Vaclavs Kozlovskis Escapes Pyramid Hill! translated by Monika Kozlovskis

Vaclavs taped this ticket to yet another Pyramid Hill entertainment into his diary
without further comment

PYRAMID HILL, 3.11.48, Wed

I washed my clothes and cursed to myself at such a ridiculous job. After all if I was married, then this washing headache would be over. Often enough lately I’ve played with thoughts of marriage, I think the devil is rearranging my clear thinking. But this problem isn’t as simple as it seems. It would be nice to come home after work to my wife’s clean, nicely furnished house, but that would mean giving up my idea of the sea. A seaman’s life would put off the possibility of marriage for a while at least - how will I unravel this damned knot? I’m already twenty-four years old, how much longer will I have to wander the world alone? But a wife would, after all, hinder a short return to Latvia, you could even say that it would be completely out of the question. Where can I find the solution to these damned problems?

PYRAMID HILL, 6.11.48, Sat

What an unpleasant day. The whole disaster began in the morning, when I woke to find something pressing my heart in an iron fist. Trying to ignore the pain, I got up and went outside, but had to come straight back to bed, because multicoloured circles span before my eyes and I felt that I was about to die. I had cramps and lost consciousness.

When I woke after a few minutes, I was half-sitting at the table and Lembit was holding me with both hands to prevent me from battering the walls - apparently I was also thrashing about. Then I suddenly felt hot, then sweated with cold shivers. I felt so bad that they sent for the doctor. But by the time he got here I felt much better and when he came the second time I was just getting up. I spent a few hours shooting rabbits, then went to look at the exhibition, although I still felt fairly weak.

PYRAMID HILL, 7.11.48, Sun

As is usual on weekends, today the wind blows fiercely again, this time mixed with desert dust. I feel as if I’m broken - all my bones are stiff and my back aches, it’s difficult to bend. It’s too windy for tennis, I’m too tired for table tennis, Anita is working until eleven, and as a result I was home by seven

PYRAMID HILL, 8.11.48, Mon

Memories and sadness flood my heart with renewed strength, my thoughts fly far away to my silent homeland once more, and unable to be called back, linger with my family. A small piece of paper, which a few months ago my sister held in her hands, today lies in my callused palm and pours warm waves into my heart, but my soul floods with new unbearable longing.

When the red tyranny ends, I’ll take the first chance I have to be amongst my loved ones again, to gladden my grey-haired mother and let young Ivars ride on my back as he did once, before the long lonely years…. if only the red tyrant’s power would end, if only there was the possibility for however brief a moment to be among my near and dear ones. But fate is merciless and people even more so. I can’t even write to my family for fear they’d be persecuted. When will this diabolic oppression end? If only it would end before the red beast has time to destroy and swallow everything that is so dear! Am I really fated to never again see my father and dear mother, to whom I’ve caused such worry? Please, God, protect her, and help her to endure these dark days!

PYRAMID HILL, 18.11.48, Thurs

We’ve received welcome news - our “hard labour” period has been shortened to eighteen months, so I’ve only six months left to slave, until 28 May. This news has been announced over the wireless and also written in the newspaper, and the boss and fat Maloney talk about it as well, so I’ll have to believe it.

In Germany increasing numbers of people are fleeing death by escaping to the western sector. It would be interesting to know where it will all end. Meanwhile the DPs have a good life in Australia and create all sorts of trouble.

One of 3 newspaper clippings which Vaclavs had taped into his diary at this point;
the others were headlined "50 Balts to Work at Sugar Factory" and "30,000 From East In DP Camps"

Source:  Sun News-Pictorial, Melbourne, 8 November 1948 through Trove

BENDIGO, 19.11.48, Fri

I didn’t go to work today for I’d arranged to travel to Bendigo to collect my suit. In the morning the boss appeared, and dismissing my ideas of travelling by train, offered to drive me in his own car. He brought some changes with him - next week Percy, Edgar, Kukusinski and the tall Ukrainian will leave us. This is solely the work of the foreman and I’m angry, but what can I do about it? It only strengthens my resolve to leave here after Christmas. The drive proceeded very enjoyably and by two I was in the familiar hotel. My business took up most of the afternoon, and I made it to the pub only just before closing time. After all I had to christen my new suit, which turned out very well. Later in the evening I went to the cinema, then fell into the soft hotel bed.

BENDIGO, 22.11.48, Sun

Now the soup’s begun to boil - this evening the boss arrived and said that Percy is leaving tomorrow morning. Although this was nothing unexpected, suddenly my blood began to boil, and I said that I’m leaving too. Antanas [Martisius?] joined me, then almost all the others, and we went to the boss with our announcement. The boss became angry and waved his hands in the air, but I was angry too and I couldn’t help him, he has to be satisfied with our decision. It’s just as well that yesterday we all drank together to celebrate our first year in Australia, as it turns out it was our farewell celebration as well.

PYRAMID HILL, 23.11.48, Mon

I’d decided to go to Bendigo this morning, but the foreman arrived, and knocking politely at the door saying good morning, told me that at eleven the boss and the employment officer would be here. If that’s the way he wants it, then I waited - it saved me an unnecessary trip to Bendigo. But Snell arrived alone. This didn’t interfere with us having a good exchange of words and clarifying to our listening boss that the only reason we want to leave is because of the foreman McDonald and his two sons. The boss blushed and paled, but what’s that to me. We just want the issue to be resolved somehow and to stay here until Christmas, but we became too heated and we’ve let off too much steam, there’s no going back.

Except for Lembit, Faterir and Gurski, we all received our accounts and didn’t worry overmuch that Snell raced off as if he was on fire. And why wouldn’t he, when suddenly all the work in the quarry stops? Let McDonald and his two sons make three hundred yards a day! Of course, this particular path costs good money, no-one’s going to pay us for the days we don’t work and I’ll no longer get four shillings and fourpence per hour, but I have to stand by my friends. Although I’m not so happy to leave this easy detonating job, which I could have put up with quite easily until Christmas, there are only six months left and after that I would be leaving anyway.

BENDIGO, 24.11.48, Tues

The day has come for me to leave Pyramid. I walked around to say goodbye to my friends. This parting wasn’t at all that pleasant - all the Australians are on our side and cursed the boss. On top of everything else, we found something new to curse, for we were told we had to hire a car from town to take our bags to the station, even though there were several free ones standing in the quarry.

