As a student evacuated to Lija before the blitz onslaught and living together with four families from the same clan in our maternal grandfather’s spacious house, none of us cousins ever bothered to seek shelter during daylight raids.

On the contrary, we used to sprint up to the highest point of the roof − four floors above street level. From this unobstructed vantage point we focused our attention on a magnificent spectacle evolving over the harbour area and the surrounding bastions protecting the cities behind them.

It was there that the first stupendous box barrage was given a try with remarkably outstanding results for the defence. This consisted essentially of a superbly designed and mathematically precise calculation involving all anti-aircraft weapons of every calibre and size spewing their firing punch concurrently over a particular swathe of sea and its surroundings of critical naval and military importance.

The overall co-ordinated effort concurrently produced a sturdy impenetrable umbrella of fire and steel the valiant Luftwaffe Stuka 87s had to penetrate before jettisoning their deadly loads on the designated targets of the day – by and large cargo and naval vessels anchored in the safety of the harbour’s arms and defences.

The brave hara-kiri like pilots of the Stukas pushed themselves to the limit, swerving and diving with their sirens going at full blast, seeking to penetrate at all costs the solid barrage of lethal fiery bursts of steel.

A few did in fact manage to squeeze through but most found the going far too tough and ended up a ball of fire and smoke with some pilots successfully ejecting and reaching safety − dangling at the end of their white parachutes. A few others that tried to escape over the sea were ambushed, harassed and punished by Hurricanes and Spitfires trailing them until their fate was sealed forever in the blue waters of the Mediterranean.

The overall effect and mental impact of this mighty onslaught and stubborn defence was so overpowering that it is difficult to forget or erase from memory.

The imaginative designer and director of the terrifying, highly effective box barrage was none other than the mathematics guru and professor of our university course at the time who had joined the British army locally in the rank of captain at the start of the conflict.

Mark Appleby’s mathematical genius was such that he could effortlessly fill a whole double-blackboard face in a matter of minutes to solve and explain complicated calculus problems with the same ease as if reciting verses of poetry.

It was certainly thanks to his genius and creativity that a considerable number of cargo and naval vessels in Grand Harbour owed their survival during these critically mortal times.

Captain Mark Appleby, mathematics professor at the RUM, most certainly deserves a top listing and mention on the scroll of merit gracing our ancient highest institution of learning with the rest of the renowned professors and academics.

It is interesting to note that Appleby’s hobbies were all of an intellectual nature and, besides his love for his professional subject of pure and applied mathematics, these included playing the piano, which he did professionally and brilliantly, as well as reading literary material and poetry.

I distinctly remember him giving a public lecture one day at the university entitled “Musical Mathematics” which I attended but could not understand a single iota of the subject matter.

To conclude on a humorous and almost unbelievable note, Appleby, on more than one occasion recounted to us with a wide grin on his face how he always found it difficult and confusing checking the change after paying his bus fare!

Edwin Calleja

BALZAN