Bonegilla 1947-1948: Boxing Day to New Year's Eve (December 26-31) by Endrius "Andrew" Jankus

This is the fourth part of the recollections of Endrius Jankus, a Lithuanian refugee who arrived in Australia on the First Transport, the General Stuart Heintzelman.  Endrius became known as Andrew in Australia.  He was born in Draverna in the south of Lithuania on 7 July 1929.  He died in Hobart, Tasmania, on 23 July 2014.  He sent the full memoir to me in 2012.

26 December 1947 

The second day of Christmas was stinking hot and the sun was burning down on us. Nevertheless, an Australian basketball team arrived to challenge the Lithuanian team. Naturally, the Lithuanian team won. In the late afternoon, the girls from Albury-Wodonga arrived. Someone introduced to us the game of Lotto. Any one who won got 10 shillings, a fortune to us. After that we danced the night away till midnight when the girls left for home. But saying goodbyes took longer, in fact maybe a whole hour. 

27 December 1947

In the morning, I attended English classes until lunch. At lunchtime, Mr Bauza, his wife and a secretary arrived for a visit. Mr Bauza was the President of the Lithuanian Community in Sydney and had migrated to Australia in 1930.* 

We Lithuanians gathered in the Great Hall to hear him welcome us to Australia and describe life in Australia. We had a thousand questions to which we wanted answers. He obliged with clear answers in our own language that everyone understood. 

That night, at 8 pm, the dance started. For some unknown reason, we had a great influx of girls. There were three buses, one truck and a heap of cars full of girls. Well, it was Saturday night when just about everyone in Australia goes out. Or it could have been that the word had spread about our fantastic dancing ability? With the new army boot issue, when you trod on the girl's toes, it made her jump off the floor. At least dancing gave us time to practise our English. 

28 December 1947

It was very hot. Everyone was walking around like a zombie. We spent the day in the Lake (Lake Hume) to get some relief from the heat. At night, at 8 pm, we had a concert. Many luminaries from the area arrived including all the girls whom we had come to know. 

29 December 1947 

I got up early as I had orderly duties in the mess hall at breakfast, lunch and dinner. At lunchtime, I and many others went swimming in the Lake. In the afternoon, it was payday. Each of us collected our five shillings pocket money. I even managed to attend the English classes as well. 

30 December 1947 

On this day our whole English class had been rostered for duty at various places in the camp. I was assigned to the kitchen to wash up the big roasting pans. That was one hell of a job, trying to clean the burnt parts of the pans with no proper implements. All I was handed was a knife and a wash-up rag. 

The kitchen was dominated by pushy Latvians who claimed to be cooks. We thought of them as a bunch of crawlers with very little cooking experience. 

Some of the Latvian kitchen staff with friends, 
probably photographed after Endrius left Bonegilla —
do you recognise any of them? **

At the beginning of my duties, I was allowed to have a meal of whatever I wanted. I chose a pudding, apples and oranges. 

Friendly relations soon deteriorated as one of the cooks kept telling me that the pans were not clean enough. I asked him to show me how it was done. He declined. 

There was a stack of pans, probably more than twenty. In the end, after one more criticism, I threw the pan at him. I told him to clean the pans himself and walked out. 

Naturally, I was reported to the Camp Commandant for shirking my duties. I was told to report to him through the loudspeaker. I ignored the request for most of the day, going for a swim in the Lake and spending some time there. 

Towards evening, the announcer changed his tactics and asked me to come to the office as there was an urgent matter to discuss. Well, I thought, maybe there is some bad news for me. 

I fronted up to the Office and Major Kershaw jumped at me. After raving on for some time, he tweaked my ear and told me that if I had been in his unit, he would have fixed me, whatever that meant. 

That night a furious storm descended on Bonegilla. The barracks rocked and creaked and most of us thought that they might overturn. I think that it was just to frighten us. 

Talking about the kitchen crew comprising mainly of Latvians, I had previous experience with the Commandant. I was asked to be part of a delegation to him with a complaint when three-quarters of the camp was suffering from diarrhoea. 

The Commandant met us outside his office and went into great detail about "a little fly in Australia" that was the cause of it. One fellow elbowed me in the side and asked me to ask the Commandant if you could get VD from this fly. 

The Major went ballistic. He harangued us for some time about how ungrateful we were for their effort to accommodate us. You would think that they had rescued us from certain death. 

We knew what the problem was. The cooking staff drank plenty of milk that was supposed to be for our breakfast and made up the shortfall by adding water to the remainder. We came away from the confrontation shaking our heads.

31 December 1947 

There were English lessons as usual during the day. At 9 pm there was another dance with the usual crew. Our girls and those from Albury-Wodonga arrived and a great time was had by all. It ended at 2 am. Since I was one of the orderlies I had to help to restore and clean the hall. I got to bed at 4 am.

To be continued.

Footnotes

* For more on Antanas Bauže and his wife, Ona, see various Early Lithuanians in Australia blog entries by Jonas Mockunas at https://earlylithuaniansinaustralia.blogspot.com/search/label/Bauze.  In particular, this blog reproduces some text from another Heintzelman passenger, Kazys Mieldazys, who recorded his memories as First Steps in Australia.  Mieldazys wrote that, 

"A large surprise came from the President of the Australian Lithuanian Society, Antanas Bauze.  He had already greeted us by letter at Fremantle.  [At Bonegilla, late December 1947]  he visited us with Mrs Bauze and Mr Kuodis.  A meeting of all the Lithuanians was called, at which Mr Bauze greeted the newcomers, provided some details about life in Australia, and invited all to become members of the Australian Lithuanian Society.  The invitation was warmly embraced and Mr Bauze left with a list of about 400 new members."  [There were 437 Lithuanians among the 839 First Transport passengers who initiated the Bonegilla migrant camp.]

** Kitchen staff photo:  Standing, 5th from left, standing, is Galina Vasins, later Karciauskas; 8th from left, is Irina Vasins, later Kakis, both cleaners.  Double-click on this photograph to see a larger version.

