x
30 years ago
(Image above is a high resolution map of the Mersing coast. Water depths are in fathoms. 1 fathom = 6 foot)
The boat sped through the rough 4 - 5 foot waves, bumping up and down. Cold wind swept through her hair, spray of salty water on her face was refreshing and warm, a strange but pleasant mix. It was as if there was no war, that all was peaceful, and quiet. She didn't want that sensation to end.
He was at the wheel, standing with legs apart, trying to keep his balance. It was dark and she wondered how he knew where to go. He's Navy Seals trained so he should know how to direct a boat towards its destination in total darkness.
The Chinese troops must be alerted by now on the island. Before leaving they had sabotaged the other two boats anchored so there would be no way they could follow.
They had just disabled four Chinese guards, or more precisely Nur had disabled those guards. He didn't kill them, he tranquilized them with a blowpipe.
Pretty soon they were among some islands, and then she spotted the lights on the mainland. Her cousins were hanging on to the railings. She could tell they were nervous.
Nur brought the boat as close to the beach as he could. Then he cut the engine.
"Alright, here is where you get off," he turned to the three cousins.
"Aren't you coming?" she asked.
"No, I have to divert their attention. Pretty soon there will be choppers in the air and gunboats looking for us."
"But we could all escape into the trees," she said. "Ken, John, what do you think?"
"Do as Nur says", Ken said. "We don't stand a chance if they spot the boat here, abandoned."
"Nur's right," John chipped in.
"We don't have time to argue," an urgency in Nur's voice. "The longer we wait here, the greater the chance a guard on the beach will see us. The village is about a click in that direction. Look for Zul at the shop with the sign 'Penyabong Beach House'. You can't not see it. Tell him you are my friends and he will provide shelter. Remember 'Penyabong Beach House'. Say it."
"Penyabong Beach House", Ken repeated.
John jumped into the water, followed by Ken. It was waist deep. And they started wading towards the beach.
She hesitated.
"I am not leaving you," she said softly.
"Hiang, you have to go"
"No, I am not."
Nur removed his necklace with the Navy Seals emblem and put it around her neck.
"We will meet again when this is over, I promise. Now listen carefully Hiang. Make your way back to Kuala Lumpur and look for the nearest Malaysian troops. There are resistance fighters in the jungle who can assist you to get to KL. Ask to see General Ahmad Sofi. He is the General running my unit. He knows my name, give this to him." He touched the metallic Seal Trident, grabbed her hand and wrapped it around the emblem.
She was sobbing and couldn't understand why this was happening.
"I didn't ask where you were born," she said.
"Penang, and my birthday is May 2nd, 2015."
"Will I see you again?"
"Yes, absolutely."
She tried desperately to make out his features in the darkness: the military crew cut, the deep-set eyes, the Winston Churchill like nose and the thin firm lips.
"Remember what I wrote on the hatch to Paku Point?"
She nodded.
"You will need it."
She wrapped herself around him tightly. And he kissed her on the forehead. She heaved herself over the railing and was in the warm water. As she landed in the water, he released her hand, and she waded slowly towards the beach, tears in her eyes.
The engine revved to life and he was gone. She never saw him again.
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Present
It was a nondescript house, like many Japanese homes. In Singapore this was called a terrace house, as it was one house attached to a similar architecturally designed house on both sides, stretching a hundred meter long. In the west, it would be called a townhouse.
She got off the Uber and said thank you to the driver. She stood there a few minutes taking in the moment: the azure blue sky, the roofs of solar panels, the mix of wood and concrete of the terrace houses, and the uniform green and red of the windows and doors. It had been 5 years since the journey began and now she's finally meeting the person who was there who could explain what happened to Nur after he left her on Penyabong beach 30 years ago.
She had her assistant editors at the Singapore Times start the investigation of the events surrounding that day July 14, 2050. That's all she had, and the location: Penyabong, 30 km north of Mersing, Johor. Like the dedicated journalists they were, they identified the Chinese and Japanese units that were in the vicinity at the time: the Chinese 2nd infantry brigade, and 4th infantry brigade of the 3rd Yang Tze Kiang Army, the Chinese submarine carriers Chao En Lai and Mao Tse Tung, the Japanese Heavy Cruiser JNS Shinto Abe and the aircraft carrier Mushashi. These were the major units within 100 km of Penyabong on that date.
