It Was The Worst of Times

The grey metal plane – now wingless – stands silently among the other exhibits, its huge blades now still. Standing at the centre of the hallway, it dominates this section of the museum, its simple name “Faith”, showing on its fuselage. This was, in fact, one of three Gladiators – the others were Hope and Charity – which bravely attempted to defend Malta in the face of attacks by the massive Regia Aeronautica (Italian Air Force).

Only those who are now well into their seventies have any recollection of the Second World War – but its effects are still visible everywhere. For those of us who have never lived it – and for those who have – the newly-refurbished War Museum in Valletta tells a story whose effects have reverberated through all our lives.

Here bombs which dropped terror in people’s hearts now stand benignly, sitting side by side with torpedoes, sea-mines, trench mortars of World War I – even an entire ominous-looking black E-boat, the likes of which were filled with explosive and used in the attack on the Grand Harbour in which the breakwater was destroyed. Everywhere the War’s pervasive influence on every aspect of our lives is visible: from gas masks to life in the shelters, from wartime songs to artifacts of sunken ships and from the old sculpture of the Opera House to the medals and photos of people who lost their lives in the war.

Recently reopening after a one-and-a-half-year period during which the entire collection was reassessed and re-organised, the museum – housed in the old Drill Hall of Lower Fort St Elmo – now clearly relates its narrative in chronological order. Starting from the first World War until the 1947 constitution, it traces the extraordinary stories generated by the First World War, the difficult interwar period and the Second World War.

Linking the various exhibits through interpretation panels, photos – even videotaped memories of people who lived and survived the war – the museum brings home to those people who never lived it, the story of how a country survived the effects of the war. Malta was particularly hard-hit during the Second World War when whole towns were brought to the ground. A memorial section at the end of the museum, in particular, also includes a Remembrance book with the names of all those who served in the war.

Here, walking through the various corridors, you will find the original George Cross letter which King George VI sent to the Maltese in April 1942 for bravery and courage shown during the war. Here also, you will find a Willys jeep, dubbed Husky, which was used by General Eisenhower and President Roosevelt, when he came to Malta. Bombs hang from ceilings and a large, threatening sea-mine stands silently in a corner. But, among these larger, more eye-catching exhibits, you will also find the little objects which showed how life had changed during the war. One showcase exhibits gas masks – even one in which a child could be inserted. Another details life in the shelters and shows various objects found inside one. Here you will also find shrapnel in envelopes from the first day of the attack on Malta – when six artillerymen were killed at Fort St Elmo – as well as the sculptures from the remains of the Old Opera House which was brought to the ground during the war and still stands at the entrance to Valletta. Here also, two large milestones – one with an erased face – indicate how these were smoothed clean to avoid communicating the distance of the nearest village to the enemy. Old photos fill entire walls and the sounds of bombing and wartime music fills the air, thick with memories.

Such is the wealth of exhibits that the museum’s main problem is space, explains its curator Charles Debono, who was behind its reorganization. Only a small fraction of the national collection is in fact currently on display; however, a series of themed exhibitions is planned for the display of selected items from the reserve collection, he says.

“We looked at each item individually, studied its dating and provenance and then wove it into the museum’s narrative,” says Mr Debono. The result is a museum with a rich fabric, telling the extraordinary story of how people lived, suffered and died through a period which, despite its visible effects, runs the danger of becoming just another memory.