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. T he priest’s robes are quite the same that the priest wore in my distant homeland, and it even seemed to me that the grey-haired priest himself, Father O’Connor, was one and the same, except that he spoke a different, more difficult to understand language.

For about half an hour he spoke of the eight hundred Balts who have come to this country, of our lost homeland, and of we seven, who have come to the quarries.  I listened and marvelled — are we really as good as the priest says?  He said we are pleasant and hardworking, and good Catholics.  The priest said even more, but I don’t know the language well enough to understand it all.  The mass was over, we came out of the church and drove home.

PYRAMID HILL, 13.1.48, Tues 

Another work day, and another bone-weary drive home.  I still had dinner to prepare for us all as it was my turn.  Yesterday I caught some rabbits and penned them up to fatten up for Saturday, but today I let them go again, after all they might drop dead because they haven’t touched their food yet.  Late at night, completely exhausted, I went to sleep.

PYRAMID HILL, 14.1.48, Wed 

Today things turned out a little better.  We were very productive in the morning, but to make up for it we had more of a rest in the afternoon. T o begin with, half way back from lunch the truck broke down and we had to walk the rest of the way.  The truck was fixed and returned, but when a driver wanted to use it for sand pouring, it broke down again and wouldn’t budge.

So this afternoon we worked with only a small vehicle.  But despite our frequent rests, coming home I was even more tired than before. I  didn’t feel like doing anything, so I went to bed straight after dinner, even though it was only seven o’clock.

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.

Vaclavs Kozlovskis sets off to work, from 3 January 1948, translated by Monika Kozlovskis with Janis Sakurovs

Updated 15 August 2025.

BONEGILLA, 3.1.48, Sat. A man from the employment department spoke to us in the big hall about our work, and answered questions. It turns out that we’ve been a little deceived - in Germany we were told that we would have to work for one year in a place nominated by the government, and suddenly this one year has doubled.

He pointed out that we signed an agreement specifying we would work in such a job for “at least one year”, and that by Australian law that means two years. If that’s so, that means that “at least one” can become even ten years; they’re simply having us on.

When this was revealed, the entire hall erupted in whistles and uproar, and the speaker hurried to clarify that after the first year we could change our workplaces with the permission of the employment ministry, but he didn’t say if we would be able to get this permission.*

Everyone was very upset and promised to stop work after one year. I intend to do so as well; I won’t let them lead me up the garden path. If I’ve signed up for one year, then I will work for only one, and that’s that!

This afternoon a notice was put up in the employment office, notifying the first work nominations, and my name was amongst them as well. It goes as follows:

1. Anglo Nestles Milk Co, Maffra, Victoria - 10,

2. CJ Row Webb & Anderson, Victoria - 10,

3. Moe Brown Coal, State Electricity Comm. Yallourn, Victoria - 50

4. Masonite Co, NSW - 25

5. State Saw Mills, Perth, West Australia - 10

6. Pyramid Hill Quarries, Victoria - 7

7. South Australian Salt Ltd, Victoria - 10

8. Cheetham Salt Works, Victoria - 10

9. Flax Production Committee, Melbourne - 20

10. Ocean Salt Pty Ltd, South Australia - 6

11. State electricity trust Kiewa, Victoria - 25

12. Dept of Woods and Forests South Australia - 33

13. Miller’s Timber and Trading coy. Ltd. Perth - 10

14. Brunning Bros Perth - 10

15. Australian News Print ltd. Tasmania - 12

16. South Australian Railways South Australia - 65

17. Engineering and Water Supply South Australia - 65

18. Electrolytic zinc Co Tasmania - 12

19. Various Employers, not yet determined, NSW - 105

Vaclavs added this newspaper clipping to his diary

Source:  The Argus, Melbourne, 5 January 1948, p 3

The remainder, who haven’t been allocated to a group, will go to pick fruit, and won’t be placed in a permanent job for four to six weeks. My name was amongst the seven going to the rock quarry.

I don’t know what sort of job awaits me there, but I have peace of mind - I’ll be free at last from the crowd; we are three Latvians, 3 Lithuanians and one Estonian. The only unpleasant aspect is the doubling of the work year, but somehow I’ll get through this unexpected complication.