A final wave of the hand, a final glance at the mountain through the train window, then Pyramid Hill also became part of my past. Snell had already advised the employment officer about our arrival, so by four everything was in order and we were each clear about our destinations. Kukusinski has been given a dustless job because of his eye problem and the rest are going to Mildura, but I’m being sent to somewhere near Hamilton. All I have to do now is to spend tonight in a hotel, and my journey to the new workplace can begin.

Vaclavs Kozlovskis in Pyramid Hill, Bendigo, Kerang, September-October 1948, translated by Monika Kozlovskis

PYRAMID HILL, 5.9.48, Sun

I’ve never played so many games before as I did today. It started with tennis at two in the afternoon, then I moved over to the table tennis and didn’t get home until eleven thirty, so I’m sure I’ll be stiff tomorrow. Yesterday’s newspaper again carried some salient words about the Balts and their prospects in Australia …

PYRAMID HILL, 15.9.48, Wed

It seems that summer has arrived already - since Sunday there has been no wind, there are no clouds in the sky and the bright Australian sun soaks our backs in perspiration. I’m working without a shirt, and only short pants. The cold weather months went quickly, almost unnoticed, will the hot ones speed by so swiftly too?

Source:  Vaclavs' diary, clipped from the
Melbourne Sun-News Pictorial, 15 September 1948, p 3

PYRAMID HILL, 18.9.48, Sat 

Damn it, the newspapers are already reporting problems - it seems that we won’t get out of the soup without the full two years. It’s possible that I’ll have to spend a second year in this same cabin, breaking up the same rocks. I’m going to take every opportunity to change my workplace. Perhaps if I have a good talk with the Employment Officer I could get a somewhat better job, but if not, I’ll get through the second year of “hard labour” as well somehow; after all, is that the only unpleasantness in the world?

Source:  Vaclavs' diary, clipped from

Smith's Weekly 18 September 1948

This morning I’d intended to do some washing, but instead I accompanied the schoolmaster to some sort of bushes to find firewood. This afternoon I arrived at the tennis court early, for today there was a so-called “tournament,” which I had no thoughts of winning. After the game I started a set with a quite young girl, we seem to understand each other well enough. We didn’t finish the set because it became too dark, and after a few more table tennis matches I hurried home in time to empty a bottle of wine before going to the dance. My head felt comparatively dull, and after the dance I had a few more at Fred’s, and got home at two in the morning.

PYRAMID HILL, 19.9.48, Sun

Early this morning Vik shook me to get up to go to church, but how could my head be inclined towards church, when it’s fully occupied with roaring and strange heaviness? I went to tennis in the afternoon, however - by then my head was clear again. After tennis I was invited for dinner, and again I enjoyed Australian hospitality. I really have landed in a country of wonderful people. I enjoyed the music, for the host has a large collection of records with wonderful compositions by the grand masters.

PYRAMID HILL, 20.9.48, Mon

Some peaceful, some fast and stormy winds blow my years into non-existence - today is my twenty-fourth birthday. That may not seem a lot, but I’ve seen and experienced so much that sometimes it seems I’ve become an old man. Except I haven’t achieved anything, I’m still a wanderer of the world, who lives here temporarily and at every moment must have my suitcase packed to continue on my way …

PYRAMID HILL, 21.9.48, Tues

Tonight I went to a concert, and I must say that I’ve never experienced such rubbish before. There was nothing wrong with the concert itself, but after it came reviews, presentations, speeches and more speeches, which lasted longer that the concert itself and dragged on until midnight. It was so boring that I wanted to get up and leave, but just as I was about to, the national anthem played and happily the business was at an end. I’m never going to one of these functions again!

The ticket to the boring speeches

Source:  Inside Vaclavs' diary

PYRAMID HILL, 3.10.48, Sun

My five year anniversary is here, but my God, how it differs from other anniversaries, for it is a sorrowful occasion. Five long wandering and unsettled years have passed since I left my mother’s warm nest, and during all these years troubles have followed me like the moon follows the earth. As well as these troubles I am pursued by longing for I don’t know what; perhaps it’s longing for my home and family. I try to escape the thoughts of home, but I just can’t succeed.

Like it or not my thoughts often fly there and in my heart spreads a sudden, painful fear as to whether I will ever return and see what has become of my native land? I think of my father and also my mother, who I last saw as she wept over my fate, then my hands form into fists and my thoughts feverishly seek something else to think about. Hatred ferments in my heart against the tyrants who separated me from my kinfolk and forced me to wander around the world. Difficult, endlessly difficult it is for the one without a country, home or family. Lately I’ve started to think occasionally of starting my own family, but with what? Australians make expensive wives, and after all I haven’t any money.

PYRAMID HILL - BENDIGO, 8.10.48, Fri

After all I can’t always work, sometimes I have to enjoy a holiday as well, therefore today I travelled to Bendigo. After two hours in a comfortable Australian train I got out at Bendigo station at lunchtime, wondering which street to take to find a hotel. The result of my wondering was that I climbed into a taxi which quickly drove me to the “Metropolitan” hotel, where a fat, courteous woman asked me to spell my names, wrote them in a book and showed me my room. After lunch, I went shopping and looked around the city with all its 40,000 inhabitants.

Not the postcard in Vaclavs' diary but another view, from 1920, of the centre of Bendigo, 
called Charing Cross after the "centre" of London

Source:  Wikipedia

The town is very appealing, it has many streets, and an amazing number of young, smiling lasses. If I could only get to know one, I’d stay here longer if it was possible to do so. I’ll have to try to wheedle a job in Bendigo next year from the Employment Office. I’d like to live here, even though I would spend my money faster here than living in Pyramid’s isolation. I went into a clothing store, Ashman’s, but couldn’t find a suit I like, so I chose a light blue striped cloth, and went to be measured for a suit to be made for me. I was led into the tailor’s shop itself and was amazed when I saw about fifty young girls working there, one of whom will sew my summer suit in six weeks.

Vaclavs' receipt for his suit, scanned from his diary

Next I looked for a watch, and after looking through three shops, found what I wanted in the fourth. Although it cost me twelve and a half pounds, I like it and paid for it. I wandered around some more, bought some shoes in the American style as well as a few more trifles, then it was time for dinner. Afterwards I tried to find a bar, but they all close at six and there isn’t a night local in the whole of this wide city, it’s quite amazing. Although here and there in large red electric letters I saw the signs “Bar,” all you can buy in such places are milk and ice cream, therefore the only thing I could do tonight was walk to the cinema and afterwards enjoy the comfort of the soft hotel bed.

