MALTA AND ITALIAN WAR PLANS

Italian bombing of the Grand Harbour, Malta.

Italian battleship Roma (Regia Marina, 1940)

By June 1940, Italy’s battleship strength increased. The Littorio and Vittorio Veneto were completed, the last two of the Cavour class were completing modernization, and work continued on the new Roma and Impero. So now, with these new additions and the surrender of France on June 24, the situation in the Mediterranean changed drastically from what it had been nine months before, from nine Allied capital ships against four Italian, to six Italian capital ships versus four British.
For Italy, control of the Mediterranean was essential. All its African and Middle Eastern objectives could be reached only across the sea, so the Italian Navy would play a pivotal role. The fleet itself was large, modern, and possessed a very good naval commando branch. However, despite its modern character, it lacked radar, sonar, and night fighting training. Its most serious deficiency, however, was the lack of aircraft carriers, which Mussolini believed were unnecessary.

Furthermore, the Italian Navy was not allowed to have its own air units, like the British Navy’s Fleet Air Arm. For air support, it had to rely on the Italian Air Force and there was no effective coordination between the two services. Italian fleet commanders requiring air support had to contact the Admiralty, which then passed on the request to the Air Ministry, which, if it approved, would then notify the respective air units. The result of this cumbersome arrangement was that very often the Italian fleet went into battle with no air support at all. While this would be an important issue throughout the Mediterranean campaign, it should not have been an issue for an invasion of Malta, only sixty miles from the Italian bases in Sicily.

Ample land forces for an invasion were available from among the forty plus divisions of the Italian army. Furthermore, the Italian merchant marine, with a total of 1,235 ships of approximately 3,500,000 tons, would provide sufficient shipping to transport and maintain an offensive, particularly one so close.

Italy hoped to acquire Tunisia and Corsica after the fall of France, but was denied these territories in the armistice. Mussolini’s choices for conquest were now limited to Malta, Cyprus, and Egypt. From the German point of view, the first move should have been against Malta, which was weakly garrisoned and close to Italian airfields. According to Admiral Ruge, “It was the only piece of hostile territory in the central Mediterranean, and, in view of the general situation, it should have been the primary objective for a vigorous assault by all Italian arms.” The Luftwaffe Field Marshal Albert Kesselring would later state, “Italy’s missing the chance to occupy the island at the start of hostilities will go down in history as a fundamental blunder.”

The Italian Navy also supported invasion and since 1938 it had maintained that the occupation of Malta was a primary and indispensable condition for fighting any war against Great Britain. When war seemed imminent, the navy had presented a plan for the conquest of Malta to the Supreme Command. But the Supreme Command gave up this idea due to its opinion that the war would be a very short one, and also because it was believed that the Italian Air Force would be able to neutralize the island’s military effectiveness.

Furthermore, Mussolini was a disciple of air power theorist Giulio Douhet, who believed that civilian populations could be bombed into surrender. Invasion, according to Douhet’s doctrine, was unnecessary. Bombardment alone would be sufficient and the Italian Air Force was deemed up to the task, with 2,500 to 3,000 aircraft, 1,500 of which were first-line aircraft ready for combat. There were 200 fighters and 350 bombers stationed only twenty minutes’ flying time from Grand Harbour.
The bombing of Malta was the first Axis mistake and not invading at the onset was the second. Still, invasion might not have been necessary if a successful blockade had been imposed. Malta produced only 30 percent of its own food, and 70 percent of what it imported came from Italy and its North African colonies. In addition to food, fuel and munitions had to be imported. A major difference between the situations in 1565 and 1940 was that, while the knights and Maltese had ample supplies for the campaigning season, in 1940 the island had over ten times the population and was vulnerable to starvation. In this respect, the situation was more akin to the Maltese revolt against the French in 1798-1800.

