Part 7 of our interesting story of Vicky Rylance’s childhood experiences in Malta during WWII.
By January 1941 the pattern of life in wartime had been established. The whole of Europe, apart from Britain, was under enemy hands. However, Malta was fighting back; bombers based on Malta were harassing Italian shipping, and also struck ports such as Naples, Palermo and Tripoli. The Islanders were kept well informed about all this, which helped to keep morale up.
It was imperative that much needed supplies of food and ammunition and above all airplanes, would reach the Island. For this reason in January 1941, two large convoys streamed towards Malta. They were guarded by the entire Naval strength in the Mediterranean amongst which was the famous aircraft carrier ‘Illustrious’. This ship had long been hunted by the enemy because of the damage it was inflicting on their shipping. It was now carrying a consignment of much needed fighter aircraft to Malta and the enemy was out to get it at all costs.
When the convoy was nearing Malta, it was raided by Stukas who had been waiting for it. Waves upon waves of bombers dived and dropped their bombs. There were many direct hits and many fires were started and the ship lost control but still managed to limp towards Malta. Luckily, the Fighter aircraft that she was carrying had taken off just before the raid and now they came to her aid. Though gravely hit and with many fires raging, she did not go down. Eventually, on the night of the 11th January 1941, she made it to Malta, a terrible sight, all aglow from the fires that were burning within her trailing a pall of smoke behind her. It became known later that almost a hundred of her brave crew had been killed either during the attack or died of their injuries later.
The people of Malta knew that something terrible was happening. The noise of the explosions could be heard and they could only guess of the dreadful punishment the ships were getting, but the guarded news bulletins did not give much away. Rumours and counter rumours were rife. Various ships from the convoy had entered Grand Harbour bringing in their precious cargo other ships limped in, some in a terrible state of ruin. The people of Valletta had crowded the bastions, watching swarms of friendly aircraft leaving Malta to attach some unknown target. The noise of the battle got nearer and nearer till at last the people could see and hear the shrieking of the planes as they dived and dropped their bombs on the carrier. When at last it struggled into the Harbour, safe under the protection of the guns of Malta, a great cheer arose from the crowd. They were fully aware of the terrible sacrifices that were taking place before their eyes.
A general call was made for volunteers to help transferring the wounded to hospital and unloading cargo. My father was one of those men who helped. He came home smelling of burning oil with his clothes, face and hands smeared with grease and we saw him weep in his concern for all those who had suffered so much on our behalf. We listened wide eyed to his descriptions of what had happened. He never stopped telling us abut this terrible day, so that it was imprinted in our minds forever. The very word ‘Illustrious’ in our minds became a synonym of bravery and endurance. The story has become an epic and is one of the important dates in the history of Malta.
Five days later, on the 16 of January 1941, the enemy returned to try and finish off the ‘Illustrious’. It was the most dreadful and unforgettable raid of the whole war. About a hundred Stukas attacked the Harbour in waves, raining bombs on the stricken ship and the whole of the Grand Harbour area and the surrounding towns. It was announced later that over five hundred people had been killed in an hour, and nine hundred buildings had been destroyed, mainly in the areas round the Grand Harbour, which meant Valletta and the Three Cities. It was on this terrible day that our house in Senglea was hit together with the nearby beautiful and historic parish church of Our Lady of Victories. The church clock stopped at twenty minutes past two on the 16th of January 1941. For several years later, in fact until the church was rebuilt, it reminded everyone who saw it of that terrible afternoon, when their beloved church had died with everyone who had taken shelter in it.
To be continued . . . . . . .
Written by Vicky Rylance, Hon. Secretary Mellieha Group