BENDIGO - PYRAMID HILL, 9.10.48, Sat

My wallet twenty-five pounds lighter and my holiday over, I began the return journey. Of course, first I went into a bar to make up for yesterday, and made it to the station only ten minutes before my train left. It feels quite strange when people call me “sir,” but I’ll have to get used to it, after all I’m no longer a DP, and I pay the taxi driver with my own money. I half-dozed in the carriage almost all the way, but despite this when I climbed out at Pyramid station my head still hadn’t cleared. It only cleared a little when after the usual tennis games we emptied the cherry brandy and wine bottles and went to the dance. I don’t know why I didn’t enjoy it this time, even though I danced every dance, I don’t know what the matter was. Perhaps the Bendigo lasses have left their impression on me?

PYRAMID HILL, 12.10.48, Tues

It’s amazing that such a tremendous wind can blow here - at night it shakes the whole cabin and jolts my bed, so that it seems the whole lot will fly off to the devil. This afternoon five new men arrived, but they aren’t the hoped-for Balts. Only one is a Lithuanian; the rest are three Poles and a Ukrainian. They seem to be good people, but we’ll have to wait and see.

PYRAMID HILL, 16.10.48, Sat

This afternoon my tennis team played at Calivil North courts, so I had to ride ten miles to get there. As it turned out I had to play against Pyramid, and my own team. There was no dance this evening so we played table tennis at the café.

PYRAMID HILL, 26.10.48, Tues

Summer’s here in earnest now - this week suddenly began with unbearably fierce heat, and it doesn’t seem to want to disappear. At night I have to remember how to sleep when it’s thirty degrees. Due to the heat, time lags and work hours crawl forward like snails, much more slowly than they did on cool days. Often I have to put my watch to my ear to make sure it hasn’t stopped. A difficult time lies ahead. I have no desire at all to stand on my feet breaking rocks, sweating while the hot sun beats down. Worst of all is the hot southerly wind, which doesn’t provide the least relief, and the water bottle is quite warm. I don’t have any appetite at mealtimes.

KERANG, 27.10.48, Wed

As it turned out, today the schoolmaster was going to a conference in Kerang and he told me there were two free seats in his car. I have to visit Kerang at least once, so without much ado Vik and I were standing by the big shop shortly before eight, and within the hour we were in Kerang. Of course, our first business was with the Employment Office. We explained how “bad” our situation is, complained about the “heavy” work and low wage, but nothing helped. Although he promised to do whatever was in his power and said that he will suggest a change in workplace to the government, he added that it will be very difficult to arrange. He said that in accordance with the contract we must work a full two years, and that he had grave doubts as to whether anything will eventuate concerning a change.

It seems that the only way to change jobs is to pack all our belongings and return to Bonegilla, but whether I would take such a stupid step, I doubt myself. After all it’s not that bad in the quarry, perhaps I will be able to survive the next year as well, only I’ll have to go much slower than I did this year. After all if I try, during the coming year I’ll be able to save two hundred pounds. I do want to go somewhere else, but you can’t have everything you want. After we left the old office building we wandered around town, bought a few items and found a few bars. By five we were seated in the car again driving home.

PYRAMID HILL, 30.10.48, Sat

One whole year has passed since I last rode in a German cattle car and since I took my last step on the European continent. Whether I will ever return is in the hands of Destiny. This anniversary really lends itself well to remembrance - it rained all afternoon. In the evening I rode to the café to play table tennis, and again the road splattered my bicycle with mud. I don’t know how I made it to Fred’s - I was drunk as a lord coming home

Vaclavs Kozlovskis in Pyramid Hill, August 1948, translated by Monika Kozlovskis

PYRAMID HILL, 1.8.48, Sun

I prayed for rain, but as usual when it’s needed it doesn’t arrive, and at ten minutes to two we left home, with me wondering how things will turn out. First of all we met Jan and Barreli going in the opposite direction. They told me to come to the tennis court straight away, and we kept walking. Velma and the other girls had already gathered and so we started playing basketball. Who knows, maybe everything will be all right, I told myself, because the first tennis court was taken and the other didn’t have a net. But unfortunately it wasn’t all right- after some ten minutes Jan and the other girl showed up and, looking in our direction, started putting the net up. I definitely had to go over there, but couldn’t think up a reason to leave. This reason came of its own accord, quite unexpectedly.

Apparently with my nervousness and poor playing I annoyed Velma a little - she went to the other end of the court, and sent the little lass in her place. If that’s how it is - I put Krysis in my place and walked over to the tennis court. I occupied many hours with the racquet and ball, and I must say that this game is better than any other I’ve played in Australia. In future I’ll have to stick with tennis. It doesn’t matter that Velma and the others are annoyed, sooner or later their anger will burn itself out, especially if it peaks next Sunday, when even Vytas is supposed to come and play tennis.

PYRAMID HILL, 8.8.48, Sun

I turned the calendar and judged by the date that the fierce southern wind, which rattles the Australian dentures every morning, is still supposed to be blowing. But not always does what’s written on paper coincide with the truth - an ever-clearer smile is beginning to appear on the sun’s face. Less and less she seeks cover behind the clouds, and more and more surely her warriors engage in combat, hurling brilliant boomerangs and incandescent spears to stab the quickly fleeing strength of winter.

We have sung many songs of praise of winter, and cursed summer too often, therefore these spears attack us too. It seems the time is near when the last of winter’s strength will be beaten, then the brilliant boomerangs and whitehot spears will turn their full force against us, leaving little white water blisters on our skin once more. The sun will smile widely as she tyrannises, while our sweat pours down and we search for relief in the waterhole’s brown water, waiting patiently until the next winter monarch invents an atom bomb and comes to deliver us again. My body weapons factory, with increasing tempo, is desperately attempting to convert my thick northern blood to thin southern blood, but this job, despite the urgency, is occurring damned slowly.

Today I rose at eight. Yesterday I had a drop too much, and as a result of the gin and beer I became completely stupid, but today like a miracle my head is quite clear. At ten thirty I said a few quiet prayers in the church, after that I had lunch with the local schoolmaster, who kindly invited me. He is a very nice person, which perhaps is the reason I feel so comfortable in his company. This afternoon I played tennis again, this time it turned out quite well. I was so carried away by the game that I returned home completely exhausted, but better acquainted with several pleasant people.

