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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only emptiness" on one side of the Suez Canal, viewed from the Heintzelman

Source:  Private collection

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

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

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

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

"The other end of the Canal" or is this looking back at the Mediterranean?

Source:  Private collection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vaclavs Kozlovskis' Journey from Germany to the Mediterranean on the "Heintzelman", translated by Monika Kozlovskis with Janis Sakurovs

Updated 4 January and 5 January 2025

NOTE:  Vaclavs* Kozlovskis was just 23 when he kept this diary of his journey to Australia and his first days in the new country.  Another version of the first days of the journey is on this blog also.

Vaclavs Kozlovskis' photo from his Bonegilla ID card

Source:  NAA: A2571, KOZLOVSKIS VACSLAVS

DIEPHOLZ, 29.10.47, Wed.   Tomorrow our journey begins. This afternoon I received 100 Turkish cigarettes and four blocks of chocolate, and exchanged almost everything for vodka, so as to befittingly farewell Germany. The others bartered all their available stores as well, and as our bundles lightened the bottle count grew. 

 In the evening, when there was nothing left to barter with the Yugoslavs and Poles, we seated ourselves at the table and began our party. Drinkers weren’t lacking and the party became quite large, and our loud voices were joined by the shouts from other rooms full of drinkers bound for Australia. 

I went to the hall, where our farewell dance was in progress. As if through a fog I saw many men, but few women, and in a corner somewhere someone was jerkily playing something similar to music. There was no one to dance with, so I went to bed - after all we have to get up early in the morning.

DIEPHOLZ, 30.10.47, Thurs.   We rose at six and hurriedly sorted out our belongings, all the sooner to leave this room which was so reminiscent of the battlefield… 

Diepholz: the journey begins on 30 October 1947

Source:  Kozlovskis collection

One man from our room, Briedis, wasn’t able to come with us, so we gave him a pile of blankets and other leftover goods, and he ended up with a substantial bundle. He accepted them gladly, for Europe is a poorhouse and such items are very useful in Germany. 

The Poles, who wanted the blankets and discarded items for themselves, placed guards everywhere and wouldn’t let anyone leave the camp, so he needed some assistance. Lanky and I went to his aid, but came up against the guards again. 

We showed these hobgoblins our pass, which was signed by the colonel, and one of them held it before his eyes for some time. Right in front of his eyes in fact, but apparently he couldn’t read and took us to the guardroom. We argued with our detainers all the way, then for another half-hour in the guardroom, but without success. 

We decided to leave but another Pole appeared in front of us and wouldn’t let Briedis out. I simply pushed the Pole out of the way and we went out onto the street, heading towards the office.

We were in luck and at the door we ran into the same English colonel who had written Briedis’ pass. I hurried over and immediately, in English, explained our quandary. Angrily he headed for the guardroom and began swearing at the Poles. 

They tried to make out that we hadn’t shown them our pass, but as I understand a little English I hastened to explain we had indeed done so, and twice at that; but that the reader had been more interested in Briedis’ bundle than in the pass. 

The Englishman was annoyed with the Poles, but the Poles were even more annoyed with us for complaining to the colonel. Unconcerned by the Poles’ complaints and long faces, we escorted Briedis to safety in the Yugoslav camp, then raced back, where the rest of the men had already climbed into the cattle cars. 

Having found our car and once more cursing the Poles we climbed in, and at nine the train moved off. No doubt this is the last time I will travel in a cattle car, for I’ll soon reach a land where they are not used to transport people.

Along the way cigarettes and sweets poured from the carriages, meant for the Fritzes standing by the railroad tracks, who gathered them up. 

The train halted at Bremen near a bridge, under which wound the highway. Here we stood for a whole hour, and some of the fellows, overcome by high spirits at our journey, started getting up to all sorts of mischief. 

One group found a trolley and began riding from one end of the track to the other. Another group put some obstacles on the track and just laughed when the trolley bounced off it. The trolley was lifted back in place, and it started all over again. 

