German Pilots Couldn’t Believe P-38s With Twin 1,600hp Engines Could Climb 3,300 Feet/Minute…

The morning of August 19th, 1943, 27,000 ft above the German industrial city of Schweinfoot, Oberelotant France Stigler pulls back on the stick of his Messid BF-1009 and feels the airframe shudder. The thin air at this altitude makes every control input sluggish, every maneuver and exercise in anticipation rather than reaction. Below him, a formation of American B7 Flying Fortresses drones eastward. their contrails streaking white against the dark earth. Stigler has flown 174 combat missions. He knows the mathematics of air combat as intimately as a pionist knows scales.

Altitude equals energy. Energy equals options. The pilot who controls the vertical dimension controls the fight. This is doctrine. This is physics. This is survival. Then he sees them. Four aircraft climbed toward his position from below. Twin boomed silhouettes unmistakably American. Twin engine fighters the type his intelligence officers have mentioned in briefings with dismissive shrugs, heavy machines, reconnaissance platforms, perhaps light bombers. Nothing a properly positioned BF-1009 need concern itself with. Stigler checks his altitude advantage. 3,000 ft. Textbook positioning.

He rolls into a shallow dive to build speed, preparing for a slashing attack that will send these lumbering machines scattering. What happens next will fundamentally alter his understanding of what is possible in the air. The lead American aircraft, a Loheed P38 Lightning, does not break formation, does not attempt evasive maneuvers, does not dive away to build speed or turn to present a defensive profile. It climbs, not gradually, not struggling against the thin air and the tyranny of gravity that governs every other aircraft Stigler has encountered.

It climbs at an angle so steep it appears almost vertical, 3,300 ft per minute. In 40 seconds, Stigler’s altitude advantage evaporates. In 60 seconds, the American is above him, rolling inverted, converting that impossible climb into a diving attack with all the accumulated energy Stigler thought belonged exclusively to him.

To understand the psychological impact of that August morning, we must first understand the world. France Stigler inhabited a world where German technical superiority was not propaganda but lived experience. September 1st, 1939. When German forces cross into Poland, the Luftvafa fields approximately 4,000 combat aircraft.

The Messid BF-1009E, the Emil variant, represents the culmination of nearly a decade of focused development. Its Daimler Ben’s DB 601 engine produces 1,175 horsepower. It can reach speeds of 354 mph. At low to medium altitudes, it can climb at nearly 3,000 ft per minute. More importantly, it works. The Spanish Civil War provided a proving ground where German engineers refined the design under combat conditions. By the time war comes to Europe, Luftvafa pilots fly a mature debugged weapons system supported by comprehensive tactical doctrine.

The results speak with brutal clarity. Poland falls in 5 weeks. The Luftvafer achieves air superiority so complete that German ground forces operate with near impunity. France possessing more tanks and a larger army than Germany collapses in six weeks in large part because the Luftvafer destroys French command and control interdicts reinforcements and breaks the coherence of defensive operations. Even against the Royal Air Force flying the excellent Supermarine Spitfire, German pilots hold their own. The battle of Britain becomes a near-run thing decided not by technical inferiority but by operational and strategic factors.

By 1941 the Luftvafer had established a clear hierarchy of capability. The BF-1009 is the standard against which all other fighters are measured. When the Gustav variant the G series enters service in 1942, it represents an incremental improvement of an already superior design. more power, better armorament, refined aerodynamics. German pilots have every reason for confidence. They have fought the best Britain can field and survived. They encountered Soviet fighters by the thousands and found them wanting. American aircraft, when they appear, seem laughable by comparison.

The Curtis P40 Warhawk, decent enough at low altitude, helpless above 15,000 ft, where its Allison engine loses power dramatically. The Bellp39 Aera Cobra, an experimental configuration with the engine mounted behind the pilot, creating vicious spin characteristics that kill American pilots faster than enemy fire. These aircraft arrive in Soviet hands through lend lease, and Soviet pilots quickly learn to avoid combat above medium altitude. The Americans, it seems, have numbers, but lack sophistication. This belief extends beyond individual aircraft to encompass broader assumptions about American industry and design philosophy.

German engineering culture prizes precision, refinement, incremental improvement of proven concepts. The BF-1009 goes through dozens of variants, each carefully optimized. The Fauler Wolf FAR 190 when it appears in 1941 represents a parallel development, a radial engine design that complements rather than replaces the messes. American design philosophy appears chaotic by comparison, multiple competing designs, corporate rivalry, no clear central doctrine. The Americans seem to throw concepts at the wall to see what sticks. One of those concepts in development since 1937 is the P38 Lightning, Burbank, California.

