SWANBOURNE, 29.11.47, Saturday I slept very well in my white sheets last night, no doubt helped by the long journey and then my walk. On waking I glanced through the open window - the blue sky and the willow tree growing right outside the window remind me strongly of Latvia, the home I haven’t seen for such a long time.
Will the day come that having wandered the world, I’ll once more see the blue skies and willows of home? Or perhaps my destiny is to remain here for all time and one day carry on my chest something similar to those grave monuments, that I saw in the town as we drove past.
I wouldn’t want that; I wouldn’t exchange any sort of monument for a simple wooden cross in a Latvian cemetery. But destiny will decide; after all I’m still young, and besides once you’re dead it doesn’t matter at all where you lie.
In the morning we had our last customs and immigration formalities. I reached the first table quickly, but that’s as far as I got because my cardboard box was apparently sent to another camp by mistake. This afternoon I went to fetch it, after which it was inspected, but I didn’t get the required stamp in my passport - the officials had already left by then.
I went to the office, where my passport was taken and I was asked to return on Monday at nine in the morning. Finally it was all over and I was free to do what I wanted. I couldn’t go for a walk because it was too close to mealtime, so I rested in bed, and when I woke I realised I’d almost missed dinner.
After eating quickly, I walked to the seaside. All around me I saw yellow sand. It’s amazing how varied the flora is, including the bush-like trees. I spotted something white on a hot sand dune, then leaped up and picked up a sixpence, the first Australian coin I can count my own.
I sat there for some time watching the ocean, then slowly climbed down again. Evening had come, and it was now a little too cool to be walking around in my shirt. I turned and slowly walked back.
As I dropped off to sleep my thoughts flew to Merry and Alt-Garge, then returned to Australia, the country which has welcomed us so warmly. Nowhere else are the immigrants given a free month to become familiar with the country and its people; only Australia shows such goodwill.
All the newspapers write hospitably about us, and there are banners everywhere with the words: “Australia Welcomes You”. Australians say they wish us all the best, and hope we will settle in quickly and feel happy in this free land.
Nowhere here have I seen the words “damned foreigners”, which is what Germans call non-Germans. After the merciless war years, and the Russian and German terrors, everything seems very strange.
I have found a normal life and it feels strange that I can eat without a ration card, or any recordkeeping. Who knows, perhaps I truly have reached my own “Happy Isle,” where I can rest after the storms of war, and perhaps my wanderlust will finally leave me in peace? (Note: In Latvian folklore there is a play based on a fairytale about Tom Thumb - the story of a small boy who went looking for fortune in strange lands, but came back, and the final scene is a song about “Happy Isle” - when he returns to his widowed mother, grandparents and own country, and is very happy.)
SWANBOURNE, 30.11.47, Sunday A glorious morning has dawned, the second in a row here in Australia. After breakfast I went for a walk and for an hour or so sat on the shore of the large ocean, watching the large waves crashing on the beach.
The weather was perfectly calm and sunny, the surface of the sea almost flat, but despite this the strange waves continued to crash against the shore, some even taller than a person, I don’t know where they came from.
I returned to the beach straight after lunch, and this time waded into the water. It was just wonderful bobbing up and down in the large waves. I spent over three hours in the sun, and as a result my face burned.
When I got into bed my back hurt and I slept badly, tossing from side to side, until one leg of the bed buckled and suddenly I flew out of bed head first. Luckily the night table stopped me falling onto the floor.
SWANBOURNE, 1.12.47, Monday I waited for the immigration official all morning, but it wasn’t until midday that my wait was crowned with success, and I was free again. I finished and posted my letters to Reinis, Merry and Tabra, then went into town with Mikelan. We wandered around for a long time, marvelling at the flimsy single-story buildings.
[Newspaper cutting “The Kanimbla, taken during the war.”]
FREMANTLE, 2.12.47, Tuesday At five thirty an Australian shook me by the shoulder, saying that it’s time to get up and get ready to leave. He, disturbing my sleep so early, is apparently accustomed to taking a long time to pack, but I was ready in ten minutes. How many belongings does a displaced person have, after all!
At nine the buses arrived and our trip through the town began, this time in the opposite direction. We got onto the ship without having to show our visas at all, simply whoever was there just climbed on.