The longer I live here, the clearer it is to me that Australia really is becoming my home. Whether I want to or not, now and again I compare both countries, and each time I conclude that it’s better in Australia. What is waiting for me in my distant northern land if I return? Even in peace time it was difficult to find work, the wages were low and the living conditions weren’t much good. Could I earn a bicycle or a wireless there, in one month? And what’s wrong with living here? I don’t have to worry about finding a job, everything is cheap and abundant. Would it really be worthwhile to return now, or even later, to the wreckage, and begin my life all over again? I’m too old for that, and too tired of this constant starting up of new lives.

But despite everything, home is home; it will always pull me, and precious memories will always remain. After all, I spent my happiest childhood days there, and all my family is there. Will Destiny lead me back one day?

It seems as if the wheel of time is somehow turning awry, and all is not right with the change in weather, for on work days the sky is clear and the weather itself is fine without wind, but as soon as Saturday is here, then it’s usually raining. Today instead of rain, a fierce wind blew, considerably testing the strength of the papering inside my cabin. Although it’s difficult riding against the wind on bicycles, the three of us struggled to the tennis court, for after all, we’d promised to play. We had little hope of anyone else turning up, but miraculously a car soon drove up and out of it climbed four girls with their tennis racquets. Might as well: we started playing, but it was too difficult to control the ball in the strong wind, so after an hour we stopped our fruitless running after the balls that we hit over the fence.

On our way home we turned into the local pub for a few beers, but these “few beers” turned into a party, which continued on even after the pub’s formal closing time. By the time the pub’s doors were behind us, a huge swarm of bees had begun humming in my head. At the crossroads we met Jim’s wife, who said that next Saturday it’s her birthday, but she can’t have a party at her house, therefore she’d like to have it in our kitchen, and invited us as well.

PYRAMID HILL, 15.8.48, Sun

A huge wind is blowing again today, it’s a wonder as to when it will stop. I stayed home all day and pottered around. It’s cold and my head aches a little…

PYRAMID HILL, 21.8.48, Sat

From everything only sadness remains And pale dust and ashes, cover it all My hands are tired - I cannot light the fire My eyes are blinded - they are sore and cannot see. From everything only emptiness remains, And the ash from dying embers drifts onto the ground. What I longed for yesterday - today I don’t desire, The lips I pined for, the kiss will never come. From everything only disappointment remains. You ask yourself and wonder: was that reality? With a dim mirror you exchange glances Like Judas, hating yourself, as you tie a noose around your neck. Only emptiness, disappointment and sadness remain.

One after the other the days rush by, the weeks pass and the months are overlaid with the quilt of the past, and the powerful river of time is unstoppable. Her waters wash away all pain, joy and sorrow; all that remains is an empty person, who walks along the bank against the current, without peace. Another week has flowed past, and so I have also come closer to my own inevitable peace. The remaining months will also pass like this, and then from the Pyramid days as well, only memories, several photos in my album and words in my journal will remain….

After the usual tennis game and short rest at home, Vik and I half-emptied a liqueur bottle and went dancing in a light mood. I happened to dance with the dark-haired lass, and often my eyes met her dark twinkling ones, and her face screwed up in smiles. Can it really be that Fate plans to send her to Melbourne at the start of next month! That’s no good, then there will no longer be any girl left here who I really like. But nothing can be changed - the flow of Time’s river is unstoppable, and it never stops echoing : “From everything only emptiness, disappointment and sorrow remains…”

At tonight’s dance lottery tickets were being sold, this time for the Red Cross. I bought two; who knows, perhaps I’ll win a house, and settle into my life in earnest? The receipt I’ve taped into this book is testimony that I’ve posted two pounds as a payment on a dancing course. Although I now know almost all the local dances, it would still be worthwhile to learn them perfectly. It will be very interesting to see how I can learn by mail, without music or a partner?

PYRAMID HILL, 22.8.48, Sun

Oh, quiet church, your sombre, holy walls let me forget worldly things for a while; they enclose me in peace, why search anywhere else… and Mary, clothed in such a beautiful, holy dress! This afternoon I smiled back at the black-haired lass again as we played tennis. In the late afternoon an enormous wind blew up, driving before it a large pile of sand. The wind came from behind us, so we hastily began our ride home.

PYRAMID HILL, 24.8.48, Tues

Work is work, and play is play - tonight Vytas and I emptied the remaining liqueur and went dancing again. Of course, the liqueur wasn’t enough, and some beer and nice wine joined it from our friends’ direction, and with each glass my mood improved. As usual at a large dance, all the women were wearing long dresses, so it paid to be careful. The schoolmistress’s dress was so long that whether I wanted to or not, I couldn’t dance with her without treading on it, but should I worry about that? If she can’t wear a shorter dress, let her go home!

PYRAMID HILL, 31.8.48, Tues

It’s no good drinking on workdays like that - today I’m sleepy and my head aches. No work has been done in the quarry since the middle of last week because all the vehicles have broken down, so this morning I occupied myself with the old task of restacking the iron. This afternoon I finally returned to the peace of the quarry. The crusher isn’t working and the trucks don’t come, so we crawled into a corner while one of us went up to look out for the boss.

But the rogue obviously wasn’t being careful, for the boss swanned up completely unnoticed and immediately his “blessing” followed. Thus it turned out that we had to practically warn our sentry of the boss’s arrival.

While the boss was in the quarry we applied ourselves industriously, and continued production for an hour or so after he left, until it started raining, and we once more crawled under the shelter until work finished. Around five Father O’Connor came to visit us. He is a likeable man and knows the communists well; on Sunday he will hold a service for our loved ones and families.

This Australian wind is terrible - it comes from I know not where, blows, almost tips us off our feet and tries to wrench my cabin roof into the air. The buffeted cabin walls make the table shake so it’s difficult to write anything, the roof paper flaps, and all the cabin joints rattle.

From this page of Vaclavs' diary but from an unknown newspaper
(Click once if you want to read a larger copy in a new browser page)

Vaclavs Kozlovskis in Pyramid Hill, July 1948

 

PYRAMID HILL, 3.7.48, Sat

Now and then the Australian papers hold some sensible words as well - today’s articles for example - this cutting from Smith’s Weekly.

