A few other tidbits:
The Pilots Flight Operating Instructions for the F4U-4 (October 1944 T.O. No. AN-01-45HB1) warned that there was only enough oil for a maximum of ten seconds of inverted flight. Also, where there was damage to an oil cooler with resulting loss of oil, neither the oil pressure gauge nor the oil temperature gauge would register the change in pressure or temperature until all of the oil was out of the system. (See Manual at page 10) Pilots were warned during combat to check the oil coolers and trailing edges of the wings often for damage that could prove catastrophic.
And another excerpt from Crimson Sky The Air Battle For Korea by John R. Bruning Jr.:
Under the Notes for Chapter 3 on page 215:
#6 Though well armored and generally able to withstand battle damage, the Corsair had an Achilles heel in its oil system. ... After a hit in the oil cooler, the Corsair pilot had only seconds either to bail out or crash-land his plane as the engine overheated and seized. More Corsairs were lost than any other type of Naval aircraft during the first six months of the war as the result, in large measure, of this weakness.
Some anecdotal stuff admittedly of no evidenciary value:
An account from Hal Shook who was a Bolt driver:
In the summer of 1944, we were flying near the Seine River, trying to stop the German Army from crossing over and regrouping on the other side. Crossing points along the river were under constant aerial attack and were heavily defended with anti aircraft guns. Approaching the river, we ran into heavy flak, ugly black puffs of smoke so thick it looked like you could walk on it. We were dodging and changing altitude trying to outguess the gunners, when we saw five barges on the water, 10,000 feet below. They were heavily loaded with enemy equipment and troops.
As I rolled into my dive bomb run, almost straight down, my P47 Thunderbolt shuddered as heavy shrapnel slammed into the propeller and engine. Oil streamed out to cover my windscreen ... Bobbing and Jigging from side to side, and with oil still blowing back. I pulled up and away from the river and the flak. Miraculously, the engine was still running. It carried me to an emergency landing strip in Normandy.
From an interview with Francis Gabreski:
CUNNINGHAM: Your combat experience, Colonel... was there any one action that stands out in your mind, any combat that you particularly remember?
GABRESKI: So he came down, and I broke into him. And as he went on by me, firing, I pulled up in sort of a chandelle. As my airspeed was dropping, he came back up again, turned around, and started coming into me. As he was coming up, I gave him a 90-degree deflection shot. Well, the first deflection shot was great. In other words, he fired and I could see the 20 millimeter gun spittin' smoke, or spittin' fire. I broke and he lost his airspeed, and I went down into him and he came down after me and we picked up enough speed and went . . . I did that twice, and on the third one I had all the confidence now that I was gonna run him out of ammunition.
So the third time we went ahead and did this same thing and he came up with about a 90-degree deflection shot again, the same shot that I'd been giving him. I was very fortunate the first two times, but that last time he rang the bell. I mean, he really hit me!I heard an explosion in the cockpit and I felt my foot grow numb. I lost power in my engine. I says, "Oh, boy!" So the first thought that came to my mind was that the high explosive blew up as it hit my foot. And the second thought that came to my mind was, "oh, he hit my engine, so that's it. I'm out of power and I've gotta go down - bail out - whatever." So I pointed the nose down again, rolled over in kinda a steep dive, pointed the nose down and I was afraid to look at the foot because with the sight of blood, or something like that, I mighta gone into shock and passed out. So I didn't look. I pulled back on the canopy and was ready to bail out. I looked at my airspeed indicator and I still had plenty of airspeed, but my RPM started coming down and my manifold pressure started coming up. So the thought again occurred to me that, "Well, it must be the turbine supercharger and not the engine." And then I looked at the foot and at the pedal. The pedal was shot away but the foot was in good shape. I had heavy boots on and the bottom side of the boot was kinda shredded and broken up. But the foot was in good shape. ... And I soon discovered, after the individuals at that airbase came out and met me on the runway with the engine shut down and so forth . . . they discovered that the oil tank was practically dry.
Account from P-47 Pilot Gildas David McDowell:
On October 14, 1944 we were sent deep into German-held areas of France to locate and destroy any transportation, mainly trains. On my 42nd mission we found a very long freight train sitting out in the open. As standard operating procedure two of us dropped down to check it out for protection. When we strafed at high speed, I saw no sign of protection. In such cases we would then take turns going down to shoot it up at slow speeds.
But as I lined up to start my strafing run I was surprised to see the boxcar doors opening up and the roofs of some boxcars also open. In no time it was clear we had flown into an anti-aircraft trap. I saw many balls of fire coming at me. The first hit was directly into my engine, then one in the right wing. I continued strafing until I passed over them. Then we headed back to friendly territory. Oil and smoke were blowing back over my aircraft. The oil pressure dropped to zero and the cylinder head temp went up to the peg. I climbed to 7,000 feet but could not catch up with the rest. Any time I advanced my power, the engine would vibrate violently. I figured that my prop had been severely damaged.
I landed at the edge of some woods and could see soldiers were running up the hill towards me. I ran into the woods and hid under a brush pile. A few hours later I heard barking dogs approaching so I ran out the far side of the woods. But by this time they had the area surrounded; so I became a prisoner of war.