P-47D Thunderbolt G-THUN

About the Republic P-47D Thunderbolt

The Republic P-47 Thunderbolt, affectionately dubbed the "Jug," was a beast of a fighter plane that roared through World War II with a mix of brute strength and surprising grace. Born from the mind of designer Alexander Kartveli at Republic Aviation, this heavyweight champ wasn’t just about looks—it was built to take a pounding and dish one out, too. Picture a flying tank armed with eight .50 caliber machine guns, ready to shred anything in its path, whether it was enemy fighters or ground targets. First hitting the skies in 1941, the P-47 quickly became a legend for its ruggedness and versatility, proving that sometimes, bigger really is better.

It all started in 1940 when the U.S. Army Air Corps decided they needed a fighter that could go the distance—literally and figuratively. Kartveli delivered with the XP-47B prototype, powered by the monstrous Pratt & Whitney R-2800 Double Wasp engine, cranking out over 2,000 horsepower. That muscle gave the Thunderbolt a top speed pushing 433 mph, making it one of the fastest single-engine fighters of its day. By 1942, the P-47D rolled out, boasting upgrades like a bubble canopy for better visibility and extra fuel tanks for missions stretching across continents. Over 12,000 of these bad boys were built, cementing the D-model as the backbone of the Thunderbolt fleet.

What set the P-47 apart wasn’t just its firepower—though those eight guns could turn a target into Swiss cheese—but its ability to take a hit and keep flying. Weighing over 10,000 pounds empty, it was a hefty bird, yet that bulk meant it could dive like a meteor, hitting speeds over 500 mph to escape trouble or chase down prey. Pilots loved it for its durability; tales abound of Thunderbolts limping home with holes you could stick your head through, engines coughing but still kicking. It wasn’t the nimblest dancer in the sky, but when it came to slugging it out, the Jug was unmatched.

The P-47D shone brightest in the chaos of war, from escorting bombers over Europe to hammering ground targets in the Pacific. It could lug up to 2,500 pounds of bombs or rockets, turning it into a one-plane wrecking crew. In the European theater, it shielded B-17s from Luftwaffe fighters, while in places like Normandy, it strafed tanks and troops with devastating precision. Aces like Francis "Gabby" Gabreski racked up kills in it, swearing by its toughness. By war’s end, the Thunderbolt had flown in every major theater, leaving a trail of wreckage and a reputation as one of the Allies’ toughest birds.

Specifications

P-47D-40-RA Thunderbolt Variant

The P-47D-40-RA Thunderbolt was the late-war hotshot of the Thunderbolt family, rolling off Republic Aviation’s Evansville, Indiana line like a souped-up muscle car ready to dominate the skies. This wasn’t just another P-47D—it was a refined beast, packing upgrades that made it a standout among its earlier kin. Built in 1944 and 1945, the D-40-RA came armed with a universal wing setup that could sling everything from bombs to extra fuel tanks, giving it the flexibility to tackle long-range bomber escorts or ground-pounding missions with equal swagger. It was like the Swiss Army knife of fighters, only with a lot more horsepower.

Under the hood—or rather, under the cowling—the D-40-RA boasted the Pratt & Whitney R-2800-59 engine, a beefier version of the Double Wasp that churned out up to 2,500 horsepower with water injection for those extra bursts of power. Pair that with a new “paddle-blade” propeller, and this Thunderbolt could climb faster and maneuver better than its predecessors, a big deal for a plane that started life as a bit of a lumbering giant. The cockpit got a makeover too, with a fancy new gunsight and improved controls, making it easier for pilots to rain hellfire from above while keeping their cool under pressure.

Unlike earlier P-47Ds that often sported olive drab paint, the D-40-RA strutted out in a sleek natural metal finish—a bold move that screamed confidence as the Allies gained air superiority by late 1944. It wasn’t just for looks; ditching the paint shaved off weight and sped up production. This variant also packed a little surprise: the AN/APS-13 tail warning radar, a nifty gadget that pinged pilots if enemy fighters were sneaking up from behind. Small but mighty, it gave the D-40-RA an edge in the chaotic dogfights of the war’s final act.