Note that the Communists illustrating the Smith's Weekly article of 5 June 1948
appear to have the heads of clowns

Source:  Trove

Early this evening I went to the dance with Kukusinski*. We took a bottle of wine to Fred’s, and soon enough we became very talkative and merry. Fred told us that tonight there was a farewell evening for our old foreman, Bill, in progress, and tried so hard to talk us into going that finally we agreed.

On the other side of town, in a building on the football field, a large crowd of men had gathered. All of them were full, one had just climbed onto the table extolling the praises of Bill, who was swaying in some remote corner and smiling, while everyone else was half listening, and half talking in drunken voices amongst themselves.

In one corner the barkeeper sat with a beer cask, handing out free drinks. It was there that Fred dragged us and now we had to enjoy it as well, even though we’d already drunk over our limit. In fact we came into town to go dancing, so we tried to disappear from this boozing company, but the first try failed — Fred caught us and dragged us back.

Our next try ten minutes later met with success and soon enough, breathless from our zigzag running, we were drinking lemonade at Naschke’s café, and then went to the dance. It was already late and after several dances the national anthem played and nothing much came of our much-anticipated dancing. Next time we will definitely have to try to drink less, and dance more.

PYRAMID HILL, 4.7.48, Sun

Those damned sparrows: they’ve found their way into the loft of my cabin and chirp annoyingly, disturbing my sleep. I can’t throw a boot at them for it might rip the paper ceiling, so I was up by eight. Because I happened to be up in time, I went to church at St Patrick’s — the only thing here that is the same as in Latvia.

In the afternoon, Kukusinski and I discovered a new pursuit: we played basketball with the ladies. And so, larking around, the whole afternoon passed, and it was especially pleasant, when you take into account the merry, pretty lasses.

But about the basketball itself I have to say that it’s only the name that is similar to basketball in Europe. First of all the basket is without boards, and is raised on one post. You are not allowed to dribble the ball forward, or run around the whole court, and you have to let the opponents throw the ball without interference from a certain distance. Such basketball I couldn’t have imagined even in my dreams.

But our primary aim isn’t to play, but rather to spend some pleasant time in the company of females, and this is where we find them, for in Australia this game is generally only played by women. The men give precedence to their foolish football, which is supposed to be the most advanced and highest form of football (of course, only in their own minds!).

The 7 from the First Transport, in their best outfits,
 with 2 local women (and a dog) who found them interesting

Source:  Collection of Vaclavs Kozlovskis

PYRAMID HILL, 6.7.48, Tues

The boss showed up, but we didn’t see him all day. It was only after work that he came into my cabin and widened his eyes in amazement at the changes we’ve wrought. Apparently it’s unusual here that a simple labourer organises his dwelling so pleasantly. You can see this when you compare ours with the Australians’. And why wouldn’t he marvel, when I’ve made so cosy and pleasant a room from a simple wooden shed.

Of course, he brought some changes with him. Starting from tomorrow we have a new foreman, who the whole village says is an exploitative, bad person. The boss’s task is to raise production from one hundred and thirty to two hundred or three hundred yards, but I doubt we’ll be able to manage that. We won’t let this foreman pull us around by our noses, after all we’re not slaves and can “escape” at any time back to Bonegilla.

He also said that a sand-digging vehicle will arrive soon along with five more Balts. The new crusher will also be ready soon, and then production will most likely increase, but whether we can reach three hundred yards a day, and how we will get on with the new foreman, I don’t know. Bill, the old foreman, was a very nice person, it’s a pity he has to go to another quarry.

PYRAMID HILL, 17.7.48, Sat

“Time to go for firewood!”, we resolved yesterday as we observed the empty woodpile beside the kitchen, so today we did. Around lunchtime we brought a large truckload home, and so the unpleasant threat of cold meals has been held at bay again.

We hadn’t bought any wine for today, but without fortification my legs couldn’t follow the strange movements called “Australian dance” here, so this afternoon we brought home bottles of gin and lemonade. It was nothing special, but climbed into the head well, and by the time we arrived at the hall, life looked pretty rosy.

To my mind these Australian dances are very strange - sometimes dropping onto the knees, sometimes sliding across the floor as if ice-skating, sometimes everyone goes forward at once, then back again, now and then lifting one leg, then the other, and sometimes, it seems, even both at once; how can a man make any sense of it all without a bottle?

Usually a prize-giving dance is held each evening, during which a man waves cards around energetically. The music halts frequently, at which point he sends a large number of the dancers off the floor. The last dancer on the floor wins a prize. This sort of dance, of course, happened tonight as well, and just this evening it happened that I was the last dancer on the floor.

This feeling wasn’t particularly enjoyable, especially because I was dancing with Margot and all the gossips will now start saying that we’re together, but nothing can help that now. After the dance, to a loud ovation, I went to the centre of the hall to receive my prize — a wonderful shaving kit. Soon after that the musicians started playing the national anthem, and it was time to go home.

PYRAMID HILL, 20.7.48, Tues

IIt’s amazing how swiftly the earth turns - it seems that July has only just begun, but the calendar already shows the other end of it … be that as it may, another dance day is here, even though it’s the middle of the week. After work I spruced myself up, but then listening to the fine raindrops clattering on the roof, it seemed that our plans to go to the dance would fall through. As soon as it was dark the boss appeared and helped me to fill in my income tax forms, which are to be sent to Melbourne as soon as possible.

With these forms he’s also sending a courteous letter, pointing out that I am a poor DP, and that for the last three years I haven’t had any income, so now I have hopes of my tax deductions returning to my pocket. It seems that the rain wanted to detain us just long enough for the boss’s visit, for soon after he arrived it stopped, and we renewed our resolve to go to the dance.

We arrived around ten, but there was plenty of time left until two. As usual during this type of dance, it was crowded and all the girls were wearing long dresses, but the empty gin bottle sent to the devil my remaining shyness, and I began dancing the moment we arrived.

I danced a lot this time, even the dances I haven’t been game to try up to now. Suddenly, in the middle of one dance the master of ceremonies appeared beside me, pointed to the coloured balloons above my head, then murmured something in English and slapped me on the shoulder, while the rest of the crowd started their embarrassing clapping, just like last Saturday. It’s not my fault that when the music suddenly stopped I happened to be standing right under the balloons, but I was the winner again, and this time the prize was an ashtray with the words “From Pyramid Hill” inscribed on it.

I didn’t get home until three. It’ll be a hard day at work tomorrow!

