Down memory lane

Recently there appeared a spate of letters referring to Malta between the two world wars. I had the misfortune of living in those times mixing with all classes in many different parts of both Malta and Gozo.

Since a young age I used to make notes about the happenings I observed, in schoolboy English. I was so disgusted with life that I decided to become an engineer, at the age of 15 I was fully conversant with workshop practice.

At the approach of the war, Sir Luigi Camilleri, a friend of my father, suggested that I sit for the next army entrance examination so that my wartime position would be secured. When my father came to St Aloysius and told me, I considered the situation carefully and, against my will, I accepted his advice and applied. The rest is history.

I never fitted in the RMA and at the first opportunity I applied for service in Egypt. I was accepted and left these shores, where I did very well indeed. Even though I was the most junior officer and efforts were made to keep me in that position I succeeded. My knowledge of Italian, Arabic and the ability to mix without effort made life easy.

I enjoyed the trust and respect of all I came in contact with, the Egyptian army in particular, and I could handle much more than my duties as a gun position officer required of me. The Battery proceeded to return to Malta; Major Mifsud, the Battery commander, and I were the last to return to Malta through Tripoli; here I met many friends and coped with much more than the normal transit camp duties.

A most amusing incident occurred a couple of days before we embarked for Malta: Major Mifsud suggested that we go to the cathedral in Tripoli to clean our soul before returning to Malta. We were faced by an Italian priest who confronted me saying: "Me no confession in English" to which I promptly replied: Mi confesserò in Italiano (I'll confess in Italian). Chi sei, he asked me. I replied: Il tenente Axisa. He gaped at me, turned and fled. I walked into the sacristy and asked another Italian priest, who was that? Padre Carta, he replied. When I returned to Malta I told my father who was quite amused.