JUNE 11, 1940
On the morning of June 11, the dockyard workers were streaming to the harbor to begin their shift, which started at 7 AM. At 6:50 the island’s sole radar set, positioned on the Dingli Cliffs, detected numerous aircraft approaching from the north. They were fifty-five tri-motored Savoia Marchetti 79s bombers, escorted by eighteen Macchi C. 200 fighters. Some of the attackers dropped their loads on Hal Far, while others bombed the Grand Harbour area. One bomb scored a direct hit on a gunpost at the tip of Fort St. Elmo, killing six RMA soldiers, Malta’s first army casualties. Other bombs hit Msida and Pieta. The worst damage was in heavily populated Cospicua. A second raid by thirty-eight bombers struck again later that afternoon. Altogether, there were eight raids that day. Two hundred buildings were completely or partially destroyed. Civilians composed the great majority of the 36 killed and 130 injured. Casualties would have been more severe, but the Italians used fifty-kilogram bombs.

When the first raid hit, the dockyard workers were crowded by the main gate. When sirens wailed they first thought it was a drill. Then someone yelled, “Air raid! Come on, run!” The workers panicked and surged through the gate, rushing for shelter inside the dockyard compound. Here many found safety in tunnels dug centuries earlier by the knights to house their galley slaves. Others made the best of the partially completed deep rock shelter.

The residents of Cospicua did not have shelters to flee to. No air raid drills had ever been conducted and many were confused about what to do. Many also panicked and fled to the Corradino highway tunnel a half mile away. Neither was there a plan for evacuating people from bombed areas.

Thousands fled the Three Cities and Paola on their own. It is estimated that during the first two days of the war, between 60,000 and 80,000 people fled the Grand Harbour area. Many would return, but they would find it hard to ever feel safe in their homes again.

An old railway tunnel outside Valletta was reopened and turned into an immense dormitory that served many of the capital’s residents, as well as those of nearby Floriana in the years to come. Tunnels were also dug out of the solid rock, some within the dense fortifications left by the knights. Individuals armed with pickaxes excavated smaller family shelters. These would have two entrances to reduce the chances of being blocked by debris. Many urban residents used old wells, dug before the construction of city water lines, for shelter. Those living outside the cities used caves, and in the Paola area the underground Hypogeum of the Temple Builders provided shelter. In time, more public shelters were also constructed. Many, however, never went into the shelters. Venerina Castillo of Marsa, for example, said that if she were to die, she wanted it to be in her home, and not in a hole in the ground.

It is possible that, had the Italians launched a quick invasion at the outbreak, they might have seized Malta with little effective resistance. It is also possible that if they blockaded the islands and starved the inhabitants, the people may have reevaluated their relationship with the British, much as they had done with the Phoenicians and knights. But any goodwill toward Italy vanished with the bombing of Malta. Had the Italians struck only military targets it would have been different, but the first raids destroyed houses as well, homes that had been passed down over generations. Beloved churches were hit as well. After the first raid, the matter was settled. It was 1565 all over again, and the Maltese would make their stand beside the British, just as they had with the knights. Italy lost Malta with the first bomb dropped on a Maltese home.

Stunning as the first raid was, there was another shock of a more positive nature. This was the appearance of three stubby little biplanes that rose to meet the intruders. In a modern version of David versus Goliath, these aircraft charged into bomber formations and even traded fire with the more modern Italian fighters. The Maltese soon named them Faith, Hope, and Charity. But where did they come from?

In April 1940, the carrier Glorious left Alexandria for the North Atlantic in a hurry to support Norway operations and left behind some crated Sea Gladiators at the naval air station at Kalafrana. These were reserve aircraft for the carrier. Malta’s air officer, a New Zealander named F. H. M. Maynard, asked the navy to hand them over to the RAF for air defense. Although the aircraft were already assigned to another carrier, Cunningham approved four of them for Malta. A bureaucrat at the Admiralty actually inquired as to why he would allow Fleet Air Arm property to be taken over by the RAF. Despite such interservice rivalry, the four were assembled at Kalafrana and stationed at Hal Far, where the British succeeded in keeping their existence a secret. There were a dozen qualified pilots on Malta, although they were for the most part in administrative posts and had no fighter training. All volunteered and seven were chosen.

