Showing posts with label General Stuart Heintzelman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label General Stuart Heintzelman. Show all posts

12 February 2025

Arthur Calwell's Letter of Welcome to the New Australians

This carbon copy of a letter from Arthur Calwell is undated, but the Perth address of the Department of Immigration must have been typed over on the original, so possibly it was given to each new arrival during their Fremantle and Perth stopover.

Photocopiers were not available yet, so each individual letter probably was produced by mimeography,  involving a waxed stencil on a drum rotated by hand or an electric motor.  You probably called it a duplicator or a Roneo, maybe even a Gestetner, rather than a mimeograph -- I certainly never heard that world while they were still in use.

So here is Arthur Calwell's letter of welcome to the "New Australians" arriving on the USAT General Stuart Heintzelman (which did not think of herself as a "SS").  It's been mentioned in at least one of our recent posts.

(Double-click on the image to open a larger version)

SOURCE:

National Archives of Australia:  Department of Immigration, Western Australian Branch; PP482/1, Correspondence files [nominal rolls], single number series, 1926-52; 82, GENERAL HEINTZELMAN - arrived Fremantle 28 November 1947 - nominal rolls [sic] of passengers, 1947-52 https://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=439196 accessed 12 February 2025.

 

28 January 2025

Vladas Mozuraitis (1922-2007): From Farmer to Jack of Many Trades by Daina Pocius

Updated 3 February 2025

Born in Keturvalakiai, a small town in Marijampolė County, in southwestern Lithuania, on 8 April 1922, Vladas Mozuraitis came from a farming family with three sisters and two brothers. After completing four year of school, the normal minimum at the time, he worked with his father on the farm and quickly learned farm work.  He later reported that he had undertaken farm work for ten years.

When the Soviet forces headed back to Lithuania in the late summer of 1944, he and his family withdrew to Germany. He resided in Displaced Persons camps where he learnt how to make shoes.

Vladas Mozuraitis

He came to Australia on the First Transport in November 1947, aged 25. Taken to Bonegilla, he stayed there until the 12 January when he was assigned to work at the Lake Bolac Flax Mill in Victoria.

After his contracted ended he moved to Geelong where he worked in the tractor factory of International Harvester Company. He also worked for Ford as a first-class machinist.

Vladas Mozuraitis (centre, kneeling) helps cut down a tree

A very skilful worker, he liked and understood cars.

While working in Geelong he purchased a Triumph motorcycle, which he rode 400 km to Cowra in NSW to meet a sister and her family. He gave each relative £5, a week’s wage at that time.

Vladas on his motorcycle -- clearly a print which someone carried around for a long time

He moved to Melbourne in 1956 to be closer to other family. By then he had purchased an Austin A 40 which he was forever improving.

In Melbourne he worked in various factories, where he liked working with people. He enjoyed fishing, attaching a rod to his bicycle to catch eels and other fish.

Vladas Mozuraitis in his Sunday best

When a sister moved to be closer to family in Adelaide in 1995, he moved also. He passed away on 26 September 2007 aged 85.

Sources

Arolsen Archives (1951) 'Resettled file (Mozuraitis, Vladas)' https://collections.arolsen-archives.org/en/document/68348649 accessed 25 January 2025.

National Archives of Australia, Migrant Reception and Training Centre, Bonegilla [Victoria]; A2571, Name Index Cards, Migrants Registration [Bonegilla], 1947-56; MOZURAITIS, Vladas : Year of Birth - 1922 : Nationality - LITHUANIAN : Travelled per - GEN. HEINTZELMAN : Number - 600 https://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=203902924 accessed 28 January 2025.

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, 1947-47; 204, MOZURAITIS Vladas DOB 8 April 1922, 1947-47 https://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=5005620 accessed 2 February 2025

Verbyla, Jonas(2007) Eulogy written by Vladas' nephew, unpublished manuscript in the possession of the Australian Lithuanian Archive.

25 January 2025

Juozas Šuopys (1913–1997): Farm Boy to Family Support by Daina Pocius

Juozas Šuopys was born on a large farm in the village of Skaisgiriai, Sintautai district, Šakiai county in Lithuania on 9 February 1913. Together with other 437 Lithuanians, Juozas arrived in Australia on the USAT General Stuart Heinzelman, the First Transport, on 28 November 1947.

Juozas Šuopys' identity photo on his Bonegilla card
Source:  NAA, A2571, Suopys Juozas

From the Bonegilla Migrant camp, Juozas’ two-year contract was with the Flax Production Committee, Melbourne, possibly going to the Commonwealth Flax Mill at Lake Bolac with other new arrivals from the ship. He later worked at a Kellogg’s factory until retirement. This probably was the factory which the company opened in Botany, a suburb of Sydney, in 1928.

Juozas did not waste his savings unnecessarily, but even though he lived alone, he had bought a house in Botany. It was probably from this house, at 24 Page Street, that he sought and obtained naturalisation as an Australian citizen on 31 August 1966. Through this process, he announced a legal change of name, to Joseph Sopis. To Lithuanians, he undoubted remained Juozas Suopys.

Later he moved to Punchbowl, near the Lithuanian House in Bankstown, where he was a frequent guest. Juozas belonged to the Returned Services League on account of having been caught up in World War II, while supporting Lithuanian sports and other Lithuanian activities with donations.

Around 1980, he met Ingeborg, a German widow, and spent the rest of his life with her.

He never forgot his sisters and extended relatives. He travelled to Lithuania several times and was able to help his relatives, providing farm equipment and cars.

He did not forget his home parish in Sintautai, where the church was destroyed during the war. It was restored to its former state thanks to the efforts of the pastor, the prelate Maskeliūnas. Juozas was one of the biggest supporters of the reconstruction of this church.

After returning from a visit to Lithuania, Juozas felt pain in his leg. He was taken to Bankstown Hospital, where he died of complications a week later, on 15 October 1997 at the respectable age of 84.