Bonegilla 1947-1948: The Week to Christmas Day (December 19-25) by Endrius "Andrew" Jankus

This is the third part of the recollections of Endrius Jankus, a Lithuanian refugee who arrived in Australia on the First Transport, the General Stuart Heintzelman.  Endrius became known as Andrew in Australia.  He was born in Draverna in the south of Lithuania on 7 July 1929.  He died in Hobart, Tasmania, on 23 July 2014.  He sent the memoir to me in 2012.

19 December 1947 

All the Lithuanians worked hard today to erect and decorate a welcoming portal for the Archbishop of Melbourne who was to arrive in the late afternoon. Another group erected an altar in the Great Hall. 

During the celebration of Mass, one Lithuanian couple took the vows of marriage from the Archbishop. This was the second Lithuanian marriage at the camp.* 

Source:  The Advocate (Melbourne), 8 January 1948 page 7

One elderly Lithuanian woman was offering her daughter to me as a bride and prodded me to "tie the knot". She used the old Lithuanian saying that “two beggars live better than one", or words to that effect. Or "if you have to beg, two beggars will bring home more than one". Nevertheless, I remained a proud bachelor. 

20 December 1947 

The loudspeaker was working overtime and kept repeating the message. We all were called to assemble at the Great Hall as Dr Crossley had something important to tell us. He spoke to us in German and assumed that everyone understood the German language. 

He talked about our contracts, saying that Parliament had decided to increase our obligation to work under government authority to two years, instead of the one year we had been told in Germany. He tried to explain to us that the one-year contract was meant as no less than one year. 

When this drastic news sank in, there was almost a riot. Most of us felt betrayed even before we started work. There was an angry confrontation, with people shouting Nazi slogans at the Professor. He bounced up and down the stage calling us ungrateful immigrants. 

By that time Dr Crossley was screaming and asking us not to take any notice of our sergeants, inferring that some still had influence over us. There were a few ex-sergeants among us, but they were in the minority and certainly had no influence over anyone. He finally left the stage and retreated to the Commandant’s Office. No doubt, he passed the message on to higher authorities. 

A few days later, we were recalled to assemble in the Great Hall and Dr Crossley informed us of changes. Immigrants from the First Transport would have contractual obligations of 12 months, but immigrants on subsequent transports would have to serve two years. 

Unfortunately, this information was not passed on to all the employment bureaus. This resulted in threats of deportation and or imprisonment. When we left our employment after 12 months, we were all threatened with deportation from some of the Anglo-Saxon bureaucracy. The Communist Party’s inspired hatred of us lasted a lifetime. 

At night we had a dance. All the usual local Albury-Wodonga girls arrived. Some had already made romantic attachments with some of the new arrivals. It was becoming boring and the attendance from the men was dropping off. There were never enough girls to go around.

21 December 1947

Today a basketball competition was organised against an Australian team and a Latvian team. Both got a hiding from the Lithuanian Team, as basketball was a national sport in Lithuania and they were European champions. 

At lunchtime, one of the Australians employed at the camp, who used to accompany the girls moving to work in Canberra, died of a heart attack. 

We had a big contingent of Scouts. There were Air, Naval and Rover Scouts and Girl Guides among the Lithuanians. We had a meeting to organise a traditional Scout gathering for the next night starting at 8 pm. 

The centrepiece was always the bonfire with a performance of funny skits, songs and much merriment. It was just like we used to have back home in the pre-war days. Everyone had a job to do, from performing, to singing, to welcoming guests and seating them. We invited the Boy Scouts and friends from the surrounding area. 

22 December 1947 

In the morning I attended the classes organised for us in familiarisation with our new country and English lessons. 

Later, at 8pm, we had our traditional Scouts’ bonfire. Lots of Scouts from around the Albury-Wodonga area arrived and brought us a present, a case of apples. That was very nice of them. We did enjoy chomping into them later. 

The ceremony by the bonfire was an outstanding success and an eye-opener for our visitors. We selected skits which included miming with no interpreting required so that everyone watching could understand. In between, a choir sang old Scouting songs. The words were different to those our audience knew but the melodies were the same. 

The continuous robust acts impressed all our visitors, our teachers, the Commandant and his retinue and the Scouts. Amongst us we had a few outstanding performers. Two fellows carried in a stick from which hung a dozen bottles with various amounts of water in them. The "Maestro" appeared suddenly with two sticks and played the tune of "My Bonny Lies Over the Ocean”. The clapping took a long time before it stopped. 

Our "Maestro" played a few more tunes before he called it quits. Most of the audience didn’t know that less than one month earlier we had put on the same performance for the Scouts of Western Australia on one of their beaches. 

We all had worked hard in one capacity or another late into the night and decided to have a rest day. We slept late and spent the day diving and swimming in the Lake, to get away from the infernal heat. 

Inside the corrugated iron barracks was worse than outside. It was like an oven even at night. Most of us took our blankets outside and bedded down in the long grass. That was a good idea until one chap jumped up with a barbaric scream in the middle of the night, just because a friendly snake had slithered inside his primitive bed for a bit of company. That ended the sleeping in the grass episode. 

One another night as we rested on our wire stretcher beds, having a chat with one another with the doors opened at either end for some air, a snake navigated the three steps into our barrack. She was about to enter our space, when someone threw a boot at her and she beat a hasty retreat. 

24 December 1947 

Christmas Eve used to be celebrated throughout our country and most of Europe. It didn’t seem right that Christmas Eve was boiling hot in Australia. It was very unusual for us and it certainly proved to be at Bonegilla. It was obvious that our new bosses either didn’t know the significance of the day or could care less. It was a big disappointment to us. 