The ship HMAS Kanimbla, intended for Australian army transport, is much smaller and older than the Heintzelman, and there is rust everywhere. It is also rather dirty, but on the other hand there is more room on the open decks, to take in the fresh air.
We sleep in a large room which holds almost everyone, but to our surprise this room only has a very small toilet and only a few washing tables, as well as only a few showers. Perhaps there’s a larger bathroom somewhere else, but no one has discovered it yet. It’s a bit hard to find our way around these corridors.
Here, the only doors we’re barred from are the officers’ living rooms; we can wander anywhere and look at everything. There are no MPs stationed as there were on the Heintzelman.
The announcements over the loudspeakers are indecipherable, but on the other hand the music is broadcast loudly, all day long. The air is filled with pleasant melodies, with many familiar tunes amongst them.
By the entrance stands a cupboard with cowboy pistols, a little further on stands a gun rack with guns. On the top deck are two jeeps also belonging to the ship. I looked over the ship, then started thinking about lunch.
I stood on two different queues, pleased they were moving forward so quickly, but both times ended up back at the dormitory, without even having seen the dining room.
The third time I ended up on the right queue and made it down below, but by then the plates had run out and I had to wait another hour or so, until someone brought some out and threw them down on the floor with a loud crash.
After a few more hours of waiting and cursing I finally got to the meal and the dishes. Plate, knife, fork, spoon and cup have to be kept, therefore at supper everything went much faster.
The ship’s sailors have their meals in the same dining room, from which I gather that the American sailors, who eat what they want, are fed much better than the English.
Straight after dinner I hurried out on deck - the ship had started moving, and on the shore was gathered a large group of pretty Australian girls. Many had even brought flowers, so I was sorry there wasn’t time to get to know one of them. Soon little Fremantle harbour with its girls waving farewells was behind us.
The final whistles sounded, and once more we were on the open sea. We were given two blankets, a pillow with pillowcase, and towels, all brand new. The two blankets are necessary, too, for the extensive ventilation system is sometimes so cold we've had to block it with life jackets and paper.
Shortly before bed I lightened my luggage again and threw out through the small window a blanket as well as the dance suit I’d had sewn in Germany out of blankets, which I won’t be wearing any more.
INDIAN OCEAN [GREAT AUSTRALIAN BIGHT], 3.12.47, Wed During the night I almost had to hold onto the bars to prevent myself falling out of bed. The ocean waves tossed the old crate sideways somehow, and like it or not I had to sleep on my back or stomach, otherwise I lost my balance. On the left was the Australian shore, and in the afternoon that too disappeared.
After the movie we had a ship’s drill, these things happen here too, although less organised than on the Heintzelman. The wind rose, the waves grew, and water washed inside the open windows so the fellows hurried to screw them closed. Dinner was served by waiters who had now become jugglers, so as not to fall against a wall and spill the food.
After dinner I climbed up to the top deck, where the picture was different again. Several times, when the deck tipped down to a forty-five-degree angle, it seemed that I’d climbed onto a roof, then when we fell into a deep valley, the deck was more like a steep mountain. The women were sick, and we got to see them for once without powder or paint. The strong wind was cold so I went to the dormitory and watched the waves through the windows.
INDIAN OCEAN [GREAT AUSTRALIAN BIGHT], 4.12.47, Thurs For the second day the Kanimbla tossed us on the ocean waves. Men staggered everywhere, as if they’d been drinking for two days.
It‘s difficult to walk in these conditions, sometimes you walk leaning against one wall of the corridor, then suddenly the ship tips the other way, you bend down and then stagger against the opposite wall. There’s no thought of sleeping on your side at night, or you tip over, so you have to content yourself with sleeping on your stomach. There’s a constant rattle of dishes on the shelves, and falling cups smash on the floor; you have to watch out they don’t drop on your head.
At two I went to see the movie again. There wasn’t much to see - one film had five corpses in it, the other had fighting and shooting, but at least it was a diversion.
INDIAN OCEAN, 5.12.47, Fri Damn it, I wouldn’t want to become an Australian citizen, for we’ve just discovered that with it comes an obligation of military service, and at the same time so-called plentiful provisions, such as we’re eating now.