On October 20, after mass, which was held by Fr. John Girdauskas SM, Juozas’ remains were accompanied by Inga's family and his Lithuanian friends to the Lithuanian section of the Rookwood cemetery. Antanas Kramilius gave a farewell speech on behalf of the community. At the grave, the Lithuanian National anthem was sung.

References

Arolsen Archives (1945) ‘AEF DP Registration Record’, 5 October, https://collections.arolsen-archives.org/en/document/69197342 accessed 25 January 2025.

Arolsen Archives (1946) ‘UNRRA HQ’s Team 77, DP Camp Mattenberg’ 17 June https://collections.arolsen-archives.org/en/document/81997447 accessed 25 January 2025.

Arolsen Archives (1946) ‘Transportlist (sic) UNRRA HQ Team 77, DP Camp Mattenberg’ 16 August https://collections.arolsen-archives.org/en/document/81997477 accessed 25 January 2025.

Arolsen Archives (1946) [From Folder 170: Kassel-Oberzwehren] 9 October https://collections.arolsen-archives.org/en/document/81997518 accessed 25 January 2025.

AVK (1997) ‘Mūsų mirusieji: Juozas Šuopys, 1913.03.09 – 1997.10.15’ (‘Our dead: Juozas Suopys, 9.3.1913 – 15.10.1997, in Lithuanian) Mūsų Pastogė Sydney, 3 November p 7.

Commonwealth of Australia Gazette (1967) ‘Certificates of Naturalisation’ Canberra, 8 June, p 2839 http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article241040447 accessed 25 January 2025.

'Kelloggs, in Australia since 1924', https://www.kelloggs.com.au/en_AU/history.html accessed 25 January 2025.

National Archives of Australia: Migrant Reception and Training Centre, Bonegilla [Victoria]; A2571, Name Index Cards, Migrants Registration [Bonegilla], 1947–1956; SUOPYS, Juozas : Year of Birth - 1913: Nationality – LITHUANIAN : Travelled per – GEN. HEINTZELMAN: Number – 1038, 1947 – 1948; https://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=203899865 accessed 25 January 2025.

24 January 2025

Alfonsas Ragauskas (1914–1988): First Transporter Who Overcame Obstacles by Daina Pocius

Updated 9 February 2025

Alfonsas, known as Alf, was born on 19 January 1914 in Šiauliai, in the Lithuanian district of Joniskis, where he spent his youth. Life was not easy for him, so he emigrated to Germany in 1935.

Alfonasas Ragauskas' identity photo on his migration application form, 1947
Source:  Sestokas, Welcome to Little Europe

There he lived in even more difficult conditions, working hard until 1947, when he immigrated to Australia on the First Transport, the USAT General Stuart Heintzelman.

Alfonasas Ragauskas' identity photo on his Bonegilla card, 1947
Source:  NAA, A2571, RAGAUSKAS, Alfonsas

His first job was in the State Electricity Commission of Victoria’s Yallourn open-cut brown coal mine. Later he became an electrician in the power plant, then a pump operator until retirement.

In Josef Šestokas’ book, Welcome to Little Europe: Displaced Persons and the North Camp , Josef’s father, Juozas, writes about the Yallourn camp where both he and Alf lived initially, “All were single men. They were accommodated in tents under pine trees behind the school. Local people were friendly and welcoming.”

Alf wrote in Juozas’ autograph book, presumably in Lithuanian, in 1955, “Really we are happier here, but you could only appreciate that if, having lost your country and your people, you were so hospitably welcomed as victims of war.”

While working at Yallourn, Alf met his wife, Agota and they married in 1962. They later moved to Kew, Melbourne. Josef Šestokas reports that they were thought not to have had children.

Alf led a quiet life, keeping dairy goats and chickens in his large backyard. He was remembered in his obituary as a fun, friendly and helpful. Although his life he was full of difficulties and surprises, he was able to overcome all these obstacles.

Alf was one of those so keen to obtain Australian citizenship that he first applied on 6 September 1949, when he was still under contract to work in Australia.  He was advised to wait until late November 1952, having been in Australia for 5 years, before applying again.  This he did, although the exact date was 1 December.  His formal grant of citizenship took place on 23 July 1953.

Alf died at Box Hill Hospital in Melbourne on 28 April 1988, aged 64, and is buried in Kew Cemetery, now known as Boroondara General Cemetery. Agota was buried with him when she died 4 years later.

Headstone on the grave of Alfonsas and Agota Ragauskas, 
Boroondara General Cemetery, Melbourne

References

Anon (1988) ‘AA Alfonsas Ragauskas (in Lithuanian)’ Tėviškės Aidai [The Echoes of Homeland] Melbourne, 17 May, p 7.

Boroondara General Cemetery, Grave Locator, <Ragauskas>, https://boroondaracemetery.discovereverafter.com/ accessed 23 January 2025.

National Archives of Australia: Migrant Reception and Training Centre, Bonegilla [Victoria]; A2571, Name Index Cards, Migrants Registration [Bonegilla] 1947-1956; RAGAUSKAS, Alfonsas : Year of Birth - 1914 : Nationality - LITHUANIAN : Travelled per - GEN. HEINTZELMAN : Number – 641, 1947-1948, https://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=203913539 accessed 24 January 2025.

National Archives of Australia: Department of Immigration, Central Office; A435, Class 4 correspondence files relating to naturalisation, 1939-50; 1949/4/4224, RAGAUSKAS Alfonsas - born 19 January 1914 - Lithuanian, 1949-53 https://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=6944679 accessed 9 February 2025.

Sestokas, Josef (2010) Welcome to Little Europe, Displaced Persons and the North Camp, Little Chicken Publishing, Sale, Victoria, pp 1, 87, 261. [This now is out of print but a digitised version can be read at https://www.google.com.au/books/edition/Welcome_to_Little_Europe/PqDgc5KKfvIC?hl=en&gbpv=1&dq=Welcome+to+Little+Europe&pg=PT58&printsec=frontcover accessed 24 January 2025.