BONEGILLA, 4.1.48, Sun. Strange indeed is a person’s fate - you live and reach for your aims, when suddenly a completely unexpected wave of Fate’s hands occurs, and you can no longer appreciate the beauty of nature.

Today at Albury the blonde Lithuanian Vasilauskas drowned. I shared a cabin on the Heinzelman with him, and we sometimes partied together. Could this agreeable lad ever have imagined, that he would travel to Australia only to drown?

He was chest deep in the water, and suddenly suffered a stroke and drowned. It’s a pity about the young lad, did he really have to go just at the moment that his new life was beginning, after suffering the hardships and horrors of war-torn Europe?***

BONEGILLA, 6.1.48, Tues. Now soon our pleasant holiday will be over and we will have to start working. My name was announced over the loudspeaker this morning — tomorrow I will have to travel to Pyramid Hill, my new workplace.

I went to the office straight away to fill in the required form, then received a hat, pyjamas, coupons and five shillings; early tomorrow morning we’ll begin the two-hundred-mile bus journey.

BONEGILLA, 7.1.48, Wed. I woke at six-twenty, got ready straight away, handed back my bed linen, then carried my belongings to the loudspeaker. All seven of us ate breakfast, then sat in a small car. We drove to Albury, then we handed over our baggage and sat in the bus.

Bonegilla’s representative farewelled us, signalling the end of our carefree relaxation. Now, embarking on this journey, I’m also embarking on my own life; I’ll earn my own wages, and pay for everything myself. I’ve never lived that sort of life before, will I be able to adjust?

Finally the time has come when I can be my own master and ruler of my own destiny, when I can earn my own bread, and not have to be grateful for the crumbs thrown to me by others, and I will no longer have to burden any charitable institution.

After two hundred miles we reached Cohuna town, where the boss of the quarry came to meet us. We drove a further thirty miles in his car, then we were at our new home. The boss seems a very nice person, and he’d made some preparations for us.

The modern road trip westwards from Bonegilla camp in the east
to Cohuna and Pyramid Hill town takes nearly four hours;
the 1948 bus trip must have taken a hour or two longer on poor roads

Source:  Google Maps

We stopped in front of the farmhouse hired for us, where we’re sharing two rooms. Each man has his own bed, mattress, three blankets and a chair. Apart from these two rooms we also have a bathroom with a bath, a dining room and a kitchen with various utensils as new as if they’ve only just been brought back from the shop, still with the labels on them.

The kitchen table had a pile of food on it, for which we will pay at the end of the month. Food is the only thing we have to pay for ourselves, the house and contents we can use for free. The house even has a telephone, although there’s no electricity - we have to get by with petrol lamps.

The house itself, like all the others in Australia, is very lightly built and consists of only one layer of bricks. The wind blows through the cracks in the walls and floor, but in this heat such ventilation is quite pleasant.

All around our “castle” stretches a field covered in yellow grass. The soil is hard and red; it’s a miracle anything can grow in it. The groundwater, as can be seen from the ponds to water the sheep, is full of mud and the colour of cocoa. That certainly isn’t useable, and our own drinking water is collected in quite a novel way: At the end of the house stand two iron tanks that collect the rainwater from the roof. So, as it happens, we drink roofwater, but I can’t say that it tastes bad. The only thing is that in hot weather it’s warm and unrefreshing, but after all, what water is any good when it’s warm?

The house is five miles from our workplace and six from the nearest town, Pyramid, with its population of four hundred. We’ll eat lunch there in some restaurant, and prepare our own breakfast and dinner at home. We’ll be driven to and from work, and also into the town, even on Saturdays and Sundays, whenever we wish. Our wage is three shillings and threepence for every hour we work.

Everything sounds good so far. We’ll see how it is when we start work.

FOOTNOTES

*  For corroboration of the reception of the news that the contracted work period had been doubled, see Endrius Jankus' report for 20 December 1947.  The difference in dates might be due to Endrius report being based on notes rather than a diary, like that of Vaclavs.  It's also possible that the Latvians like Vaclavs were told separately and later than the Lithuanians, although we might expect such news to travel from one national group to the next via their common German language.

Also, Endrius writes that, "A few days later, we were recalled to assemble in the Great Hall and Dr Crossley informed us of changes. Immigrants from the First Transport would have contractual obligations of 12 months, but immigrants on subsequent transports would have to serve two years."  The few days later might have been 3 January, although that actually is 14 days later.

