In spite of its inevitability, Italy’s declaration of war against Great Britain late in the evening of June 10, 1940, visibly shocked and stunned the residents of Vittoriosa.

Suddenly there was much commotion; the main square, always the focal point of faith and despair, jubilation and desperation, was a hive of activity, alive with people frantically moving from one end to the other, briefly commenting on the evening’s event. Insults were hurled at some Italian sympathisers and whole families carrying huge bundles hurried to relatives and friends to take shelter in cellars.

Nazi dictator Adolf Hitler.Nazi dictator Adolf Hitler.

After the initial hysterical outburst the streets were suddenly deserted and a strange eerie silence fell on the ancient city.

The first exodus of Vittoriosa residents to the relative safety of the inland towns and villages was now on, a situation that resulted in a social revolution the effects of which are still felt today. On June 11, 1940, the Regia Aeronautica Italiana, in an obvious attempt to demoralise residents in the main target areas particularly the Dockyard, carried out eight air raids.

The Three Cities, at that time the most densely populated area in Europe, were badly shaken and the high number of casualties in Cospicua caused fear and panic among Vittoriosa residents.

On the second day of war, deep rock tunnels under the high bastions of the Post of Castille on the Kalkara side and another one under St James Cavalier, were hurriedly opened, and those who had not left the city, including my family, took shelter there or in the Dominican priory.

St James Cavalier, Vittoriosa. During the war whole families sought shelter in a rock-cut tunnel under this massive bastion.St James Cavalier, Vittoriosa. During the war whole families sought shelter in a rock-cut tunnel under this massive bastion.

Understandably Italy’s eagerness to flex its muscles against tiny Malta so early in the war, spreading death and destruction, aroused great anger and consternation.

The situation in these under­ground tunnels was inhuman, to say the least. The dampness, mustiness, suffocating conditions, lack of sanitation, the acrid smell of lime and dripping water, rubbish dumps, squalor and misery clearly conflicted the government’s inten­tion to evacuate the whole pop­ulation of Vittoriosa. To me, hell was an air raid shelter intentionally planned to fit in with a government scheme launch­­ed two years previously.

Conditions in the public shelter deteriorated, resulting in serious epidemics. In the mornings we were lined up for medical examination in front of the shelter where fleas, lice and bugs plagued every family

The situation in the Castille tunnel was so appalling that on June 14, a strongly worded memoir to the Lieutenant Governor, the head of Air Raid Precaution warned that “epidemics will inevitably break out unless the tunnels are cleared forthwith... the effect on the people who have been living in the tunnels the past three days is already visible in their pallid countenance. What they will be like in three weeks is difficult to imagine…”.

Lazzaro Pisani’s bozzetto of the central painting of the glory of St Dominic on the main nave ceiling of the Annunciation church, Vittoriosa, destroyed in the German blitz during World War II.Lazzaro Pisani’s bozzetto of the central painting of the glory of St Dominic on the main nave ceiling of the Annunciation church, Vittoriosa, destroyed in the German blitz during World War II.

In less than a week, Vittoriosa became a ghost town, its streets totally deserted, bars and shops closed as if a whole thriving community had ceased to exist. On June 14, the cloistered nuns of Santa Scolastica Monastery left the city to join the other Benedictine community in Mdina. The diocesan clergy departed to various safe parishes, leaving behind Archpriest Can. J. Farrugia, an ailing priest who had already been elevated to the rank of monsignor, assisted by Fr Anton Caruana. Other religious communities, with the exception of the Dominicans, followed suit.

The organised evacuation of the city had by now gathered momen­tum, and we gradually settled to a new way of life. Cottonera schools closed down in May 1940, so we had no schooling; without realising, I had started my course in ‘the university of the street’. We even got used to the occasional air raids by the Italians, fully oblivious of what was in store.

Towards the end of December 1940, Nazi supremo Adolf Hitler dispatched Fliegercorp X, an elite crack air force of the Luftwaffe to southern Italy and Sicily in order to strengthen Italian units in attacking British naval marauders in the central Mediterranean, which was crucial to the Axis forces in their bid to take over north Africa and ultimately Egypt and the Suez Canal. It was evident that their aim was to render Malta’s sea bases in Malta out of action immediately.

Vittoriosa Rovers Minor Team were giant-killers, beating ‘invincible’ Floriana Ajax in April 1946, a great post-war moral boost to the city. The author is seen in the back row, third from right.Vittoriosa Rovers Minor Team were giant-killers, beating ‘invincible’ Floriana Ajax in April 1946, a great post-war moral boost to the city. The author is seen in the back row, third from right.

The Annunciation church and priory, Vittoriosa, in ruins after the terrible blitz of 1941.The Annunciation church and priory, Vittoriosa, in ruins after the terrible blitz of 1941.