PYRAMID HILL, 31.7.48, Sat

I’ve become a student again, and spent the first two hours yesterday sitting on a child’s seat in the local primary school. This time I’m learning English, or should I say, learning how to properly pronounce English words much differently to how I’ve been taught before. The government has given us this opportunity, and it certainly is a good thing, if for nothing else than it will be useful for when I seek a place in one of the local naval schools.

This afternoon Vik* and I emptied the usual wine bottle and went dancing. I happened to dance with Jan, who invited me to play tennis tomorrow afternoon at two — exactly the same time I’ve been invited to play basketball by Velma. I like this tall lass very much, so I accepted her invitation, but after the dance while I was sitting on a chair waiting for a sudden rain shower to pass, I suddenly remembered that I’d promised to show up in two different places at exactly the same time. To make it worse both courts are right next to each other.

Where will I go, and where not? Oh well, I’m sure I’ll work things out tomorrow … but perhaps rain will come and rescue me from this awkward situation? That would really be the best solution.

* Neither Kukusinski nor Vik (Viktor, Viktors or Viktoras?) are names appearing among the 7 from the First Transport sent to Pyramid Hill.  A search for Kukusinski in the records of the National Archives of Australia did not produce any results, which a search for the Vik variations produced too many (1215 from 1947).

Vaclavs Kozlovskis Goes to Kerang, June 1948, translated by Monika Kozlovskis

Updated 21 March 2026.

KERANG, 3.6.48, Thurs

At the start of this week I noticed with fear in my heart that another of my healthy teeth has begun to show an ugly hole in its sides. Instantly, I remembered my last tooth extraction by the local butcher, and also the enormous bill I later received in the mail. I’m not so rich that I can pay one and a half pounds for every pulled tooth. I don’t want false teeth in my mouth either, which in the Australian mind is no bad thing.

Here almost everyone has dentures. From the age of twelve, some of them have all their teeth pulled out and replaced with false teeth. This could be very unpleasant, if you happened to kiss a lady, and in the height of passion you swallowed some of her false teeth. I don’t want to have them either and in some passionate moment to lose them down some lady’s girdled stomach, from where I couldn’t retrieve them ... but it’s not pleasant to live without teeth, so I’ll just have to resign myself to paying a fortune for them.

After weighing up all the advantages and disadvantages of false teeth, I decided to travel to Kerang to see the dentist. This morning I was seated in the dusty driver’s cabin of the truck that carries ground rock from the crusher. Despite the winding, potholed road and the doubtful-looking bridges built over the canals last century, which sometimes fall to pieces under the weight of passing cars, after an hour we reached the point where I had to get out and travel the remaining eight miles by bicycle.

Kerang's main street, 1948

Source:  Historic Photos

I realised that this road was built with my assistance, for some time ago the crusher created the first blisters on my hands to produce many of the small stones pressed into the road, and here and there the sand brought from the quarry was mixed in with the small rocks. This seemed to have been piled here recently, so I would have had a hand in creating those piles as well. Of course, I’ve been paid for doing that, and some of that wage was spent on the bicycle I ride. 

So now, as it turns out, with the fruits of my wages I was riding along the source of my wages, watching the rabbits bolting into the roadside bushes, and occasionally blowing on my hands as they froze in the morning air. The road is good, even better because I’ve helped to build it, and in half an hour the eight miles were behind me and I arrived in the city centre.

There are three dentists in Kerang, all with Melbourne University training. My tooth began itching pleasantly and rejoicing that it would soon be cleaned and mended. But the repairer himself wasn’t that easy to find. 

On ringing the doorbell at the first dentist’s, a red-haired lady, quite young, opened the door. With an ear-to-ear smile, her dentures gleaming in the sunlight that streamed through the partly open door, she kindly asked how many teeth I wanted extracted (Australians are not accustomed to only pulling one out at a time!). 

When I replied that I only have the one hole in my tooth and I want that filled, she gave me such a strange look, and with sudden sympathy in her voice and under her slightly overlong nose apologised in a whisper that the dentist didn’t work today. Then her overpainted red lips twisted into a friendly, but argument-excluding smile, and I soon found myself back outside, in the brisk autumn air.

This first setback was soon repeated. The second dentist had gone to Cohuna, and the third wasn’t in, and didn’t do fillings in any case. So the only fruits of my thirty-seven mile journey were the greens I ate for lunch in Kerang and the shilling I spent in a bar to repair my lost mood, and meanwhile the hole in my tooth has not become any smaller.

In 1948, Kerang celebrated its centenary of settlement with a Back to Kerang event:
some of those attending are photographed here

Source:  Kerang's 1948 Settlement Centenary celebrations,

prints by Elsie M Dicker held at the Kerang Museum

(Click once on the image to see a larger version in a new page)

Who knows, maybe I’ll have to have it extracted after all and exchanged for a false one, for what the crowd does, you have to follow. If you’re living with wolves, you have to howl like a wolf. I had another look at the streets and several decorous looking women, then headed back on my bicycle in time to catch the last vehicle going to Pyramid, so that instead of having to ride my bike all the way I could sit in the dusty cabin next to the truck driver. I’m not too concerned about my unrepaired tooth, by now I’m accustomed to the calm English way of dealing with problems.

PYRAMID HILL, 18.6.48, Sat

We’ve waited for the promised cabins for five long months, and started moving into them today. There’s nothing much to them — cement foundation, one layer of thin, holey bricks in the walls and a tin roof, without ceiling or inner walls. But it’s still an improvement — at least we’ve dispensed with the continual driving around in the car, and also the town is nearby, so close that we can almost touch it with our hands. After we’ve hammered paper onto the inside walls, sorted out a cupboard and table, then they will be really nice, cosy rooms: what else could we ask for?

Are these 6 of the 7 cabins in the new barracks?
It's a question because Vaclavs says that they have "holey bricks in the walls",
while these walls clearly are weatherboard,
but in his 6 July diary entry he does write about a "simple wooden shed";
if this is the barracks, note the "ablutions block" to the right

Source:  Collection of Vaclavs Kozlovskis

PYRAMID HILL, 26.6.48, Sat

To our surprise we only today realised that Midsummer had passed unnoticed, so of course we had to celebrate. And how else are bachelors to celebrate a holiday? We bought wine and quietly drank it. But the wine wasn’t calm at all, it climbed into the head, made me put on my recently bought suit and go to the dance. 

I only danced two of the comical Australian dances, the rest of the time was occupied with drinking with my friends, so that in the end I even found it difficult to climb onto my bike and return home along the suddenly smooth-seeming road.