June 1937, the United States Army Air Corps issues circular proposal X608, a specification for a high altitude interceptor. The requirements border on fantasy. reach 20,000 ft in six minutes, achieve 400 mph, carry heavy armament, and maintain enough fuel for extended operations. Every major American aviation company examines the specifications and reaches the same conclusion. Impossible. The requirements contradict each other at a fundamental level. High speed demands low weight and minimal drag. Range demands fuel capacity, which means weight.

High altitude performance demands turbochargers, which add complexity, weight, and drag. Heavy armorament adds more weight. Choose two, perhaps three of these requirements, not all of them. At Loheed’s Burbank facility, a 33-year-old engineer named Clarence Leonard Johnson, universally known as Kelly, approaches the problem differently. Johnson has a reputation for unorthodox solutions. He does not begin with existing fighter designs and attempts to optimize them. He begins with the requirements and asks, “What would an aircraft look like if we designed it from first principles to meet these specifications?” The answer, “Nothing like any fighter anyone has built before.” Johnson’s insight is elegant and radical.

Use two engines. Not because twin engine fighters are inherently superior, conventional wisdom holds they are inferior, but because two engines solve multiple problems simultaneously. Power. Two Allison V1710 engines provide 2,600 horsepower combined later. Variants will push this to 3,200 horsepower. This is roughly double the power available to any single engine fighter. Redundancy. Lose one engine. The aircraft remains controllable and can return to base. In single engine fighters, engine failure over hostile territory means capture or death configuration.

With engines mounted in separate booms, the central fuselage becomes available for fuel, armament, and the pilot. All weapons mount in the nose. Four 50 caliber machine guns and 120 mm cannon, meaning all bullets travel parallel paths. No convergence issues, no need to adjust for different ballistic trajectories. Turbochargers. Each engine gets its own general electric turbocharger, maintaining sea level power output at altitude. This is technology the Germans will never successfully implement in their fighters. But the configuration creates its own challenges.

Twin booms mean twin vertical stabilizers. The distinctive forked tail that would give the aircraft its German nickname. The central nel creates unusual aerodynamic characteristics. The long moment arm between engines and fuselage means engine out handling requires careful design. Kelly Johnson’s team spends 2 years solving these problems. January 27th, 1939. Lieutenant Ben Kelsey takes the XP38 prototype airborne for its first flight from Marchfield in California. The test is brief, less than 30 minutes, but reveals the aircraft’s extraordinary performance.

Kelsey reports handling characteristics unlike anything he has flown. The twin engine configuration provides smooth, stable flight. The turbocharged Allison’s deliver power without the harsh vibrations of radial engines. 2 weeks later, Kelsey attempts a transcontinental speed record flight. He makes it from California to Ohio in 7 hours and 2 minutes, an average speed of 350 mph, faster than any fighter’s maximum speed. Then, preparing to land at right field, an error in cold weather fuel management causes both engines to quit.

Kelsey Belly lands the prototype on a golf course. The aircraft was destroyed. This could have ended the program. Instead, the Army ordered 13 pre-production aircraft for evaluation. The production version, designated YP38, begins flight testing in 1940. Test pilots discover performance that seems to violate conventional fighter wisdom. Top speed 413 mph at 25,000 ft. Service ceiling 39,000 ft. Rate of climb 3,300 ft per minute at sea level and critically climb rate barely degrades at altitude because the turbochargers maintain engine power.

But there are problems. At high speed in a dive, the P38 experiences compressibility effects. Transonic air flow over the wing creates shock waves that lock the controls. Several test pilots die attempting to recover from terminal velocity dives. The solution hydraulically boosted dive flaps will not arrive until later variants. The aircraft is expensive, $83,000 per unit, compared to 55,000 for a P47 Thunderbolt. It is complex. Maintenance crews must learn to service two engines, two turbochargers, two of everything.

Production is slow. When Pearl Harbor exploded in American neutrality on December 7th, 1941, the Army Air Forces possessed fewer than 100 P38s. Most remain in the United States for training and evaluation. The first P38s to see combat deployed to the Pacific, where they prove effective against Japanese fighters. The lightning speed and firepower give American pilots an advantage over the more maneuverable but lightly armed Zero. In the hands of skilled pilots like Richard Bong and Thomas Maguire, the P38 becomes a formidable weapon.

But the Pacific is a sideshow compared to Europe. By 1943, the air war over Europe had reached a crisis point. The United States 8th Air Force is attempting to prove the doctrine of strategic daylight bombing. The theory that heavily armed bomber formations can penetrate enemy airspace in daylight, strike precision targets, and fight their way home without fighter escort. [Music] The theory encounters brutal reality. The Luftvafer has refined its bomber interception tactics to murderous efficiency. When American bomber formations cross into German airspace, Luftvafa controllers vector fighter units to intercept.