The D-40-RA hit the ground running—or rather, the sky flying—in the waning months of World War II, just in time for heavy action like the Battle of the Bulge. It flew with units like the 366th Fighter Group, pounding German defenses and escorting bombers deep into enemy territory. While it didn’t have the long-range legs of the later P-47N, its mix of firepower, durability, and those slick upgrades made it a terror in Europe. The D-40-RA was one of the last Thunderbolt variants before the war wrapped up, a polished warrior that bridged the gap between the P-47’s gritty origins and its postwar legacy.

Did You Know?

• The P-47 Thunderbolt earned the nickname "The Jug" because its chunky fuselage looked like a milk jug—pilots loved it, and the name stuck like glue.
• It could dive at over 500 mph thanks to its massive bulk, making it a speed demon when it needed to drop in fast or dodge trouble.
• The P-47’s Pratt & Whitney R-2800 engine was a beast, pumping out up to 2,500 horsepower—enough to power not just the Thunderbolt but also other icons like the F4U Corsair.
• With eight .50 caliber machine guns, it could unleash a hailstorm of lead, and it often carried 2,500 pounds of bombs or rockets to turn tanks into scrap metal.
• This plane was a survivor—stories abound of P-47s flying home with gaping holes or missing chunks, proving it could take a beating and still bring its pilot back alive.

Thunderbolt G-THUN

P-47D-40-RA Thunderbolt G-THUN, a Republic P-47D with the serial number 45-49192, rolled off the assembly line in 1945 at Republic Aviation’s Evansville factory in Indiana, just as World War II was winding down. This particular P-47D-40-RA model didn’t see combat but instead cut its teeth with the Air Training Command, schooling rookie pilots in the art of handling its massive Pratt & Whitney R-2800 engine. After the war, it was mothballed at Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma, cooling its heels with the Air Material Command like a retired heavyweight champ. But G-THUN wasn’t destined for a quiet life in storage—its story was just getting started.

In 1952, with the ink barely dry on the Rio Pact, G-THUN got a second wind. Restored to fighting shape at Hensley Field in Texas, it was handed over to the Peruvian Air Force as part of the Military Assistance Program for the princely sum of one dollar—a deal so good it sounds like someone forgot a few zeros. For the next 14 years, this Thunderbolt ruled the Peruvian skies, serving as a front-line fighter before settling into a cushier gig as a trainer. By 1967, it was parked at Piura Air Base, left to bake in the sun until 1969, when aviation historian Ed Jurist swooped in. He scooped up G-THUN, five other P-47s, and a pile of spare parts, hauling them back to the U.S. where it traded its Peruvian stripes for the registration N47DD.

Back in the States, G-THUN found fame with the Confederate Air Force (now the Commemorative Air Force) and later Yesterday’s Air Force, part of David C. Tallichet’s collection. But fame came with a bump—in 1980, it took a tumble in a crash that could’ve been its curtain call. Instead, it rose from the wreckage, rebuilt and raring to go, catching the eye of The Fighter Collection in the UK. In 1986, it sailed across the Atlantic, landing at Duxford with a shiny new registration: G-THUN. Painted in the checkerboard glory of the 78th Fighter Group’s “No Guts, No Glory,” it became a rock star of the airshow circuit, its thunderous roar turning heads and rattling bones.

The adventure didn’t stop there. In 2006, G-THUN hopped back to the U.S., flying under the registration N147PF, as if it couldn’t decide which side of the pond it liked best. But by 2018, the UK beckoned again, and it returned to Duxford, where it was spruced up and repainted as “Nellie B” of the 48th Fighter Group, 492nd Fighter Squadron. Now owned by Fighter Aviation Engineering, G-THUN still struts its stuff at airshows, a living, breathing piece of history that refuses to stay grounded. From a dollar-deal in Peru to a crash comeback and transatlantic jaunts, this Thunderbolt’s tale is as wild as the skies it was built to conquer.