PYRAMID HILL, 28.6.48, Mon

It was my turn to go to the city for the groceries today, so straight after work I sat on my bicycle’s back. I rode home with an unexpected thrill in my heart - I’ve received two more letters from my homeland’s girls. These two envelopes, having measured the long road from distant Latvia, now lie in my pocket rustling and creating this thrill in my heart, quite similar to the first letters.

The whole world has suddenly become so sweet, and my thoughts fly far, far away. Ausma has befriended my youngest sister Erasma; now at last my family will know what’s become of me. Ah, how I would love to be with my loved ones, for no matter how brief a moment! I quickly read both letters, and all evening I was unable to recall my thoughts from home. 

They lingered a long time in that land, now strewn with the marvels of spring, until finally, sleep came to drive off my unneeded pain and longing for the impossible. Who can tell when the strength of the Red tyranny will end and my home will be free again? I search for answers in vain, for even the shadows of the past, roaming through the night’s darkness, don’t know.

Vaclavs Kozlovskis at Pyramid Hill, February-March 1948, translated by Monika Kozlovskis

PYRAMID HILL, 1.2.48, Sun

With our drinking we’ve become good friends with the Australians — today they invited us to go for a drive.  We drove ten miles past Cohuna, then reached a large tree-lined river.  We swam, fooled around, and spent a truly wonderful day; returning home only at ten at night.

A swimming party, possibly at the Murray River or a tributary, like Gunbower Creek:  guessing that the tall man at the back is Lembit Koplus while the 4 standing on the right (none wearing swimming costumes) are possibly other Balts

Source:  Collection of Vaclavs Kozlovskis

If you think about it, there is nothing much here in Australia, even the pencils come from England.  Car tyres might be made in Australia, but the cars themselves come from America or Canada.  The countryside here is monotonous — only yellow grass, hard red earth and a bush here and there.  Most unpleasant of all is the heat and bright sun, which rarely disappears behind clouds.  Even the night air is so hot that you have to toss around in bed for a long time without sleep and soak the blankets in sweat.

Here people put a shovel in your hand, make you break rocks, and can still ask you “How do you like Australia?”  What is there here, that you can like?  The sunshine?  But despite all this, Australia is a true Happy Isle, with good and kind people.  Why does it always seem to me, that the grass is always greener on the other side?  Why is it that the drums of war in Europe have left such deep wounds in me that beginning a peaceful life is almost impossible!  When will I finally have some peace from this longing for distant places and new experiences?

PYRAMID HILL, 10.2.48, Tues

Another difficult day — all sorts of men were barging around today.  First of all the boss arrived, and after he left the head of the employment ministry visited us.   He watched us working for a short while, then asked us if we are happy with the boss and our working conditions, and if we had any complaints.  What is there to complain about?  About the job?  But you have to work wherever you are!  About the sun?  That won’t make it any cooler!  We had no complaints.  He gave us his address and left with the boss who had just returned.  In the afternoon I went to work near the compressor — another change of job.  That doesn’t matter, though it shook my hands a lot and the sound was deafening.  The boss said he would let the work be done on piecework but the big question is, whether we would accept his conditions.

PYRAMID HILL, 14.2.48, Sat

I’ve hoped for rain for a long time, and finally it’s here — this afternoon it began raining in earnest.  The day was pleasant, but unlucky for me — driving into town this morning I didn’t notice the sharp turn across the bridge and as the car turned sharply I felt myself start to fly. I could no longer hold onto Edgars’ shoulders, and didn’t dare to hold onto the rail, for both of my legs were already out of the car and I could have fallen under the wheels.*  

I tried to save the situation somehow by leaping as far as I could out of the car and in this way avoid the wheels.   I hit the road first with my shoulder, then with my head; I turned a half somersault and lay still.  My friends rushed over immediately, took off their jackets and lifted me on top of them, where I remained for about five minutes.  I lay there with stars spinning in front of my eyes, feeling terrible.  I recovered a little, then climbed back into the car and they drove me to the doctor.

I started feeling a lot better while we waited and almost felt I didn’t need to see him after all.  He didn’t do anything much, either, except ask me to lift my arms and legs, examine my head and put a plaster on the scrape.  Then we went to Naschke’s** place and I rested on the bed.  Everyone came to see me in turn, to see if I was feeling better; even the foreman came to visit me and Mary brought me some coffee and cake, but just then I couldn’t eat a thing.   After about an hour I got up, and we drove home.  I don’t feel any particular pain, it’s just that my head aches, and it feels as if every part of my body is broken.

Cafe businesses including Naschke's were on the site of what is now the Lions Park in
Pyramid Hill; the building they were in, at 9 Kelly Street, was demolished in the 1960s
and replaced by the Park in the 1970s, but the remaining buildings show
what could have been the style of Naschke's

Source:  Google Street View

PYRAMID HILL, 13.3.48, Sat

It’s Saturday again, and once more I drove into town to do some shopping.  While I was there I also went to the dentist about my aching tooth, but he was booked out, and told me to go to the hospital at eleven on Monday. I finished the shopping and returned home around one.  The Australian, Kevin, and the friend of his who became legless at our house that time, were there.  They had lunch with us and all the while egged us on to go to the dance.  Finally Vik and I gave in, and lifted our bicycles and ourselves into the vehicle.

Because it was our first time at a dance in Australia, we went into the pub first and fortified ourselves with beer for one and a half hours, until the pub closed.  Outside on the street we were discussing what to do next, when suddenly some ridiculous communist latched onto us and began spouting about exploitation and who knows what else.  We didn’t want to talk to him and turned our backs, but he forced himself into our company and shoved one of our new friends.  There was nothing to do but shove him back, and this started a brawl that lasted several minutes, the result of which was that the communist left with a large bump on his head and a split, bleeding ear.

"The pub" was the Victoria Hotel, run by members of the Kelly family from 1907 to 1951: 
after the original building burnt down in 1926, this one was erected in 1928

Source:  Melbourne Playgrounds, Pyramid Hill Historical Plaques Walk

The rest of us were all right, and we went to Naschke’s for dinner.  After that we went to Kevin’s house, where I collected my wine bottle and the others collected theirs, then we headed off to the dance hall.  We fortified ourselves again on the way, and only got to the hall just as the dancing was beginning. All the dances are quite different to what I’m used to, but I made an attempt anyway, and it turned out fairly well. The dance came to an end, and with that ended also this pleasantly spent day.  We found our bicycles and rode home. B y Wednesday I’ll have to learn these Australian dances somehow, then it will be more fun.