BF-1009 and FW90 fighters attack in multiple waves, exploiting the bombers’s blind spots. Specially equipped FUR 190A series fighters, the Sturm or Stormbbirds, carry heavy armor and 30 mm cannons. They close to point blank range, absorbing defensive fire and shred B17s with weapons designed to kill tanks. The statistics become unsustainable. On the August 17th, 1943 Schweinford Regensburg raid, the same mission where France Stigler encountered the P38, the 8th Air Force dispatched 376 B7s. 60 are shot down, 55 are damaged beyond repair.

Over 600 American air crew were killed or captured. This is a loss rate approaching 20%. At this rate, bomber crews have less than a one in three chance of surviving their required 25 mission combat tour. The problem is range. Republic P47 Thunderbolts can escort bombers to the German border, then must turn back for fuel. Royal Air Force Spitfires have even less range. When bombers cross into German airspace, they go alone, and the Luftwaffer is waiting. What the Eighth Air Force desperately needs is a fighter that can escort bombers to Berlin and back.

A fighter that can fight at 30,000 ft. A fighter that can outclimb German interceptors and deny on them the altitude advantage they depend upon. In August 1943, that fighter arrived in England. The P38H model with improved engines, better turbochargers, and the dive flaps that finally solve the compressibility problem begins operations with the 55th Fighter Group. With drop tanks, combat radius extends to 575 mi. This is enough to reach Berlin, but range means nothing if you cannot fight when you get there.

and Luftvafer intelligence briefing German pilots on the new American twin engine fighter makes critical miscalculations. They know the P-38 has two engines. Therefore, it must be heavy, probably 7 tons compared to the BF-1009’s 3 tons. They know twin engine fighters are slower and less maneuverable than single engine designs. This is proven doctrine validated by years of combat experience. They know that altitude advantage is decisive. A lighter single engine fighter starting from above will always defeat a heavier twin engine fighter starting from below.

All of these assumptions are logical. All of them are based on sound engineering principles and combat experience. All of them are wrong. August 17th, 1943. The Schweinford Regensburg mission is one of the most ambitious operations the eighth air force has yet attempted. 230 B7s will strike ballbearing factories in Schweinffort. 146 more will hit the Mesmmit factory in Regensburg, then continue south to land in North Africa, a one-way shuttle mission. The plan assumes surprise and overwhelming force. It gets neither.

German radar picks up the formations assembling over England. Luftvafa controllers scramble every available fighter unit. By the time the bombers cross the Dutch coast, 300 German fighters are airborne and climbing to intercept. France Stigler’s unit Yagjeshada 27 scrambles from their base near Munich. Stigler is an experienced pilot, a veteran of campaigns in North Africa and on the Russian front. He has shot down 14 aircraft. He knows his aircraft intimately. The BF 10009 G6 with its DB605 engine producing,475 horsepower.

He knows its strengths. Excellent climb rate at low to medium altitude, good acceleration, deadly accurate 20 mm cannon, and dual 13 mm machine guns. He knows its limitations, too. Above 25,000 ft, the mechanically supercharged DB605 begins to lose power. Climb rate degrades. Turn performance suffers as controls become mushy in the thin air. Standard doctrine compensates for this. Gain altitude before the enemy arrives, then dive to attack with speed and energy accumulated from gravity. This gives single engine fighters lighter, more responsive, decisive advantage over heavier aircraft.

At 27,000 ft over Schwvin, Stigler spots the bomber formation. Already under attack by other Luftvafa units, the B7s maintain tight formation, their overlapping fields of defensive fire, creating a deadly crossfire. Then he sees the escorts. Four aircraft, twin boommed silhouettes, climbing from below. Even at a distance, the configuration is distinctive. P38 Lightning Stigler’s briefings have covered these aircraft. Heavy twin engines mean slower climb, particularly at altitude. Doctrine is clear. Attack from above with speed advantage. Make a firing pass.

Extend away using superior dive performance. He checks his position. 3,000 ft above the P38s. Perfect altitude advantage. Sun at his back. Textbook. He rolls into a shallow dive, building speed, 400 mph. The Americans are at 24,000 ft, climbing, but not rapidly. In 30 seconds, he will be in firing range. Except the Americans are not climbing slowly. The lead P38 flown by First Lieutenant Virgil Smith of the 55th Fighter Group sees Stigler’s diving attack. Standard procedure would be to break formation, dive away to build speed, and attempt to outrun the attack.

Smith does not break formation. He advances both throttles to war emergency power. 65 in of manifold pressure, 3,200 horsepower combined. The turbocharged Allisonens do not gasp for air at this altitude. They breathe as easily as at sea level. The P38’s nose comes up. Not gently, not in a climbing turn to conserve energy. Nearly vertical, Stigler, committed to his dive, watches the distance close. 2,000 ft. The P38 is climbing directly into his attack. This makes no sense. The American should be defensive.