That night, all of us gathered in the big hall. A decorated Christmas tree stood there like an orphan. A few streamers hung down from the rafters in a careless fashion. We each received two slices of bread with butter and jam on it and an orange. To drink, we had orange juice. We sat around the Christmas tree and sang carols like we used to do at home or wherever we found ourselves to be on this Holy Night. 

Someone produced a blessed Eucharistic wafer and broke it up in tiny pieces on a plate to go around 400 Lithuanian Catholics. The plate was passed around and each of us licked the end of the finger and retrieved a tiny piece of wafer to put on our tongues. This bound us in unity to our nationality. 

The Commandant, the professor and the teachers wished us a Merry Christmas. At midnight we left the place for our quarters. 

It was a far cry from our country’s tradition, when everything had to be spick and span. Hay was put on the table and a white tablecloth was put over it. The plates were set out, including plates for the recently departed. A candle was lit on their plates to welcome the departed spirits. 

It was a feast for Jesus, with a twelve-course cuisine. That day, no meat was to be consumed. Although the Church allowed the consumption of meat, the people still carried out the old traditions. 

The eating began when the first star appeared in the sky. On an overcast day, the family elder decided when it was time to eat. The twelve dishes started with a pea gruel, a bean gruel, dumplings made from ground wheat, some traditional Lithuanian dishes, dumplings with cottage cheese, cranberry jelly, apple cakes, little Christmas cakes, marzipan and various nuts. To drink there were various fruit juices. The heavy eating was left for Christmas Day. 

25 December 1947 

On Christmas Day at Bonegilla, it rained cats and dogs as they say. The rain stopped in the evening and some of us went for a walk. The day was a non-event.

To be continued.

*  The woman in the illustration looks very like Irena Naujokatiene and the man like Antanas Jurevicius, a Lithuanian couple who were married at Bonegilla on 22 December 1947 by Fr JC Awburn, according to Jurevicius' Bonegilla card.

Bonegilla 1947-1948: The Next Week (December 12-18) by Endrius "Andrew" Jankus

This post continues the recollections of Endrius Jankus, a Lithuanian refugee who arrived in Australia on the First Transport, the General Stuart Heintzelman.  Endrius became known as Andrew in Australia.  He was born in Draverna in the south of Lithuania on 7 July 1929.  He died in Hobart, Tasmania, on 23 July 2014.  He sent the memoir to me in 2012.

12 December 1947

English Classes were organised by a group of university lecturers and the man in charge was Professor Crossley. The professor was from the University of Sydney. He was a short, dumpy fellow who spoke to us in German. We thought that he was a linguist and assumed that all of us could speak German. Probably about three-quarters could understand German, but not many were fluent.* 

In his late 30's but still playing rugby union with the students:
Dr Ralph Crossley from a photograph of the 1939
New England University College rugby team

Source:  http://aussieobserver.blogspot.com/

I was assigned to Class 3a, an advanced class in English. Our teacher was a Mr Lightfoot from Adelaide University, a very nice person. We had to attend four lessons a day. We were taught some English, but also about the strange monetary system of pounds, shillings and pence. We touched on the basic law of the country, the political structure of Parliament and the complicated measurements of rods, chains, feet and miles. 

The professor, Dr RG Crossley, was from the Department of German at the University of Sydney and was the chief instructor of 22 teachers recruited from NSW and Victoria who volunteered to work during their summer vacation to teach the newcomers English and familiarise them with the Australian way of life. 

The official estimate was that 80 per cent of the migrants could not speak English. I would dispute that figure. Of the 839 in our group, that would amount to more than 150 speaking English. There were very few in the First Transport that could speak English. My guess would be that 95 per cent could not speak the language. Most of them could speak and understand a little German. 

We had dances in the Great Hall. Girls from Albury and Wodonga were brought in to complement our somewhat moody girls. Some started quick romances with them. Some came back later after completing their contracts and married them. 

One fellow showing off his swimming capabilities drowned in front of his girlfriend. He was our first casualty in Australia. We buried him with the respect that we always applied to our departed.** 

One barbel latched on to me, but I steered her promptly towards another fellow.***  I wasn’t interested in getting 'chained' just yet. The slogan at that time was Populate or Perish. When we asked the local girls to help with the 'population' part, pointing out that it will be good for the country, the reply was that it might have been good for the country but that it wasn’t too good for them. How unpatriotic! 

15 December 1947 

A heap of journalists and photographers descended on us. They took our photos at the Lake, swimming and diving. Those photos appeared the next day in the newspapers. I didn't see it, but someone told me about it. I was watching a movie in the Hall when a camera was pushed in front of me and I was filmed watching it. Later, a journalist 'corralled' me for an interview.

It's OlgerTs Bergmanis playing with Gunars Berzzarins but
at least this is a photograph of some men for a change:
it's likely to be one of the photographs taken on 15 December 1947

Source:  Sydney Morning Herald via Trove

Camp life went on as usual. I didn’t hear it, but someone informed me and my friends that at 2 am Radio Moscow read out all the names of the people who had arrived in Australia. No doubt the KGB was still interested in the people who got away from them. 

17 December 1947 

I was ordered to offside on the camp’s truck. We drove to the railway station at Albury to pick up clothing and bring it back to the Camp. The second trip we made was to Wodonga to pick up food for the camp. 

At 6 pm we received a surprise visit from the Immigration Minister, Mr Calwell, as we had organised an exhibition of cultural relics from the three Baltic countries. He was impressed. 

At 7.30 pm we had a concert in the Hall. A lot of guests arrived as well. All this was filmed and taped. After the concert, Mr Calwell thanked us for our efforts and appeared to be very pleased. The next morning as we were standing at the clothing store, he waved goodbye to us as he left the Camp. 

Estonians Valter Kongats (left), Tiiu Jalak (later Salasoo, centre) and
Vally Meschin (later Johanson, right) perform one of their folk dances,
Raksi Jaak or Crackerjack, at the concert put together for the visit of
the Minister for Immigration, Arthur Calwell****

Source:  Collection of Tiiu Salasoo

18 December 1947 

At the clothing store, I was issued with a sports jacket, trousers, army boots, army shirt and two pairs of army socks. Outside the clothing store we had to line up to receive our new outfits. We were called alphabetically according to our surnames. 