The Gladiator had a top speed under 240 mph, a fixed undercarriage, all-steel fuselage, and an 840-horsepower Bristol Mercury engine. It was a rugged aircraft, armed with four .303 machine guns. The pilots called them flying tanks, while the Maltese thought that on the ground they looked like donkey carts.

In the first few days, three of the planes were in action, with the fourth used for parts. Damage to the aircraft, plus the strain on those flying, led to a rotation of the pilots on three shifts of two pilots each, meaning that after the first week there were never more than two and often only one Gladiator in the air to meet the Italian raiders. During an attack they would climb to 20,000 feet and then swoop down into the bomber formation, using the dive to compensate for lack of speed. Officially, they were known as Station Fighter Flight Number 1.

The pilots of Faith, Hope, and Charity were adored by the Maltese, and their newspaper photos adorned the pious Maltese homes alongside pictures of Jesus and Mary. Of the three, Faith is on display in the National War Museum. Of the seven pilots, two survived the war, Peter Keeble was killed over Malta on July 16, 1940; two others were killed in action in Belgium and Greece in 1941; another was killed in 1942 flying out of Gibraltar; and Peter Hartley was shot down over Malta and badly burned on July 31, 1940.

The Italian air raids were sustained for a month and a half. There were 53 raids in June, followed up by another 51 in July. The raids tapered off afterward, but by the end of the year there were another 107 for a total of 211 Italian air raids against Malta in 1940, or an average of just over one air attack a day.

Malta could not rely on the Gladiators forever. Fortunately, the British finally awoke to the need to hold Malta in the wake of France’s defeat. The aggressive Churchill had always advocated holding onto Malta and began to forward whatever air units were available to the island. Britain wanted to get Hurricanes to Malta and the only way was by carrier. The first attempt at this was Operation Hurry. On August 2, 1940, the old carrier Argus flew off twelve Hurricanes, and all arrived safely. This was done despite the fact that the Battle of Britain had been underway since July 10. Such operations, however, were not without risk. Three months later, in Operation White, the Argus carried another twelve Hurricanes for Malta, but only four made it on November 17, 1940. After takeoff the planes encountered a strong headwind, and eight ran out of gas, seven pilots losing their lives.

Throughout the war, the British mounted a total of twenty-seven such operations, ferrying 764 aircraft to Malta in this way: 361 Hurricanes, 385 Spitfires, and 18 torpedo bombers. Of these, 718 reached Malta, 12 returned with the carriers, and 34 were lost. Not all stayed on Malta; 150 of the Hurricanes flew from the islands to North Africa to reinforce the Desert Air Force there. These reinforcements helped, but the air defense was always outnumbered by the enemy. From October 11, 1940, to February 10, 1941, the average number of fighters available for action was eleven.

UXB MALTA I

L to R: (standing) Lt E E Talbot, L/Sgt R C Parker, L/Cpl R Hilliar, Sprs Miller, McCarthy, Leonard and Reeves, Cpl Brewer; (seated) Sgt Piggott, Sprs H Turner and Lockyer

Throughout the years 1940 to 1943, some 17,000 tons of bombs were dropped on Malta. Its people had to endure 154 days of air raids without a single day’s respite and at the height of the attacks the enemy flew more than 9,500 sorties against this island in one month alone. As more than fifteen per cent of the bombs failed to explode, it was a busy time for the men of Bomb Disposal.

It was on 11 June 1940, that the enemy aircraft were first heard droning over Malta’s Valletta harbour. The day before Mussolini had declared war on Britain and one of the Italian dictator’s very first actions was to sanction an attack upon the little group of islands off the Sicilian coast. This was the first part of what was to have been Operation Herkules, the code-name of the Axis invasion of Malta.