They dug deeper after that to search public records and photographs of the action around Penyabong. It seemed futile at first. They spent a few years recording every incident they could from print and the internet. With the passage of time and as the peace grew stable and nations reduced their guard, more information were declassified, and they had more details of each event.
General Ahmad Sofi made his own inquiries with the Chinese and the Japanese immediately after the war ended. His name didn't appear on the POW list. The Chinese and Japanese denied knowing anything.
However, she was unstoppable when she wanted something. And that was the drive that made her Editor of the Singapore Times in 15 years.
One evening, as she and her assistants seeped cocoa in a conference room with pictures and articles strewn on the large table, chatting about the latest data they had, a picture taken onboard the carrier JNS Mushashi struck her. It was a very clear image of a piece of debris on the deck next to a folded wing aircraft. It was in the background, like one of many meaningless items next to the center of attraction, the folded wing VTOL jet, the Fox.
"What's that?" she pointed a pen at the item.
Cheng, her assistant editor, picked up the photo and peered at it with a magnifying glass. "Looks like a marine engine, an outboard."
"Looks damaged, like snapped almost into two," Cheng handed her the photo with the glass.
She peered intently for a few seconds.
"It's the outboard engine of the boat!" she cried.
"How can you be certain that's the same engine on the boat that Nur was driving?" A fair question Cheng thought.
"I spent days in the bunker peering at those boats and I recognized the color and the alphabet on it, the 'S'. It came from 'SUZUKI'. The same brand of engine on the boat."
After three years, this was the best lead so far. It proved to be the turning point. As they drizzled down into the activities of the Mushashi - they obtained the names of almost every officer on Mushashi - and combed every imaginable records they could get their hands on, and months later they had a list of 30 pilots who were onboard the carrier on that day. After over 25 years, some may have died in the war and some may have passed on after the war. But at least here was a list they could work on. Of the 30, 3 were still serving in the Navy and one was an Admiral. They tracked down another 9 who had left service and were still alive.
The Admiral wasn't helpful and was very guarded in his replies. A dead end. But the 9 who left service were not as guarded. None of them could shed light on Nur's boat. Captain Ishii, a retired officer, however, remembered his bunkmate talking about retrieving debris from the sea near Tioman. He was a chopper pilot helping out with a salvage operation somewhere around the date of July to August 2050. He was cursing about the job as he wondered why they would need to pick up pieces of a boat from the sea.
"What's his name sir", Cheng had asked over a sushi meal in Tokyo.
"It's a she. Major Oona Azukari."
She wasn't on Cheng's list.
"Is she alive?
Captain Ishii nodded, "Buy me another beer and I will track her down for you."
The Major was 34 at the time and she would be 64 now, and retired.
Hiang looked at the address on the post box. There was her name in Japanese: Azukari. Her 3 years living in Japan as a correspondent taught her Japanese.
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An elderly lady with all grey hair came to the door. Hiang introduced herself.
"Come in Madam Lee," she opened the door. She was tall, maybe 5 foot 6. Almost her height. "Would you like tea?" Her English was impeccable. As if she was trained in the west.
"Yes, please."
"Green tea?" the Major directed her to a couch.
"Yes, that will be fine."
Hiang sat on the couch, her backpack beside her, her spine upright. You get a sense of the person from observing her living room. This living room was well decorated and plush. Rich leather couch, heavy carpet, beautiful mahogany coffee table, a very antique looking pendulum clock that might be 100 years old, and rows of sculptures on shelves. Artistic, well disciplined, and from a good background. Major Azukari was never married and had no children. The Navy was her life. At 20 she enlisted with the Naval Academy Etajima in Etajima City, Hiroshima prefecture. After four years, she graduated, a midshipmen with specialization in Naval Architecture. Then she did an about turn and applied to be an aviator. The training was two years and she graduated 40th in class out of 130 students. She could handle the F-35, the Fox, and the Puma and Apache choppers. She flew all of these off several aircraft carriers over a period of 10 years before she was finally posted to the Mushashi. Within a year war broke out and she saw action in the South China Sea, the Phillipines Sea, and the Indian Ocean. At which point her rank was Captain. 10 confirmed kills. She became an instructor in Naval Aviation at Etajima after the war ended with the rank of Major for 15 years before retiring. Quite a career.