Are Australian soldiers chickens then, that for dinner they are satisfied with half a fish, a few potatoes and a slice of bread? Today all the displaced persons on board are cursing, because it looks as though we’ve been tricked.
The sea remains just as it was earlier, nearly tipping the ship over, but I’ve become used to walking both sides of the corridor at once.
INDIAN OCEAN [GREAT AUSTRALIAN BIGHT], 6.12.47, Sat It’s only 300 miles to Melbourne. I’m getting tired of this old iron box with its flat bottom and rope enclosures after meals.
Late this evening we had a farewell dance. I went along just to listen to the music, but my legs have become so accustomed to dancing in Germany that they wanted to dance.
But I disappeared to the dormitory as soon as I could. We will have to get up early tomorrow, so there is time to have breakfast and obtain a green card, with which I can be one of the first to leave the ship.
MELBOURNE, 7.12.47, Sun As agreed, Peteris woke me quite early. I leaped out of bed straight away and stood on the breakfast queue, so as not to miss the green cards. Although I was one of the first at breakfast, there was no sign of the green cards, I’d been fooled.
After breakfast I climbed up on deck and saw that Lanky was playing poker. The shores could be seen from both sides of the ship. They looked dark and uninviting, but it’s probably only because I was looking at them from the lightness of the sea.
Then it was lunchtime. After lunch a long queue formed, apparently waiting for green cards again. After being fooled this morning, I simply went to have a shower, and only stood on the queue when it was much shorter. This time like a miracle I received the square piece of green cardboard I waited so long for this morning.
I ate quickly, then hurried on deck, for the ship was just tying up in the harbour. Many local people were gathered on the shore, amongst them reporters, busily occupied with filming.
At 3:00 the immigration minister welcomed us and listened to songs sung by the three Baltic nationalities, the press photographers working all the while. The minister left, but we remained waiting for tomorrow, when our disembarkation and journey to the rest camp will begin.
 |
| Arthur Calwell, Minister for Immigration, welcomes the new arrivals on the Kanimbla on 7 December 1947; front row includes Helgi Nirk (with white-framed sunglasses, centre) and Valeria Mets (two to the right of Helgi, in striped dress) Source: Arthur Calwell papers, National Library of Australia |
BONEGILLA, 8.12.47, Mon Another early morning - breakfast started at six. We handed back our blankets, towels, pillows and after eating, our utensils as well. The train arrived and the press towards the exit began.
My group all had the green cards as well, but we calmly sat down and waited until the rush was over and we could make it to the exit comfortably without any pushing. We almost got onto the train as well, when suddenly the queue halted - the train was full.
Apparently some people had forged green cards and the real cardholders were left waiting. It wasn’t such a bad thing after all - when we climbed onto another train several hours later, quite in contrast to the first group we could make ourselves very comfortable.
On the many three-seaters sat only one person, by the window. After some ten minutes the train took us through the Australian countryside.
Here and there were harvested wheat fields, but for the most part it was only meadows with distorted, infrequent trees. I also saw large flocks of sheep, and over it all shone the hot Australian sun.
Everything is quite yellow, so it’s hard to separate the farm fields from the meadows. I quickly tired of watching the monotonous scenery with its infrequent, small houses; in my comfortable seat I became sleepy and dozed off. The train travelled very smoothly, I could hardly feel it moving at all, and on the soft seat sleeping was very good.
When I woke again, the men were climbing out of the train, which had stopped at a station for lunch. There were many small tables set up in the large station hall, at which we had to eat while standing.
Here and there someone ate an orange with its skin still on it, or a banana with a knife and fork, but overall the meal was swallowed peacefully, for everyone had their own place, and no advantage was gained by shoving.
After another hour or so the train stopped at the small Bonegilla station, where army lorries awaited to take us to the barracks. The camp is very spacious; it appears it housed a large battle unit once. Once again, the beds had white sheets on them, sleeping will be pleasant.
Dinner unfolded in typical English style - I walked away from three already empty kitchens, until finally I got into the fourth. This was due to the troublemakers again, who went to almost every kitchen in turn, so there was hardly anything left over for the last ones. All I ended up with was one slice of bread, but when I tipped the contents of the jam dish onto it, I’d had enough to eat.