For centuries the Royal Navy had maintained a powerful presence in the Mediterranean Sea. Its bases at Gibraltar, Malta and Alexandria spanned the Mediterranean but the rapid development of air power meant that Malta, situated so close to Italy, was seen to be increasingly vulnerable to air attack. In the mid-1930s, the Royal Navy took the decision to move its Mediterranean headquarters from Malta to the safer waters of the Egyptian port of Alexandria. In the event of a sustained attack, it was not thought that Malta would survive.

Mussolini had long seen Malta as a target for invasion. His dream was of a vast empire in North Africa and Malta’s position astride the shipping routes through and across the Mediterranean gave it great strategic importance. It was also only sixty miles from Sicily.

That first attack of 11 June 1940, was small compared with what was to come. It consisted of just ten Italian Cant Z.1007 Alcione bombers, with a few Macci C.200 Saetta fighters as escort, which dropped bombs on three locations on the island. Yet even against this tiny force the RAF was outnumbered, being able to muster no more than half-a-dozen Gloster Gladiators. Incredibly, at this stage of the war the island possessed only forty-two anti-aircraft guns and two dozen searchlights.

Though the RAF later received a number of Hurricanes and eventually Spitfires, it was usually vastly over-matched and when, in January 1941, the Luftwaffe’s X Fliegerkorps arrived in Sicily to support Rommel’s Afrika Korps, Malta became the target of one of the most intense bombing campaigns ever witnessed.

With day after day of attacks, the Royal Engineers Bomb Disposal Section(s) on Malta was in almost continual action. Every bomb which fell on Malta or its sister island of Gozo and did not explode was the responsibility of this unit unless it lay on an airfield or within the confines of the Royal Navy dockyard. In just two years between December 1940 and December 1942 the Bomb Disposal units dealt with more than 7,300 unexploded bombs. The workload was ten times that of the average for a bomb disposal section across all theatres of war.

Lieutenant George Daniel Carroll RE arrived in Malta on 21 April 1941, having learnt his trade in the London Blitz. He assumed responsibility for bomb disposal across Malta and Gozo, relieving Lieutenant Edward Talbot who had worked as the first, and only, Bomb Disposal officer for the previous five months. The Bomb Disposal squad comprised just twenty men.

Carroll was soon facing his first Italian bombs, including several new types. As dawn broke one morning in November after a heavy raid the previous night, the streets of Valletta were covered with hundreds of small metal cylinders. Carroll was called.

“They were small, pale coffee colour, and they had a cap on top which was split into a propeller,” Carroll recalled. “It was designed to hit the ground but not to go off until it was disturbed. An aircraft starting up, or passing vehicles, would produce a vibration, causing it to explode suddenly and cause panic. The bombs were designed to drop in the dust of North Africa, where they could lie undetected but, affected by vibration, to go off unexpectedly at a later time.” But instead of being dropped in the desert, they had been dropped on Valletta.

They looked very much like Thermos flasks and could easily attract the curiosity of innocent passers-by, especially children. They were released from the aircraft in canisters containing dozens of bombs which scattered as they landed, covering an area of up to 300 square metres.

The only way to deal with the AR-4 antipersonnel “Thermos Bombs” was to blow them up where they lay. It was soon discovered that one of these devices lay in the window of a jeweller’s shop in the centre of Valletta. The jeweller begged the Bomb Disposal squad not to explode the bomb in situ as it would destroy all his stock. They invited him to remove the items himself but the man would not go anywhere near the bomb. So the Bomb Disposal men calmly removed all his goods and then blew his shop to bits.

Meanwhile, the Valletta police, not knowing exactly what they were dealing with, had collected nineteen Thermos bombs and placed them in a lower basement room of the Royal Opera House. Once again Carroll was called in. These ones could not be exploded without causing major damage to the building, so a method of removing them without setting them off had to be devised. The engineers built a grab which they could slide round the bombs. Attached to the grab was a cord which lifted and carried the device along a string railway out of the building. All nineteen bombs were safely removed but the operation took two full days.

