The right place for Faith

A few years before my father died we visited the War Museum, in Valletta. The purpose of our visit was to see the airplane, Faith.

First, let me go back a few years, 68 to be precise. At that time, Malta was at war and the island was bombarded by airplanes from Italy. The only air defence Malta had at the time were three Gladiators, which the Maltese christened Faith, Hope and Charity. These three planes worked non-stop, trying to do as much damage as possible to the much superior attacking force.

When these Gladiators came down to refuel, or when they landed to be repaired, my father was there along with other ground crew to do the repairs as best as they could. Fixing, patching, stitching, gluing, or anything else they could think of to get these gallant planes flying again. It was a very difficult and a very courageous job.

There are many books written about Malta and the war, but the heroes were always seen as the pilots, whereas without the ground crew, the planes and pilots could not get off the ground to fly.

As we walked around the wingless aircraft in the museum, my father would lean over and show me the exact pieces of repair he personally did. There, in front of him, were the actual jobs he remembered doing at that very difficult time. This was history right in front of us.

An old man, looking fondly at one of his charges. What memories must have flowed back as we were silently walking around and what memories had he kept inside him over these many, many years.

All the time I was with my father, he never spoke of the war or what he did during the years 1939 to 1944, which he spent on the airfields of Malta. This was the first and only time he spoke of those days, and it was the sight of Faith that finally got him to talk, even though it was for such a short time.

My father worked with the Gladiators, Spitfires and Hurricanes. He repaired runways and ran the gauntlet of enemy bombs falling on the airfields as he and his friends fixed the defending fighters.

My father died in January 1996, just when the Malta Aviation Museum was starting to repair the Hurricane. The museum had already renovated a Spitfire, and in the memory of my father I helped the museum start the reconstruction of the Hurricane.

The Hurricane is now practically ready and looks splendid alongside the Spitfire in the brand new Memorial hangar at the Aviation Museum, in Ta' Qali.

How splendid it would be and how fitting it would be for those who worked so hard to keep those amazing planes flying if the Spitfire, the Hurricane and the Gladiator were standing proudly side by side in the Memorial hangar, for all the visitors to see.

I am sure my father would be very pleased and so would the many Maltese and foreign workmates who did so much to protect our islands.

At this point I ask, why is the Gladiator still at the War Museum when the real place for it should be the Aviation Museum? At the moment it is sad and wingless, because there is no way that wings will fit in the present confined space of the War Museum. The Aviation Museum has the wings, and these could be put onto the Gladiator and the plane can be displayed in its entire splendour, rather than the way it is now: A sad wingless bird.

From my experience, there are many things in Malta that need to be done, and should be done, and, yet, for no apparent reason do not get done, or if they do get done, it takes ages to do.

In this case, a decision needs to be made to transfer Faith to the Aviation Museum, where it can be proudly displayed with its partners that did so much to defend our islands.

Let us not wait forever to make the correct decision. They say that faith can move anything, even mountains; in this case we have the chance to do the exact opposite. We can move Faith ourselves.