Submarine I-177 under the command of Lieutenant Commander Z. Orita surfaced at the prescribed time and place on September 4, 1943, en route with supplies to Lae. The position there was critical and it looked as if Lae would have to be abandoned after the transfer of I-177’s cargo.
According to reports received prior to arrival, a corner of the town was already lost, buildings were on fire, and there was every reason for thinking that the last days were at hand. At last two lighters arrived, the cargo was transferred from the submarine and eighteen men embarked whose condition was so serious as to make it impossible for them to accompany the withdrawal. While this was being done, the submarine was fired on from the shore. Embarkation was hurriedly completed and I-177 made off, but after she had been under way for five minutes, the lookout reported, “Torpedo boats to starboard.” The submarine at once dived to avoid them but when she surfaced again five minutes later, two torpedo boats were again sighted to starboard and I-177 once more submerged. The hydrophones then indicated the presence of five destroyers, and indeed the submarine was surrounded.
There was no question of endangering the lives of the casualties by going into action, so I-177 slipped away quietly and escaped pursuit.
The next objective was Finschhafen, but there I-177 failed—U.S. aircraft were too active. For the third and subsequent attempts, Sio, between Lae and Madang, was used instead of Lae for transferring supplies. It was vital to keep this change of plan very secret. The operation was planned to avoid the period of a week on either side of full moon; the actual transfer was usually carried out about an hour after sunset, and three to five submarines were continually employed on the job. Their carrying capacity was forty to fifty tons inside the boat and twenty to thirty tons on deck. The usual procedure was for a submarine to leave Rabaul on the first day and proceed on the surface, hugging the north coast of New Britain. On the second day it was necessary to proceed submerged in daylight because of the risk of enemy air attacks. The submarine could surface only at night and early dawn to charge the batteries. Three hours before sunset on the third day the boat would then prepare for landing her stores. Arrival at the transfer point was timed for sunset, when the submarine would make known her presence to the troops ashore by raising her periscope and signaling through it with a light. An answering signal would then come from shore.
About half an hour after sunset the boat would surface, await the arrival of the lighter, and transfer both cargo and personnel. It was usually a matter of twenty minutes before the task was completed and the submarine was able to submerge. Woe betide the boat if an aircraft or patrol craft arrived during that time. Unloading was carried out with everyone working at full capacity while the best possible lookouts were alert to spot signs of the enemy. The operation over, the submarine would make off at high speed on the surface until clear of the area, and then proceed submerged and later on the surface as for the outward journey, returning to Rabaul on the seventh day.
These operations did not continue at this tempo for long. After October 20, 1943, the U.S. air attacks on Rabaul increased in intensity, and day raids became a regular routine with the air-raid alarms sounding daily at 10 A.M. At this our naval fighters standing by on the Eastern Airfield would go up to meet the marauders while the submarines would prepare to submerge, and the cruisers and destroyers weighed anchor in preparation for antiaircraft action. When formations of B-17s, B-25s, and P-38s appeared over Rabaul, the submarines would hasten to submerge at their moorings. One hundred and twenty feet of water provided a very good natural protection! Even so, a bomb dropped nearby would produce uncomfortable reverberations and rocking motions.
Eventually departure for Sio was made before the daily bombing raid and the return to harbor was usually timed for the afternoons. Listening to the results of the daily attacks on Rabaul given by the Imperial H.Q. broadcasts was not very enlightening, but the numbers of fighters able to put up some opposition to the raids and the ships in harbor grew less day by day. At the end of November the American forces occupied a corner of Bougainville, and Rabaul became completely within range of enemy fighters. Although ultimate victory was preached to our soldiers, there was no hiding that defeat in the forward battle area was already a fact.