17 January 2025

Kazimieras Balkauskas (1921–1986): Aussie farmer and first responder, by Daina Pocius

First Transport refugee, Kazimieras or Kazys Balkauskas grew up on a Lithuanian farm and was able to continue the farming life in Australia. Since he could see the Southern Ocean from his land, he monitored this section of coast for shipping in trouble and trained in first aid. In short, he provided valuable protection to travellers on sea, in the air and on land in his section of Australia.

He had been born in the small town of Gaurė, on the banks of the Šešuvis river in the Lithuanian district of Tauragė. He was the youngest of five sons to Antanas and Pranciška Žičkutė. His family owned a small farm and Kazimieras helped his family work the farm. He grew to love the land and agriculture, a love to which he remained loyal until his last day.

Kazimieras' ID photo from his Bonegilla card

Leaving Lithuania towards the end of the WWII, he found refuge in the Displaced Persons Camp at Gross Hesspe. He indicated on his DP card that his first country of choice for migration was Canada. Instead, he became one of the Lithuanians aboard the First Transport to Australia, the General Stuart Heintzelman, arriving in November 1947.

Jedda Barber has noted already in this blog that he was one of 53 Lithuanian Sea Scouts and Girl Guides on board the Heintzelman.

On arrival in Australia, he told officials that he had been working previously as an auto mechanic but wanted to be a farmer in Australia.   Let's see how he achieved that ambition.

As a 26-year-old, he had seen too much of life already when sent to work at the flax factory at Lake Bolac, a small town in Victoria located near a large body of fresh water known for its abundance of eels. The town was in a rich wheat-growing and cattle-rearing area, 220 km from Melbourne.

One of a number of Commonwealth Flax Mills operated there from 1942 to 1959. Local farmers grew flax for processing in the factory. During WWII, young Land Army women kept the mill going until new migrants could fill the shortage of labour.

Land Army women harvesting flax

Amongst the new migrants were several Lithuanians who were fulfilling part of their two-year compulsory contract: twelve men and one family.  The Lithuanians known to have been there include Albertas Kairys, Vytautas Mulokas, Kazimieras Balkauskas, Vaclovas Jankauskas, Povilas Kecorius and Jonas Svitra, who had all arrived on the First Transport.

Jonas Svitra's sad life story has been told already in this blog.

From their Bonegilla cards, we know that a total of 19 men were sent to the Flax Production Committee, 440 Little Collins Street, Melbourne, but we do not know to which mill the Committee sent the other 13.  

After 20 months in the job, Kazimieras was released from his contract and went to work at the Nestlé factory in Warnambool. While working there he met his future wife, a Ukrainian, Maria Steran. Their son, Antanas (Anthony or Tony) and daughter, Pranciška (Frances or Fran) were named after Kazimeras' parents.  Maria learnt the Lithuanian language and traditions.

With a growing family, Kazimieras and Maria sought better housing, but none could be found. Instead, with their small capital they brought a farm near Lavers Hill, Colac.

At first life their was very difficult. It was necessary to work a lot, and it was hard work. They grew potatoes, kept sheep and cows.

Gaining more experience and learning the secrets of Australian farming, they quickly made a living, buying two neighbouring farms, which even the largest Lithuanian landowner would envy. In 1974 they had 120 cattle, including over 70 dairy cows, grazing in their fields plus a considerable number of sheep and poultry. Their main source of income was milk production.

Frances, Maria, Tony and Kazys Balkauskas with their Ford tractor

Living on the shores of the Southern Ocean and seeing its blue waters through the windows of his house, Kazimieras was like a lighthouse keeper who could see what was happening at sea. He was engaged by the authorities to monitor accidents at sea and, if necessary, to report them immediately.

He joined the civil defence service (now the State Emergency Service or SES) completed first aid courses and was committed to helping those who got into trouble at sea, in the air or even on the main highway that passed through his land.

Although living closer to Melbourne, the family were frequent visitors to Adelaide.  Kazimieras could not fully integrate into Lithuanian life, but he was always interested in it and supported it.  One reason for Adelaide visits was that the Adelaide Lithuanian Catholic priest, Juozas Petraitis, was his cousin.

Kazimieras and Maria were great hosts, with their hospitality was very well known to many.  They loved and respected guests, they waited on them, and everyone found warmth and shelter in their home.

Kazimieras turned 65, the age at which older Australians could start receiving a pension instead of continuing to work, on 4 March 1986.  This meant that he would be able to visit Adelaide, where both of his children lived, more often in his retirement.

Unfortunately, while working on his land, he seriously injured himself shortly afterwards. After three weeks in the hospital, he died unexpectedly on April 12.

Maria died 8 June 1990 in the Royal Adelaide Hospital.  This was at the early age of 67.  She is buried with Kazimieras in Adelaide's Centennial Park cemetery.

Their son, Antanas or Tony, has died already too.  His death came on 26 January 2020, at the age of only 68.  He had been a corporal in the Royal Australian Survey Corps.  He was the father or stepfather of 6 boys and grandfather to 11 grandchildren.

SOURCES

Advertiser, The (2020) 'Death notices' Adelaide, 28 January.

Arolsen Archive, AEF DP Registration Records; Balkauskas, Kazyshttps://collections.arolsen-archives.org/en/document/87880689 accessed 13 January 2025.

Genealogy SA Online Database Search https://www.genealogysa.org.au/resources/online-database-search accessed 13 January 2025.

National Archives of Australia:  Department of Immigration, Central Office; A12508, Personal Statement and Declaration by alien passengers entering Australia (Forms A42); 37/46, BALKAUSKAS Kazimieras born 4 March 1921; nationality Lithuanian; travelled per GENERAL STUART HEINTZELMAN arriving in Fremantle on 28 November 1947 https://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=7271559 accessed 13 January 2025.

National Archives of Australia:  Migrant Reception and Training Centre, Bonegilla [Victoria]; A2571, Name Index Cards, Migrants Registration [Bonegilla]; BALKAUSKAS, Kazimieras : Year of Birth - 1921 : Nationality - LITHUANIAN : Travelled per - GEN. HEINTZELMAN : Number - 428 https://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=203665698 accessed 13 January 2025.