The back of Endrius' 'Bonegilla card' confirms the clothing issue;
a later diary entry records that the 2 pairs of pyjamas, hat and
set of braces to hold up the trousers were issued on 23 January —
they were all Army surplus, left over from the end of WWII

Source:  National Archives of Australia

The clothing store was next to the Camp Commandant’s office. In the line there was banter going on in our own language. 

One tall fellow with a booming voice replied to the banter quite often. That must have infuriated our Camp Commandant, Major Kershaw. He came flying out of his office, marched up to the 'booming voice' and punched him in the face saying, 'I am the Commandant'. 

We were astonished that the receiver of the punishment punched him back with the words, 'and I am an emigrant'. The Commandant retreated to his office speechless, and most of us just clapped and shouted 'Bravo'. Not because he had hit the Commandant, but for his ability in the English Language. 

A Scout Master from Albury arrived after lunch to inspect the Scouts and have a word to us. 

That night I was invited by the Albury girls to a dance in their town. About thirty of us went in the Camp’s truck. We saw the same girls who visited us, but a few new ones had joined them. I met a girl called Nancy. She was a good looking Amazon and friendly girl. She even gave me her address. 

The supper was fantastic. We were urged to eat up all the different cakes and biscuits. The problem was that they were too sweet for us. We were not used to so many sweet things, but enjoyed drinking the tea.

To be continued.

Footnotes

* Ralph George Crossley was the Senior Lecturer in German and head of the subject at the University of Sydney, but not a Professor.  Most of the 22 other teachers were his students who had just completed their third year of university studies.

** I have told the story of Aleksandras Vasiliauskas earlier in this blog, at  https://firsttransport.blogspot.com/2021/04/aleksandras-vasiliauskas-short-and-sad.html.

*** A barbel is a type of fish found in British fresh waters.  I don't know for which word or words Endrius might have been searching here.  Bar girl?

**** There are videos of Raksi Jaak on the Web.  Since the photograph shows 3 dancers only, I've linked it to a video of the dance performed by a trio.  It seems that, the more dancers you have, the more energetic and athletic it can be.  Watch more energetic versions here and here.

Bonegilla 1947-1948: The First Five Days (December 7-11) by Endrius "Andrew" Jankus

Endrius Jankus, known as Andrew in Australia, was born on 7 July 1929 in Draverna, a village near the Lithuanian coastal town of Klaipėda in the south of the country.  He died in Hobart, Tasmania, on 23 July 2014.  He was a grandson of the 'Patriarch of Lithuania Minor', Martynas Jankus, a printer, publisher and social activist.  Endrius' memories of his first four months in Australia were written in 2012 but based on a diary he had kept in 1947-48.  You may see something of his grandfather's social activism in his views. I would not be surprised if the Commandant of the Bonegilla Migrant Reception and Training Centre, Major Alton Kershaw, had seen a brash 18-year-old who needed to be trained to obey.  Read on...

7 December 1947

We arrived in Melbourne on the dirty old tub, Kanimbla.  It was like a hell ship out of some fantasy.  Dingy quarters, grime-ingrained bunks with food to match.   It was a big letdown after the General Stuart Heintzelman.*  

At 2.30 pm, the then Minister for Immigration, Mr Calwell, arrived with his retinue on the main deck and welcomed us to Australia.  With newsreel cameras whizzing and camera flashes just about blinding everyone, the whole ceremony was over within the hour.  

Estonian Lucia Maksim thanks the Minister for Immigration, Arthur Calwell,
(centre, in light suit)
on the Kanimbla at anchor in Port Melbourne, 7 December 1947.

Source:  Private collection**

I had volunteered to help load baggage onto the train. There were not that many pieces. While we were loading, a chap approached us and introduced himself as the First Officer of the Danish ship Java berthed on the other side of the pier. Since I could speak English, he told me what a terrible country this was. The exact conversation escapes me after 65 years. 

It would be better if I joined his crew as they were leaving for Europe in the morning. That was a great temptation as I always wanted to go to sea. He showed me a newspaper called the Tribune. This Australian Stalinist rag had a cartoon of people getting off a ship with swastikas and SS armbands. The caption was, "These people will make good Australians". 

But my first reaction to the proposal was no desire to return to Europe, since we had just arrived in Australia. Secondly, we travelled on international refugee papers and were still regarded as stateless persons. We did not belong to any country, since our country had been swallowed up by the criminal Soviet Union. ”Thanks” to the idiotic US President Roosevelt who sold us out and three-quarters of Europe to the Stalinist butchers. 

I had heard stories of stateless persons on ships travelling the seas who were not allowed to step ashore on any land due to lack of a passport or identification. That thought made me decline the offer. 

It was the days when the White Australia policy was strongly defended. We were lily white but not English, which was unacceptable to the population. Most of them had some black blood cruising through their veins but that was ignored. That was why we were discriminated against for many years to come.

Some groups, particularly in Tasmania, of the isolated, inbred, black-brushed population and the Stalinist unionists made our life a misery. We faced strikes on our arrival organised by the Communist-dominated unions and fights in the pubs. 

This antipathy is still alive today in 2012. It’s more gentle because of laws prohibiting discrimination, but it is still being practised by some idiotic clerks in government departments and in businesses and workplaces. Under our breath, we used to call them Anglo-Saxon Nazis and Australia a country built on bullshit. You never struck that many conmen, crooks and criminals in any country as you did in Australia. 

Just like going through the medical in Germany. They looked at our teeth, like the old horse traders did, to make certain that they were healthy. On arrival in Australia, we found out that most people had no teeth at all but had prostheses. 

8 December 1947 

This morning we boarded trains and our journey began towards Bonegilla. We were divided into two groups, one per train. I was in the first one with all our girls. 