Should be evading. 1,500 ft. Stigler’s rate of closure is slowing. This is impossible. He is diving, building energy. The P38 is climbing. shedding energy. His closure rate should be increasing 1,000 ft. The P38 is still climbing. Stigler can see the pilot’s helmet now. Can see the twin booms. Can see the forked tail. His gunsite tracks center mass. Then, in the space of 10 seconds, physics, as Stigler understands it, stops working. The P38’s climb rate does not degrade.

At 25,000 ft, where Stigler’s BF-1009 can manage perhaps 2,000 ft per minute in a climb, the P38 maintains 3,300 ft per minute. The turbocharged Allison’s do not care about thin air. Stigler pulls out of his dive at 26,000 ft. His speed advantage gone. He attempts to climb after the American, but his mechanically supercharged engine is already losing power. The BF-1009’s climb rate at this altitude has degraded to perhaps 1,500 ft per minute. The P38 is at 28,000 ft now, still climbing.

30 seconds later, Smith levels off at 30,000 ft, rolls inverted, and dives. Now he has the altitude advantage. Now he has the energy advantage. Now he has converted Stigler’s attack into his own. Stigler breaks hard left. The BF-1009’s superior turn rate, his only remaining advantage. The P-38 does not attempt to follow in the turn. It would bleed energy, lose the advantage. Instead, Smith uses his speed to zoom back up, repositioning for another attack. This is energy fighting at its purest.

Climb, dive, extend, repeat. But it requires an immense powertoweight ratio to work at high altitude. Single engine fighters cannot do this effectively above 25,000 ft. Their engines lose too much power. The P38 with its turbocharged engines maintaining full power fights at 30,000 ft the way Stigler’s BF-9 fights at 15,000. The engagement lasts 6 minutes. Stigler never gets a sustained firing opportunity. Every time he maneuvers into position, the P38 either outclimbs him to reset the engagement or outspeeds him in level flight.

Finally, low on fuel and ammunition, Stigler disengages. He dives away one advantage. The BF-1009 retains his dive speed and heads for his home field. Behind him, Smith and his flight continue escorting the bombers. That evening at the Jag Jishuada 27 debriefing, Stigler tries to explain what happened. He reports, “We had position. We had the attack from above and they climbed through us.” The intelligence officer makes notes. His skepticism is visible. Twin engine fighters do not outclimb BF-1009 at altitude.

This is known. This is physics. But Stigler is not the only pilot reporting this phenomenon. across the Luftvafa afteraction reports begin accumulating from different units, different fronts, different engagements. The language varies, but the observations are consistent. From Jagashada 2, encountered P38s at 26,000 ft. Attempted bounce from above. Enemy aircraft evaded by climbing. Lost one aircraft in subsequent engagement. from Jagjiswada 11. The American twin engine fighter maintains climb performance at altitudes where our aircraft lose effectiveness. Recommend avoiding engagement above 25,000 ft unless numerical superiority is overwhelming.

From Jagishwad 26, one of the Luftwaffer’s most experienced units, P38 cannot be treated as a heavy fighter. Climb rate and acceleration comparable to single engine designs. Standard altitude tactics are ineffective. These are not novice pilots reporting. These are men with hundreds of hours of combat experience. Men who have fought Spitfires and P47s and every Soviet fighter type. Men who understand air combat at an intuitive level. And they are all reporting the same thing. The rules that have changed.

The psychological impact is profound. For four years, Luftvafa doctrine has been built on specific assumptions about energy and altitude. Get above your enemy. Dive to attack. Extend away. Climb back to altitude. Repeat. This works because most aircraft, German or Allied, follow predictable performance curves. Climb rate degrades at altitude. Engine power falls off. Physics applies equally to everyone. The P38 breaks this equation. And for German pilots accustomed to technical superiority, this is more than a tactical problem. It is a psychological crisis.

If you find this story engaging, please take a moment to subscribe and enable notifications. It helps us continue producing in-depth content like this. The Luftwaffer’s response to the P38 reveals the limitations of even excellent organizations when confronted with unexpected technological disruption. The German aviation industry and military leadership cannot simply dismiss the reports too. Many experienced pilots from too many different units are reporting the same phenomena. But accepting the reports means accepting that fundamental assumptions about fighter design are wrong.

German engineering culture in the 1940s is built on precision and incremental improvement. The Daimler Ben’s DB 600 series engine evolves through multiple variants, each carefully optimized. The Messid BF-1009 undergoes dozens of modifications, each addressing specific performance issues. This approach works well for refining existing designs. It works poorly for paradigm shifts. The P38 represents a paradigm shift. It is not an improved version of existing fighter philosophy. It is a different philosophy entirely built around solving a specific problem long range high alitude escort that German designers never prioritized because the Luftvafer never needed to escort bombers into heavily defended enemy airspace.