Vasiliauskas, Jurgis (1974) 'Lietuvis Farmeris Prie Pietų Okeano' ('Lithuanian Farmer by the Southern Ocean', in Lithuanian) Tėviškės Aidai (The Echoes of Homesland), Melbourne, Australia, 26 February, p 6 https://www.spauda2.org/teviskes_aidai/archive/1974/1974-nr07-TEVISKES-AIDAI.pdf accessed 13 January 2025.

Vaclavs Kozlovakis' Time in Bonegilla to 31 December 1947, translated by Monika Kozlovskis with Janis Sakurovs

BONEGILLA, 11.12.47, Thurs. In the morning my lungs were x-rayed, then I went into another room where my English skills were evaluated.  I was put into group 1b, and in the afternoon school began.  The teacher spoke only English the whole time, but I understood him really well.

There's a bit of journalistic fancy in the "man above welcomed an X-ray after years in a Nazi prison camp", since it was more likely to be years digging trenches for the Nazi military, for the men at least, or some time in a Allied prisoner-of-war camp before being released into a DP camp: What's more, all had been X-rayed in Germany before being selected for the Heintzelman
Source:  Courier-Mail, 15 December 1947

We were divided into two groups of sixteen and each group has its own teacher, with only little grasp of the German language.

Sourced from a private scrapbook which, in turn, did not give its source

BONEGILLA, 13.12.47, Sat.   Yesterday it started raining, today again it rained heavily and the sun was constantly hidden behind the clouds. On Thursday I saw a small, cute bear outside the kitchen, and today it climbed up the birch tree by the microphone and gazed around at the crowd which stood there marvelling at it.

The troublemakers arrived too - they just can’t stand there peacefully and watch.  One picked up a stick and poked the little bear, another shook the tree, until it jumped down and ran off.  What people they are.*

In the afternoon we were given five shillings pocket money, so at least I can now buy some tobacco.

BONEGILLA, 14.12.47, Sun.  Today we didn’t have to go to school, maybe that’s why it was a little boring.  All morning I played cards, and in the afternoon I swam in the nearby lake.

Kola and I dived for small white stones which we threw into the water.  The water was so warm I didn’t want to come out.  It could be a wonderful life here, if only there wasn’t such a huge swarm of flies buzzing around.

Early in the evening I went to the shop for tobacco and happened to speak to a young Australian girl, but couldn’t understand a single word she said.  Is it possible that Australians speak differently to our English teachers?

BONEGILLA, 15.12.47, Mon.  No school today either, it was my group’s turn for domestic duties. There wasn’t a great deal to do – sweating in the hot sun we cut the grass around the movie room.  I didn’t return in the afternoon either, instead I spent all afternoon by the lake swimming and diving.  When I returned, I wrote Merry an airmail letter, hoping my pleasant words make her happy.

Late in the evening, when I was already in bed, some men brought in a large tortoise, which had withdrawn into its shell.  I leaped out of bed to have a look at it.  I took it in my hands and lifted it into the air, but I took fright and let it go again when it suddenly poked all four feet out.  The rascal kept its head hidden, though.

Wanting to see its head as well, we put the turtle into a bucket of water.  Despite this it didn’t poke any limbs out, or even move. We weren’t sure whether such a turtle could live in the water after all, so after a few minutes we pulled it out again, in case the rascal drowned.  After another look, we put it back outside and then went to bed.

BONEGILLA, 16.12.47, Tues.  Ever since our first day on Australian shores, newspaper and film reporters have milled around us.  They haven’t ignored us here either, each day you can see them walking around with their equipment.

On arriving in my class this morning, I saw standing in the middle of the room lamps, microphones and cameras.  As soon as we were seated, the reporter appeared and began his job, so my face will soon be seen around Australia in the latest newspapers.

This evening a group of migrants was gathered near the shower room, for the little bear had appeared again.  At first the troublemakers started doing their trick again with bits of wood and water, but then some Latvians arrived and put a stop to this fun.

I fed the little bear some white bread, and he wasn’t frightened at all – he took it right out of my hand. What a charming creature he was, with his bushy tail, red snout and lively eyes. A few times he couldn’t reach the bread with his snout, so, without causing me the least injury, carefully took my finger in his claws, pulled it to his mouth, and took the bread from my hand, then released my finger.

After a while he’d had enough and stopped reaching for the bread, and then I went to bed.

BONEGILLA, 17.12.47, Wed.  Today was very unpleasant.   Arguments began as early as breakfast.   First, due to an oversight no butter came out for Lanky, but he wasn’t too concerned about it, the main troublemaker was another man, who is always complaining about everything.

Some leftover milk was put on the table and several of us had a cupful of it, others didn’t.  This quarrelsome man came to breakfast late, so naturally there wasn’t any milk left over.  He was so angry about this, that all morning he argued about Lanky missing out on the butter, which in fact was nothing to do with him anyway, then about the milk, then about who knows what.

It was unpleasant for everyone – as if we had drunk his milk deliberately.   Most fed up of all was his neighbour at the table, a man past middle age.  In the end the quarrelsome man said “what are you waiting for, Lanky, punch the oldie in the face!”

That was too much, and at being called “oldie” the middle-aged man’s patience was at an end.  He returned to his barracks, and on receiving more accusations from the quarrelsome man, threw a good punch at him. T hus a fight started, lasting several minutes, unpleasant for everyone.  The tension remained and even after lunch there was uneasiness and bad feeling.

Later the immigration minister arrived.  A concert and exhibition were organised in his honour, but I didn’t go to either.  It has been hot all day; then late in the afternoon the sun hid behind the clouds, and as I went to bed it began to rain.

BONEGILLA, 18.12.47, Thurs.   I received an invitation to go to the employment office, so went to register.  I advised them I was a seaman with two years in naval school.

The clerk wrote down that I would prefer to work on a ship, but that I was happy to work in any job, with my first preference being at the harbour.  He told me that seaman work is hard for an immigrant to find, but who knows, maybe I will be lucky?

