1941, Sunday 14 September;
He’d come out of a little L4 type submarine, RO-65, and had been given command of I-65, a fleet submarine, bigger, fast, deeper diving, longer endurance, just everything was better, a true promotion. He thought he’d got it through Headquarters recognising, no doubt, the due diligence he gave to detail, the devotion to duty and the recognition that he, Harada Haku, was an outstanding officer.
However, a week after taking command he was summoned to the flag office and the real reason why he got the job became apparent. Previously he’d completed a couple of sensitive missions off the Chinese coast. And now some bright spark in Naval Intelligence had suggested a similar thing, dropping of a ‘special passenger’, could be done off the eastern coast of Malaya. They obviously thought a more capable boat would be needed, and so the wheels had been put in motion, and he found himself in this situation. Perversely he thought his old RO-65 would have been a better candidate, but didn’t think that idea would be welcomed, and so he remained silent.
He kept them submerged, as deep as he dared without bottoming, waiting until nightfall before surfacing, and they were now lying-in wait, just north of the island of Pulau Sembilang, waiting for the arrival of the patrol ship, which should be due soon. The Royal Navy had recently increased its patrolling activities along the coast. For twenty minutes he’d privately worried about whether they had missed her, or she was just running late, when hydrophones called up, single screw bearing SSE, and five minutes later they could see her. She was a requisitioned coastal steamer, less than a thousand tons, with an old 4-inch gun mounted at the front, which looked like the Lipis. They had watched her sail by at a sedately 8 knots, navigation lights on, and had waited until hydrophones lost her, before he ordered a slow 6 knots forward towards his rendezvous.
They entered the mouth of the Endau River, guided by the stern light of a small fishing trawler they had met at the rendezvous, which led them up river towards a quay with a large corrugated metal warehouse, the lights on it advertising the owner, a Japanese Mining Company. Lt Commander Haku had the submarine swung round, facing the river mouth, before she berthed at the quayside. Men on the quayside threw down ropes to secure the boat, talking to the deckhands in Japanese. A gangway was quickly swung over onto the submarines deck, and Haku, along with his ‘special passenger’ walked across, to be greeted by a couple of Asian men in western suits. They were led away into an office inside the warehouse.
At the same time the first officer supervised the unloading of cargo from inside the submarine, a number of wooden boxes carried individually by sailors, off the boat, onto the quayside, and into the warehouse, where a foreman directed their stacking. Inside thirty minutes the unloading was complete, and then with all the crew back onboard, they waited, ready to leave at a moment’s notice, while the captain continued his discussions in the office. The wait seemed like ages, but was probably only another half an hour, before the captain emerged, a heavy briefcase in one hand, double padlocked, from the office. With little fanfare, he boarded, and they casted off, the sailors anxious to get back it to sea.
03.20am, and they signalled they’re thanks to the fishing boat, which had guided them back out of the river, and giving an easterly heading he’d had the boat up to 18 knots, to get as much distance as he could from the coast as possible before daybreak, placing them outside of the normal shipping lane, and well away from the local patrol. Once dawn came up, he reduced speed to 12 knots, and kept a good lookout for any reconnaissance aircraft. The errand was complete, but he fully expected more missions to come.