"Madam Lee, how would you like your tea?"
"Call me Evelyn."
"How would you like your tea Evelyn?"
"Just plain, thanks so much Major Azukari."
"Call me Oona."
"Dōshiteru no Oona san?"
"Oh you speak Japanese like a native?" the Major looked surprised.
"Yes, I lived in Tokyo for three years as a journalist for my newspaper when in my 30s."
"Ahh I see. Watashi wa genkidesu, arigatō Evelyn san."
They laughed as if old friends.
They chatted about the best restaurants in Fukuyama city where the best sushi was a hole in the wall next to the post office at Funamachi, the weather, and the great sake bars in Tokyo. After awhile Hiang broached the subject.
"This is a very personal search for me," her tone solemn.
Oona was attentive.
"The person I am looking for was...", she paused, then continued "is ... a major in the Malaysian Armed Forces. During the war he was posted on Pulau Paku, which is south of Tioman, somewhere 30 km south."
Oona nodded politely.
"He was in the hideout on the island monitoring shipping activities from the top of Paku Point."
Hiang paused, hoping to stop her voice from quivering.
"He was on Paku Point from the beginning of the war when the invasion of Mersing began. My cousins and I were on vacation in Mersing when the Chinese landed their troops there. A kind gentleman helped us escape from Mersing on his boat and we were heading towards a nearby island in the dark when one of the ships there fired on us. The bullets punctured the boat and we began sinking. The boat owner was killed but my cousins, we survived. We were in water for around a day before we saw the top of Paku Point. We had life jackets on and started heading towards the island."
She took a sip of tea, to slow her breathing. It was always the same when reciting the tale, her voice would start losing its deep tone, and some quivering would take over.
"We reached Paku and the Major saved us and took us into his hideout. We were there three months before he felt his position had been compromised. A platoon of Chinese troops landed and began searching Paku for him. But the hideout was very carefully concealed within Paku Point. However the Major decided to abandon the hideout one night because he feared the Chinese would find us eventually. He stole one of their boats and all of us took off towards the mainland."
Hiang wondered what Oona was thinking when she was talking of the Chinese as the invading force when it was in reality an invasion of the combined navies of China and Japan. They were allies.
"Major Nur left us on the beach on the mainland and then headed out to sea again to distract any Chinese units that were looking for us. And that's the last time I saw him."
"Annooo..." Oona nodded in understanding.
"That Major must have been a very good man to have you searching for him all these years."
Tears welled up in Hiang's eyes.
"Not a day goes by that made me wonder where he is. He saved our lives twice. Once when he took us in at Paku and the second time when he left us on the beach."
"Why do you think I could help you Evelyn san?"
Hiang reached for her backpack and retrieved the photo of the debris on the Musashi, and handed it over to Oona.
"This was taken on July 20th 2050 on the deck of the Musashi."
Oona peered intently at the picture.
"Behind that VTOL is a debris that was the outboard engine of a boat." Hiang pointed a pen at the debris. "We spoke to Captain Ishii, a colleague of yours on the Mushashi, and he remembered you talking about picking up debris from the sea around that time."
"It was 30 years ago Evelyn. I did pick up quite a few stuff during the war. We rotated Chopper duties so the pilots would always be familiar with all the aircraft on the carrier. Even the best fighter pilots did some chopper duties occasionally."
Oona stared at the debris for sometime.
"Can I keep this?"
"Sure, take your time. Maybe something might come back."
"And how long will you be in Fukuyama?"
"I will be here a week at Hotel Daiwa Roynet. I am doing a tour of the area. Last time I was here was 15 years ago," Hiang smiled. "Thank you for your time Oona san."
Oona walked her to the door and they both bowed, and bid each other good-bye.
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