German intelligence attempts to understand the P38 by analyzing captured examples and studying reconnaissance photographs. What they see confirms that it is heavy, approximately 7 tons combat weight, compared to the BF-1009’s 3 tons. What they cannot easily understand from external analysis is the turbocharger system. Turbochargers are not new technology. The principle using exhaust gases to drive a compressor that forces more air into the engine is well understood, but implementation is complex. The turbocharger must operate at extreme temperatures.

It must maintain precise speed control. It must integrate seamlessly with engine management. American manufacturers, particularly General Electric, have spent years developing reliable turbocharger systems for aviation use. By 1943, the technology is mature. Each Allison V1710 in the P38 gets its own General Electric type B13 turbocharger mounted in the tail boom behind the engine. This placement far from the pilot with the tail boom acting as a long exhaust duct helps manage heat. German attempts to develop equivalent systems for fighter engines consistently fail.

The DB 600 and Jumo 211 engines use mechanical superchargers, gearddriven compressors that boost pressure but consume engine power and lose effectiveness at high altitude. Various German designs for turbocharged fighter engines run into development problems. Overheating, unreliable controls, weight penalties. By 1944, some German highaltitude interceptors like the TAR 152H received experimental turbocharger systems, but these arrived too late and in too few numbers to affect the war. The result is that German fighters operate on one performance curve and the P38 operates on another.

Consider the numbers. A BF 109 G6 at full military power climbs at approximately 3,000 ft per minute at sea level. At 15,000 ft, this drops to perhaps 2200 ft per minute. At 25,000 ft, perhaps 1,500 ft per minute. At 30,000 ft below 1,000 ft per minute, the P38J, the definitive production variant, climbs at 3,300 ft per minute at sea level. At 15,000 ft, 3,000 ft per minute. At 25,000 ft, still 2800 ft per minute. The turbocharged engines maintain sea level power output up to 28,000 ft.

This is not a small advantage. This is an overwhelming advantage in the vertical dimension. German tactical doctrine attempts to adapt. New instructions go out to fighter units. Avoid engagement with P38s below 25,000 ft unless you have overwhelming numerical advantage. Do not attack from below. If attacked by P38s, dive away. Do not attempt to climb. Engage only if you can maintain altitude par. These are defensive tactics. The Luftvafa, which spent the first 3 years of the war dictating the terms of air combat, is now reacting to American capabilities.

Individual pilots develop their own methods. Some refuse to engage P38s at all, preferring to attack bombers and avoid the escorts. Some attempt to use their superior turn rate to force the P38s into slow speed turning fights where engine power matters less than wing loading and control response. But these are tactics of desperation, not tactics of superiority. The human cost of this technological shift appears in individual combat reports and pilot accounts. Consider the experience of Litnant Herbert Huppets, a pilot with Jagjashada 51.

March 11th, 1944. Huppets’s unit scrambles to intercept a bomber formation approaching Leipig. He climbs to 28,000 ft higher than comfortable where his BF-1009 G14 handles poorly but necessary to get above the escorts. He spots four P38s below at 24,000 ft. Standard doctrine. Dive to attack. Use speed to make a single pass, then extend away before they can respond. Huppets rolls into his dive. The lead P38 sees him coming. The distinctive twin boom silhouette is hard to hide and pulls into a climb.

Hertz is diving at 450 mph. The P38 should not be able to climb fast enough to evade, but it does. The American pilot converts his forward speed into a zoom climb. Pure energy management. And by the time Huppets pulls out of his dive at 26,000 ft, the P38 is at his altitude and turning toward him. Huppets attempts to climb back to altitude. His BF 109 struggles. The engine is at full military power, but at this altitude, it produces perhaps 1,000 horsepower, 30% less than at sea level.

The P38’s turbocharged Allison’s produce full power. The American pilot climbs easily, positions for a deflection shot. Huppets realizes he cannot outclimb the American. He cannot outrun the American in level flight. His only option is to dive trade altitude for speed, disengage, return to base. He survives, but he has been driven from the combat area without firing a shot. Driven away by an aircraft he was supposed to have a tactical advantage over. His afteraction report is tur encountered P38 at high altitude.

Unable to maintain engagement, disengaged. This happens dozens of times daily across the German defensive frontier. The strategic implications extend beyond individual dog fights. By late 1943, P38s were escorting bomber formations deep into German territory. The 8th Air Force’s campaign of strategic bombing nearly abandoned after the catastrophic losses of August and October 1943 receives new life. The mathematics of bomber attrition changed dramatically. In missions with P38 escort, bomber loss rates drop below 5%. In missions without escort, losses remain above 10%.