Their prime target was now HMS Illustrious, an aircraft carrier that had already scored major successes in the Mediterranean. After surviving continuous attacks from the German dive bombers, the aircraft carrier limped precariously into Grand Harbour on January 10, 1941, and berthed at Parlatorio Wharf for urgent repairs.

Dockyard workers were deeply shocked when they saw the severe carnage and utter devastation on the stricken carrier. As the dead and wounded were hastily rushed to Bighi Hospital in Kalkara by boat and ambulance, a substantial number of refugees, anticipating the impending danger, hurriedly returned to the safety of the inland towns and villages.

The air of foreboding in the inner harbour area was rudely shattered on Thursday, January 16, when the first dive-bombing raid by the German Luftwaffe took place. It was so devastating in its intensity and so brutal in its fury that this fateful day has since been remembered as sounding the death knell for the Three Cities.

Vittoriosa and Senglea bore the brunt of successive attacks of savage German bombings which devas­tated huge areas. The heavy loss of life in Vittoriosa, where 33 innocent civilians were entombed in the sacristy of St Lawrence Church, was the highest on record.

Monument to Vittoriosa’s fallen near the site where 33 people were entombed under the debris.Monument to Vittoriosa’s fallen near the site where 33 people were entombed under the debris.

The macabre scenes of cruel deaths was a defining moment in my life, a tragedy that was described by Times of Malta correspondent J. Olroe, who in his stirring report remarked: “Behind St Lawrence Church where high explosive bombs had fallen, workmen were digging in the debris. After a day’s search, voices had been heard from several people who had already been there for 24 hours. Even then it had not yet been ascertained how many these would be.”

On the morning of January 17, actual contact was made with the entombed people... food and drinks were lowered to the entombed through an aperture. Unfortunately, just as rescue work was about to start a mass of masonary crashed down and all hopes of rescue were impossible.

It was my first encounter with a living inferno as I witnessed the macabre scene of desolation. Most of the bodies, many of them unidentified, were recovered from the debris by the Buffs Regiment by direct order from the Governor. A humble, wooden commemorative plaque, donated to the parish by the regiment, once hanged inside the new sacristy.

Our residence was totally destroyed by a direct hit in September 1941. This meant that until the end of the war we only had one room dug out of the rocks which I helped to dig for six months

Conditions in the public shelter deteriorated with the influx of more shelter dwellers. Health problems increased, resulting in serious epidemics like scabies, stomatitis, pellagra and scurvy. In the morning we were lined up for medical examination in front of the shelter where fleas, lice and bugs plagued every family. Yes, hell was indeed an air raid shelter in the Vittoriosa ditch.

Vittoriosa’s Victory Monument (above) standing defiantly in front of the ruins of the historic medieval clock tower, the remains of which (below) were demolished in 1949 in very perilous conditions.Vittoriosa’s Victory Monument (above) standing defiantly in front of the ruins of the historic medieval clock tower, the remains of which (below) were demolished in 1949 in very perilous conditions.

For long stretches during 1941 and 1942 my family was really at starvation level as even the meagre ration, especially bread, could not reach us in the ditch where the few resolute Vittoriosa citizens had settled. This was due to the fact that all roads leading to the ditch were thickly blocked with debris. The great Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy was perfectly right in his observation that during “a siege, the poverty of the town is much greater than that of the village”.

In later years I realised that for many Vittoriosa residents who had retired to inland towns like Rabat or Mdina, the war years were a brief interlude, at times enhanced by watching the battering of the Three Cities from the Rabat heights. Yes, the great Erasmus was right when he said “sweet is war for those who know it not”.

Naturally, my family life was disrupted and shattered, particularly when our residence in the medieval city was totally destroyed by a direct hit in September 1941. This meant that until the end of the war we only had one room dug out of the rocks which I helped to dig for six months.

At that time my status within the family rose sky high – first in my role of shelter digger, then as provider, as I scoured the Kalkara countryside foraging for scraps of food. When bombs fell in Kalkara Creek we used to swim to retrieve dead fish. In a way, life was exciting for us children. We played daily football matches often lasting two hours.

After two years living in these inhuman conditions, weariness, fatigue, bitterness, starvation and the spectre of death and destruction began to tell on our parents and other people around us. I recall one instance when the crude, raw politics of war, as understood by the suffering, enraged youths, be­came an orgy of crazed barbarism when a group of older teenagers waved a torn finger of a dead German parachutist as a form of tribal trophy.

In spite of these bitter experience it was indeed a great cultural shock for me when I managed to pass the highly competitive examination for the Lyceum, which in 1943 was truly elitist, and it was difficult for me to adjust to the sophistication emanating from the sons of Maltese high society.

However, thanks to one of the greatest gifts God has bestowed to mankind – namely sport, in which I excelled both as an athlete and footballer, even against senior students – I gradually gained in self-confidence and self-esteem, encouraged by my sports master Publius Abela, to whom I am eternally grateful.

(Concluded)

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