Carmel Vella had just become a teenager when enemy aircraft launched a devastating raid on Sliema, killing 21 people.

“On February 27, 1941, I turned 13 and, two weeks later, I got my presents – the bombs,” the now 93-year-old said.

That night, on March 11, 1941, enemy aircraft dropped bombs on the quiet residential St Rita Street, causing widespread destruction.

Carmel’s aunt's house, number 47, was destroyed. Ten houses were completely demolished and 25 others badly damaged in the blast. Another 70 Sliema people were left homeless, including Carmel. 

Before the siege on Malta began on June 11, 1940, Carmel lived on San Publius Street, in Sliema with his mother, father, two sisters, Doris and Rita, and his uncle. When the air raids started, his mother would take him and his sisters to their aunt Maria’s place in St Rita Street as there was a small shelter underneath her house.

“We would spend the day in our house and in the evening sleep at my aunt’s,” he said.

“I used to sleep right next to the door, so if there ever was a raid I could just get up and rush down into the shelter.”

He remembers that the shelter was very small and only around six feet high.

The steps of the shelter began on the street and led down under the houses.

On the night of March 11, 1941, Carmel was in the shelter with his mother, aunt and two sisters. At the time, his older sister, Rita, was 20 and Doris was only seven.

“The bomb directly hit my aunt’s house that night. We were very lucky that the shelter door was not facing the explosion because we could have died in the blast,” he recalled.

While Carmel, his aunt and sisters were not hurt, his mother was less fortunate.

“My mother was at the foot of the steps of the shelter and rubble from the buildings fell on top of her and she was trapped,” he said.

He described sitting in complete darkness as the only candle his aunt had brought with her was blown out.

“I remember hearing a loud whistle, the whistle you hear when a bomb is falling, and then I felt a knock on my head.

“I remember my aunt praying over and over again and reciting the rosary. I remember my sister, Doris, constantly crying for my father.”

Their father, Angelo Vella, was a special constable with the police during the war, and on that night he was sent to investigate some lights near the Nazzareno church on The Strand.

“He survived. He was lucky because most nights he was on duty to make sure no one was on the road during air raids.”

Carmel and his family spent three hours in the shelter. 

“I was in complete shock throughout the time but I remember hearing the people and rescuers above removing the rubble,” he said.

He remembered people saying how Mary Ellul, popularly known as ‘Mary the Man’, doubled up as one of the rescuers.

“I remember people telling me how she lifted and pulled away the concrete blocks so that people could get out.”

When his family finally was freed from the shelter he saw many people on the street.

“I was in a big shock and there were people calling out for their family members to see if they were dead or alive  and there was rubble everywhere in the area.”

Carmel, his aunt and sisters were taken to the house of a family called Bonello, who took them in and offered them cups of coffee.

His mother had to be helped out from the rubble and spent nine months in and out of the Blue Sisters  Hospital, today known as Zammit Clapp Hospital. She died in 1946 because of a blood clot, aged just 41.

After the air raid, Carmel’s family spent the night in a big villa, either in Siġġiewi or Żebbuġ.

“I can’t remember where we went exactly but I know we were in a big villa or palace and we spent the night there. I remember there were also many other families from the Cottonera mainly... they also lost their homes due to the air raids.”

His father knew a man surnamed Critien who owned a printing press in Sliema and introduced his father to the parish priest of a chapel in Mġarr, where the family stayed for another 15 days.

Apart from his aunt’s home being bombed, Carmel’s family home in San Publius Street was also damaged in the raids. So they had to wait before they could move back in.

“After that, my sisters went to live with my aunt Maria, who rented a house in Sliema, and I moved in with my other aunt, Lucy, in a house in Howard Street,” Carmel said.

After his mother was discharged from hospital, the family moved into another house in Sliema and, later,  were able to return to their family home.

Carmel spent most of the war in Sliema and even remembers seeing the first planes flying over Valletta when war broke out.

“There were five planes in all dropping bombs on the Grand Harbour. I was with my uncle and we saw one of the planes being hit... I remember all this.”

When asked what kind of impact the war left on him, Carmel simply answered: “At my age, I live day to day.”

“Yesterday is in the past now, every day is an experience. But I always say tomorrow never comes!”

He chuckled and said that, at the age of 93, he is happy to still have his mind and memory. 

Carmel has a message for people who compare COVID-19 to the World War Two. 

“During the war, there was starvation, black markets and nights in the shelter... but, at least, we knew who the enemy was!

“Now we are fighting a virus, which we cannot see, and we are still learning where it truly came from,” he contended.

On a brighter note, both Carmel and his wife, Carmela, who is 87, were among the first to be vaccinated and have now received both jabs.

“We are both healthy and feeling well. Carmela did feel a bit dizzy after the vaccine but after a day of rest she was back to normal.

“I myself took an aspirin and felt perfectly fine... as if nothing happened.”