World War II left an indelible mark on countless Maltese who experienced terrible suffering as they came under heavy enemy bombardment.
But for Anne Rossi, 92, the war turned out to be a highly interesting period in her life because it enabled her to put her talents to good use – helping defend the island against the attackers from the air.
In the early 1940s, Ms Rossi worked as a plotter at the Lascaris War Rooms, the underground secret complex located more than 120 metres below the Upper Barrakka Gardens. It served as Britain’s war headquarters in Malta.
When she recently saw the advert of the upcoming Staġun Teatru Malti play Faith, Hope u Charity, Ms Rossi picked up the phone and called veteran actress Karmen Azzopardi, who plays the lead character, to tell her that she remembered the real-life officers on which the play is based.
The production focuses on Irish flying officer William ‘Timber’ Woods, who downed an Italian aircraft piloted by Francesco Cavalli, who managed to parachute his way down to safety before being taken prisoner.
“I met all the high-ranking officers of the time,” the great-great-grandmother of three recalled.
“I believe Timber Woods used to live next to Hastings and he had a girlfriend, who was a foreigner. My job brought me into contact with many high-ranking officers, as did my father.” Ms Rossi’s father, Ernest Mallia, was the only Maltese squadron leader and was honoured with an OBE by King George VI himself in 1944.
Ms Rossi felt safe in the underground complex, although air raids were targeting areas in the vicinity.
“As I would leave to go on duty, my mother would pack up a basket of food and head to the shelter. She was so afraid, poor dear.
“My father was once heading down the steps to the war rooms when a blast caused him to tumble down the entire flight of stairs. I was more afraid of walking outside than working deep underground in the RAF operations room.”
Ms Rossi, who will turn 93 next month, is one of the last – if not the last – surviving Maltese who charted the enemy’s progress through the skies.
Wearing headphones, Ms Rossi would be fed information on approaching aircraft, which she would then plot on the plotting table which consisted of a large map of Sicily, Malta and the surrounding Mediterranean.
But I wouldn’t say it was stressful because you would get used to it
She would place counters on the map, each of which indicated the height and number of aircraft reported.
Overseeing the operations from the gallery above would be the controller and his team, who would be in radio contact with the pilots and would direct them to the best possible position to intercept the enemy.
“You needed to be very focused and very precise. We used to work long hours in shifts of eight women. Through our work, the controllers would know how to direct the air raid.
“But I wouldn’t say it was stressful because you would get used to it.”
By working at the war rooms, Ms Rossi was blessed not to suffer as much hunger as did other Maltese.
“I was always one to eat like a bird. But we would sneak down to the canteen in the ditch for a cup of coffee or some chocolate,” she smiled mischievously.
In fact, Ms Rossi enjoyed her job so much that she was rather disappointed when, upon her engagement to a Maltese army officer, Antoine Rossi, in 1944, her father instructed her to give up the job.
“When it was time to get engaged, my father told me I had to stop working. Had I known it before, I would have found a way to get out of the marriage,” she said with a laugh.
Ms Rossi met her husband at the British Institute in Valletta, but it was not a case of love at first sight – at least from her end.
“When I was young, I was the type of person who was friends with everybody but who never sought out anyone because I valued my independence.
“I have no idea how I ended up with Antoine,” she chuckled.
Her then husband-to-be caught the eye of her friend, who asked to be introduced to who she thought was a British officer.
Mr Rossi would spend time with her and her friends – before Ms Rossi realised that he was wooing her.
“There were around four girls who fancied him – I don’t blame them. He was always in uniform. But I was never into these things. I don’t know how it all came about.
“One time I was at the theatre with a friend. In the interval, I turned and I found him sitting beside me. ‘From where did you materialise?’ I asked him.
“He said that he had followed me. He asked me to tell my friend that he was my cousin so that he could accompany me home. And one thing led to another and we just chatted the evening away.”
Tragically, Mr Rossi passed away in 1963 at the age of 45 from injuries sustained when the Regent cinema in Valletta was bombed during a screening in 1942. He had not yet met Ms Rossi then.
The building collapsed on the audience, most of whom were servicemen enjoying their Sunday leave, killing over one hundred people.
Mr Rossi was fished out of the rubble in his torn uniform, with a dead man beneath him, who had suffocated from the dust.
However, he sustained irreversible damage to his nervous system, which ultimately led to his death several years later, leaving Ms Rossi a widow with four children.
“There were a lot of tragedies in the war,” Ms Rossi sighed, as her gaze settled on an old photograph of herself.
“I bought that sweater from a poor woman who had knitted it. It had cost me a lot of money – because when I realised that she had nothing, I gave her all the money I had on me for it.”
Faith, Hope u Charity premieres tomorrow and will run for eight outdoor performances at Fort St Elmo on July 22, 24, 25, 26, 29, 31 and August 1 and 2.
For more information, visit www.teatrumanoel.com.mt.