December 13th, 1943 — 9:27 a.m.
Second Lieutenant Philip Adair maneuvered his Curtiss P-40N Warhawk above the rolling hills of Assam, India. The morning haze was calm, almost serene—until a formation of 64 Japanese aircraft appeared to the east, flying straight toward Dinjan Air Base.

At 23 years old, Adair had already flown 43 combat missions with the 89th Fighter Squadron, patrolling the dangerous airlift route known as the Hump. But this morning, he was completely alone in the sky.

In the previous two months, Japanese attacks had destroyed 47 transport aircraft on the ground and caused 112 casualties. Now, another strike was incoming.

Below him, Dinjan airfield held:

14 C-47 transports loaded with supplies for Chiang Kai-shek’s forces

a field hospital with 63 wounded soldiers

fuel reserves critical for 11 days of Hump operations

If the Japanese bombers reached their target, the Allied supply effort could collapse for weeks. And the nearest friendly fighters at Jorhat were 38 minutes away.

Adair checked his fuel: full tanks, 180 gallons. Enough for an hour and a half at combat power.

Ahead of him flew:

24 Mitsubishi Ki-21 “Sally” bombers

~40 Nakajima Ki-43 “Oscar” fighters escorting them in layered formations

Allied intelligence had warned that raids like this, especially in Burma, succeeded 90% of the time.

Adair faced an impossible choice:
Wait for reinforcements and let Dinjan be bombed—or attack 64 enemy aircraft alone.

He shoved the throttle forward.

The Allison V-1710 engine roared as manifold pressure hit 54 inches. Lulu Belle—his P-40, number 44—shot forward at 320 mph, climbing to a position 4,000 feet above the enemy, sun at his back. The Japanese fighters had not seen him.

---

A Lone Attack Against 64 Aircraft

Adair knew he couldn’t fight all 40 Oscars. The bombers were the real threat. If he could break their tight formation, he might save the airfield.

The lead Sally bombers flew in two precise V’s of three aircraft. Adair rolled inverted, pushed the nose down, and dove. Speed climbed to 360 mph. The bombers never saw him coming.

At 800 yards, he fired.

.50 caliber tracers slashed through the air, ripping through the left wing of the lead bomber. The canvas tore apart, metal flashed, then the left engine exploded in fire and smoke. The bomber dropped out of formation.

The tight Japanese V dissolved instantly.

Adair pulled up sharply, body crushed by 7 Gs. But now the Oscars had seen him.

All 38 escort fighters descended—fast, agile, and deadly. The Ki-43 Oscar, light and maneuverable, could out-turn any American fighter. With butterfly flaps, it could bleed speed without stalling. In the last six months, Oscars like these had shot down 63 Allied fighters in Burma.

The P-40 Warhawk was powerful in a straight line, but heavy in turns. Tactical doctrine said:

Never turn with an Oscar. Use speed, strike, and disengage.

But Adair could not disengage. If he did, the bombers would reform and Dinjan would be destroyed.

---

Dogfighting Alone

Four Oscars attacked from ten o’clock. Adair banked left, lifted the nose, fired a two-second burst—missed. He rolled, dove, kept his speed high. Two more Oscars dove at him next. He fired again—no hit.

He still had about 800 rounds total, enough for only six more attacks.

Behind him, the Sally bombers struggled to regroup. If they re-formed into attack V’s, the raid would succeed.

Adair dove again.

Eight Oscars chased him, but the P-40 hit 405 mph, outrunning them. He pulled up, aligned with the right bomber group, and fired:

The lead bomber’s right engine exploded, sending flaming debris into the sky. Its wingman swerved away. Romano sideslipped left, firing again—.50 caliber rounds tore through the thin fuselage of another Sally. These aging bombers carried 2,250 lbs of bombs each, enough to wipe Dinjan off the map.

The Oscars closed again—twelve of them this time.

Adair checked his gauges:

Fuel: 162 gallons

Ammunition: 650 rounds

Engine temp: rising dangerously

The bombers were now only 19 miles from Dinjan—four minutes from the release point.

His engine temperature rose past 230°F. At 250°F, the liquid-cooled Allison engine would fail.

Three choices:

Reduce power → lose the fight

Turn back → Dinjan destroyed

Push on → risk total engine failure

Adair chose the third.

---

Head-On Attacks and a Dying Engine

Two Oscars dove head-on—combined speed over 600 mph. Their 7.7mm tracers streaked toward Adair. He fired simultaneously.

His .50 caliber rounds hit the left Oscar’s cowling. The fighter trailed coolant vapor and peeled away.

But now the engine temperature hit 240°F.

Fifteen miles remained.

Two Sally formations re-formed into perfect attack V’s. A third cluster lagged behind, trying to regroup.

Adair dove again at nearly 390 mph, too fast for the Oscars to intercept in time. He leveled at bomber altitude and opened fire.

The leading bomber’s wing snapped off, sending it spinning downward. The formation shattered. Bombers scattered in three directions.

Dinjan was safe.