BONEGILLA, 20.12.47, Sat.  It seems it will be a fruitful summer here in Australia - it’s raining again. Despite the weather, in the evening a busload of Australian girls pulled up for a dance organised in the camp.   I’d like to have gone too, but I don’t have anything suitable to wear.  The Australian girls are showing quite an interest in us.

The first wedding in Bonegilla of two passengers from the Heintzelman took place on
17 December 1947; we say"first wedding in Bonegilla" because we know that there had been at least two marriages before embarkation and another during the Perth stopover 
Source:  this cutting was found unsourced in a private scrapbook 

BONEGILLA, 21.12.47, Sun.  It seems that the Australians sense our desire to return to Europe for they organised a big dance for us, perhaps hoping that we will marry and settle down.

Tonight, a large party of the boys was driven to some dance in the town.  Who knows, perhaps I too will settle here one day and forget about returning?

BONEGILLA, 25.12.47, Thurs.  Christmas is here, the first I’ve ever spent in the southern hemisphere.  You can’t find proper fir trees here, but it seems that nature herself wishes to re-create the familiar holiday feeling for us – this morning it’s become very cold.  It would be very strange to spend Christmas sweating in the heat and looking for relief in the lake.

BONEGILLA, 26.12.47, Fri.   I’ve never yet felt as cold in Australia as I did last night, I even had to get up and pull out my third blanket.  This morning the sun shone again, and the cold and rain disappeared far behind the mountains.

At 10am there was supposed to be a basketball match with the Australians, but they didn’t arrive until eleven, and copped it heavily – the result was 51:12 in our favour. The devil only knows what these Australians are good at – we beat them outright at chess, table tennis, and basketball.

They are friendly and courteous, but have a very narrow education.  All they know is Australian and English geography and history, nothing else.  Also, the sort of clothes they wear aren’t worn in Europe after the age of ten.  Australians marvel that we can speak so many languages and know so much.

Although I must say that the music is wonderful here.  This evening the camp loudspeaker broadcast a Melbourne report of our concert from the day of the Immigration minister’s visit, and now we heard all sorts of marvels; wolves had been transformed into white sheep.  We certainly had no idea that we were so good.

In jumbled disorder rang out the Latvian, Lithuanian and Estonian songs, for the first time in the warmth of an Australian evening.  Meanwhile a team of Australian beauties arrived for our “variety evening,” but they had to stand outside for a long time and listen to the reportage.

We’d tipped over a small pot; nothing had been prepared for the variety evening.  Finally, the school director took the matter into his own hands, and worked something out – the pot was saved.  There was a dance after the performance, but I went to bed instead because I haven’t the right clothes.

Christmas is over, tomorrow we return to school again.  I’ve had enough of school, for I’m keen to start working to earn some money.

BONEGILLA, 27.12.47, Sun.  When you think about it, I should be grateful for this life, it’s just like a rest home here.  We don’t have to work, we’re fed, educated, and on top of that paid pocket money; what more could we want?

After this I’ll be working hard, and looking forward to my days off with longing.  I’ve had enough of living like this without money, but the holiday has to be enjoyed until I’m thoroughly fed up with it, perhaps I shouldn’t have yearned for it so soon.

BONEGILLA, 28.12.47, Mon.  Another boring day.  Nicis has arrived, so after dinner I enjoyed his concert.  After that I went swimming in the moonlight.  The water was pleasantly warm.**

BONEGILLA, 29.12.47, Tues.  Today it was the turn of my class for duty and we were given the job of finding firewood.  We took two loads to the kitchen, and were then told to go to Albury for the supplies.

We climbed into a truck, and soon were watching the agreeable countryside gliding past.   It looks as if Australia really will become my homeland.  I’ve longed for my own home and peace.  I’ve lost enough and suffered enough; I no longer have a home to call my own and my loved ones are now hidden behind the iron curtain, erected by those barbaric, red hands, so haven’t I earned the right to a normal life?

The best years of my youth have disappeared; in these five years I have experienced and lived through more than some others in their entire lives, but I still haven’t got a trade, all I have is a longing for a particular occupation.

It’s just as well there is a maritime trade I aspire to, I’ve no need to stumble in the dark and have less time to think these bitter, painful thoughts of my lost country and home.

After some time the first of Albury’s houses appeared.  This town isn’t anything much, just a largish village with typical Australian one-storeyed houses.  At the station we loaded several boxes, then a milk can from the dairy, then drove back again.   We returned to camp at twelve thirty, and our job was over.

After dinner the Latvian consul appeared and greeted everyone, then we watched the film “Maytime.”   It was enjoyable except that the ending was ruined by the troublemakers with their carrying-on.  Oh, how I wish to be free of this rabble!

BONEGILLA, 30.12.47, Tues   This time a really sultry day has arrived, there’s no thought of resting in bed at all.  I received a coat, trousers, shirt, short sleeved shirt, socks, handkerchiefs and yellow American boots.

The trousers were too long so I toiled all afternoon shortening the hems, until finally they were right.  They will be good for work, and sooner or later I’ll buy some dress trousers when I start earning my own money.

BONEGILLA, 31.12.47, Wed.  The day has come when the old, hopeless year lived in camps is over and a new one begins, promising a brighter future.   I have hopes that the new year will be much better, for I’m now in a free country, little touched by the stupidities of war. 

After the five years the war has whittled from my life I can return to my life again, as if the lost years are only an unpleasant nightmare, dreamed in a long sleep.

FOOTNOTES

* The "bear" may well have been a possum, since others reported them around the camp and koalas are less likely to "run".  The later description of "his bushy tail, red snout and lively eyes" is more possum-like, too.

** Kārlis Nīcis had migrated to Australia in the 1920s and soon made a career as a singer.  He also had become Secretary to the Honorary Consul for Latvia in Australia.  A son, Indulis Nīcis, was among this group of Heintzelman passengers. 



16 January 2025

Vaclavs Kozlovskis reaches Australia and stays in Perth, translated by Monika Kozlovskis with Janis Sakurovs

Updated 17 January 2025

INDIAN OCEAN, 22.11.47, Sat. Today my head felt quite heavy, it seems such lurching doesn’t do me much good. In the afternoon I received another two hundred cigarettes, no doubt the last issue on this ship — we have only five days left in which to lurch.