This is not just about protecting bombers. This is about the Luftvafer’s finite resources. Every engagement with P38s costs German fighters. Not necessarily in aircraft destroyed, though the P-38’s heavy-s arament makes it lethal in head-on attacks, but in fuel consumed, ammunition expended, and opportunities missed. When Luftvuffer fighters must focus on avoiding P38 escorts, they cannot effectively attack bombers. When they must burn fuel climbing above 30,000 ft to get altitude advantage, they have less time on station. When they must disengage from combat to avoid being outclimbed, they seed the initiative.

The Luftvafer is being forced into a war of attrition it cannot win. German industrial production, impressive as it is, cannot match American output. In 1944, German factories produced approximately 40,000 aircraft of all types. American factories produced nearly 100,000. More critically, the Luftvafer is losing experienced pilots faster than the training system can replace them. A pilot shot down over Germany, even if he survives, is often injured, requiring weeks or months to recover. An American pilot shot down over Germany is lost permanently, either killed or captured.

But America has a larger population base and a more robust training pipeline. The exchange rate favors America. By early 1944, average Luftvafa pilot training had dropped to less than 150 hours before assignment to combat units. In 1940, new pilots received 250 to 300 hours of training. American pilots in 1944 receive over 300 hours of training, including 50 to 70 hours in type in the actual aircraft they will fly in combat. The Luftvafer is field increasingly inexperienced pilots in obsolescent aircraft against increasingly experienced American pilots in superior aircraft.

This is not a sustainable equation. Individual American pilots begin to exploit the P38’s unique capabilities in innovative ways. Major Richard Iraong, operating in the Pacific theater, develops tactics specifically built around vertical energy management. When engaged by Japanese fighters, typically the Mitsubishi A6M0, a highly maneuverable but lightly built aircraft, Bong does not attempt to turn with them. The Zero can outturn any American fighter at low to medium speeds. Instead, Bong uses the P38’s speed to maintain separation, then converts that speed into a zoom climb.

When attacked, the Zero tries to follow. At 8,000 ft, the Zero is still climbing. Well, it is light and has good power to wait at low altitude. At 12,000 ft, it is beginning to struggle. At 15,000 ft, it is nearly stalling, wallowing in the thin air. The P38, meanwhile, is still climbing at nearly full power. Bong rolls over the top of the climb, dives back down with gravity and 3,000 horsepower assisting, and the Zero has no time to react.

The engagement is over in seconds. Bong uses this tactic to shoot down 40 Japanese aircraft, becoming America’s highest scoring ace. He was killed in August 1945, not in combat, but testing a new jet aircraft. He is 24 years old. In Europe, pilots develop different tactics for different threats. Against the BF-1009, the preferred method is to bait German pilots into climbing fights they cannot win. Against the WW190, which has better roll rate and dive performance than the BF-1009, the tactic is to use the P38 superior high alitude performance to force engagements above 25,000 ft, where the full 190s BMW 8001 radial engine loses effectiveness.

Some of the most successful P38 pilots never become household names. They are men who understand energy management, who think in three dimensions, who use their aircraft’s strengths and avoid its weaknesses. The P38 is not invulnerable. It is large, easy to spot. In a slow speed turning fight, a skilled German pilot in a BF-1009 or Fur W90 can potentially outmaneuver it. The P38 size makes it vulnerable to hits, though the twin engine configuration means it can often survive damage that would down a single engine fighter.

But these vulnerabilities matter less when the P38 can dictate the terms of engagement, when it can choose to fight or flee based on energy advantage, when it can climb away from threats that would be lethal to other aircraft. The German response by 1944 increasingly focuses on avoiding combat with American escorts entirely. New tactical instructions emphasize attacking bomber formations at moments when escorts are absent or out of position. This requires careful timing and intelligence about American flight routes and escort patterns.

It also produces a psychological shift in German fighter units. The Luftvafer, which began the war with aggressive offensive doctrine, is now fighting defensively. Pilots are instructed to preserve their aircraft, to avoid unnecessary risks, to disengage rather than press attacks. This is rational from a resource preservation standpoint. Germany cannot afford to lose fighters and pilots at the rates of 1943, but it represents a fundamental concession. The initiative now belongs to the Americans. Some German pilots resist this shift.

Aces like Walter Novottney and Hinesbear continue to engage Allied fighters aggressively, racking up impressive scores. But these men are exceptional and their tactics, while individually successful, cannot be replicated across the entire Pond Fighter Force. Nawatnney with 258 confirmed kills was shot down and killed in November 1944. He is 23 years old. Bear who survives the war with 220 kills later reflects that the air war was lost not because German pilots lacked skill or courage but because they were outnumbered and flying increasingly obsolescent aircraft against an enemy with unlimited resources.

