FOR a moment the Mediterranean Sea appears calm and tranquil, but the water reflects nothing more than a sky filled by shadows of flying death.
During the Second World War this was the scene in Malta. Naval mines surrounded the small island and the Allied forces and civilian population faced starvation as Axis forces laid siege to the small island, making it the most bombed place on earth.
"You couldn't get much in the way of injuries in Malta. You were just lucky to survive," said current North Vancouver resident and former air gunner Peter Watson.
As part of the British Royal Navy's 833rd Squadron, Fleet Air Arm, Watson served in Malta from June 1941 to May 1942. It was the siege's most violent period.
"We got bombarded every day. There were more bombs dropped on Malta in March and April of 1942 than the whole of the London Blitz," he said.
According to historian and writer James Holland, who wrote Fortress Malta: An Island Under Siege, 6,728 tons of bombs fell on Malta in April 1942 alone. Malta is only 316 square kilometres.
As an air gunner Watson lived two separate lives. At night he would climb into his Fairey Swordfish - a torpedo bomber biplane - and operate the plane's long-range machine gun. "Hopefully you didn't see any enemy aircraft," said Watson. "Your basic duty was to make sure the plane got back home again. I don't actually think a Swordfish has ever shot anything down."
During the day, Watson would try to catch snippets of sleep while avoiding German bombing runs (by 1942 it was primarily the Germans directing the offensive). In the first six months of 1942, there was only one 24-hour period where no bombs were dropped.
"Luckily, the one good thing about Malta was that there were some good shelters," Watson said. "Our airfield was also not far from the coast, so you could go down and hide among the rocks by the sea.
"But the bloody Germans even bombed that. It never did much damage, but it was more to say, 'Hey, we know where you are.'"
During Watson's time in Malta he had little control over his safety. Other than choosing to use underground shelters - he said that surface shelters took direct hits too often - Watson's life was in the hands of fate.
His survival though, appeared predestined. On Aug. 27, 1941 he boarded his Swordfish to attack a convoy of Axis ships. With the plane still on the runway, and going 96 kilometres per hour, the pilot lost control. The Swordfish crashed into a wall, bouncing off it like a pinball, and spun headlong into another wall.
The torpedo broke off and the plane caught fire with Watson still in it. Fortunately, the torpedo didn't detonate and Watson and the pilot were able to escape relatively unscathed.
Not long after that, the same pilot had a similar accident during another takeoff. The torpedo exploded, instantly killing him and his air gunner.
Watson didn't consider himself lucky, or fated to die or live - he simply resigned himself to the knowledge that anything was possible.
"You lived with (fear) it was something you got used to," he said. "In the navy or flying you knew there was a chance of something happening, but either you got back safely or you didn't. That was that."
According to the Royal Navy's Fleet Air Arm's archive, by March 1942 there were only three serviceable Swordfish left in Watson's squadron out of the 12 when Watson arrived.
As the siege worsened throughout the spring of 1942, Watson rarely flew and found himself in a personal war with the austere conditions.
"I don't think there was much more than 300 (service men), including the army on the island," he said. "Things were fairly bleak. We lived off stew or corned beef, and at the time I didn't realize the civilian population was far worse off than us. In the beginning when the (civilians) went down in the shelters nearly everyone had a goat, but towards the end there weren't any goats left. They had to eat them all because they were bloody starving."
It's estimated that roughly 1,500 Maltese civilians were killed in the siege, with more than 3,500 wounded.
Due to convoys routinely being sunk on their way to Malta, Watson was not relieved from duty until May 9, 1942. Shortly after he left, the German offensive waned and the Allies regained air superiority, shifting the momentum of the battle in their favour.
Watson returned to England where he discovered he had been awarded the Distinguished Service Medal for his actions in Malta.
Though elated with the prospect of King George VI pinning the medal on his chest - he remembers that day as "truly great and unforgettable" - Watson is still baffled by why he was selected.
"I didn't do anything special. I was a senior air gunner at the time, but I'm not sure how I got picked," he said. "Maybe they drew names out of a hat."
Watson described the remainder of his service as ordinary. He did not take part in a combat operation for the remainder of the war.
When he was discharged in 1945 he became a member of the Kent Police in England. He was a police officer for the next 30 years, retiring with the rank of Detective Chief Inspector. In 1980, he immigrated to Canada with his wife and three daughters. He worked as chief of security at Hollyburn Golf and Country Club for seven years before retiring again.
Now 90 years old, Watson still vividly remembers his time in Malta. Yet even now, he is unable to fully express the emotions evoked with the passing of each Remembrance Day. He relies on humour to summarize his story but traces of sadness line his face. "You're bound to think of the war (on Remembrance Day)," he said.
"You think of the blokes who didn't survive and think maybe they are better off. They don't have to deal with an $800 prescription."