Of the two reports, perhaps Vaclavs should be favoured as far as the date is concerned since it comes from a diary apparently kept on a daily basis.  Regardless of the date, both reports tell us how upset the men (and probably women) were.

Dr Crossley, by the way, was the German-speaking academic who had organised the English language teachers for the First Transport passengers while they waited in the Bonegilla camp for the assignments announced above.

** The numbers in the employment office notice add up to 495, while there were 727 men in the camp, 726 after the drowning of Aleksandras Vasiliauskas.  Did the difference, 231, go fruit-picking?  No.  From a count of the Bonegilla cards, it was only 185.

That leaves 46 apparently at a loose end.  What isn't mentioned above is that 41 men were known, from the Bonegilla cards, to have been continuing employment in the Bonegilla camp, as kitchen hands, drivers, labourers and the like.  As for remaining 5,  maybe the numbers sent to different employers differed, in the longer run, from the numbers on the 3 January list.  We shall have to see.

*** For a detailed report on the drowning death of Aleksandras Vasilauskas, please see https://firsttransport.blogspot.com/2021/04/aleksandras-vasiliauskas-lithuanian-drowned.html.

**** The diary appears not have been kept on 1-2 January 1948.  Too busy celebrating the start of his first full year in Australia?

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

Updated 23 February 2026.

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.

The first wedding in Bonegilla of two passengers from the Heintzelman took place on
16 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, 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.*

Might this have the type of "bear" that Vaclavs fed?
The top of ringtail possums' tails are bushy, their eyes are lively, and
their pink snouts might look red:
this one was photographed in urban Melbourne

Source:  John Gardner on Wikipedia

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.

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".  

** 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. 

*** The Internet Movie Data Base (IMDB) entry for Maytime says that it was released in 1937, starred Jeanette McDonald and Nelson Eddy with John Barrymore, and is about an ageing opera singer looking back on her life and some men in it.

Vaclavs Kozlovskis travels from Perth to Bonegilla, translated by Monika Kozlovskis with Janis Sakurovs

Updated 17 and 19 January 2025

SWANBOURNE, 29.11.47, Saturday.   I slept very well in my white sheets last night, no doubt helped by the long journey and then my walk. On waking I glanced through the open window - the blue sky and the willow tree growing right outside the window remind me strongly of Latvia, the home I haven’t seen for such a long time.

Will the day come that having wandered the world, I’ll once more see the blue skies and willows of home? Or perhaps my destiny is to remain here for all time and one day carry on my chest something similar to those grave monuments, that I saw in the town as we drove past.

I wouldn’t want that; I wouldn’t exchange any sort of monument for a simple wooden cross in a Latvian cemetery. But destiny will decide; after all I’m still young, and besides once you’re dead it doesn’t matter at all where you lie.

In the morning we had our last customs and immigration formalities. I reached the first table quickly, but that’s as far as I got because my cardboard box was apparently sent to another camp by mistake. This afternoon I went to fetch it, after which it was inspected, but I didn’t get the required stamp in my passport - the officials had already left by then.

I went to the office, where my passport was taken and I was asked to return on Monday at nine in the morning. Finally it was all over and I was free to do what I wanted. I couldn’t go for a walk because it was too close to mealtime, so I rested in bed, and when I woke I realised I’d almost missed dinner.

After eating quickly, I walked to the seaside. All around me I saw yellow sand. It’s amazing how varied the flora is, including the bush-like trees. I spotted something white on a hot sand dune, then leaped up and picked up a sixpence, the first Australian coin I can count my own.

Swanbourne Beach

Source, City of Nedlands on Facebook

I sat there for some time watching the ocean, then slowly climbed down again. Evening had come, and it was now a little too cool to be walking around in my shirt. I turned and slowly walked back.

As I dropped off to sleep my thoughts flew to Merry and Alt-Garge, then returned to Australia, the country which has welcomed us so warmly. Nowhere else are the immigrants given a free month to become familiar with the country and its people; only Australia shows such goodwill.

All the newspapers write hospitably about us, and there are banners everywhere with the words: “Australia Welcomes You”. Australians say they wish us all the best, and hope we will settle in quickly and feel happy in this free land.

Nowhere here have I seen the words “damned foreigners”, which is what Germans call non-Germans. After the merciless war years, and the Russian and German terrors, everything seems very strange.

