow zoom. The distance quickly opens to 800 yards, but the N1K continues to fire. A cannon shell strikes one wing and I hear a loud thump as one of my .50cal has been blown clear out of its mount by the canon shell. Fueled by irritation and adrenaline, I admonish the friendly in pursuit: "You said you HAD him." The friendly apologizes, lets off a long burst of fire that clips off a piece of the N1K, and he tumbles away.
However I have little time to reposition myself in the fight, as suddenly a series of bangs ring out and another solid whump as something else is damaged. I catch a quick flash of silver as a P-38 drops out of the air and falls through the space behind my plane. Irritated more at myself for my near-fatal deadly mistake by not keeping my eyes open, rather than at the group of three friendly fighters perched above me who said nothing in warning, I roll over into pursuit of the P-38. I get the 38 in front of me but he's out of my gun range, closing in on Forker. I warn him and he acknowledges. The P-38 continues his pursuit as Forker follows the 190 he has been tangling with as it enters a split-S to the deck. I stay in behind the P-38, and am gaining on him slowly. 1000yds...800yds... The 190 is headed for a nearby vehicle base for protection in it's AAA, Forker is in pursuit, the P-38 behind him, I'm on the P-38, checking behind me repeatedly. 600...400... At 200 yards four Brownings roar to life--the fifth must have been hit by the 38. My first burst catches the P-38 in the starboard engine. I fire off another quick shot and watch the engine burst into flames that steam back along the engine boom, belching thick black smoke in a long trail behind him. I squeeze my trigger one last time and a sizeable chunk of the wing rips off. The P-38 pulls hard to the right. I pull off to the left, circling for altitude and to clear my six. The P-38 slams into the water and breaks up.
I ended the sortie with two additional victories: a second P-38 and an N1K2 attacking my home base. I count myself lucky I even got one. It's a reminder that the only eyes you can trust are your own. And a rule I've always set for myself is: If you've got a shot or can get it quickly TAKE it. Better to apologize for "stealing" a kill then fume because the guy who said he had him let him live long enough to take you down. Forgetting these two things very nearly brought my sortie to a quick and disappointing end.