    

The front cover of Vaclavs's diary
Source:  Monika Kozlovskis

Late this evening I sat on A deck to watch an enjoyable Scout performance. The wireless segment was particularly entertaining. Onto the deck was carried a stretcher bearing a paper box with a megaphone on one end, and a DP hidden under it.

He lit a match and shoved it into the megaphone. There was a strong wind blowing so one after another the matches blew out, and finally he threw the whole box in, telling the diesel to light itself.

Soon cigarette smoke started blowing from the megaphone and the “wireless” began talking.

First there was news from Diepholz. The DPs had drunk all the home brew before they’d left and now there were requests for donations of cigarettes and food; the audience reacted with loud laughter.

The wireless news from Bremen was about the unusual goods train that had recently travelled from Diepholz to Bremen and strewn the way with Turkish cigarettes. It was later clarified that it had been a DP transport to Australia.

Then Stalin himself spoke: “Oh you stupid and rustic Soviet citizens, where are you running to?  After all things are very bad in Australia, you will have to work like slaves in the heat!  You will have to lug sacks of sand with the kangaroos, and the work will be divided as follows:  a kangaroo will fill the sacks with sand and you’ll have to carry them on your backs, behind the kangaroos!”

Of course, this raised a new gale of laughter, but the loudest laughter was earned by the last transmission, which began with the words: “Achtung, Achtung! Number thirty-nine report to the office immediately, I repeat — it is forbidden!”

This skit poked fun at life on this ship. On the Heintzelman there are one hundred and twenty doors through which passengers are not permitted to pass. It isn’t possible to remember them all, so an MP is stationed before each of the doors to check that the orders are carried out.

It is also forbidden to throw cigarette butts over the rails, otherwise the sea would become full of them. It’s forbidden to be on deck after ten, to take food out of the dining room, to be in our rooms between nine and eleven, and for men to be on the left side of deck C after six.

When one man, perplexed by all the prohibitions, went into the office to ask what actually is permitted on this ship, the office couldn’t answer him for they didn’t know themselves; and answered that the asking of such questions is prohibited.

Another man muddled his head over all the prohibitions so badly that he packed his suitcase and attempted to leap over the rails, but was stopped just in time; after that it was forbidden to muddle your head or to jump over the rails.

There was also a skit depicting four types of passengers - the MP, kitchen worker, painter and “summer resident” with a deckchair.*

The enjoyable show finished late in the evening. The sea is still unsettled, it’s deteriorated since yesterday, and a fierce wind is blowing. It abated for only a moment, then we renewed rolling with double strength, as we did before we reached Colombo. Tomorrow we should see some islands on our route to break the monotony.

INDIAN OCEAN, 23.11.47, Sun.   It seems that the Indian Ocean is never calm.  Today it resembles a monster again, moving its open jaws trying to upturn the ship.  No - it is more like a dear mother’s hand, continually caressing the sides of the ship as it glides along.

The weather is fine and sunny, with a cool wind blowing.  By lunchtime we had reached 11 deg 30’ south, this evening we will be halfway between Colombo and Fremantle, where we will disembark.  In the early evening, with a strong wind blowing, it became noticeably cooler — a sign that we’re now far south of the equator.  I’ve seen people walking around in long pants already.

Before bed I had a cold shower. A shower on board ship is really funny, you stand in a small cubicle and let water on yourself, while the cabin continually moves.**  

I went to bed with the sensation that the ship’s prow was again making circles in the air, just like when we were in Biscay.  I have been in my room since seven, therefore my head is a little heavy, but soon enough I will fall asleep and everything will be well again.

INDIAN OCEAN, 24.11.47, Mon.  By lunchtime we were 1262 nautical miles from Fremantle.  We won’t arrive until Friday morning, due to the strong headwind and unruly seas.

After dinner the ship’s command began tying down everything that wasn’t screwed down, apparently expecting a storm.  Gradually the wind strengthened, and the waves became mountainous.   I stood on the middle deck and watched the heaving seas again.  For a moment a deep valley would appear before us, then into it crashed a mass of water, splashing up foam, and an enormous mountain rose in place of the valley.

It became quite cool so I went below to put on long trousers and a woollen coat.  A film was to be shown on A deck at seven — I took a place there, although I doubted whether it would be shown under such conditions.  A huge wind shook the screen, fine raindrops fell from the sky, and it looked as if it was going to pour.

My doubts were well founded — the film screening was moved to the dining room.   The small room filled quickly, and the film began.  I’ve never watched a film like this before — the whole room shook, the screen swayed up and down, while the audience staggered and clung to the posts and to each other.  It was a wonder that the film’s actors themselves didn’t start vomiting.

After the film, soaked in perspiration, I went on deck.  A storm raged, and a strong wind hampered my progress.  Fine, refreshing rain drops hit my face.  Cooler now, I disappeared into my cabin, for it was time for bed.

INDIAN OCEAN, 26.11.47, Wed.   This afternoon the storm rose again, to thoroughly shake us up one last time.  This evening, for the first time since my army days, after an interval of many years, I joined a card game to play aciti.

I won three hands in rapid succession, but by the end of the game I had only three packets of cigarettes remaining from my original ten.  I’ve now had enough of this sport to last me a long time.

INDIAN OCEAN, 27.11.47, Thurs.  Our last day on the Heintzelman has arrived, with only 201 nautical miles to Fremantle.   Tonight at 10:20 we reached our destination, the west coast of our new home.

How will our lives unfold in our new land?  Such questions each asks himself, but seeks answers in vain, for only the future will tell.  The latest news is that tomorrow we will disembark for several days in Fremantle, then sail to the transition camp on another vessel.

SWANBOURNE, 28.11.47.   I leaped out of bed at five-thirty, for breakfast was at six.  On deck afterwards I saw the ship was anchored at the roadstead.

A little beyond that was a light brown, sunlit country — this is Australia, my new home. Once I’d only seen pictures of it on cards, now it’s in front of my eyes, almost a stone’s throw away.  In the middle of the coastline is a small bay with houses dotted along the shore  Fremantle harbour, our disembarkation point.

