US Kittyhawk pilot shot down Italy 2 December 1943

[RSwank]

I have e-mailed a P-40 museum located in the state of Idaho: https://warhawkairmuseum.org/
I have also passed on to the museum the full quote from Milligan's book and have asked for help. We will see where it goes.

Here is the quote from the book:

"December 2, 1943"
“The rain had let up, a weak silver sun strained to make itself felt. Suddenly, from what seems directly above me, comes the roar of aero engines, oh God! are we for it?, a long burst of machine-gun fire. We all rush out, there are shouts of alarm, men are running and looking up. There, at about 500 feet, are a squadron of American Kittyhawks; the leading plane appears to be coming straight for me. I don’t understand, I hadn’t ordered one. His machine guns are blazing away, a figure hurtles from the cockpit, a parachute mushrooms, the fighter flashes past and hits the ground a hundred yards to our left. There is no explosion, so! Hollywood had been lying to us. The pilot is floating down on to an adjacent field. Our idiot Major appears.”
““Follow me,” he says as though we’re the Light Brigade. He leads, holding out his pistol, he doesn’t run straight for the pilot, no: we follow the track plan, we skirt the edge of the field in Indian file, the pilot is extricating himself from his chute and wondering why we are circling him, the Major bounds up, he points his pistol at a man chewing gum, wearing a red flying jacket with the words HANK, THE KID FROM IDAHO on the front, and a yellow bird on the back inscribed FLYING EAGLES, he is taking a cigarette from a packet of Camels.”
““Hands up! English or German,” says the looney Major. The American went purple. “You’re fucking lucky I’m anything, it’s your trigger-happy fucking Ack-Ack, why don’t they make up their minds whose fucking side they are on.” The Major was a little taken aback, steadied himself and said, “Consider it a gesture in return for the number of bloody times you’ve bombed us.” This was great fun—Christmas, not only fighting Germans but each other. After being entertained at the officers’ mess with a cup of tea, he was whisked away by a USAAF jeep driven by a coloured private wearing a white bowler hat. Don’t ask me why. We waved them goodbye. “Come and crash on us again some time,” we called.”