But Adair’s engine now boiled at 248°F.

Eight Oscars dove on him from above. Tracers ripped through the P-40:

His right wing shredded

Aileron control bar damaged

Coolant tank punctured

Green vapor sprayed across the windshield

Temperature climbed past 260°F

The engine caught fire.

Adair cut the mixture, starving the flames. The fire died—but now the engine produced just 60% power.

Still better than bailing out into Japanese-held jungle.

---

A Failing Aircraft and a Terrible Choice

The bombers were now 13 miles from Dinjan—too far to strike. The raid had collapsed.

Adair turned southwest toward Nagauli Air Base, 43 miles away.

Six Oscars followed him cautiously—watching a dying P-40.

At 7,000 feet, oil pressure hit zero. The engine’s internals ground against each other. Speed dropped to 180 mph, barely above stall.

The Oscars kept their distance, assuming he would crash.

One pulled alongside, signaled for him to surrender.

Adair ignored him.

At 4,000 feet, smoke filled the cockpit. He opened the canopy for air. The P-40 continued to sink.

At 3,000 feet, the right aileron cable snapped—the aircraft rolled uncontrollably right.

At 2,000 feet, the elevator cables failed—pitch control vanished.

The P-40 plunged toward the jungle.

---

A Pilot’s Impossible Insight

Speed climbed past 250 mph. Nothing responded.

Then Adair realized something brilliant—and insane.

His damaged right aileron forced the wing down.
His stuck elevator forced the nose down.

But if he inverted the aircraft, the aerodynamics would reverse:

The bad aileron would raise the wing

The stuck elevator would pitch the nose up

At 1,800 feet, Adair rolled the P-40 upside down.

Negative G pinned him to his harness. Blood rushed to his head. The fuel system sputtered, starved by inverted flight.

But the nose came up.
The descent slowed.
He gained control.

At 1,200 feet, the P-40 flew level—still upside down—at 140 mph.

---

The Inverted-Flight Escape

For 40 seconds, he held inverted flight, climbing slightly.
Then the fuel starvation became too severe.

He rolled upright. The damaged controls threw the nose down again.

He lost 300 feet.

He inverted again. Regained 200 feet.

The cycle repeated:

Invert → gain altitude

Roll upright → engine recovers

Repeat

The six Oscars observed in stunned disbelief. No manual, doctrine, or training ever described such a maneuver.

Eventually, they gave up and turned away.

---

The Final Battle: Landing a Dying Aircraft

Fuel dropped to 83 gallons.
Oil pressure: zero for 9 minutes.
Coolant system: destroyed.
Engine: barely alive.

At 5,000 feet, Nagauli runway appeared.

But another problem remained:

Landing gear required hydraulic pressure

The failing engine produced none

He pulled the lever. Nothing happened.

The P-40 had a manual pump: 28 cranks.

But letting go of the stick meant immediate loss of control.

Adair improvised—using his seatbelt to hold the stick neutral. With both hands free, he cranked:

5 turns… nothing
10… nothing
15… pressure
28… left gear down
Three seconds later… right gear down

But the extra drag slowed him to 135 mph—barely above stall.

Two miles out, the engine died completely.

---

The Inverted Glide to Safety

The P-40 was now a glider—and a poor one.

He inverted again to extend glide distance.

Ground crew at Nagauli saw an upside-down P-40 with gear down, trailing smoke, and nearly opened fire—thinking it was a Japanese trick.

At 400 feet, Adair straightened out.
At 200 feet, he fought the damaged controls.

At 90 feet, the P-40 slammed into the runway at a 7-G impact:

Main wheels absorbed the shock

Tail wheel hit hard

Right gear collapsed

Wing struck the concrete

The aircraft rotated 180 degrees, skidding backward 200 feet

Silence.

Then Adair opened the canopy and climbed out.

He had saved Dinjan.

---

Aftermath and Legacy

Damage to his aircraft:

16 holes in the fuselage

7 in the right wing

4 in the left

One severed aileron cable

One destroyed hydraulic tank

One ruined electrical system

Engine destroyed beyond repair

Lulu Belle would never fly again.

But:

24 Sally bombers dropped zero bombs

Dinjan suffered no casualties

All C-47s remained operational

The Hump airlift continued

On December 16th, the 10th Air Force interviewed him. He still had dangerously high carbon monoxide levels—three days later.

On January 8th, 1944, General Joseph Stilwell awarded him the Silver Star for gallantry.

He flew 95 more missions, became an ace, shot down two Oscars on his final mission, and retired as a Colonel in 1971.

The Burma Banshees—his unit—destroyed 460 Japanese aircraft and lost 63 pilots.

The P-40 Warhawk never earned the fame of the P-51 or P-47. But in the hands of pilots like Philip Adair, it proved that:

Courage, skill, and refusal to surrender matter more than technology.

On December 13th, 1943, one P-40 and one determined pilot broke an entire Japanese raid.

And no pilot before or after ever landed a P-40 using alternating inverted flight.