Yes, here is what Corky said about his experience with the P-40.
It seems that the P-40 did have quite good acceleration. Here is what Corky Meyer said about the P-40
"I was on final approach to Grumman's airport in a P-40N that had been loaned to us by the USAAF for comparative testing, and during the test flight I had found it to have very poor slow-speed characteristics. About that time, another test pilot buzzed the field coming under me in the same direction. This was not an unusual occurrence in those days when the war-effort syndrome allowed test pilots to get away with murder when it came to breaking the rules.
Having just found out that the Warhawk had much better power acceleration than the Hellcat, I decided to pull up my wheels and flaps and give him a go at a rat race (which was also covered by the same syndrome).
I pushed the throttle forward and pulled up into a steep fighter climb as the wheels and flaps were retracting. At about 700 feet, my exuberance ended most abruptly when the airplane stalled unexpectedly and violently.
The control stick and rudder pedals flapped loosely around the cockpit, and the airplane snapped back and forth in a roll. Those are the last events I remember coherently. The airplane was shaking violently. It then started into a spin—still shaking like a dog getting rid of a water bath. I could see the hangars with great clarity and with a strange detachment. I was stupefied—mesmerized—and seemed to be sitting on the sidelines watching this unbelievable panorama unfolding. My mind was a blank as to what action I should be taking in this horrible kaleidoscope I was watching as if I didn't have a concern in the world. It just couldn't be happening to me!
The next thing I remember was moving level at 50 feet over the potato fields west of the Grumman airport with the ground whizzing by at a great speed. I was still mentally only riding this P-40. I was not flying it because the maneuver it had just done was completely out of my frame of reference, even in nightmares.
I finally noted that the throttle was pushed through both of the limiting wires, and the engine was straining with much more power than I had heard or felt during takeoff. I was in War Emergency Power. After a few seconds, I came to my senses, retarded the throttle and climbed to 1,500 feet. I turned back rapidly to the airport, as the sun had almost set and it was rapidly getting dark.
Were I a test pilot of greater experience, I might have related in my reminiscence that I calmed down, remembered all the instructions in the handbook about spins, jotted some meaningful notes about the "incident" and made a nonchalant, smooth, three-point landing. I was totally without any of these movie-star proclivities. I was still stupefied. I flew around the airport without calling the tower and talked to myself like a Dutch uncle. I said, "You stupid SOB. You can't land this airplane. You are running out of gas. It is getting dark and you have to land this airplane," etc., etc. My conversation was also sprinkled with four-letter words impugning my legal birthright.
After too many circuits of the field, I humbly called the tower and was given landing clearance. They were charitable and made no embarrassing commentary. I made a long, airline-style approach at a speed considerably higher than required and landed without further ado. I taxied back to the tower, where all the pilots were still gathered. They had seen my spin and wanted to see the color of my face after that farce. After the propeller had stopped rotating, the airplane continued to shake. When it stopped shaking, I did, too, and guessed that I might now be able to stand on my own two feet. I got out to the total silence of the pilot mob watching.
Later, they told me that I made a turn-and-a-half spin, came down below the hangars behind them and scurried out to the west at 50 feet off the ground like a bat out of hell. I had no recollection of the number of turns of that spin until they told me.
That flight was one of the most impressive of my test-pilot career. I learned to listen to airplanes for everything they had to tell me. I became a born-again-Christian immediately after that 30-second episode of my P-40 flight."