This sparsely occupied land already had sunburned yellow grass as far as the eye could see. It was almost the middle of December, in the summer. The train stopped for lunch at Benalla. Some Red Cross Ladies provided us with a meal. 

After about one and a half hours, we were told to board the train again and proceeded. In the rolling northern hills of Victoria, with no signs of life, the train stopped. Had we arrived? 

The girls, some 120 of them, alighted on the dirt ramp which was level with the floor of the train. The rest of us jumped out into the belly-high grass. There was deathly silence interrupted only every now and again by the locomotives snorting. 

Someone suggested that we had arrived at our execution spot. I countered that they would not have sent us halfway round the world to execute us. The suggestion hadn’t been that far-fetched. Those sorts of isolated places were normally used for mass murder in Europe. 

Suddenly, we could hear the noise of revving motors. Khaki green trucks were slowly working towards us. Only a slight wisp of dust rising from the ground indicated the Army trucks’ position as they laboured to reach us. There was no road, just a miserable track between the high grass and a fence. The girls got preferential treatment and went first to the trucks. 

Three of the Lithuanian women, with Viltis Salyte on the left
seated on one of the Army trucks at the Bonegilla railway stop

Source:  Border Morning Mail via Trove

We followed some time later and got a bumpy ride across some paddocks to the main highway. Once we reached the highway, our vision of the countryside improved. We could see Lake Hume and a large conglomeration of barracks on its foreshore. The Hall, a massive barn, stood out amongst the corrugated iron huts, our accommodation. 

Our group from the Flensburg Camp (close to the Danish border) and a few friends had stuck together throughout the journey and now were allocated accommodation on the outskirts of the camp in Block 18, Barrack 33. 

Endrius Jankus as a sea scout in Flensburg, 10 September 1947,
just 3 months before his arrival at the Bonegilla camp

Source:  Europeana

The corrugated iron huts were stinking hot like a sauna. The beds were tubular, folding iron and fencing mesh constructions made up with white sheets. Twenty-two of us took up our accommodation, threw our few belongings under the beds and bolted outside. 

It was cooler there. A group of kangaroos watched us in dumb silence from the High Hill, keeping a respectable distance. 

At 5 pm a loudspeaker blared out that it was teatime and all should proceed to the mess hall. What we ate, I didn’t record in my diary, only that it was sufficient and tasted bland. That seemed to be the norm in this country. We always maintained that the good food was spoiled because of the lack of tasty ingredients. 

9 December 1947 

We were shown a film about the Australian environment. After that we had to hand in our International Refugee Organisations documents. We were told that we had to be photographed for new documents, which never materialised.***  This left us only a red card for identification. 

This is likely to be the photograph of Endrius 
taken in the Bonegilla camp on 9 December 1947,
for use with his 'Bonegilla card'

Source: National Archives of Australia

10 December 1947 

Everyone had to have an x-ray of their lungs. The strict medicals that we went through in Germany were partially checked again. There seemed a suspicion that somehow people had escaped health scrutiny. 

It made the camp authorities and Immigration Department scratch their heads when they found almost 30 people with lung damage, mainly injuries from bullets. We knew about some of our fellows who we had helped smuggle into the country. They arrived here with someone else’s lungs. How it was done shall remain a mystery. Several had only one good eye, but they too were discovered. 

Actually out of 839 passengers this wasn’t such a great number of fraudulent immigrants. We had expected that all of them would be deported back to Germany and discussed what action we could take to prevent this or at least convey our displeasure. 

A few days later, they all were rounded up and sent to Heidelberg Repatriation Hospital. They returned to camp about a week or so later and the whole affair was “swept under the carpet”. They all stayed here. 

In the meantime we just rested, went for walks to the kangaroo vantage points, the hills, and discovered the multitudes of rabbits — black, brown and brindle. The hills seemed alive with rabbits. Someone in our group had a camera and we photographed ourselves on the walks to the hills and the Hume Weir. What happened to these photos, I am unsure. 

11 December 1947

We were called to the camp office and asked what sort of work we wanted to do. This was a strange question as in Germany we had been told that unless we signed up as labourers, we would not be accepted for the interviews. Just like the medical where they scrutinised the status of our teeth. And on arrival here we found that most Australians did not have any but chewed on their falsies. 

This was payday for us. The unemployment benefit at this time was one pound and five shillings. The camp kept the one pound for our keep and handed us the five shillings as spending money. We had to sign that we had received it. 

I spent three shillings at the shop down the road a bit on tobacco, cigarette papers and a box of matches, plus an ice cream. I had one shilling left. These days, the anti-tobacco or anti-smoking campaigns amuse me. I began to smoke at 14 years of age. I found out, like millions of others, that smoking calmed you down and suppressed your hunger pangs. 

In four years of warfare, I can well remember being hungry day after day. It was just like a rat gnawing at your empty stomach. It may be dangerous to your health, but no little Hitler should have the power to ram his ideas down other people’s throat. In my book, they are the “perverts of democracy”. Besides, I stopped smoking 30 years ago. 

To be continued.

Footnotes

* Endrius was not alone in this recollection.  Several of the women have told me too that they regarded the Kanimbla as filthy, and not just in comparison with the General Stuart Heintzelman.  The captains (Army and Navy) of the Heintzelman had figured out, probably through the experience of other troop transports of the same class built before her, that the best way to keep their soldier passengers out of mischief on the high seas was to give them work to do.  Much of it has to do with keeping the ship clean, but there were other tasks as well, such as helping in the kitchen and bakery or the ship's library.  Australia's first post-WWII refugees on the Heintzelman had been subject to the same regimen, but benefited from a clean and orderly voyage.

** There are so many copies of this image in public and private collections that I think it was taken by one of the Heintzelman passengers with their own camera.  These photographers could run something of a business, selling or bartering their prints to cover their costs, and probably make a small profit as well.

