When Italy declared war in June 1940, there were few shelters in Malta. After the first bombing raids, people realised that sheltering beneath a table with a mattress on top was not safe at all, and that houses collapsed easily when hit.

Therefore, they started demanding rock shelters. The problem was that there was lack of tools and miners. Dockyard workers started manufacturing tools as quickly as possible, while a large number of picks and some compressors were brought over from Egypt.

All available miners were employed to dig public shelters and the authorities took severe action against those who failed to turn up for work without a written permit from the Commissioner for Labour. The shortage of miners was so acute that the police were instructed to encourage civilians to assist the Public Works Department in digging rock shelters.

By May 1941, in some areas in Malta, it was calculated that there was at least two square feet per person of floor space available in public shelters. These underground havens saved hundreds of lives; many received direct hits with little consequence to those sheltering inside. But there were also horrible tragedies.

After bombs hit both entrances of Gafà Street Shelter, a huge flame flashed through the shelter’s main corridor, killing many who had survived the blast. Photo: Mellieħa War Shelters

At about 2.45pm on March 21, 1942, bombs hit the two entrances of Gafà Street Shelter, Mosta. Normally, 20 families made use of this shelter but on that day, there were also several labourers who were on their way back home and had stopped to take cover.

One of those who managed to clamber out alive claimed to have heard what sounded like huge chains being dragged down the steps. A huge flame flashed through the main corridor of the shelter, killing many who had survived the blast. The fire was a mystery, although there were rumours that some petrol was being stored inside.

At first, the Mosta police thought that 10 people had been killed. Then reports of missing persons poured in. Further searches uncovered more corpses, many of them unrecognisable. For example, a cart belonging to a bread seller was found in the street near one of the shelter’s entrances, but his relatives could not make a positive identification among the bodies deposited at the Floriana mortuary.

Relatives had to sort through bits of earrings, rings, handbags and other objects found on the dead. Items found in private cubicles helped to identify some victims since the rooms in the shelters were only used by the families who had paid to dig them.

A lot of money and jewellery was eventually recovered, as most people carried their life savings everywhere with them, fearing that they would lose everything if their house was destroyed. The total number of victims was 34 dead and 64 injured. Some corpses remained unidentified.

A report about a missing person who was taking cover in Gafà Street Shelter, Mosta. The police noted that he was one of the unidentified persons. (Name removed). Photo: National Archives of Malta

One of the missing persons from the Gafà Street Shelter tragedy was a bread seller. (Name removed). Photo: National Archives of Malta

Just three days later, on March 24, soon after 2.30pm, Stukas dive-bombed Ħal Far Airfield. One or two bombs scored a direct hit on an air raid shelter, which consisted of a dug-out covered with thick concrete slabs. These gave way and collapsed on around 28 servicemen, including several Maltese aircraftmen and labourers, who were taking cover inside.

Those outside could only watch until the groans grew silent. The bodies were recovered some months later

After the attack, moans could be heard coming from beneath the mound of debris. Rescuers equipped with shovels and picks could not make any progress in reaching the trapped occupants, being hampered by the concrete blocks.

Someone came up with the idea to drag the heavy slabs out of the way with a Bren gun carrier. The carrier’s tracks churned up the ground, but the slabs remained in place. Those outside could only watch until the groans grew silent.

The bodies were only recovered some months later by soldiers of the King’s Own Malta Regiment. On December 6, 1943, a magisterial enquiry was held at the Żejtun police station to identify the Maltese dead so death certificates could be issued.

That same day, at around 4pm, residents of Rinella Street, Kalkara, were sheltering in a store that had been reinforced with a concrete roof. A direct hit demolished it. It was later determined that 15 people were inside when the shelter collapsed.

Air raid precaution (ARP) workers, together with British and Maltese servicemen, dug among the stone blocks and slabs of concrete to try to extricate any survivors. None were found. Then, someone spotted a leg protruding among the stones. It was of seven-year-old Victor Hili, who was still alive. When the shelter collapsed, a mattress landed on his chest, and this protected him from the falling stones. His mother, two sisters and his younger brother were not so lucky.

Another bomb fell on a house in Baptist Street. The house caved in on top of a private shelter in which four members of the Coster family were sheltering. Two Coster brothers, Gustu and Joseph, and their cousin, Ġużi Camilleri, arrived on the scene to render assistance to their relatives. One after the other, they went down the steps of the emergency entrance of the shelter and never returned. A neighbour who tried to do the same fainted at the entrance and had to be dragged to safety.

