We were repeatedly bombed, although strangely I never remember feeling afraid.  We were often short of food, but I never remember being hungry, and I guess my parents must take the credit for that.

My father was in charge of the army cold storage facilities at the Dockyard in Valletta and we lived in an Army quarter just outside the walls of the Dockyard.  As this area was a regular target for the Luftwaffe and we had to run for the air-raid shelter most nights, my father eventually converted our shelter (which was built into the rocks just opposite our house) into our bedroom.  Every night we would prepare for bed in the house and then go across to the shelter to sleep.  One night our house took a direct hit and I well remember picking our way among the debris in the morning.  Needless to say we then moved house!

This is our gang of five after we'd finished sifting through the debris of our bombed house

At one stage we were all issued with gas masks, which caused great excitement amongst us children.  I was longing for the opportunity to wear mine, although in fact that occasion never came - imagine being disappointed because you had no reason to wear your gas mask!

One of my clearest memories of those years was when the Malta convoy, although terribly badly damaged, finally limped into the Grand Harbour, Valletta bringing desperately needed supplies to the island. I was shopping with my mother in Valletta that day and we dashed down to the harbour to see for ourselves. I have to admit that I was bitterly disappointed - I had heard all this excitement about what I thought was the 'con boy' and was expecting some spectacular person, when in fact all I saw were some very bedraggled ships - it seemed to me like a lot of excitement over nothing - little did I know!

I'm very happy to say that we all survived the war and I well remember the great excitement when victory was announced.  We were then living in a house in the St. Georges Bay area and our parents woke us up one night so that we could go up onto the flat roof of the house to watch the firework display to celebrate the end of the war. I also remember how thrilled we all were when King George VI came to the island and we all lined the streets waving small union jacks.

I've always felt a great affinity for the island of Malta and its people, and have returned there many times since as a tourist, thoroughly enjoying searching out the old haunts which I remember from those childhood days.

I wonder whether anybody else has any memories of their wartime in Malta which they would like to share?

Continues in: My Post-Wartime Childhood in Scotland

Submitted by Doreen

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