Dan Hampton - Operation Vengeance: The Astonishing Aerial Ambush That Changed World War II

Map by Nick Springer/Springer Cartographics LLC

T ime passes, Marcel Proust once wrote, and little by little everything that we have spoken in falsehood becomes true.

This was certainly the case for those who flew Operation VENGEANCE on the morning of April 18, 1943. During the years following World War II, those who survived wished only to pick up the pieces of their lives, and return to some sense of normalcy. Consequently, there was little interest in revisiting the very near past with its painful memories, and events that might have been recorded with stark clarity were not. Those involved were fighting a war under the worst conditions, and had little time for journals even if they had the inclination. They were too busy staying alive to give much thought to posterity and, indeed, thinking of the future is a dangerous preoccupation in combat.

Historically, the significance of Admiral Isoroku Yamamotos death is staggering, and has evolved into a vicious, seventy-seven-year-old debate over who killed the architect of the December 1941 sneak attack on Pearl Harbor that propelled the United States into World War II. Tens of thousands of American lives were saved from battles that were never fought, and the deadliest conflict in human history was considerably shortened. Our present world would be greatly altered if the United States had not achieved total victory from that war, and an enormous piece of this credit belongs to one extraordinary American fighter pilot. Both Captain Tom Lanphier and Lieutenant Rex Barber were awarded partial credit for this feat, sparking a bitter feud that continues today among their various supporters. Lanphier, in particular, vociferously defended his actions because his postwar political ambitions were founded on the claim that he alone destroyed the most hated man in America.

Unfortunately, existing military reports, when written at all, tended toward the terse, brief style favored by men short of paper, who despised typewriters and were quite rightly more concerned with surviving another day than with composition. This left me a few solid, uncontestable points such as timing, routes of flight, and the names and characters of those involved. There was much to overcome here as various falsehoods had become fact in the decades following the war. Nonetheless, a number of men who were part of the mission, or in the Pacific Theater at the time, emerged to tell the truth. Men who had made peace with their ghosts and were now in a position to ultimately set the record straight. Regrettably, they were not aided by the government or military in this endeavor, as both organizations are loath to challenge, refute, or amend their own official records.

Official reality is not always the same as the truth, and this was certainly the case with the Yamamoto mission. Lamentably, as of this printing, rightful credit is still being withheld from the two men who deserve it, and the truth of the matter largely relegated to obscurity. In a land that prizes honor, especially on the battlefield, this will not suffice. Based on primary data, unpublished interviews with survivors, and substantial original research, I have summarized the historical context, accurately reconstructed the mission and the attack, and mathematically proven which pilot actually killed Isoroku Yamamoto.

My purpose for entering the situation is to ensure that those pilots who risked so much, and materially shortened the Pacific War by their actions, receive the long-overdue personal recognition and official accolades they merit for their valor. Perhaps Sophocles said it best: The long unmeasured pulse of time moves everything. There is nothing hidden that it cannot bring to light.

I truly hope so.

Dan Hampton

Vail, Colorado

H ow do you say the right thing about someone you knew as Dad or Grandpa but who also had a part in changing world history? A farm kid from Culver, Oregon, Rex Barber did what so many of the Greatest Generation did. He volunteered for service, went to combat, and just did his job.

Mission day was in all likelihood a suicide mission. I have often wondered what was going through Rexs mind as he turned his P-38 to attack the bomber with six Zeros above and behind him, diving to attack in a desperate attempt to save Yamamoto. Then as Rex passed over the smoking bomber, three of the Zeros were on his tail, putting fifty-two bullets into his plane. Im sure he was mad that he had to try to escape rather than fight. Im also sure that he had confidence in his training, his plane, his skill, and his mothers prayers. The cockpit was most likely filled with profanity, interspersed with prayer! Odd, you might say, unless you have experienced combat.

Rexs love of flying started early, listening to his uncle Edgars stories about flying in France in World War I. Uncle Edgar was known to embellish a story.... Regardless, it planted the seed in Rexs mind, and as a boy, he jumped off the family barn with a makeshift parachute, and broke his arm. It was an inauspicious beginning to a remarkable flying career. Having flown in a Beech Bonanza with Rex after his retirement, it was obvious that he was a part of the plane, confident in his ability, and smooth in his touch on the stick.

History is often an odd web. Yamamoto and all of Japan were hated in the United States after Pearl Harbor. Yet growing up, Rex had a Japanese American classmate, Doc Akiyama, whom he helped save after Doc fell and broke his back while they were fishing in the rugged Crooked River Canyon in 1940. Three years later, Doc and his family were in an internment camp and Rex was looking over his shoulder at smoke coming out of the jungle on Bougainville. In another place and time, Yamamoto would have been a friend. There were many common interests; bridge, poker and a good wager, and love of country. I believe Yamamoto would have played bridge like Rex... bid no-trump if you can because of the finesse required to make it work.

Whether you were lucky enough to sit in his lap at five years old and hear this account of history firsthand, or you are hearing it now, the man known as Rex, Sir, Colonel, Coach, Friend, and Hero was truly part of the Greatest Generation. Thank you, Dad, Grandpa.

April 18, 1943

The South Pacific

A bead of sweat rolled down the fighter pilots face.

Gathering momentum, it furrowed a light stripe over his cheekbone, down around his mouth, and, when it could go no farther, the bead hung suspended from the end of his stubbled chin. Stretching until gravity triumphed, it dropped onto a narrow strip map on the mans left thigh and splattered across a blue area marked SOLOMON SEA. Though it wasnt yet 7 A.M ., man and machine were already draped in a thick blanket of wet heat. Condensation made the metal surfaces of the cockpit clammy, and the control wheel was slick with moisture.