I have found a normal life and it feels strange that I can eat without a ration card, or any recordkeeping. Who knows, perhaps I truly have reached my own “Happy Isle,” where I can rest after the storms of war, and perhaps my wanderlust will finally leave me in peace? (Note: In Latvian folklore there is a play based on a fairytale about Tom Thumb - the story of a small boy who went looking for fortune in strange lands, but came back, and the final scene is a song about “Happy Isle” - when he returns to his widowed mother, grandparents and own country, and is very happy.)

SWANBOURNE, 30.11.47, Sunday.   A glorious morning has dawned, the second in a row here in Australia. After breakfast I went for a walk and for an hour or so sat on the shore of the large ocean, watching the large waves crashing on the beach.

The weather was perfectly calm and sunny, the surface of the sea almost flat, but despite this the strange waves continued to crash against the shore, some even taller than a person, I don’t know where they came from.

I returned to the beach straight after lunch, and this time waded into the water. It was just wonderful bobbing up and down in the large waves. I spent over three hours in the sun, and as a result my face burned.

A group of Estonians enjoyed Swanbourne beach also

Source:  Collection of Reina Roosvald Peedo

When I got into bed my back hurt and I slept badly, tossing from side to side, until one leg of the bed buckled and suddenly I flew out of bed head first. Luckily the night table stopped me falling onto the floor.

SWANBOURNE, 1.12.47, Monday.   I waited for the immigration official all morning, but it wasn’t until midday that my wait was crowned with success, and I was free again. I finished and posted my letters to Reinis, Merry and Tabra, then went into town with Mikelan. We wandered around for a long time, marvelling at the flimsy single-story buildings.

Perhaps the  trip "into town" was by train, explaining why Vaclavs
bought a print of this photograph

Source:  Collection of Vaclavs Kozlovskis

FREMANTLE, 2.12.47, Tuesday.   At five thirty an Australian shook me by the shoulder, saying that it’s time to get up and get ready to leave. He, disturbing my sleep so early, is apparently accustomed to taking a long time to pack, but I was ready in ten minutes. How many belongings does a displaced person have, after all!

At nine the buses arrived and our trip through the town began, this time in the opposite direction. We got onto the ship without having to show our visas at all, simply whoever was there just climbed on.

The ship HMAS Kanimbla, intended for Australian army transport, is much smaller and older than the Heintzelman, and there is rust everywhere. It is also rather dirty, but on the other hand there is more room on the open decks, to take in the fresh air.

The Kanimbla in Fremantle Harbour, 1945

Source:  Wikipedia

We sleep in a large room which holds almost everyone, but to our surprise this room only has a very small toilet and only a few washing tables, as well as only a few showers. Perhaps there’s a larger bathroom somewhere else, but no one has discovered it yet. It’s a bit hard to find our way around these corridors.

Here, the only doors we’re barred from are the officers’ living rooms; we can wander anywhere and look at everything. There are no MPs stationed as there were on the Heintzelman.

The announcements over the loudspeakers are indecipherable, but on the other hand the music is broadcast loudly, all day long. The air is filled with pleasant melodies, with many familiar tunes amongst them.

By the entrance stands a cupboard with cowboy pistols, a little further on stands a gun rack with guns. On the top deck are two jeeps also belonging to the ship. I looked over the ship, then started thinking about lunch.

I stood on two different queues, pleased they were moving forward so quickly, but both times ended up back at the dormitory, without even having seen the dining room.

The third time I ended up on the right queue and made it down below, but by then the plates had run out and I had to wait another hour or so, until someone brought some out and threw them down on the floor with a loud crash.

After a few more hours of waiting and cursing I finally got to the meal and the dishes. Plate, knife, fork, spoon and cup have to be kept, therefore at supper everything went much faster.

The ship’s sailors have their meals in the same dining room, from which I gather that the American sailors, who eat what they want, are fed much better than the English.

Straight after dinner I hurried out on deck - the ship had started moving, and on the shore was gathered a large group of pretty Australian girls. Many had even brought flowers, so I was sorry there wasn’t time to get to know one of them. Soon little Fremantle harbour with its girls waving farewells was behind us.

