Prior to 8.00 p.m. on the evening of the 10 September 1943, my tour of duty was rapidly coming to its close, in a most agreeable and peaceable manner. Not that this fact was to be marvelled at, since only the previous day the Italians had capitulated. We, here in Malta, being in possession of rather more news of the Mediterranean war, than the people at home, therefore had foreseen the inevitability of such an issue, and as far as I was concerned, the only interest I displayed at the information that the major part of the Italian Fleet was attempting a getaway from Italian Ports, was a mild conjecture on what they looked like, where they would go, etc. etc.
view map of Malta and Sicily
Lt. Mouritz screamed to a standstill in his Studebaker outside the Mess at approximately 8.00 p.m. on the 9 September and attracted my attention by a series of urgent hoots on his super-horn – that Studebaker was a super job all round. I realised immediately I was told to get in the car and to close the door, that he was here on something 'special'. We are inured to such visits and accept them as part of our normal routine.
Once in the car he right away rocked me off balance by asking whether I would like to volunteer for a special duty taking maybe 24 hours to carry out. Swiftly weighing up on the possibility of my missing the U.K. draft, I replied "definitely sir". He then proceeded to surprise me still further. Out of a maze of official orders issued from V.A.M.'s office I weeded out the fact that a portion of the Italian Fleet was even then on its way to Malta and that I would be in charge of a small party of ratings who would be sent aboard the ships to immobilise any aircraft that might be carried. I was to be ready with my party from midnight onwards, armed with revolvers and carrying rations and tools sufficient for our needs.
The mere fact of the complete mystery surrounding his visit, and my obvious haste to get rations, etc., and above all, the provision of small arms to all members of my party, certainly created havoc with the imaginations of the squadron as a whole. Naturally, Lt. Mouritz had sworn me to secrecy. The effects of these preparations on the ratings that I chose to accompany me can but well be imagined.
To pass the evening away I joined in a game of 'monopoly', but my thoughts were well away from the Mess throughout the game.
I awoke at dawn on the 10th inwardly marvelling that I'd been able to get in a whole night rest without being disturbed, as Lt. Mouritz had threatened I would be. After a morning of almost literally hanging on to the end of the telephone, waiting, there came the message - 'Report to the Dockyard at 3.00 p.m. and board Admiralty Tug "JAUNTY" with 'A' part of Special Party.'
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