A few years ago, there was a Bf 109K-4 in Blue that was killing too many of my countrymen. I decided that it was up to me to save the war! I was still somewhat new to 38s and the skills needed to win a 1v1, but it was only a piddly K4 after all. We entered into a short and intense fight. I died. He made it look a little too effortless. So to redeem the honor of the P-38, I proceeded to hunt down the red tulip 109. Whether the reason was, his skill or me being rammed twice by Spit16s, I never managed to get him.
It was a thorn in my side. Day and night I fantasized about killing the red tulip 109. I could sense his giggles as he thought about the feeble attempts of that desperate 38 to kill him. He haunted me for days. Then the opportunity presented itself.
I was in the AvA waiting for one of Larry's mission to begin. Over 200 came the pilot of the 109. I grinned to myself, "He's mine". I checked the rooster and saw he was on the opposing side. As I closed the clipboard, as if by fate, the red tulip 109 loomed into view. I could feel it, it was him. We were co-E at 3k, all alone, and the fight began.
We both opened up with a chandelle and entered a rolling scissor. We stayed in the scissor for several minutes till I started gaining the advantage. He broke into a hard turn on the deck. I foolishly attempted to follow but was to fast and overshot. I kept the turn going hoping my superior speed would allow me maintain a higher turn rate. I briefly outturned him, but only enough salvage myself from the overshot. We were below the treetops as we wrestled with our flaps and fought our bucking and buffeting planes. We dodged barns and scared off the now extinct sheep.
I knew it was time to use one of the many superior abilities of the 38 to pull out the win. I started to make climbing right turns to build up energy and avoid a lufberry. The torque-handicapped 109 couldn't build the E as quickly as I and I soon regained the advantage. I managed to work myself into position to make small BnZ style slashing attacks.
Finally I was able to begin taking snapshots at my despised enemy. I tickled him a few times with my 50 cals, but nothing major. Eventually I shot off an aileron as I slowly continued to improve my position. I watched his desperate squirms for life as I pulled up into what would be my final attack. He had no options left. I began laughing out loud as I realized I had him dead to rights. AHA I was about to be delivered from the nightmares!
BOOM! Whaaa? My tail's gone?? Noooo I had him! Somehow he managed to hang it on the prop and land a tater... The red tulip 109 lived to fight another day.
From that point on it became my duty to purge the skies of all 109s, to cleanse the air of their pilots, and assert the clear dominance of the P-38. I like to think I have seared the image of the fork tailed devil into more than a few 109 pilots over the years. May that image haunt them the same way Tec haunted me that week in his red tulip K4!