*** The new documents were quite likely to have been the 'Bonegilla cards', National Archives of Australia series A2571.  They were for the use of the administration, not the Centre residents.

How a Lithuanian Boy Became a Refugee in Australia

The Melbourne Catholic newspaper, the Advocate, published on 12 February 1948 an article from a Bonegilla camp staff member written on 21 January that year.  Since the Second Transport, the General MB Stewart, did not reach Fremantle until the date of publication, "Robertas Luas" in the article below clearly is someone who came to Australia on the First Transport.

The Advocate's introduction read, "The following account of the experiences in Lithuania of one of the D.P.'s in the Bonegilla camp has been forwarded to us with the accompanying photograph taken in the European concentration (sic) camp. The Monstrance was made in the camp from wood. The names, for obvious reasons, are fictitious."

This evening, when I walked past the "Kinohalle" I heard piano playing and Lithuanian singing.  I entered and saw what I had expected: the young Lithuanian lad again played what he had picked up without any tuition and a few of his friends (were) singing into the microphone. 

I played a few German folk songs for them, showed them views of "beautiful Tasmania", and then asked him what he intended to do here in Australia. He said he would like to go back into a technical school to become an architect, and also take evening lessons in art and music. 

Then I asked him to tell me the story (of) how he got away, from his home so young. And this is what he told me in as good a German as he could command.  "My family name is Luas, and my Christian name Robertas.  I come from (Kalvarija), a place in Lithuania. I am a Catholic and eighteen years of age. My father died when I was three years old.  My mother, sister, and two brothers are still in Lithuania, I believe. 

"It was in 1944, I was at school.  German soldiers came into the schoolroom and asked all over fourteen years to volunteer for making road obstacles against the Russians, who were approaching the village.  But these men had guns and showed them, so we did not go freely, we just had to go.  They told us that when the work was finished we could come back to school. 

"We worked for a whole week, but could not finish; the Russians came too quickly.  We wanted to go home, but the soldiers brought us to the next village to make there a 'Panzergraben'.  We were fifty boys. 

"Soon we started to run away in small groups, but the soldiers shot at us and killed four.  Then we stayed, and were treated as prisoners of war.  They sent us to Istenburg in East Prussia into a camp of the "Arbeitsdient."  In my hut were fifteen men: Poles, Italians and Frenchmen.  Our daily food was 1½ kilo bread and vegetable soup for the whole fifteen.  I stayed about six weeks.

 

"Then I was sent to a farmer in Gustrow.  I had to work hard, and got very little to eat.  Many worked for that cruel man.  We were foreigners.  Everything was forbidden for us.  One day he hanged two Poles, because they had gone with German girls.  He told us the same would happen to us if we did not keep the rules. 

"But then I ran away towards Lithuania, to get home to my mother.  But I had no papers.  When the police caught me they put me in gaol for two weeks.  Then, I think they intended to shoot me.  At the last moment the sergeant asked me my age.  I said I was fourteen.  And my name?  I said Robert.  He said: 'that sounds German, we will let him go!' 

"I was sent to Bonn on the Rhine where it was horrible.  First the work at the railway station, loading cases of ammunition into trucks was not so bad.  But then we had to fill in bomb holes in the city streets, and they gave us rubber gloves to pull out the dead from shelters days after the bombings had taken place.  This lasted for six weeks.  I never knew what day of the week it was.

"Then I went to Essen to work in the factory where they made spare parts for the ME109 fighter aircraft.  The American Army surrounded us there, but I escaped to Haltern, where I worked again loading trains with ammunition.  All the time since I was in Isemburg a guard stood by as I worked. 

"After four weeks I went, partly walking, to Hamburg-Altona, constructing road obstacles against the oncoming British Panzer units.  Later I went to Lubeck, and there the British came on May 17, 1945, and put me in a D.P. Camp at Nuestatt, a fisher village on the Baltic Sea. 

"Soon I went to Buxtehude, to attend the Baltic Technical High School. From there I came to Australia last year." 

This is the story of a Catholic boy who was driven from his home at the age of fourteen.  I asked him what moved him to come to Australia.  And he gave me some more interesting information.

Last year he wrote to his mother asking whether he should go home.  She did not answer in a letter.  But she sent him a picture of St. John baptizing Our Lord, and wrote on the back, "Into the wide world." 

For young Robert this was leave to go anywhere in the world.  He was glad. He did not want to go home, nobody did.  Questioned by the British Occupation authorities, they all answered, 'No, we do not want to go where the Russians are, we prefer to die here in Germany.' 

Robert wanted to go somewhere else, anywhere, because of hunger. He showed me a picture of himself when he was fifteen, and it is a sad reality, hunger impressed on every face in the group.  Robert himself unrecognisable, more like a man of forty.

Lithuanians playing basketball in the Bonegilla camp
show how thin they still were nearly three years after the end of WWII

Source:  Pix, 31 January 1948

He also showed me a picture of Corpus Christi procession in a D.P. Camp of Lithuanians in Germany, which gives a similar impression. Robert weighed only 62 kilo in Germany.  Now he looks strong and sturdy again.  The sun of Bonegilla and the waters of the Hume Weir have tanned his Nordic skin. 

The Advocate's photograph of a monstrance procession, said to have been in a European camp.

Next week he goes fruit picking.  He hopes to save some money to continue his studies later in Melbourne or Perth.

Robertas' story could belong to any one of eleven 18-year-old Lithuanian males on the First Transport.  To whom it belongs doesn't matter much though, as the details are generic for many, if not most, of the Baltic men on the First Transport. Women were conscripted like this too but were more likely, from what I have heard, to be working in factories.

The person who wrote Robertas' story is highly likely to have been Dr Ralph Crossley, the Senior Lecturer in German at the University of Sydney who organised the first English classes at Bonegilla camp.  Not only was his PhD on the German language but he had spent time in Germany in the late 1930s.  I think that he would have been the only English-speaker in the camp in January 1948 whose German was so fluent that he could write 'as good a German as he could command' of someone who had spent the previous 3 years operating in German as well as Lithuanian.  And play German folk tunes for the assembled Lithuanians.  Ralph Crossley has an interesting life story, which I should blog sometime soon ...

