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.

Heintzelman's "First Sailing": The First Report

The Souvenir Edition, 1st Sailing to Australia, published on board the USAT General Stuart Heintzelman on 26 November 1947, contains an article headed, 'From Bremerhaven to Indian Ocean'.  Several diaries from the voyage exist still and have been translated, but the Souvenir article is the first overview of the voyage.

Even though published only two days before disembarkation in Australia, it contains no account of the stop in the port of Colombo.  It seems, then, to have been written before 18 November — or else edited for reasons of space.  It is reproduced in whole here, but with some typos and stencil blurs corrected.

'From Bremerhaven to Indian Ocean' heading, missing the initial 'F', from the copy of 'Souvenir Edition' in the Reinhold-Valter Põder collection, Estonian Archives in Australia

If the duration of a sea-voyage is two days, it can be endured; if the duration is five days, you have to accept everything as it comes. But if 28 days are to be spent on a voyage through two oceans and four seas, you simply have to become accustomed to it whether you want or not. The high seas are a world by itself and each ship — an independent state with its own laws and habits of life which frequently differ from those predominating on land.

At the beginning of the voyage one or two of the Australia-bound passengers seemed inclined to ignore this truth, but a few hours in the Bay of Biscay forcibly demonstrated how easily can be disturbed the pursuance of a habit which is, so to say, a foundation of everyday life — the appeasement of a healthy appetite. The ship, initially bearing much semblance to a floating restaurant where each guest is primarily preoccupied with good food, soon assumed the appearance of an infirmary. Suddenly, everybody seemed to have lost interest in guessing the menu for the next meal; delicacies (such) as fried bacon, unctuous potato salad, succulent apricots and smooth icecream ceased to be the main subject of all conversation. 

Instead - moans were to be heard emanating from double-tier bunks, ash-coloured visions staggered along passage-ways, awe-inspiring medicine boxes, bottles and pills passed from hand to hand, accompanied by instructions whispered in a faint, infirm voice: swallow the tablet..., take a teaspoonful of this..., chew the lemon..., hold your breath and turn your eyes toward the ceiling, lie down and adjust your breathing to the rhythm of the waves, lie stomach downwards and try to reach the floor with the toes of your right foot...

Two seasick passengers, 2 November 1947

 

After this period of weakness, lasting about one and a half days, resisted by only a few super-men, the sea has received its tithe and the pride of the land-lubbers had suffered a fall. Passing the Rock of Gibraltar, our ship had on board 843 subdued, reliable subjects of Neptune, resigned to yield to any whim of the sea-god. His majesty appreciated our sufferings and conversion, graciously permitting the warm sun to play over the blue, quiet waters. Before long, the passengers of General Heintzelman witnessed a second metamorphosis — the ship was seemingly transformed into a rest home and a beach. Heavy overcoats, turned-up collars, mufflers, caps pulled down over the eyes — all disappeared, giving place to rolled up sleeves, shorts and colourful ladies‘ beach suits. 

We thrived under the caresses of the warm Mediterranean sun, the same sun that lends splendour to Nice, Monaco, San Remo, Capri, Sicily, and the fabulous coast of Africa. Consequently, among the swarms of idlers basking in the sun you could observe studious explorers equipped with opera glasses, pointing out notable places; behold the palms of Oran! the southern coast of Sardinia! the Cape of Tunis! the rocks of Pantellaria! Prompted by curiosity in such unheard and exotic names, the laymen gazed with bewildered eyes at the blue, sparkling horizon, vainly endeavouring to catch a glimpse of a shadow of these famous places.

The rocks of Pantellaria (Source: CulturalHeritagOnline)

 

Our further course continued under the sign of the sun, blue waves and radiant weather, the passengers impatiently counting the miles remaining to be covered to reach Port Said. Egypt...: pyramids, sphinxes, Tutankhamuns, palms, camels, bedouins, tuaregs... Flowing robes and burnouses on the torrid desert sands, fascinating Scheherazades in cool, shady oases greet passing ships piloted by swarthy captains...Much of this unfortunately escaped our sight, the ship anchoring late in the evening in the harbour of cholera-infested Port Said.

Having risen early the next morning, the most zealous students of ancient and modern Egyptian civilisation returned below deck disheartened and quietly started rummaging in their suitcases for discarded pullovers and mufflers: a strong, numbing east wind was blowing across the Canal. The ship glided smoothly along the narrow Canal, the banks of which were adorned by trees resembling malformed seaside pines growing in greyish, powder-like sand. Now and then a recent model Ford or Chrysler would hurtle along the dusty highway running parallel to the canal, or a cyclist would be seen struggling against a strong head-wind. Egypt...but no sign of pyramids or palms. Disappointed, the pessimistically inclined among us returned to their rooms.

The more patient spectators, however, were soon rewarded by sights falling just short of expectations, but inspiring us with a feeling, that we had surely seen enough of this land to justify beginning future narratives with: "When I was in Egypt..."

A traders' boat has been hauled onto the deck, somewhere along the Suez Canal. The only woman in the photo is Galina Vasins (later Karciauskas). Can you identify any of the men?

 

And now we are once more on the wide stretches of a blue sea. The days pass, one very much like any other, sunny and bright. Mealtimes with their inevitable queues, clatter of metal plates, and thronging in the mess hall, have become milestones in the course of each day. English lessons, choir rehearsals, basking in the sun and the mild wind fill the other parts of the day and in the evening we suddenly realise that one more day has passed. Even if sometimes time seems to stand still, we can always be assured that each day our reliable engines are bringing us 4OO miles nearer to our destination, where a new life and new responsibilities await us. 

Passing the time on deck, from the Aleksas Sliuzas collection

 

We shall arrive there refreshed, tanned, and imbued with renewed self-reliance in our strength, impaired by the years of despair and misery in Germany. We should like to take advantage of this opportunity to express our feeling of indebtedness to "General Stuart Heintzelman" for its paramount part in our new adventure.

This essay was signed off simply, -d-.  Knowing his later career as founder of the Latvian-Australian newspaper, Austrālijas Latvietis, and book author, the co-editor of the Souvenir, Emils Delins, is the most likely suspect.

Sources:

'CulturalHeritageOnline: Island of Pantelleria', https://www.culturalheritageonline.com/location-2949_Isola-di-Pantelleria.php, accessed 2 October 2021.

Põder, RV, E Dēlinš, and R Maziliauskas, 1947. Souvenir Edition, 1st Sailing to Australia, published at sea aboard the USAT General Stuart Heintzelman, 26 November 1947.