The Thermos bombs were not the only unusual weapons which Carroll and his team had to deal with. There was a notice issued to the effect that the Germans were dropping “shaving stick” bombs and “fountain pen” bombs, though none had yet been seen by the Bomb Disposal men. But when Carroll received a message from an anti-aircraft unit at Vittoriosa that they had found a fountain pen bomb, off he went with sandbags and steel helmets.

When Carroll arrived at the anti-aircraft unit’s hut he was told that the fountain pen bomb was on top of a cupboard safely out of reach. “I climbed up to get it ... I put it on my [open] hand and carried it [to the car] put it carefully on the sandbags, covered it with more sandbags, put up a red flag on the car, and we drove back”.

As it was only a small bomb, Carroll first dealt with other UXBs that required his attention and it was only later that he found the time to deal with the novelty device: “We had a bench with a vice and there were some sleepers nearby left from the old railway. I asked my Sergeant to get the sleepers and lean them against the vice, to get some boxing gloves (they would at least reduce any injury), goggles and steel helmets [and] we went down” to the workshop.

Carroll went on to describe the process for disarming this dangerous device. He had no knowledge of how it was armed or how to disable it. All he could do was to open it up with the probability that it would explode as he did so.

“In dealing with a new bomb like this, you had to have a witness and recorder. My sergeant was there [outside the door] with a pencil and note-book and I called out to him ‘I’m putting the barrel of the fountain pen in the vice so that the cap can be freed’ ‘Yes, sir’, and he wrote it down. Now I had to wait two minutes. ‘I’m attaching a piece of surgical tape to the cap, wrapping it round so that, if I pull, it will unscrew.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ he wrote it down and I waited. ‘Now I’m going to pull the tape to loosen the cap.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ and he wrote it down.”

“I pulled it and it unscrewed, and I waited. ‘I am now going to pull it off.’ ‘Yes, sir.’ I pulled it off and it was a fountain pen!”

UXB MALTA II

UXB Malta: Royal Engineers Bomb Disposal 1940-44

Another strange device was the “Butterfly Bomb” which first made its appearance in 1942. It was so named because as it fell an outer shell hinged open to form “wings”. The tiny 2kg bombs were packed into containers holding up to 100 each. The container opened as it left the aircraft, releasing the winged bombs to float down like sycamore seeds. The rotational action of the wings armed the fuze as it descended. After it landed, the slightest disturbance would set the bomb off.

A bulletin was hastily prepared to warn people of these weapons: “Many people in Malta last Monday found in their fields, their gardens, courtyards and on their roofs, a queer yellow contrivance consisting of a small round box with metal wings attached. It was a ‘present from Jerry’. A ‘Yellow butterfly bomb’, as this type of German anti-personnel bomb is called. To move it means death.”  

On Thursday, 12 February 1942, Carroll was called again to the city’s Royal Opera House. To the right of the Opera House was a building that ran across the present square with a balustrade on top from which a bomb was hanging suspended over the street.

When Carroll reached the square he saw that the balustrade had a tiny ledge jutting out towards the street. The only way that Carroll could get to the bomb was to crawl along this ledge. He went up to the top of the building and inched along the ledge on his knees. When he finally reached the bomb, he found that it was another type that he had never seen before. It was small, made of metal and it was attached to a wire. Carroll could not attempt to defuze an unfamiliar bomb on a narrow ledge overlooking the street. So he cut the wire and carried the bomb in his hands back down to the street.

Malta’s 2,000th raid occurred on Tuesday, 7 April 1942. The centre of Valletta took a terrible pounding, suffering the impact of 280 tons of bombs. In that spring month the enemy mounted 9,600 sorties, day and night, having flown 4,900 sorties in March. By 20 April, 333 people had been killed. Malta’s RE Bomb Disposal dealt with more than 267 HE bombs of 50kg or over. For the attacks against Malta the Luftwaffe could count on 520 aircraft and the Regia Aeronautica had some 300 at its disposal.