The P38 in this context becomes symbolic of a larger reality. American industrial and technical capacity has reached a point where it can field weapons systems that match or exceed German equivalents while producing them in vastly greater quantities. By mid 1944, the Luftvafer’s situation had become desperate. The invasion of Normandy on June 6th strains German resources further. Fighter units must divide their attention between defending against strategic bombing and supporting ground forces attempting to contain the Allied advance. P38s operating from bases in England and later from captured airfields in France range across German occupied territory.

They escort bombers to targets deep in Eastern Germany. They conduct fighter sweeps, actively hunting German fighters. They perform ground attack missions, strafing trains and vehicles. The versatility of the design, a consequence of its power and range, makes it difficult for German commanders to predict where P38s will appear. A formation that seems to be escorting bombers might break off to attack an airfield. A fighter sweep might encounter German fighters climbing to intercept a different raid. Luftvafa pilots learn to scan the sky continuously for the distinctive twin boom silhouette.

The German nickname for the aircraft de Gabulvanstofl, the fork-tailed devil, reflects both fear and respect. It is a devil because it appears everywhere because it cannot be predicted because it breaks the rules of air combat. American pilots embrace the nickname. Some paint devil imagery on their aircraft. They understand that when your enemy gives your weapon a mythological name, you have won a psychological victory as significant as any tactical success. The final year of the war sees the Luftvafa attempt several desperate technological responses.

The Messid Mi262 jet fighter capable of speeds approaching 550 mph enters service in July 1944. In theory, the jet’s speed advantage should allow it to avoid or disengage from any propeller-driven fighter. In practice, the MI262 has severe limitations. Its Jumo 004 turbo jet engines are unreliable with service lives measured in hours rather than hundreds of hours. The aircraft consumes fuel at prodigious rates, allowing only minutes of combat time. Pilots must slow down to attack bombers, making them vulnerable to escorts during the attack run.

P38 pilots to quickly learn to avoid dog fighting with MI262s. The speed differential is too great, but to catch them during takeoff or landing when the jets are slow and vulnerable. Several Mi262s are lost this way. The jet program, like many late war German technological initiatives, arrives too late and in too few numbers. Approximately 1,400 Me 262s are built, but fewer than 300 see combat. Many are destroyed on the ground by Allied bombing. Others were abandoned when fuel supplies collapsed in early 1945.

The P38 continued flying missions until the end of the war in May 1945. The final tallies are impressive. Over 10,000 P38s built in all variants. More than 130,000 combat sorties flown in Europe alone. Over 1,800 German aircraft destroyed in air-to-air combat in the European theater. But statistics cannot fully capture the C aircraft’s impact. The P38 changed how the air war was fought. It gave American bomber formations survivable deep penetration capability. It forced the Luftvafer into defensive tactics.

It shattered German assumptions about what was possible in fighter design. In the decades after the war, surviving German pilots offered reflections that reveal the lasting psychological impact of encountering the P38. France Stigler, the pilot from our opening encounter, immigrated to Canada after the war and worked as an aerospace engineer. In interviews late in his life, he spoke candidly about the experience of fighting against American aircraft. “We were told that American fighters were inferior,” he said in a 1991 interview.

And for a time that was true. The early aircraft they sent the P39, the early P40, were not competitive. But when the P38 arrived, we realized that American engineering had taken a different path. They had not tried to make a better messes. They had solved a different problem entirely. And once we understood that, we also understood that we could not win. Stigler’s words point to a broader truth about technological competition. Superiority is context dependent. The BF-1009 was an excellent fighter for the missions the Luftvafa needed to perform in 1939 and 1940.

short-range combat over friendly or contested territory where it could fight at altitudes where its engine performed well and return to base quickly. The P-38 was designed for a different mission. Long range escort at high altitude over enemy territory. It sacrificed some advantages of the BF-1009 lower wing, lighter weight, better turn rate at low altitude to gain advantages. The BF-1009 could not match range, high altitude performance, redundancy, heavy firepower. When the two aircraft met in combat, the question was not which was objectively better, but which was better suited to the specific circumstances of the engagement.

At 30,000 ft over Germany, escorting bombers, the P38’s advantages mattered more than the BF-1009s. This is the nature of technological disruption. It changes which capabilities matter. The P38’s operational history extended beyond Europe and the Pacific. In the Mediterranean theater, P38s flew reconnaissance missions over heavily defended targets, using their speed and altitude capability to evade interception. The photo reconnaissance variant designated five lacked armorament but carried cameras in the nose. These aircraft produced critical intelligence about German defensive positions, troop movements, and industrial facilities.