From a Lithuanian farm to Australian lawyer: Stasys Čibiras (1923-2012) by Daina Pocius and Ann Tündern-Smith

Updated 4 August 2024

Stasys Čibiras was born on a farm in Lithuania but retired from a law practice in South Australia. Learning the law means a close grasp of the meanings of words: for Stasys, known as Stan in Australia, English would have been his third or even fourth language. World War II changed the course of his life but this strong man survived and bettered himself. 

Stasys Cibiras at age 24 in 1947, on his 'Bonegilla card'

Source: National Archives of Australia

The farm was in senas (old) Daugeliškis, where he was one of seven brothers and a sister. Born on 13 October 1923, he was a student of mechanical engineering at a trade school when the Germans invaded his country in the summer of 1941. 

In 1944, he was taken to Germany to labour for the German Army, digging trenches between the opposing forces. He dug for eight months before being shot.  

He was taken a prisoner-of-war by the British. At the War's end, he got himself to the American Zone of occupied Germany, to the city of Kassel. He had become a Displaced Person, able to complete high schooling there in 1946. The following year in Eichstädt he studied philosophy. Like so many other Displaced Persons, his hope was to go to America, but he answered an earlier call to consider Australia instead. 

His appearance before the three-man Australian selection team took place a couple of hours away from Kassel by rail, in the town of Butzbach, near Frankfurt. Success in the selection process doubtless occurred because the team saw before it a 6-foot (183 cm) tall man who had just celebrated his 24th birthday and was healthy apart from the bullet wound. It was followed by a return to his camp on the outskirts of Kassel, hasty packing, another trip to Butzbach, then train travel to the Bremerhaven assembly point for his journey to Australia. 

Four weeks on the USAT General Stuart Heintzelman were followed by four days in Fremantle and another voyage to Port Melbourne on board the HMAS Kanimbla. 

After one month in the Bonegilla Migrant Reception and Training Centre, probably attending English language classes every weekday, he was one of a group of 33 men sent to Mount Gambier, South Australia, for their first Australian employment. For nearly two years, they laboured there for the Department of Woods and Forests, but were told that their two-year obligation had ended two months early for good behaviour like the rest of their fellow passengers.

Moving to Adelaide, Čibiras lived initially in a large tin shed in the western suburbs with other refugees. He continued to work as a labourer, mostly in an Adelaide factory. Later he became an orderly at the Daws Road Repatriation Hospital. During this time, he decided to study law at the University of Adelaide. This was no easy undertaking. As mentioned above, he would be studying in a very recently acquired language, at least his third after Lithuanian and German. 

Those who had migrated to Australia in 1947 were not eligible to apply for Australian citizenship until after 5 years residence here. Stasys beat the gun by one day, publishing the required notices in two newspapers on 27 November 1952 when his date of arrival was 28 November 1947. He managed, however, to hold off completing his application form until 5 days later. His citizenship was conferred on 15 April 1953. 

Stasys, or Stan, was already an articled law clerk when he applied for citizenship in 1952. Indeed, his law career probably started even earlier, because we know he instigated the Australian Lithuanian Student Association, Adelaide Branch, (Australijos Lietuvių Studentų Sąjunga or ALSS), with an establishment date of 25 August 1951. Members were university students or those studying at a higher professional level who had completed a diploma. 

With part-time study, it took him until 1958 to graduate from the University of Adelaide with a Bachelor of Laws degree. 

Stan Cibiras as a successful immigrant: the full caption for this 1958 Australian Government publicity photograph reads, "When Stan Cibiras came to Australia 11 years ago from Lithuania he was employed as a labourer. Later he became a male orderly in an Adelaide Hospital. Working at night and weekends, he was able to undertake a Law Course at the Adelaide University and recently qualified as a Bachelor of Laws.  He is now employed as a solicitor with the
Crown Law Department of South Australia."

Source:  National Archives of Australia

Meanwhile, he had involved himself in the early days of the Adelaide Lithuanian Society.  A meeting was held to discuss the establishment of a Lithuanian community house and Stasys became a member of the committee to look into this. He was a member of the Australian Lithuanian community court, President of the Baltic Communities committee and became President of the Adelaide Lithuanian community for 1956-57.

While studying, and working, he even found the time to undertake a pilot's course with the University Air Squadron, attaining the rank of Flight Lieutenant. 

A 1962 publication on the South Australian Lithuanian community, Blėzdingėlės prie Torrenso or Swallows by the Torrens, had a sketch of Stasys in his role as community leader.  Jonas Mockunas has provided what he calls a very loose translation.  "Completely straight, never wrapping anything in cotton wool, Čibiras seems not to have felt any of the attacks directed at him and always did what he was determined to do.  A young, energetic lawyer, having finished his studies in Adelaide, Stasys  Čibiras would dress down those who tried to insert sour notes into the life of the community.  To the sorrow of his friends and the joy of his enemies, Čibiras has temporarily left Adelaide simmering in disputes and settled in pleasant Renmark ..."

After completing his articles, Stan's first job was as a crown prosecutor. While visiting Renmark, he found out that a local solicitor, wished to retire. It was agreed with the solicitor that Stan would take over his business. 

Stan married a fellow Lithuanian, Dalia Pyragius, and they had two sons. The family stayed in Adelaide, so Stan travelled more than 250 Km every weekend to see them. 

Stan Cibiras (centre) with his sons, Tony (left) and Paul (right)

Photograph kindly supplied by Paul Cibiras

After Stan's death in Canberra in February 2012, his friend and former business partner, Malcolm Daws, described his Renmark life in an obituary in a local newspaper, the Murray Pioneer.