The bomb had burst a gas pipe. All those who were in the shelter were overcome by gas fumes, fainted and drowned in the water

It turned out that the bomb had burst a gas pipe. All those who were in the shelter were overcome by gas fumes, fainted and drowned in the water that was entering the shelter through a broken water main. In all, 28 people lost their lives in Kalkara on that day.

On April 9, 1942, the village of Luqa suffered a devastating bombing attack. Several houses collapsed, burying many people in private and public shelters. Most shelters remained intact, and people managed to clamber out unhurt. But 23 out of 32 people taking cover in the shelter at Pope Innocent Street lost their lives.

The shelter was a small one and the Luqa residents tried to avoid it as water continuously seeped in from nearby cisterns. But when raids were frequent, people who lived close by took cover in it. Their only other option was to walk a long distance to a different shelter every single time the sirens sounded. There are two versions of what happened on that fateful day.

Natural faults in the rock in a shelter. On a few occasions, the shockwaves of bombs caused boulders to dislodge from the ceiling and crash on those taking cover inside. Photo: Mellieħa War Shelters

Some eyewitnesses said that one of the bombs fell into an empty well situated near the shelter. The rock separating the well from the shelter collapsed on the people inside. Water from nearby cisterns then poured in on the dazed and injured survivors through cracks in the rock. Others stated that the bomb fell into a full cistern situated exactly on top of the shelter. The bottom of the well gave way, deluging those inside with rocks and water.

Two men made it out and cried for help. A rope was lowered inside and seven people, including four children, were brought out. The Governor, Lieutenant General William Dobbie, arrived on the scene and ordered two servicemen to search the shelter. They returned with a dismembered body and a shirt. One of the soldiers could only say “They are all torn to pieces”.

Among those killed were seven members of Police Constable Bertu Attard’s family: his wife Lucrezia, 42, Joseph, 21, who was on a day’s leave from his regiment, Andrew, 12, Michael, 10, Anthony, 8, Nicholas, 6, and Pasqualina, 3. They had been sheltering in their private cubicle.

Attard was on duty at the time; when he found out what had happened, he had to be restrained. He then sat slumped on a chair, repeatedly counting his wife and seven children on his fingers and saying, “I haven’t got anyone left”. Actually, one of his daughters had survived.

Also killed was Grezzju Schembri, 53, who had taken the day off from work to dig a private room in the shelter. His son Francis, 13, was also found dead. His daughter Carmela was one of those brought out, but the rescuers found no sign of life and she was laid out with the corpses at Vincenzo Bugeja Hospital. The hospital staff realised that she was still alive when she regained consciousness and started shouting.

On April 28, 1942, at 12.45pm, nine Ju 88s and 19 Ju 87s attacked Grand Harbour. One bomb was a direct hit on the entrance of Shelter No. 7 in St Joseph Street, Senglea. The roof was pierced, with huge boulders falling on those taking cover inside.

Mgr Emmanuel Brincat (right) gave the last rites to a woman who was trapped beneath a large rock in Shelter No. 7, St Joseph Street, Senglea. He is pictured here with King George VI walking through Senglea in June 1943. Photo: Fabian Mangion

Archpriest Mgr Emmanuel Brincat entered the shelter to give what aid he could and came upon a hellish scene. In the darkness, pierced only by the weak light of the candle he was carrying, he could hear screams, moans and cries for help. Eventually, he came upon a woman who was pinned from her waist down by a huge rock. He could do nothing for her except give her the last rites. In all, 14 people lost their lives.

Just six days before this tragedy, another large boulder was dislodged by bombs from the roof of the same shelter. It killed a woman and injured another five persons.

Despite these calamities, shelters saved countless lives. One Ħamrun policeman summed it up perfectly when he noted in the Occurrence Logbook: “The undermentioned [13 persons]… died failing to take shelter.”

Author’s note

More information can be found in Malta: Blitzed But Not Beaten by Philip Vella, Malta at War by John A. Mizzi and Mark Anthony Vella, Senglea During the Second Great War by Mgr Emmanuel Brincat and Malta War Occurrences by the present author.

Acknowledgements

The author wishes to thank Laurence Mizzi, Anthony Rogers, Ġanni Debono from Mellieħa War Shelters, Senglea local council, Ruben Vella and the staff of the National Archives, without whose assistance this article would not have been possible.