PYRAMID HILL, 8.1.49, Thurs
This morning we looked over the quarries, our new workplace. We were quite surprised to see only five Australians working here; apparently it’s not a desirable job. Work is carried out in two areas - the rock quarry and the sand quarry, where we’ll be working alone.
In the rock quarry holes are bored in the rock with a compressor, then filled with explosives. The large rocks are always exploded, but the small ones are hit with a hammer into pieces to fit into the crusher. These pieces are tipped into trucks with some sort of digger, and driven to the crusher.
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| Drilling a hole into the granite, Pyramid Hill Source: Collection of Vaclavs Kozlovskis |
In the other place, where for the time being we three Letts* will work, sand is poured into the trucks without the help of a of digger, and by our hands alone. This sand is ground up with the rock, then carted away to be tipped out where a road is being built, about thirty miles from here.
Afterwards we drove into town, where the boss gave us an advance to buy the necessary clothes, as well as two pounds each for various other trifles. He also gave us two pounds of tobacco, for it’s difficult to obtain here.
After lunch we changed into our work clothes and drove off to begin our labouring job. The boss himself is pleasant, but not so pleasant is the job.
For four hours we poured sand into trucks, and for four hours we scorched mercilessly in the hot sun; this is no longer just work, it is punishment. Soon our hands were covered in blisters of unhappiness and protest, and our muscles in pain.
Worst of all, I’d left my water at home so I had to work with a dry throat and get by without a drink, for there’s no water here.
Finally the work hours were over, and we looked for some water to wash in. Near the quarry there is a pond full of brown water in a gravel pit. Not worrying overmuch about the leeches and abundant tadpoles we jumped straight in. It’s amazing how cool this chest-deep water was, it greatly refreshed us and took out the tiredness put there by the sun.
Our first work day over, we drove home.
PYRAMID HILL, 9.1.48, Fri
On our second day of work we began throwing sand into the trucks from the morning on, the blisters on our hands becoming more and more unbearable. We worked hard until lunchtime and it even seemed that we weren’t overly tired, but the picture was quite different that afternoon: on throwing the first shovelful tears almost came into my eyes, from the pain in my muscles and blisters.
We could no longer work as hard or fast as we had in the morning. The four hours crawled past slowly, we could hardly wait to leave. I was weary as never before. My blisters hurt, my arm and stomach muscles ached, and so did even my sunburned back. This job is really terrible; only one year, and not one minute more!
PYRAMID HILL, 11.1.48, Sun
We went to church. It’s a long time since I’ve been in this quiet place. Nothing is different here, everything is familiar, even the pictures are the same as in the church in Latvia. T he priest’s robes are quite the same that the priest wore in my distant homeland, and it even seemed to me that the grey-haired priest himself, Father O’Connor, was one and the same, except that he spoke a different, more difficult to understand language.
For about half an hour he spoke of the eight hundred Balts who have come to this country, of our lost homeland, and of we seven, who have come to the quarries. I listened and marvelled — are we really as good as the priest says? He said we are pleasant and hardworking, and good Catholics. The priest said even more, but I don’t know the language well enough to understand it all. The mass was over, we came out of the church and drove home.
PYRAMID HILL, 13.1.48, Tues
Another work day, and another bone-weary drive home. I still had dinner to prepare for us all as it was my turn. Yesterday I caught some rabbits and penned them up to fatten up for Saturday, but today I let them go again, after all they might drop dead because they haven’t touched their food yet. Late at night, completely exhausted, I went to sleep.
PYRAMID HILL, 14.1.48, Wed
Today things turned out a little better. We were very productive in the morning, but to make up for it we had more of a rest in the afternoon. T o begin with, half way back from lunch the truck broke down and we had to walk the rest of the way. The truck was fixed and returned, but when a driver wanted to use it for sand pouring, it broke down again and wouldn’t budge.
So this afternoon we worked with only a small vehicle. But despite our frequent rests, coming home I was even more tired than before. I didn’t feel like doing anything, so I went to bed straight after dinner, even though it was only seven o’clock.
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| One of the trucks, with its driver, maybe 3 Letts and a ring-in, probably a Lithuanian Source: Collection of Vaclavs Kozlovskis |
This was a really terrible day. Yesterday afternoon we moved to the rock quarry, and today we worked there all day. There wasn’t a breath of wind and the sun scorched down, little water blisters forming on our skins from the heat.
I drank a lot of water, but it was warm, and instantly converted into sweat. Wherever I put my hand, my body became wet straight away, and perspiration dripped in large drops from my hair. Finally work was over, but we still had to go into town for some bread.
A fire was raging there — the whole street was full of women standing beside belongings that had been carried out of their houses, and the men, thoroughly soaked, were attempting to put the fire out. After we’d helped to extinguish the fire we took our bread, prised the driver out of the pub, and drove home.
Although it’s night, there’s still no relief from the bone-wearying sun’s heat. I tried to sit outside, but a hot northerly wind is blowing. It will be a miracle if I can sleep tonight.
PYRAMID HILL, 22.1.48, Thurs
This is the worst day I’ve endured here — I couldn’t sleep at all last night and it’s already hot this morning. Through the day perspiration poured down even when standing completely still, and on top of that we had to work! My arms tired quickly and my glance moved all too often to my watch. I n the morning the watch hands seemed to move a little, but in the afternoon they even seemed to be moving backwards.
