´óÏó´«Ã½

Memories of Malta
‘’……………-shelter’’ followed by a loud knock on our front door. These are the first words I recall as my mother was putting me into my pushchair before rushing to safety. I was 2 ½ years old. My father was in the regular army and from Hong Kong my parents, brother and sister had a posting to Malta and I was born there in 1938. When war was declared we had to move from our quarters which overlooked the Grand Harbour in Valletta as a barrage balloon was going to be placed there. We were put into army barracks where there were about 10 windows that my mother would have had to have blacked out by herself as my father was stationed on the other side of the island. It was impossible so we were moved to a one bed roomed quarter which was in a block of four overlooking another harbour.

My memories of this and the other area we lived in were search lights, loud cracks and bangs, barrage balloons, air raid sirens and all clear sirens. People at times rushing to the shelter with blankets, pillows and plates and entering dimly lit tunnels underground that were creepy and had a characteristic damp smell. Hard beds to try and sleep on which my sister tells me were sheets of corrugated iron.

My brother would sleep walk from time to time and I remember the panic when he’d wandered off with his pillow and blanket only to be found in another area of the barracks where he’d been earlier in the day. No wonder my mother developed asthma.

The only time any of us remember my father swearing was when he felt we weren’t moving quickly enough to the shelter. A stick bomb was heading towards the island. Fortunately it landed in the harbour but only a few hundred yards away from us - a lucky escape. When my father was commissioned we had to move out of the barracks and rent a flat. The night before the move a bomb hit the flat and took the front off the building, another lucky escape.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.