The final whistles sounded, and once more we were on the open sea. We were given two blankets, a pillow with pillowcase, and towels, all brand new. The two blankets are necessary, too, for the extensive ventilation system is sometimes so cold we've had to block it with life jackets and paper.

Shortly before bed I lightened my luggage again and threw out through the small window a blanket as well as the dance suit I’d had sewn in Germany out of blankets, which I won’t be wearing any more.

INDIAN OCEAN [GREAT AUSTRALIAN BIGHT], 3.12.47, Wed.   During the night I almost had to hold onto the bars to prevent myself falling out of bed. The ocean waves tossed the old crate sideways somehow, and like it or not I had to sleep on my back or stomach, otherwise I lost my balance. On the left was the Australian shore, and in the afternoon that too disappeared.

After the movie we had a ship’s drill, these things happen here too, although less organised than on the Heintzelman. The wind rose, the waves grew, and water washed inside the open windows so the fellows hurried to screw them closed. Dinner was served by waiters who had now become jugglers, so as not to fall against a wall and spill the food.

After dinner I climbed up to the top deck, where the picture was different again. Several times, when the deck tipped down to a forty-five-degree angle, it seemed that I’d climbed onto a roof, then when we fell into a deep valley, the deck was more like a steep mountain. The women were sick, and we got to see them for once without powder or paint. The strong wind was cold so I went to the dormitory and watched the waves through the windows.

INDIAN OCEAN [GREAT AUSTRALIAN BIGHT], 4.12.47, Thurs.   For the second day the Kanimbla tossed us on the ocean waves. Men staggered everywhere, as if they’d been drinking for two days.

It‘s difficult to walk in these conditions, sometimes you walk leaning against one wall of the corridor, then suddenly the ship tips the other way, you bend down and then stagger against the opposite wall. There’s no thought of sleeping on your side at night, or you tip over, so you have to content yourself with sleeping on your stomach. There’s a constant rattle of dishes on the shelves, and falling cups smash on the floor; you have to watch out they don’t drop on your head.

At two I went to see the movie again. There wasn’t much to see - one film had five corpses in it, the other had fighting and shooting, but at least it was a diversion.

INDIAN OCEAN [GREAT AUSTRALIAN BIGHT], 5.12.47, Fri.   Damn it, I wouldn’t want to become an Australian citizen, for we’ve just discovered that with it comes an obligation of military service, and at the same time so-called plentiful provisions, such as we’re eating now.

Are Australian soldiers chickens then, that for dinner they are satisfied with half a fish, a few potatoes and a slice of bread? Today all the displaced persons on board are cursing, because it looks as though we’ve been tricked.

The sea remains just as it was earlier, nearly tipping the ship over, but I’ve become used to walking both sides of the corridor at once.

INDIAN OCEAN [GREAT AUSTRALIAN BIGHT], 6.12.47, Sat.   It’s only 300 miles to Melbourne. I’m getting tired of this old iron box with its flat bottom and rope enclosures after meals.

Late this evening we had a farewell dance. I went along just to listen to the music, but my legs have become so accustomed to dancing in Germany that they wanted to dance.

But I disappeared to the dormitory as soon as I could. We will have to get up early tomorrow, so there is time to have breakfast and obtain a green card, with which I can be one of the first to leave the ship.

MELBOURNE, 7.12.47, Sun.   As agreed, Peteris woke me quite early. I leaped out of bed straight away and stood on the breakfast queue, so as not to miss the green cards. Although I was one of the first at breakfast, there was no sign of the green cards, I’d been fooled.

After breakfast I climbed up on deck and saw that Lanky was playing poker. The shores could be seen from both sides of the ship. They looked dark and uninviting, but it’s probably only because I was looking at them from the lightness of the sea.

Then it was lunchtime. After lunch a long queue formed, apparently waiting for green cards again. After being fooled this morning, I simply went to have a shower, and only stood on the queue when it was much shorter. This time like a miracle I received the square piece of green cardboard I waited so long for this morning.

I ate quickly, then hurried on deck, for the ship was just tying up in the harbour. Many local people were gathered on the shore, amongst them reporters, busily occupied with filming.

At 3:00 the immigration minister welcomed us and listened to songs sung by the three Baltic nationalities, the press photographers working all the while. The minister left, but we remained waiting for tomorrow, when our disembarkation and journey to the rest camp will begin.