Stan, Malcolm wrote,  "lived in makeshift accommodation in Renmark while renting office space in the old State Bank building in Renmark Avenue and because he could not afford his own car to drive to Adelaide, he would ‘grab a lift’ with whoever was going there on weekends. 

"After the first three months of hard work, Stan was left with just over $2 to his name. 

"However, his hard work started to produce results and he then quietly prospered, being able to afford to buy a house, a car and  about 10 years later, a share in the building which now houses the Renmark Medical Clinic and the Riverland Denture Clinic. 

"Although Stan was able to afford to have his two sons at boarding school in Adelaide, his marriage became a casualty but nevertheless his optimism remained undimmed. 

"He was proud of the later achievements of his sons Tony, a law graduate, and Paul, a mining driller. 

Tony Cibiras (left) at his graduation with his father, Stan (right)

Photograph kindly supplied by Paul Cibiras

"During his 30 years of legal practice in Renmark, Stan involved himself in a community in which he felt so much at home. A president and life member of the Renmark Club, he was also a president of the Rotary Club and a keen participant in tennis and golf where his enjoyment of both games outshone his prowess." 

Stan retired from his business, Cibiras & Daws, and from legal practice in 1990. He moved to Canberra, where his son Tony had obtained his legal education and was in practice. 

Renmark High School’s annual Stan Cibiras Award is presented to a Year 12 student who has overcome adversity to become successful. Stasys donated $500 annually until 2011 when the award was taken over by the Renmark Lions Club. Malcolm Daws wrote that, "The award came about after Stan lamented that he had always intended to write a book on constitutional law but had not done this, so he regarded himself as a failure.  Nothing could have been further from the truth."

By 2010, Stan's health deteriorated to such an extent that he was moved into a nursing home. He had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. When he passed away in February 2012, he had reached the grand age of 88. 

Malcolm Daws finished, "That the business name of Cibiras & Daws was registered for more than two decades causes your correspondent immense pride.  Stan's first consideration, when assessing a client's chances, was whether the client was 'a good bloke'.  Stan Cibiras was a good bloke."

In memory of Stasys (Stan) Čibiras, 13 October 1923 – 6 February 2012, and Anthony (Tony) Benius Čibiras, 26 August 1956 – 24 August 2022. 

SOURCES

Andriušis, Pulgis and Vladas Radzevičius (eds), Blėzdingėlės prie Torrenso (Swallows by the Torrens), J. J. Bachunas, Sodus, Michigan, 1962. (Jonas Mockunas advises that blėzdingėlė is also the name of a popular Lithuanian folk dance, performed by women only, so there is a connotation in the books title of Lithuanian cultural tradition being maintained in Adelaide.)

Čibiras, Paul, personal communications, 2022.

Daws, Malcolm, 'Farewell Stan Cibiras, just a genuinely good bloke', The Murray Pioneer (Renmark, SA), 14 March 2012, p 16.

Fatchen, Max, 'Their celebration was just like home', The Mail (Adelaide, SA), 30 October 1954, p 8, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article58098347 viewed 12 December 2022.

Gordon, Dalia, personal communications, 2012 and 2022.

J. Kalvaitis, 'Mokslo Keliu' ('Through Learning'), Musu Pastoge (Our Haven), Sydney, NSW, 20 June 1956, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article259365397 viewed 12 December 2022.

National Archives of Australia: Australian Customs Service, State Administration, South Australia; Alien registration documents, alphabetical series, 1923-1971; CIBIRAS S, CIBIRAS Stasys - Nationality: Lithuanian - Arrived Fremantle per General Stuart Heintzelman 28 November 1947, 1947-1953.

National Archives of Australia: Department of Immigration, Central Office; A439, Correspondence files, multiple number series, Class 11 (Migrants A-C); 1952/11/8364, Cibiras, S, 1949-1953, https://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=802671 accessed 4 August 2024.

National Archives of Australia: Department of Immigration, Central Office; A11772, Migrant Selection Documents for Displaced Persons who travelled to Australia per General Stuart Heintzelman departing Bremerhaven 30 October 1947, 1947-1947; 534, CIBIRAS Stasys DOB 13 October 1923, 1947.

National Archives of Australia: Department of Immigration, Central Office; A12111, Immigration Photographic Archive, 1946 - Today; 1/1958/29/1, Immigration - Migrants in the professions - When Stan Cibiras came to Australia 11 years ago from Lithuania he was employed as a labourer. Later he became a male orderly in an Adelaide Hospital. Working at night and week-ends he was able to undertake a Law Course at the Adelaide University and recently qualified as a Bachelor of Laws. He is now employed as a solicitor with the Crown Law Department of South Australia, 1958, https://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=8109934 accessed 8 June 2024.

National Archives of Australia: Migrant Reception and Training Centre, Bonegilla; A2571, Name Index Cards, Migrants Registration [Bonegilla], 1947-56; CIBIRAS STASYS, CIBIRAS, Stasys: Year of Birth - 1923: Nationality - LITHUANIAN: Travelled per - GEN. HEINTZELMAN: Number - 908, 1947-48, https://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=203680665 accessed 4 August 2024.

Papers held in the Lithuanian Archives in Australia, https://www.australianlithuanians.org/uncategorized/adel-arkhives/ accessed 25 May 2024.

(Pocius, Daina), 'Australian Lithuanian Students (Australijos Lietuvių Studentų Sąjunga (ALSS))', Lithuanian History in Australia, https://salithohistory.blogspot.com/2013/11/australian-lithuanian-students.html viewed 12 December 2022.

Riverland Weekly, 'Renmark Lions Club honour', Riverland Weekly (Berry, SA), 8 December 2011, p 4, https://issuu.com/riverlandweekly/docs/rw_207_dec_8_2011 viewed 12 December 2022.

The Mail, 'Want to be Good Australians', The Mail (Adelaide, SA) 15 October 1949, p 8, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article55782457 viewed 12 December 2022.