Malta the Knights and the Gut

Fort St Angelo, Malta, Grand Harbour

The battle with Ollie Reed over, we set sail, the next port of call was going to be Malta were we were going to spend a short time in “DED” a maintenance period, this was to be in Valleta, at Fort St Angello in Grand Harbour.

The British had all but left Malta and the Communist backed Don Mintoff was riding high in the local polls. The Royal Navy and Malta have a very close frienship and the local population always come to see the arrival of The Fleet and the welcome was just as warm this time as it always was.
Grand harbour was just a splendour to see. The history behind the British Navy and it long relationship with the Island spans centuries and now I like my father before me was also part of that history. The navy was in my blood and always would be, I still felt my heart swelling when colours were sounded and the ensign hoisted aloft.
We continued to exercise with NATO country's all the way to Malta, I had listened intently to the stories of Malta and of those who had been there before me, I remembered as a Child I had lived on the island whilst my father had served at St Angelo, the memories of the period were almost non existant but I remembered some small things.
First night ashore and my first time on a dghajsa, it was a small vessel, a punt, not unlike those found in Venice the driver only had one paddle and was perched very precariously on the stern, probably not a disadvantage in Venice but was very skillful on the tidal crossing of grand harbour.

Never mind the history of Malta, The Nights Templar, the fortifications, the holiday resorts, I was attracted like a moth to a lamp to the place were for decades before me sailors from the navy battleships and frigates had gone on their visits to the Island, "the Gut", the Gut, real name Straight street, and for two hundred yards on both side of a very narrow thoroughfare there was bar after bar after tattoo artist after bar this place was full of woman, woman of ill repute who would for a few pounds introduce you to there daughters. The doorways to bars were very narrow and when within would open out to a usually seedy bar full of smoke with naval ships crests covering the walls. In some bars music would play very loudly and the sound would echo the full length of the Gut enticing sailors to spend their hard earned pounds on woman and marzavin.

The top of the gut was patrolled by Naval Provost marshal regulators and the bottom of the street was patrolled by the Royal Marines, most sailors would enter in a fit state but would be found crawling out of the bottom or top in a severe state of drunkenness.

My first visit to the Gut was not any different to what I have just described. I arrived with fellow ship mates and started on what could only be described as a pub crawl, it was known that it was impossible to go down one side and up the other and stay on your feet, many had tried. I was in no way a hardened drinker and I could only try in my own way to keep up with the flow of drink, the jokes and dits were spun constantly and the more drink the funnier they became, I lasted for about three hours before my legs gave way and I was helped to the top of the street. Naturally enough I was arrested by the regulators and thrown in the back of a provosts van.

It wasn't long before the van was full and we set off for the steps at the harbour, opposite St Angello, we hadn't gone far before I shouted that I was going to be sick, the van came to a sudden halt and sailors fell everywhere the back doors flew open and it was if a signal had been given, there was a rush for freedom and I found myself lying in the van with my head over the back bumper retching.

Eventually we reached the harbour and I think the regulators were embarrassed by such a small catch as they told me to return to my ship and nothing else would be said. I have no recollection of the rest of the night but I was up for it again the next night.