Odd though it may seem, it was an unexploded bomb that came to symbolise Malta’s stubborn resistance. At around 16.30 hours on 9 April 1942, the Luftwaffe undertook its second raid of the day. The parishioners of Mosta, a town to the northwest of Valletta, were attending mass in the Catholic Church. This beautiful building is famous for its dome, which is the third largest unsupported dome in the world.

The Reverend Salvatore Magro was a young priest at Mosta. He later described what happened after two German aircraft flew over the church and released their bombs: “At about 16.40 hours one of the bombs pierced the dome, bounced twice off the wall, skidded the whole length of the church and finally came to rest without exploding. At the time there were about 300 people attending the service and, while the majority [had] sought refuge in the side chapels, some remained kneeling. The dome was damaged but inexplicably no one was injured.”

The priest taking the mass took command of the situation and ushered his congregation out into the street. As usual, Carroll was called. It turned out to be a German SC500 (the SC standing for Spreng Cylindrisch). This high-explosive generalpurpose bomb had penetrated the dome nose-first making an almost perfectly round hole in the famous roof.

The continual bombardment of Malta, at a level never before experienced by man, and rarely if ever since, had a damaging effect upon the population’s and the garrison’s morale. This was described by the British Army Medical Service: “The conditions in Malta in 1941 and 1942 were such as to expose even the most stout-hearted among its garrison to the risk of breakdown. Violence continually descended from the skies and, save for the gunners and the fighter pilots, there was no means of retaliation. It had to be endured. To the endurance and to the resilience of everyone there is a limit.”

The result, in medical terms was “anxiety neurosis” which the military authorities tried to play down with the following points in one of its bulletins:

“Fear is the weapon which the enemy employs to sabotage morale; Anxiety neurosis is the term used by the medical profession to commercialise fear; Anxiety neurosis is a misnomer which makes ‘cold feet’ appear respectable; To give way to fear is to surrender to the enemy attack on your morale; If you are a man, you will not permit your self-respect to admit anxiety neurosis or show fear; Safety first is the worst of principles.”

The bulletin ended with these words: “In civil life, anxiety neurosis will put you ‘in the club’. In battle it brings you a bayonet in the bottom.” The population and the fighting people of Malta proved tough enough and, as it is well known, the island was awarded the George Cross. This was granted by King George on 15 April 1942, with the words “to honour her brave people, I award the George Cross to the Island Fortress of Malta to bear witness to a heroism and devotion that will long be famous in history”.

The last raid on Malta occurred on 20 July 1943. It was the 3,340th alert since 11 June 1940. In total tens of thousands of bombs, amounting to 17,000 tons, were dropped on Malta, destroying some 30,000 to 35,000 buildings (11,000 in April 1942 alone). Some 1,493 civilians were killed and 3,674 wounded out of a population of just 270,000.

As for George Carroll, he left Malta in June 1942 and survived the war. He had served continuously through some of the toughest months of the bombing, working through over 2,000 alerts.

Women and Wars in Malta

Christina Ratcliffe with Wing Commander Adrian Warburton and her orchestra.

Role of the women of Malta in war. Malta is a small archipelago 60 miles south of Sicily. In 1565 the Turks invaded Malta with 40,000 troops. The defense was led by the Knights of Malta with 600 knights, 2,600 infantry, and 3,000 Maltese militia (Balbi 1965, 41). Elderly men, as well as women and children, were also recruited. Women worked side by side with men repairing breaches in city walls, manufacturing incendiaries, and carrying supplies. Women and children collected wood to keep pots of pitch boiling, ready to tip onto the invaders.

