Angela Turnbull meets Frank and Mary Rixon, who were living in Malta during World War II

MARY Rixon still vividly remembers the Friday rations she would receive in Malta during the darkest days of World War II.

"One sardine and a few butter beans," she says.

To this day, helping herself from a laden buffet table is something she just can't do.

Her husband, Frank, who served with the West Kent Regiment on the Island, still relives the horror of the years when Malta became the most bombed place on earth.

"It was continuous bombardment, day in, day out," he says.

"I have written so many books about it. Sometimes, I'll have tears running down my face."

Their memories of living on an island under siege from Italian and German forces form a vital part of author James Holland's new book, Fortress Malta, which follows the story of the tiny island through the eyes of people who were there.

Frank and Mary have been an invaluable source of information, says James, who got in touch with Frank through the George Cross Island Association.

James, who lives in the Chalke Valley, had no idea that Frank lived close by in Tidworth when they first made contact but now he knows the route to their house like the back of his hand and is treated like a son.

He gets hugs from Mary and a mock scolding from Frank, a former warrant officer, when he arrives five minutes late for a Journal photograph.

"Frank has been a tremendous support. He lent me his books and he would ring me up and say 'I've found someone else for you to talk to'," says James.

He first got the idea for his history when talking to a retired Spitfire pilot who had fought in both the Battle of Britain and in Malta.

"I didn't know anything about Malta's role in the war," says James. But within a week of talking to the pilot, The Malta Story, starring Alec Guinness and Jack Hawkins, was on television.

"I felt everything pointed in one direction," he says. He was off.

Smaller than the Isle of Wight, Malta had been British since the time of Napoleon and its geographical position in the middle of the Mediterranean meant it was in a key position to attack German and Italian shipping lines.

It was also a vital strategic British stronghold the Axis was determined to annihilate.

Bombs reigned down on the island until it was pitted with craters like an orange. As soon as members of Frank's battalion had filled the craters in, the Luftwaffe bombed them again.

There was death all around - Mary Rixon, eight months pregnant, had just reached an air raid shelter when she heard the guns overhead. She was safe, but a man who was leaning against the entrance, watching what was going on, died before her eyes. She was so shocked she fainted.

By 1942, the Islanders were starving. Mary's brother walked six miles to buy a loaf of bread on the black market.

Members of Frank's battalion were so weak they were told to rest in the afternoons and only work in the mornings.

But the plucky island held out - and survived against the odds.

"We were just getting on with the job," says Frank with true British understatement.

It is a story and a field of battle that so fascinates James he cannot leave it.

"I'm writing two more histories at the moment," he says.

"One is about the war in North Africa and the second is about the war in Italy."