One year ago today, Gunner Matthew Psaila was in a coma fighting for his life. But the 19-year-old succumbed to injuries sustained during a military exercise at Chadwick Lakes. His parents, Marion and Twanny, tell Ariadne Massa all they want is justice.

When her second son Matthew was born, Marion Psaila sensed there was something special about him, but could not fathom what it was, so she kept every memento that diarised his life.

A tiny pair of blue plastic sandals, his tonsils preserved in a jar, his baby teeth, and even nail trimmings that she dug out from behind his bed are all stashed for safekeeping in Matthew's bedroom that has been transformed into a shrine for her son.

"I never kept anything of my firstborn, but somehow with Matthew I knew I wasn't going to have him for long. This feeling always haunted me... but it disappeared when he died," Ms Psaila says, reaching out for his Holy Communion souvenir.

The Psailas' apartment is crammed with memories of Matthew, and no matter where you look a photo of his pops out, always with a twinkle in his eyes and a half-smile.

Sitting side by side on the sofa, Ms Psaila and her husband Twanny are still coming to terms with their son's death.

"It's been a heartbreaking year. His absence is palpable... He filled the house with energy, especially at weekends when the dining table was crowded with his uniform and he'd be in a corner somewhere polishing his boots. Today, Marion and I just look at each other wondering where that time has gone," Mr Psaila says.

On Friday, February 13, 2009, the 19-year-old Gunner left home at 6 a.m. for a training exercise with the army's C Company at Chadwick Lakes - he never returned. The next his parents heard was a telephone call from the army commander at 10.45 a.m. urging them to rush to the hospital's emergency department because Matthew was "involved in an accident".

Earlier, the soldiers, with their faces streaked in paint, wearing a helmet, carrying a rifle and a 13-kilogramme kit on their back, had got ready to wade through water that was up to two metres deep and 8˚C.

They swam the first 20-metre-deep stretch in Chadwick Lakes without encountering problems. Then they walked 200 metres with wet clothes against the biting wind, before re-entering the water near the bridge. That is when the accident happened.

Panic struck when the soldiers reached the dark tunnel, and from then on it was every man for himself. A court expert said the water was so murky with silt he could not see his hand, and rats were swimming in the area.

A soldier who did the exercise on that day told the court the water was so cold he could not even call out for help. Instead, he put up his hand as he went under in the hope someone would see him. Eventually, he was dragged out and placed in a sleeping bag with another gunner to recover from hypothermia.

Matthew was not so lucky. He went under and remained submerged for longer than 10 minutes before anybody realised he was missing.

He was then pulled unconscious from the murky water and remained in a coma - dying barely three days later, in the early hours of February 16.

His death led to three investigations - a magisterial inquiry, the army's internal military inquiry and a third by retired Judge Victor Caruana Colombo, who was appointed by the Office of the Prime Minister to examine all aspects of C Company's operations. Only the findings of the latter were made public.

Two soldiers - Lieutenant Christian Vella, 27, and Lance Bombardier Marvic Peregin, 31 - have been charged with the involuntary homicide of Matthew as a result of negligence.

"That exercise should have never taken place. The weather clearly showed how the day would unfold. It had been cold all week," Mr Psaila says, adding he still attends every court sitting in the hope of learning more about his son's final minutes.

Because of what happened and the ensuing court proceedings, Matthew's comrades have been reluctant to share their experience, and the family believe they were instructed to avoid contact with them.

Ms Psaila says: "There are times when in my mind I walk with Matthew through his last moments, wading through the water, but then I get to the bridge and I stop there - that's the missing link of the puzzle."

"I always wished to meet the soldiers he was with. I want to hear the anecdotes and what they were talking about; what Matthew said on the coach before they got there, what they said when they stepped into the cold water, if he asked for me," she says, sobbing softly.

"I yearn to relive the adventure with them till the point the accident took place. I guess because of the court proceedings they're too scared. I just want to hear what he said... Matthew was loved, and though he wasn't so talkative, I'm sure he joked around before they started the exercise. I cannot imagine him not saying a word."

The family feel robbed of the chance of sharing these memories with his friends and instead have to rely on the testimony that unfolds in court and hope the whole truth emerges.

"Nobody is going to bring Matthew back. What we want is justice to be done; justice that Matthew didn't die in a 'misadventure'," Mr Psaila says.

The inquiry chaired by Judge Caruana Colombo labelled Matthew's death a "misadventure" and deduces that "no individual can be held to blame".