Finally, though, even this hot day reached its end and we drove home completely exhausted. I went to bed straight after dinner, but it was too hot to fall asleep even sleeping completely naked on top of the blankets. Suddenly it began to rain and the wind changed, and it cooled down straight away. I crawled under the blankets and fell deeply asleep.
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| Vaclavs added these newspaper cuttings to his page on 22 January 1948; all except the top left are from the Argus, Melbourne, 23 January 1948 Source: Collection of Vaclavs Kozlovskis |
PYRAMID HILL, 22.1.48, Wed (sic)
The boss showed up, and from morning his car was parked by the crusher. The first thing we found out about was the change in our workplace — now the digger would be sent to the sand quarry, and the diggers themselves moved to rock loading. When the boss arrived he said various things as well. He said that several of us work well, but others don’t. The wage we are paid is high, therefore we need to show good progress — the government can’t carry people who don’t do anything. We’re not in forced labour, but work for our own wage, which is comparatively high, therefore we have to work hard, he said.
This year we will have two week’s holiday around Christmas. By early February a barracks will be completed for us right here at the quarry and we won’t have to travel so far to go to work.
Petrol is rationed and expensive — each time we are driven into the town on Saturday or Sunday it costs one whole pound.
In fact I would prefer to live at the quarry, for then the town would be close by and we could easily go there whenever we wanted to, and we would no longer have to live in the jungles, where only quite rarely some seventeenth century limousine drives past, entirely without tyres. Also at lunchtime we wouldn’t have to get in a car every day to drive into town, so we could spend more time resting.
The boss added that on rainy days when it’s too wet to work in the quarries, we still have to show that we’re willing to work and go to the workplace. In this case we will still be paid whether we work under shelter or sit there all day and do nothing. That’s all the boss said, the rest returned to work, while I accompanied him to translate to the tall Estonian who works on the trucks.
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| The tall—and only—Estonian was Lembit Koplus, whose Bonegilla card says that he was 6 ft 3 in or 190 cm tall; note that his two "boxing" companions are standing slightly in front of him to increase the emphasis on his height, and it looks they are still in their pyjamas Source: Collection of Vaclavs Kozlovskis |
Now I understood where the boss’s reprimand was aimed — apparently the Estonian is the worst of all. It seems he often sits and smokes, holding up the trucks with their loads.
Towards evening the boss left to return to Melbourne, so we’ll have some peace again for the next fourteen days.
PYRAMID HILL, 27.1.48, Tues
Yesterday the drivers had a booze-up, and today they had hangovers so they couldn’t work all day. The morning passed unusually quickly, and we worked in the shade almost all the time. We rested after each truckload, until the driver finally got around to exchanging a full truck for an empty one. The afternoon was much hotter, but the work wasn’t heavy at all, for again we rested after each truckload.
I discovered how poor provincial towns such as this must be — I tried to buy sixteen pounds of sugar, but the shopkeeper’s eyes just widened when I asked him for it. He merely said ‘too short’, and weighed out eight pounds instead. Who knows, perhaps his shop only carries some twenty pounds of sugar at once? In the early evening there was a small rain shower, but despite this I was perspiring when I went to bed and tried to sleep.
PYRAMID HILL, 31.1.48, Sat
First thing in the morning we began our preparations to celebrate our first pay packets. I’d brewed some beer, bought wine and invited all six of the quarry drivers, but whether any of them would show up, remained to be seen.
Around nine thirty the car arrived to drive us into town. We bought glasses, pickles and all the other necessities for our party, and then waited as usual for the driver to finish his beer.
After a long wait we gave up and went into the pub ourselves to drink beer and toss quoits, as the Australians do. We discovered that the pub has no tables or even chairs. In the middle of the room is a round bar in the centre of which the publican works, and around which were gathered almost all the men of Pyramid, drinking beer. In this way they can forget the week’s sweat, and begin work next week with an empty pocket.
Only cold beer is drunk here, other drinks are neither suitable nor valued in this heat. We managed to get the driver out of the pub and drove home, where we put the table in order and began our wait.
We waited from five to six, but no one came. At seven we decided to start drinking, but had only polished off two bottles of wine and several of beer, when suddenly a truck drove up with two of the drivers and two friends.
Now we let fly in earnest, until one of them fell into a drunken stupor and the others carried him into the truck.
We drank a bit more, then the others prepared to leave. Only then did they discover that the headlights weren’t working, but this was soon remedied — two of our hurricane lanterns were hung on the car, and they drove off slowly and carefully.
Then we climbed into bed as well, and peace descended over the house.
FOOTNOTE
* Lett is another word for Latvian. Besides Vaclavs, the other two were Persijs Arndts and Edgars Osis.
CITE AS: Kozlovskis, Monika (2026) 'Vaclavs Kozlovskis starts work at Pyramid Hill, 8-31 January 1948', https://firsttransport.blogspot.com/2026/01/vaclavs-kozlovskis-starts-work-at-Pyramid-Hill-Victoria-8-31-January-1948.html.
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