On November 25, having completed the transport run to Sio and returned to Rabaul, we were taking a hurried nap in the barracks when we were awakened by the alarm and were summoned to H.Q. That night three destroyers with units on board who were withdrawing from Bougainville Island to Rabaul were surrounded by the enemy and sunk ninety miles to the west of Cape St. George. Orders were therefore received to proceed forthwith to their rescue. We proceeded at full speed to the scene of action without waiting for daybreak, taking avoiding action to escape the attentions of patrol craft and planes. When we eventually surfaced, we found a huge area covered with castaways—in fact, we had come to the surface right in the middle of them. Keeping a careful lookout for the approach of hostile aircraft, rescue of the survivors began. With the approach of sunset rescue operations grew bolder. Life buoys were thrown and the crew leaped overboard to help bring in the wounded. By the time it was dark there were no survivors left in sight, and in all two hundred and twenty-seven people had been taken on board, making it practically impossible for anyone to move inside the submarine. Just as we set off for home, two bombs were dropped by radar-equipped enemy planes. The boat rapidly submerged. The crush down below was appalling. The surgeon and sick-berth attendants were hard at work tending the wounded. The tropical heat and smell of oil made conditions unbearable. We couldn’t remain submerged for long for fear of the effects of carbon dioxide, and after two hours surfaced and made for Rabaul, where we arrived at 8 A.M. on the following day, November 26. Having disembarked survivors, we left again on a second rescue operation.
By December the Allied armies had landed on the western end of New Britain Island and our route to Sio was cut off. Enemy torpedo craft, fast and difficult to locate, were very active. Our torpedoes were of no avail against them, but their depth charges were deadly. On January 1, 1944, while we were in the midst of Distant Emperor Worship, Rabaul received a heavy air raid. As usual, we submerged and lay on the bottom. In Rabaul harbor, instead of over two hundred ships, as when submarine RO-101 first arrived, there was only an odd submarine or so at anchor, and as these had to submerge on the occasion of an air raid, there wasn’t a single ship to be seen.
On January 2 we were summoned to H.Q., where we learned that the H.Q. of the 18th Army and the 18th Naval Base Force were surrounded; operations to relieve them were planned. To use the escape route by land through the jungle to Madang would involve a two months’ campaign. This was turned down and it was decided to effect the evacuation by sea in submarines. We were to proceed to the rescue with all dispatch.
Entreaties for our success were received from both the naval and army commanders as we set out for Sio on the evening of January 3. As usual, it was the intention to arrive at the embarkation point about half an hour after sunset, but an unexpectedly strong current was encountered. We were still five miles short at the appointed hour, but by pressing on at full speed on the surface we arrived only twenty minutes late. The two motor landing craft with the H.Q. Staff on board were just coming alongside when a shout of, “Two enemy torpedo boats,” came from the lookout. Hurriedly securing the gear on the upper deck and telling the landing craft that we would come again tomorrow, we dived and put out to sea. The torpedo boats were milling round overhead and after thirty minutes came the sound of the explosion of two depth charges which the torpedo boats dropped as a parting gesture before withdrawing. The submarine passed that night at a point thirty miles from Sio. The next morning we arrived at the rendezvous as before and received the signal from shore, but again a torpedo boat appeared and the operation was postponed for yet another day. This time, however, the submarine spent the night in the vicinity, resolving to surface as soon as the torpedo boat had departed. The enemy, however, had marked the diving position and fired four depth charges. Fortunately the submarine suffered no damage as she was deep and the charges were small.
On January 8 it was decided to force the operation through even though it involved action with the torpedo boat and therefore we arrived once more at the embarkation point and signaled, “We’re O.K. Prepare to embark.” The boat surfaced dead on time and the landing craft came alongside. The personnel embarked and went below and we had just begun to take the equipment on board when the lookout reported, “Torpedo boats!” They appeared to be just on the horizon—that meant action in two or three minutes, so the submarine dived rapidly. At that instant came the thud of hits made by several shells, perhaps on the landing craft, and the sound of rapid fire. The boat dived to one hundred and eighty feet and set course for Madang. There was no pursuit. Inside the submarine the crew reverted from action stations to normal three-watch stations. We were able to relax and welcome the naval and army commanders, who seemed more than grateful for their rescue.
After dark the boat surfaced and made good speed under the friendly cover of a thunderstorm, submerging again at dawn to arrive off the Madang harbor entrance about sunset, only to find a raid by P-38s in progress. After the raid was over, we surfaced and landed our passengers. The operation was over, successfully.
It had been nearly a year since I-177 had left home waters, and she was badly in need of a refit. Furthermore, as Rabaul was no longer a safe anchorage, she left that place of many memories on January 10, 1944, for Truk in the Carolines. Many submarines had operated from Rabaul, and of them no less than eight had failed to return.