Arthur Calwell, Minister for Immigration, welcomes the new arrivals on the Kanimbla
on 7 December 1947; front row includes Helgi Nirk (with white-framed sunglasses, centre)
and Valeria Mets (two to the right of Helgi, in striped dress)

Source:  Arthur Calwell papers, CL328/9, National Library of Australia   

The Estonian Men's Choir (formed on the Heintzelman and survived for more than 60 years in Australia) entertains the Minister, conducted by Elmar Saarepere (left):  the singers from left
are Arnold Varima, Viktor Valk, maybe Walter Kongats behind the sunglasses,
Erich Talijärv, an uncertain and Sven Kiviväli

Source:  Tiiu Jalak Salasoo collection

BONEGILLA, 8.12.47, Mon.   Another early morning - breakfast started at six. We handed back our blankets, towels, pillows and after eating, our utensils as well. The train arrived and the press towards the exit began.

My group all had the green cards as well, but we calmly sat down and waited until the rush was over and we could make it to the exit comfortably without any pushing. We almost got onto the train as well, when suddenly the queue halted - the train was full.

Apparently some people had forged green cards and the real cardholders were left waiting. It wasn’t such a bad thing after all - when we climbed onto another train several hours later, quite in contrast to the first group we could make ourselves very comfortable.

You've probably seen this photograph several times before, as it's been used so often as to become iconic -- on the left is the Kanimbla berthed at East Princes' Pier, Port Melbourne, with one of the trains carrying men to Bonegilla on the right (Juris Kakis' face is the one closest to us)

Source:  National Archives of Australia 

On the many three-seaters sat only one person, by the window. After some ten minutes the train took us through the Australian countryside.

Here and there were harvested wheat fields, but for the most part it was only meadows with distorted, infrequent trees. I also saw large flocks of sheep, and over it all shone the hot Australian sun.

Everything is quite yellow, so it’s hard to separate the farm fields from the meadows. I quickly tired of watching the monotonous scenery with its infrequent, small houses; in my comfortable seat I became sleepy and dozed off. The train travelled very smoothly, I could hardly feel it moving at all, and on the soft seat sleeping was very good.

When I woke again, the men were climbing out of the train, which had stopped at a station for lunch. There were many small tables set up in the large station hall, at which we had to eat while standing.

Some of the men eating while standing up —
is the distinctive older man in the foreground one of the passengers?

Source:  Sun News-Pictorial,  9 December 1947

Here and there someone ate an orange with its skin still on it, or a banana with a knife and fork, but overall the meal was swallowed peacefully, for everyone had their own place, and no advantage was gained by shoving.

After another hour or so the train stopped at the small Bonegilla station, where army lorries awaited to take us to the barracks. The camp is very spacious; it appears it housed a large battle unit once. Once again, the beds had white sheets on them, sleeping will be pleasant.

Dinner unfolded in typical English style - I walked away from three already empty kitchens, until finally I got into the fourth. This was due to the troublemakers again, who went to almost every kitchen in turn, so there was hardly anything left over for the last ones. All I ended up with was one slice of bread, but when I tipped the contents of the jam dish onto it, I’d had enough to eat.

SOURCES

City of Nedlands (2024) Facebook, 4 December https://www.facebook.com/nedlands/posts/swanbourne-beach-is-open-again-thanks-to-the-amazing-efforts-of-our-rangers-team/983954353757909/ accessed 19 January 2025.

National Archives of Australia: Department of Immigration, Central Office; A12111, Immigration Photographic Archive 1946 - Today; 1/1947/3/6, Migrant Arrivals - Displaced Persons from Europe - HMAS Kanimbla arrives at Melbourne with the first group of displaced persons (Dec 1947) from where they will join the train bound for Bonegilla Migrant Camp. They had travelled from Europe to Fremantle on the GENERAL HEINTZELMAN and transhipped to the KANIMBLA https://recordsearch.naa.gov.au/SearchNRetrieve/Interface/ViewImage.aspx?B=7529170 accessed 19 January 2025.

Sun News-Pictorial (1947) 'They'll Like Us — and We'll Like Them', Melbourne, 9 December, p 14 https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/page/31477027 accessed 19 January 2025.

Wikipedia 'HMAS Kanimbla (C78)' https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMAS_Kanimbla_(C78) accessed 19 January 2025.