These conclusions fly in the face of the criminal proceedings initiated by police against the two army officers, and thrust a dagger in the hearts of Matthew's parents.

The court case, which is still ongoing, has since heard a former army commander testify that the tragedy could "have been avoided" and that a test run in a "controlled environment" should have preceded the training exercise at Chadwick Lakes.

In line with the board of inquiry's recommendations, army recruits have to take swimming lessons at the Tal-Qroqq National Pool as part of their training.

However, the family feels the ability to swim or otherwise was not a factor in Matthew's death. Mr Psaila admits that "Matthew was no Michael Phelps", but if thrown into the sea he would not have drowned.

"If Matthew underwent this training (at the national pool) he would have passed. There were other soldiers who encountered problems and nearly drowned," Mr Psaila says, pointing out that the court has so far heard how Matthew succeeded in swimming the first 20-metre-deep stretch in Chadwick Lakes without any difficulty, albeit not being a great swimmer.

Sometimes, Mr Psaila's sadness turns to exasperation: "You feel anger bubbling inside, but not towards the army, because it gave Matthew the best 11 months of his life. My anger is directed at whoever was responsible and took them to Chadwick Lakes on that day."

Mr and Ms Psaila relive the incident every day, and though a year has passed and they try hard to get into some sort of routine to numb the pain, it feels as if the world stopped going round when Matthew died.

"Life stopped to an extent, even though the clock keeps ticking. Our routine changed completely, especially at dinner time," Mr Psaila says, as his wife points out that, "nothing is the same and can never be the same".

She adds: "I miss Matthew so much. I used to stroke his hair - it felt like velvet. I had a lot of contact with him and none of this will ever return."

Mr Psaila feels helpless at times, and though he tries to battle his emotions, sometimes he'll be working and finds himself dwelling on some fond memory he has of Matthew and his eyes well up with tears and he has to stop what he is doing.

His wife interjects and says: "I'll be cooking and I feel his presence. I'm not one of those people who is obsessed, but I have not yet accepted his loss. Sometimes, I'm living as if nothing ever happened; it's hard."

She adds: "I sleep only because my body goes into automatic pilot. I'm thinking of him constantly. I'll be trying to work out why it never entered his mind to turn back when he had gone halfway through the tunnel and encountered difficulties."

She stops for a moment to reflect on what she has just said and then shakes her head and admits Matthew was so in love with the army there was no way he would have ever turned back.

Looking into her husband's eyes, Ms Psaila manages a weak smile as they share fond memories of their son's short life. Mr Psaila recalls how Matthew would tease his mother, grabbing her cheeks fondly or jokingly pinching her.

"Or he would return from work, switch on the computer, have a shower, prepare his bag for the next day and then I'd hear him calling out to show me a photo of his date for the week," she says, adding that Matthew was more in love with the army than with girls.

"He never wanted to get attached to a girl because he was so obsessed with the army that if they sent him abroad for training he wanted to be ready to go. Matthew didn't want anybody stop him pursuing his dream."

Matthew was a "determined boy" according to his father, and if he set his sights on something he would persevere until he achieved it. Mr Psaila would have liked his youngest to go to university and get a degree, like his brother Joseph, but Matthew was having none of it.

"I tried to put him off, telling him that each time the army shouted at him he would have to reply 'yes sir'. They didn't pay much either, but he would merely shrug his shoulders and say money was not everything... Then he would go to Marion and plead with her to get me off his back," he says, his face wrinkling into a smile at the memories.

Ms Psaila continues where her husband leaves off: "Matthew would come to me crying saying, 'I don't care what he says; I want to join the army'. It was his goal in life. I don't know where he got this obsession from. Even before his Holy Communion he would confide in his friends that he was going to become a soldier when he grew up."

Ms Psaila was not very concerned about her son's dream career as she knew it was rare for a Maltese soldier to be on the frontline fighting a war. Her only concern was that he would get hurt at the shooting range. She never dreamt Matthew would drown at Chadwick Lakes.

What will bring closure?

"I don't know what will help me close this chapter. I keep stopping by the bridge, and that's when the questions pop up. Matthew has to close the chapter, but he isn't here," Ms Psaila says.

Her husband feels the same way: "This chapter will never close. We have to die for it to end. Though physically Matthew is not here, he's in our hearts... always! We'll meet him up there and maybe he can tell us what happened. Only then we will know the truth."

Clasping her husband's hand, Ms Psaila adds: "Faith is the only thing that keeps us afloat."

Watch excerpts of the interview on www.timesofmalta.com.

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