The siege began in late May and extended throughout the summer. By July the Turks were assaulting the cities of Birgu and Senglea, where the majority of the people had taken shelter. The Turks shifted their attacks from one city to another, coming close to success on numerous occasions. The most serious crisis occurred on August 7 when both towns were assaulted simultaneously with 8,000 attacking Senglea and 4,000 coming against Birgu. The attacks, starting at dawn, lasted 9 hours. In time the Turks gained a foothold in Senglea (Balbi 1965, 145).

According to the knight Louis DeBoisgelin’s account of the siege, the women of Malta responded vigorously to this threat and “performed actions which in some degree equaled the resolute valor of the knights . . . the women likewise nobly exposed themselves to the greatest dangers, in order, if possible, to save by their exertions husbands, fathers, brothers, and children” (DeBoisgelin 1988, 105–106). Women flung themselves into the battle, attacking invaders with incendiaries, boiling water, and melted pitch.

The dread of being deprived, not only of their liberty but of their honor, should they be taken by the infidels, made these valiant women rise superior to the fear of death. The Turks . . . were so incensed at being opposed by such weak though courageous enemies, that they showed them no quarter, but slew a great number with the sword, and destroyed others by throwing, in their turn, fire-works amongst them. (DeBoisgelin 1988, II:105–06)

This fierce resistance, coupled with a timely cavalry raid on the enemy camp, forced the Turks to withdraw after having lost 2,200 men (Balbi 1965, 147).

The smaller town of Mdina was also threatened with attack. The governor dressed all the women as soldiers and marched them back and forth along the walls. The Turkish general, thinking Mdina too heavily defended, called off the attack. The invaders left Malta on September 8, which became celebrated as the Feast of Our Lady of Victory. The civilian casualties were high, with 7,000 Maltese men, women, and children killed (Balbi 1965, 189).

Malta suffered another siege during World War II. Malta was the only Allied base in the central Mediterranean and from there British planes attacked Axis convoys in North Africa. In turn, the Axis blocked convoys to Malta and dropped over 15,000 tons of bombs on the 90- square-mile island.

Despite the harsh conditions, life went on. Censa Bonnici recalled her marriage in November 1941. The wedding took place in the remnants of her bombed parish church. An air raid took place during the service, sending the congregation to a shelter, leaving just the priest, the couple, and two loyal witnesses to complete the ceremony (Mizzi 1998, 96).

Although the Bonnicis survived their wedding day, others were less fortunate. Guza Bondin was caring for her nine-month-old daughter while her husband served in the army. One day she and the baby ventured out to get a milk ration. Guza was careful, waiting for the all-clear to sound before venturing into the streets. But an earlier raid had dropped delayed-action bombs that were designed to cause civilian casualties. One of these exploded as she passed nearby. Guza pressed herself against a door and shielded her daughter’s body with her own, but it was too late. The infant was hit in the head by a rock shard and killed (Mizzi 1998, 91–93).

By the summer of 1942 the Maltese were starving. The daily ration for adult males was 14.6 ounces (413.9 grams) of food and even less for women and children (Jellison 1984, 221). Mothers often gave their scanty ration to their children, but it could not satisfy their hunger. Nevertheless, Malta did not surrender, and the courage of the Maltese women, along with the rest of the civilian population, was recognized when King George VI collectively awarded them the George Cross.

References and Further Reading Balbi, Francisco di Corregio. 1965. The Siege of Malta. Trans. by Ernle Bradford. London: Hodder and Stoughton. Boisgelin, Louis de. 1804. Ancient and Modern Malta. Vol. I–III. Repr. Valletta, Malta: Midsea Books Ltd. 1988. Bradford, Ernle. 1961. The Great Siege: Malta, 1565. London: Hodder and Stoughton. Jellison, Charles A. 1984. Besieged: The World War II Ordeal of Malta, 1940–1942. Hanover, NH: University Press of New England. Mizzi, Laurence. 1998. The People’s War: Malta, 1940–1943. Trans. by Joseph M. Falzon. Valletta, Malta: Progress Press.