Malta and the most important ship you’ve never heard of…
- marklar1824
- Aug 27
- 6 min read
How a nightmare cruise around the Med possibly won a war...
3 metres high, perfectly rectangular, and made of limestone. It’s certainly not the most eye-catching monument. Erected in 2005, it’s not the oldest, nor is it in the most noticeable area. Sitting outside an office block about a 5-minute walk from the far more famous Tower of London, you could easily miss it. And yet this modest slab is the UK’s nod to one of its most dramatic wartime chapters. Here I am slagging off its looks… charming.
Dunkirk, The Battle of Britain, D-Day - each of these events are etched in the British consciousness as turning points that eventually led to victory for the island nation in the Second World War. However, 2,000 miles away, just off the coast of Africa, sits a much smaller (and sunnier) island. Against all odds, in a defence truly worthy of a Hollywood epic, this little Island clung on in the face of insurmountable odds. Strategically priceless and close to breaking point, the island was inches from collapse.
This is the story of Fortress Malta and its knight in 9,265 gross tons of shining armour - Ohio. No, not the US state, the SS Ohio - a ship!
A Rocky Start
Malta has been a rock of significant interest for millennia. Located in the Mediterranean Sea, it sits as a natural checkpoint between Europe, Africa and the various shipping routes that run through that area. Romans traded from it. The Knights of St John turned it into a fortress during their crusading escapades. The British used it as a naval and hospital hub during the Napoleonic Wars, so much so that it was nicknamed “Nurse of the Mediterranean.” And if you fancy something even older, it’s also home to a megalithic, archaeological mystery - a 6,500-year-old temple that predates most civilisations…that’s a story for another time. My point is, it’s been around for a long, long time.
By the Second World War, its importance had skyrocketed. Just across the water, North Africa became a key battleground. Whoever controlled it controlled the Suez Canal — Britain’s vital artery to the Empire. The Axis wanted it. They also wanted the oil fields of the Middle East. Oil, or lack thereof, was a critical issue for Germany. The British, understandably, weren’t keen on handing either over. And that was that, cue three years of desert warfare.
Raids on German supplies by the British submarines and aircraft stationed on Malta meant that Rommel (a legendary tactician nicknamed the Desert Fox) and his troops were hamstrung and unable to capitalise on any advantage they won in the region (and early doors, there were many). Instead, they were constantly outrunning their supply lines and needing to stop their advance. So, they shifted focus and decided they needed Malta. Being so close to Italy (which, remember, was one of the Axis powers until 1943), Malta was put under constant bombardment and attack from 1940 onwards. In fact, at that point Malta held the horrible record (probably not one to appear in Guinness’ fun annual book) for being the most bombed place on earth. Let’s quickly compare to the Blitz (not that it’s a competition, but let’s create some scale here…). During the Blitz, London, an area of over 1,500km², was bombed for 57 nights - about 70 air raids. Over 2 years, 316km² Malta fell victim to 3,000 air raids - 3,000! Sometimes several per day. In fact, in April 1942, Malta endured 250 different air raids.
The RAF on the island fought like lions, punching well above their weight, but planes and submarines needed fuel. By July 1942, fuel, food, and general supplies on Malta had almost run out. Operations were being carried out without anaesthesia, food was rationed to starvation levels, and supplies were so thin that they had to get creative - they even experimented with human faeces as fertiliser for potatoes. Shockingly, this didn’t work. Typhoid outbreak, 99 dead - don’t eat where you…well, you know). If Malta didn’t get supplies — and soon — it would fall. And if Malta fell, the dominoes could topple - North Africa, the Suez, and possibly the whole Allied war effort. Everything hinged on one last roll of the dice: Operation Pedestal.
Once Upon A Pedestal
Pedestal was named with great foresight because it meant I could make terrible puns about how I put this story on a pedestal. Nailed it. Fourteen merchant vessels carrying supplies were escorted by more than 40 Royal Navy ships, including three aircraft carriers, two battleships, seven cruisers, seven submarines, and 32 destroyers. But all eyes were on one ship: the SS Ohio, the convoy’s only oil tanker, carrying 10,000 tons of fuel. If she went down, Malta went down.
A 5-day cruise around the Mediterranean is a luxury holiday these days. In 1942, flying the British flag, it was as far from a relaxing, sun-seeking retreat as you could imagine. The convoy set sail from Gibraltar on August 10th, and from there, chaos ensued. For 3 days, intense attacks from submarines, aircraft and torpedo boats resulted in daily casualties. The Aircraft Carrier, HMS Eagle, was sunk on the 11th August - a huge early loss. She would eventually be joined in the depths by nine of the fourteen merchant ships joined her at the bottom, along with two cruisers, a destroyer, and 400 servicemen.
Ohio was hit on the first day by a torpedo and temporarily disabled. Her admirable crew managed to get her going again…until the next day. A bomb dropped through the deck but, miraculously, failed to explode. Another bomb, however, did do its job, causing an explosion that tore open a huge chunk of her deck. Part of the (extremely flammable) cargo ignited and set a jet a fire into the air, the steering gear was damaged, and an eruption was expected imminently. Fortunately, water rushing in from the 25x25m hole, torn in her side, actually extinguished the flames. On she went.
The next of many close shaves was unexpected. A nearby destroyer had shot down a Stuka (those dive-bombers with the terrifying wail) - result! Unfortunately, like a massive pebble found at a disappointing UK beach, the plane crashed into the sea and skimmed across onto the deck of Ohio, exploding. Somehow, again, the ship, full of fuel, did not blow up. However, the damage from this one stopped her dead in the water. At this point, she was unable to move, with her back broken (as in, literally, the steel through the spine of the ship had snapped, almost fully in half), on fire and taking on water.
Against All Odds
Ohio was abandoned twice. That means on two separate occasions, her crew reboarded a floating powder keg and continued their effort to reach Malta. Other seamen, rescued from friendly ships that were sunk, volunteered to man her anti-aircraft guns. Think about that: men who’d already watched their ships go down willingly boarded a flaming oil tanker that should have exploded half a dozen times already. Upon realising she couldn’t make it on her own steam and was sinking, the Captains of two supporting destroyers decided to strap their ships on either side of the Ohio to keep her afloat while a third towed her forward!
After 5 brutal days at sea, Ohio, propped up on her set of Royal Navy stabilisers, limped into Malta’s grand harbour to rapturous applause. Malta was saved. Ohio was not. She staggered in, unloaded her precious cargo, and then — as if she’d been waiting for permission — promptly sank. The crew had kept her alive until literally the last possible moment. Unreal.
Malta’s defence is the stuff of legend in history, but not necessarily mainstream knowledge in the UK. The courage of her inhabitants was thought of so highly by the British government at the time that the entire island was awarded the George Cross - the British medal for heroism and gallantry in extreme danger. If you were wondering, this is the cross on the Maltese flag today! Have a look. The outcome of the war would likely have been very, very different had Malta fallen and Ohio not defied the odds.
Penny for a thought:
I’m biased - there, I said it. I have skin in this game. My Grandad was stationed in North Africa in the Second World War and was part of the force that was run ragged by Rommel and the German Afrika Korps. The same force that, without Malta’s raids and disruptive operations, would have likely capitulated. I was blown away by the selflessness, ingenuity and just blind, dogged determination shown by the crews of Operation Pedestal. Visiting Malta and standing on the walls of the Grand Harbour in Valetta, imagining that ship hobbling into port with the desperate locals cheering their salvation, moved me deeply. It’s a phenomenal story, and in the current time of such division and tribalism, it should be told time and again. A wonderful example of what can be achieved when pulling (or being towed by your pals) in the same direction.
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