PYRAMID HILL, 15.3.48, Mon

Today I only worked until ten, then went into town to have my decayed tooth extracted.  In the hospital I was shown to a bed, half covered with a white blanket, with a white napkin resting on my chest, and the dentist got to work.  First of all he poured a numbing liquid on my gums and allowed it five minutes to work, then he got to work with the pliers and began marvelling at how strong my tooth is.  The pain became unbearable, even the dentist could see that, and again he tried to numb the tooth and gave me five minutes peace.

But this time he had little result and the pain was even worse.  Then he prepared some anaesthetic and jabbed a big needle in my vein, asking me to count.  Gradually everything went misty, my pain disappeared and on the count of seventeen I sank into unconsciousness.  When I woke again the tooth was out and the clock showed two-thirty, so I’d spent three whole hours in a narcotic sleep.  My head was dull, my vision foggy and my legs staggered when I come out of the hospital.  Overall it felt as if I’d drunk a large amount of alcohol.

I visited Naschke, where instantly all the women gathered around and as usual we started to joke around.  Finally he even began to teach me how to dance and so we occupied an hour or so.  My head cleared a little, and I realised that it was time to go back.   Slowly I staggered back to the quarry and saw that I’d arrived just in time to go home.  Today I only worked a few hours, but all my bones were weary.  When I got home I swallowed a few tablets and went to bed straight away.

PYRAMID HILL, 16.3.48, Tues

I slept until midday, but even so my head is dull, and my bones still weary.  The place my tooth was, is burning all the time.  I sat at the table to update my diary — finally my Bonegilla writing job is over, and I’ll have more time to do other things.  This evening, when we’d all returned from work, a familiar car pulled up outside the house and into the room came the boss.  He’s brought a rifle for me, now I’ll be able to shoot those damned sparrows.

PYRAMID HILL, 17.3.48, Wed

As soon as I got home from work I started getting ready for the dance.  Vik and I went into town an hour or so early and for something to do, explored the city streets.  We saw a lot of women, almost all in long dresses down to the ground, so I started worrying that it would be very easy to tread on these skirts if you didn’t know how to dance very well.

We went to Naschke’s and joked around with the women.  Finally we even went into another room and began learning Australian dances to piano music.  While I was doing this, the heel of my shoe came off and I began to hit it on again. A fter many tries I succeeded and we went to the hall, where dancing was already in full swing.  Of course, I couldn’t resist and I danced many times with the Australians in their long dresses so unfamiliar to me.  My mended heel held very well and didn’t break again until right at the end, around two in the morning.  That was no great problem now — I simply put it into my pocket and we left.

I didn’t fall into bed until three, but the day was well spent, and tomorrow’s early rising for work wouldn’t present any great difficulty.  I wonder why my gum, where the tooth was extracted, still aches so much after all this time?

PYRAMID HILL, 21.3.48, Sun

I don’t know what’s happening with my tooth, it’s still unbearably painful, even though it’s been a whole week since my “operation”.  Finally I took two mirrors and had a look at it. In the gap in my gum I saw something white and thought it must be pus, but when I poked it with a match, it turned out to be bone.   And why wouldn’t my tooth still ache, when the dentist has only removed half of it, and now the remaining half is grieving for the missing half?  So the dentist has left two roots behind and in the hole itself two moving fragments of bone, very painful.  I’ll have to go back to the dentist on Monday, so he can finish his “operation”.

After lunch we went swimming and on the way back rode into town.  There we saw almost no one, for it’s Sunday.  It’s a very strange custom — as soon as Sunday arrives, everywhere it’s peaceful and quiet, and the streets are empty.  We quickly tired of such boredom, sat back on our bicycles and rode home.  My tooth aches and it’s very unpleasant thinking that tomorrow I’ll have to let the dentist mess around with it again.  But what else can I do, it’s better to bear a short intense pain, than suffer all the time.

PYRAMID HILL, 22.3.48, Mon

After lunch I went straight to the dentist.  He lay me down in bed and poked around the remaining tooth root a little, but that was all, and asked me to come back after the holiday, when the root will have loosened up more.  Spitting out and swearing to myself I returned to the quarries.  The tooth root has been poked around and is very painful, but this “dentist” hasn’t given me any medicine for it.

PYRAMID HILL, 25.3.48, Thurs

Today a surprise awaited me at work, sprung on me by Reinis in the form of a blue envelope sent from Germany.  With it I found two other letters with Russian postmarks and stamps, and suddenly something inexpressible seized my whole body.  Who knows, perhaps it was happiness, which washed my body in strange excitement, and made these callused hands tremble?  Both letters were addressed to Alt-Garge, and were from Ausma.  

Like a dense black cloud I was overtaken with memories of the long-ago happy days in my homeland, which Destiny allowed me to spend with Ausma, that lovely northern girl.  Although I only met her twice, many years ago, I have pleasant memories of her.  The letters contain only a small fairytale about us both, but they gave me much joy and warmed my soul.  As soon as I came home I took my pen in hand to reply to my lass from home.  What will she say, when she discovers I’ve reached such a distant foreign world?

FOOTNOTES

* "Edgar's shoulders" belonged to fellow Latvian, Edgars Osis.

** "Bill Naschke was the owner of a cafe selling ice cream, sweets, soft drinks in the town of Pyramid Hill, and also provided some meals," wrote Ern Ferris, then Secretary of the Pyramid Hill and District Historical Society, in June 1999 to Monika.  Ern wrote that he was born in Pyramid Hill in 1923, so could remember the arrival of the Baltic quarry workers.

SOURCE

Melbourne Playgrounds, Pyramid Hill Historicaal Plaquest Walk, https://www.melbourneplaygrounds.com.au/pyramid-hill-historical-plaques-walk, accessed 23 February 2026.

Vaclavs Kozlovskis starts work at Pyramid Hill, 8-31 January 1948, translated by Monika Kozlovskis

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. 

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. The 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. To 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.

One of the trucks, with its driver, maybe 3 Letts and a ring-in,
probably a Lithuanian or Australian

Source:  Collection of Vaclavs Kozlovskis

PYRAMID HILL, 20.1.48, Tues 

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.

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.

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 THIS AS:  Kozlovskis, Vaclavs, trans by Monika Kozlovskis (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.