Medical officers boarded the ship and checked us for scabies, and I soon noticed the difference between the quick and decisive Americans and the slow English.***  The ship raised anchor and slid slowly into the small harbour, joining several others already tied up at the posts.

On the shore was gathered a large crowd of local people, watching the Heintzelman as she was pulled slowly to the shore and fastened.  I didn’t see any natives amongst them. The steps were lowered, down them went the captain and the medical officers, and up them came the reporters.  Our baggage had been placed at the prow, and now the cranes went into action, lifting it all out.

A ticket for the larger luggage
Source:  Collection of Reina Peedo Roosvald

Gradually our own disembarkation began, starting with numbers 1 to 41.   I rested on my familiar bed one last time until my number was announced, and then went onto C deck.  At exactly midday I took my first step on Australian soil.

Carefully spaced, the new arrivals leave the Heintzelman in Fremantle
Source:  Collection of Vaclavs Kozlovskis

We passed through a brief check, then stood waiting our turn for the autobus.  It came soon enough, swaying on its old-fashioned springs, with extremely old-fashioned wheels.  At ten past twelve our ride through the town began and I gazed at the countryside of my new home with interest.

Trees and plants I’ve never seen before slid past my eyes in a colourful line, and the houses are quite different to those I’m used to seeing in Europe.   Palms grow along the sides of the streets, the yellow colour of the sand jumbles with the varied colours of the houses, and over them all beams the warm southern sun.

After a ten-minute drive we reached Swanbourne camp.   Inside the flimsy tin barracks are pleasant rooms and soft beds with white sheets, and bathrooms with hot and cold water, all of which added to my happy frame of mind.  Straight away we were shown to our rooms, and those who had arrived before us were already eating lunch.

In the dining room were tables clad in white cloths, the food was put onto plates for us, and again we had to accustom ourselves to dealing with an array of eating utensils.  One man found this a little more difficult.   He poured a glassful from the sauce bottle on the table in front of him and took a sip, thinking it was wine, but the taste woke the man from his dream and the glass was replaced unemptied.****

After the long soldier, prisoner and exile years I’ve become an emigrant, once more a worthwhile person in the eyes of myself and others.

I took a shower, planning to rest afterwards on my bed, but when I went outside for another look around, I met the lanky one, who ruined my good intentions — and instead of resting we walked into Fremantle.*****

The shop windows are full of various goods with the prices attached, and they can be bought without a ration card.  The prices are fairly low, all I need now is money, and then I could live well.  

The flora is very prolific, even though all the trees are more like large bushes. The birds sing, although very little, the flowers don’t have much of a scent, and some plants have crosswise leaves, as I read in Germany somewhere.

I’ll have to get used to the unfamiliar left-side traffic, for several times I almost collided with people walking the other way, and when I cross the road I don’t know which way to look to avoid being run over by a car. Our drivers will find it difficult when they come to a corner, and suddenly have to drive on the left side, as does a train.

Tired, we returned to the camp just in time for dinner. Again I washed off the marks the gumboots had made on my feet, and finally crawled into bed.

FOOTNOTE

*  Ann Tündern-Smith knows from talking to a number of the passengers that all were allocated tasks on board, just as the previous US Army passengers would have been kept from boredom and mischief by helping to operate the ship.  Therefore, some of the DP passengers were allocated to MP (Military Police) roles, others helped in the "kitchen" (galleys on board), bakery or, like Vaclavs, the coolroom and, naturally, everyone tried to spend time in a deckchair when the sailing was smooth.  As for the painters, this task certainly was used to punish anyone who had broken badly the ship's rules being parodied, such as those caught mixing with the opposite sex after hours.

** A DP from a later Heintzelman voyage explained to Ann that, unlike many ships at the time, the General Squier class had been built to provide freshwater showers, not showers with seawater.

*** As reported by the Immigration official in "General Stuart Heintzelman Passengers Reach Australia: the Official Report", the Medical Officer and any assistants were checking for a lot more than scabies.

**** Elmar Saarepere's recollection of the first meal is also in "General Stuart Heintzelman Passengers Reach Australia: the Official Report".

***** The Swanbourne Army barracks, where more than half (441) of the passengers were accommodated, are in a coastal suburb of Perth some 11 kilometres north of the Fremantle shops.  Google Maps estimates that this is a two and a half hour walk, meaning that the men would have spent five hours altogether walking.  Vaclavs probably would have reported the walk in more detail if it was this long.  The nearest shops to the Swanbourne barracks are 1.6 kilometres away on Claremont Crescent, Swanbourne, so this is more likely to have been the destination.


04 January 2025

Vaclavs Kozlovskis' Journey from Gibraltar to Colombo on the "Heintzelman" translated by Monika Kozlovskis with Janis Sakurovs

MEDITERRANEAN SEA, 4.11.47, Tues. We’re now tossing on the blue waters of the Mediterranean. It’s become so warm that sitting on the deck brings perspiration to my brow. I’ve managed to save some warm weather clothes, and am now walking around in short pants, searching out shade to hide from the sun’s beaming face. 

Now and then the coast of Africa comes into view, particularly where it’s mountainous; in the evenings lights wink back at us from those same mountains.

A huge wind rose this afternoon, almost knocking us off our feet. The sea wasn’t so churned up, but the ship heaved anyway, and my head felt heavy. I’ll be smarter this time and not succumb to seasickness, [since] after all a large part of it is due purely to thought alone — apparently several people began throwing up even as the ship was untied from the German shore.

I washed my shirt and concentrated on learning English, for it never goes astray to refresh your knowledge. Shortly before bedtime we turned our clocks forward one hour, evidence that Europe is falling further behind us.

MEDITERRANEAN SEA, 6.11.47, Thurs. By lunch time we were already 2600 nautical miles from Bremerhaven and 872 from Port Said, which we will reach in several days.

We had another drill and, strapped in our lifejackets once more, assembled at the nominated lifeboats, which this time were lowered to the rails. The ship even stopped for a moment, then the drill was over and our journey continued.