In North Africa, P38s provided air cover for the Allied invasion and subsequent campaigns. The desert environment posed unique challenges. Sand and dust wre havoc on engines, but the twin engine configuration provided safety margins single engine fighters lacked. If one engine ingested sand and failed, the pilot could limp home on the other. In the China Burma, India theater, P38s escorted transport aircraft over the Himalayan hump, the treacherous air route that supplied Chinese forces after the Japanese cut land access.

The P38’s high altitude performance made it well suited to operations in the thin air over 20,000 ft mountain passes. Each theater revealed different aspects of the design’s versatility, but the fundamental characteristics remained constant. Power, range, altitude performance, and the ability to climb at rates that opponents could not match. By war’s end, the P38 had accumulated a complex reputation. In the Pacific, it was widely respected, the preferred mount of America’s top aces. In Europe, it had more mixed reviews.

Some pilots loved it, others found it complex and temperamental, preferring the simpler P47 Thunderbolt or the nimble P-51 Mustang. The European criticism had some validity. The P38 was maintenance intensive. Its complex turbocharger system required skilled mechanics. In the cold of high alitude European combat, engines sometimes failed to start or turbochargers froze. Pilots had to monitor two sets of instruments, manage two engines. But these were problems of complexity, not fundamental design flaws. And for the mission, it was designed to perform high alitude escort.

It had no equal until the P-51D Mustang arrived in numbers in mid 1944. The Mustang eventually replaced the P-38 as the primary longrange escort fighter in Europe. The Mustang was cheaper to produce, easier to maintain, and with its Packard built Rolls-Royce Merlin engine, it matched the P38’s high alitude performance. Being a single engine design, it was lighter and more agile. But the Mustang’s success does not diminish the P38’s impact. The P38 proved that long range escort was possible.

It demonstrated that turbocharger technology could work reliably in combat. It forced German tactical doctrine to adapt. It bought time for other American designs to mature. In technological competition, being first to solve a problem matters, even if later solutions are more elegant. The legacy of the P38 extends into postwar aviation development. Kelly Johnson, the aircraft’s chief designer, went on to lead Loheed Skunk Works, the secretive division responsible for the UTU spy plane, the SR71 Blackbird, and the phone 17 stealth fighter.

The design philosophy evident in the P38 solved difficult problems by questioning conventional assumptions became the skunk works signature approach. The turbocharger technology refined in the P38 influenced postwar aircraft development. Modern turboan engines are distant descendants of the general electric turbochargers, incorporating similar principles of exhaust driven compression. The lessons of energy management learned by P38 pilots informed fighter tactics for decades. The concept of using vertical maneuvers to control engagement geometry remains central to air combat doctrine. Modern fighter pilots train in tactics that would be immediately recognizable to Richard Bong or Virgil Smith.

Use your energy advantages. Avoid your opponent’s strengths. Control the vertical dimension. Perhaps the most profound legacy is psychological rather than technical. The P38 demonstrated that technological superiority is not permanent, that assumptions based on past experience can become liabilities when circumstances change, that solving problems sometimes requires abandoning conventional wisdom entirely. For German pilots encountering the P38 in 1943 and 1944, the experience was disorienting precisely because it violated their understanding of what was possible. They had internalized certain rules about air combat based on years of experience.

The P38 broke those rules. This is the pattern of technological disruption across all domains. New capabilities render old expertise less valuable. New paradigms replace old certainties. Organizations built around existing technology struggle to adapt. The Luftwaffer was not incompetent. Its pilots were skilled. its leaders experienced its aircraft well-designed for their intended purposes, but it was structured around assumptions that worked in 1939 and stopped working by 1943. And rigid institutional structures made adaptation difficult. The United States Army Air Forces with fewer pre-war institutional commitments and greater resources to experiment could afford to pursue radical designs like the P38.

When it worked, they produced more. When it didn’t, they tried something else. This flexibility, the ability to fail without catastrophic consequences, to experiment with multiple approaches simultaneously, proved as important as any specific technical achievement. Today, fewer than a dozen airworthy P38s remain. They appear at air shows, carefully maintained by dedicated organizations and wealthy collectors. When one takes off, the distinctive sound of two Allison engines synchronized, the twin booms and forked tail unmistakable against the sky, elderly veterans sometimes attend to watch.

Some of them flew P38s, some flew against them. The veterans who flew them remember the complexity, the power, the confidence that came from knowing you could outclimb anything else in the sky. The veterans who flew against them remember the frustration, the disorientation, the moment when assumptions failed and reality proved more complex than doctrine allowed. Both groups remember an aircraft that changed how air combat was fought and challenged. Fundamental beliefs about what was possible. In that sense, the P38’s true legacy is not measured in kills or missions flown, but in the lesson it taught that engineering

creativity combined with industrial capacity can produce capabilities that seem impossible until they appear in the sky above you, climbing at 3,300 ft per minute, breaking every rule you thought governed the physics of flight.