MEDITERRANEAN SEA, 7.11.47, Fri. The sea is semi-calm, and it’s raining a little. The ship is rocking, but I feel it only with my eyes when looking at the far horizon and the edge of the ship together.

A concert was announced for this evening but one of the musicians didn’t show up and the others wouldn’t play without him. By tomorrow evening we should reach Port Said.

PORT SAID, 8.11.47, Sat. This afternoon we received our second cigarette ration, as well as shaving implements, a comb, tooth powder and soap.

After dinner the blue seawater changed colour and became muddy yellow; these were the waters of the Nile now washing against the ship’s sides.

Several hours later the lights of Port Said twinkled in the night, and at seven thirty the Heintzelman dropped anchor at the entrance to the Suez Canal. Soon small boats full of Egyptians offering various trifles surrounded the ship, but as we have no money no great trade came of it. These trifles are too expensive anyway to seriously think about buying any.


Above two images: Arab traders beside the Heintzelman at Port Said
Source:  Private collection

SUEZ, 9.11.47, Sun. The ship moved off at three in the morning, but at that time I was still fast asleep and the harbour slid by unnoticed. When I went on deck I saw that the Heintzelman had already sailed into Suez and dropped anchor again. The journey won’t resume until after breakfast.

I had a good look around but there wasn’t much to be seen. On the right side there was occasional greenery, but on the left only emptiness. Here and there were camels, palm trees and small huts with flat roofs. Along both sides of the Canal walked ragged natives, it’s a wonder what they live on. The landscape seems too poor to allow people to live decently. I couldn’t see the smallest crop field anywhere; nothing could grow in that sand.

"Only emptiness" on one side of the Suez Canal, viewed from the Heintzelman
Source:  Private collection

Occasionally I saw some German prisoners, who must feel bad living in imprisonment for so long, far from the shores of their homeland. But who knows, perhaps they are better off here than in war-devastated Germany, where people are forced to live in semi-starvation.

On both sides of the Canal ran a railroad, and in other places was a peculiar mix of colours — red water, several shades of bright yellow sand, light green grass, dark green trees, greenish water, white huts and black highway, all of it sparkling in the sunlight, mingling in colourful confusion. 

The fertile side of the Suez Canal, viewed from the Heintzelman
Source:  Private collection

In the evening we sailed out the other end of the Canal where the ship dropped anchor again. There were many ships, presumably waiting for a free path through the Canal. In the night the anchor was raised again, and our journey through the Red Sea began.

"The other end of the Canal" or is this looking back at the Mediterranean?
Source:  Private collection

RED SEA, 11.11.47, Tues. We’re still sailing through the heat of the Red Sea. It’s already too hot for us to stay in our rooms for long, even in our sports pants. Last night transformed into a little hell, so we played cards until two in the morning, for it was no good trying to sleep. 

During the heat of the previous night I had all sorts of nightmares, even the ventilator which constantly blew air right across me from only a metre above my head didn’t help. 

Today Port Said is already 677 nautical miles behind us, and Colombo 2713 in front.

RED SEA, 12.11.47, Wed. A powerful wind is blowing, making it difficult to keep on your feet on the top deck. We’re in the middle of the sea and the ship is rocking quite nicely. I stood by the gangway on the middle deck and watched the small disturbance in the water. Now and again a larger wave splashed right up to the top deck and threw salty, bitter drops onto my face, but they’re cool and pleasant in this heat.

Large valleys formed in the sea, and as I watched, mountains of water crashed onto the bow, flinging thousands of fine drops into the air. This water play is wonderful, I watched and enjoyed it for a long time.

ARABIAN SEA, 13.11.47, Thurs. We’re now in the Arabian Sea, surrounded by comparatively calm water. Straight after lunch we took part in another ship drill which was followed by a general clean up.

This cleaning went on for two hours, during which everyone primped and tidied whatever they could think of.  After this we received new pillowcases, and it seems that our room has indeed become a little brighter.  Tonight we turned our watches another hour forward.

ARABIAN SEA, 14.11.47, Fri. Last night I slept reasonably well, the vast sea surrounding us and the air coming from the ventilator was so cool that I even had to cover myself with a blanket for a while.

After breakfast I went up to the ship’s prow and gazed at the calm surface of the sea, from which, disturbed by the ship, schools of flying fish occasionally rose and flew some thirty to forty metres before returning to their cool abode. With their spread wings these fish reminded me of dragonflies, skimming the surface with their bellies, leaving a light-coloured furrow in their wake.

After dinner I was once more on deck, this time gazing up at the stars. The Big Bear can’t be seen anymore, and the North Star will soon disappear, for it’s already only some ten degrees above the horizon, as we’re too far south. On the other hand, some of the southern stars not seen in Europe are beginning to make their appearance.

Eventually one of the guards reminded me that it was already ten and time to leave the deck. My legs are perspiring a little at the knees — today I sat for only twenty minutes in the sun while I smoked a cigarette, and in that time I developed red, burning blotches. As I climbed into bed I noticed that my back is perspiring as well — there’s no joking with the sun around here.

INDIAN OCEAN, 15.11.47, Sat. The schools of flying fish have increased in size, and we’ve seen schools of dolphins as well.

Today we received our third cigarette and soap ration; I’ve collected a whole trove of soap now.

There was a ball on the open deck this evening, I listened to the music and watched as the dancers floundered in the darkness, on the moving dance floor. Our own band played, including “When in Capri, the Sun Sets Down by the Sea”.

As I enjoyed the tango music, I remembered the lasses with whom I danced this dance countless times in Germany, and I felt a little nostalgic for those happy times. Will my life path ever lead me back to these girls, to whom so many wonderful memories bind me?

INDIAN OCEAN, 16.11.47, Sun. All around us is only blue water, I can’t even see a passing ship. Beautiful indeed are these sun-shimmered, enticing open spaces with the blue sky above them - here are the vast distances that I’ve longed for all this time.

How long will it be before I cross these seas in the other direction and return to my homeland, travel weary and seeking peace?