Still others gathered on the bridge and threw down confectionery, cigarettes and money, to a large crowd of scuffling children. Even the old women watched …watched … and then suddenly threw themselves into the fray after the cigarettes. One fellow tied some chocolate onto the end of a string and in this way gave some chocolate to whichever child he chose. 

Alongside the halted train walked a bespectacled Fritz railway worker. Finally he got to the handful of cigarette butts someone had thrown out and he started gathering them up. Noticing this the fellows threw cigarettes at him, some singly and even whole packets, and he hurried to put them into the large pockets of his coat. Then the train sounded a long whistle and the journey continued.

Finally, at four in the afternoon, the train halted in front of the American army transport ship USAT General Stuart Heintzelman.  This is a twelve-thousand-ton motor ship, built as recently as 1944, and it seems that travelling on her will be quite pleasant. 

We were immediately transferred from the cattle cars onto the handsome ship. With my belongings in my left hand and my visas in the right, I climbed past the inspectors and military police to my cabin, receiving my ration card on the way.

As soon as everyone was aboard, the ship threw off our last tie with Germany, the anchor was raised, and with my watch showing 4.20 pm the journey began. 

Shortly after I began my adieus to Germany and sent my last greetings to her disappearing shores, we headed towards the blue, distant horizon which beckons enticingly from the ship's prow. 

Ah, distant places - at last I am heading towards you, and fulfilling the longing you’ve tantalised me with - will I be happy when I reach the other shore? 

Perhaps there will be no peace for me there either, even from there you will call me and entice me, never allowing me to settle before longing to escape again. 

Do you really want me to follow you and wander without peace, or a place to call home, until my final breath?

I glanced back and once the shores of Germany had become a small, grey stripe on the edge of the horizon, I went to my cabin. This is meant for sixteen men, and has white walls with even whiter beds. A large ventilator turns its iron wings, hopefully to provide some coolness once we are in the hot regions. 

Overall this ship is a modern crate, as demonstrated by the many facilities such as bathrooms with mirrors, water closet and shower cubicle with hot and cold water. My cabin is right near the prow of the ship, so I have the greatest prospects of a lot of rocking and seasickness. 

I don’t feel anything yet, but soon enough we will be in Biscay… I showered, and afterwards climbed into my inviting bed and quickly fell asleep.

HEINTZELMAN, 31.10.47, Fri.  I woke around one in the morning and felt the ship rocking heavily, but soon enough fell asleep again. I woke again when the others got up. 

The ship was still rocking, only not as badly as it was in the night and I haven’t seen anyone be sick yet. 

I went in to breakfast and saw food such as I haven’t eaten for a long time. I’ll have to say goodbye to rye bread for a long time, though, after all English countries don’t know about it. 

After breakfast I fulfilled my room duties and, working with broom and scraps of rags, time passed unnoticed and soon it was lunchtime. I went below to the dining room and had a pleasant meal. 

Enjoying such food, and using the showers and other facilities, the past seems only a quickly disappearing dream, the only reality being the gentle shuddering and rocking of the ship. 

After lunch I rested and read books until a ship drill was announced, when I put a lifejacket on and went to the nominated place on the open deck. I learned about such drills at school, and now I’m taking part in them. The drill was soon over and I went to dinner. 

Afterwards I went out on deck to smoke a cigarette and noted that the weather is starting to deteriorate - the wind has risen and fine raindrops are flying through the air. We have already passed by the English coast, and soon we will be in Biscay with its autumn storms.

BAY OF BISCAY, 1.11.47, Sat.  I woke when we were in Biscay and realised that what I’d heard about it was no exaggeration. All night the ship’s prow leaped seven metres high, up and down, into the waves, as if forming large circles in the air, becoming bigger and bigger. 

I went to breakfast and ate too many sweet things, which turned out to be an unpleasant mistake. This sweetness didn’t want to stay inside, and shortly after lunch I went to the toilet and threw up the delicious breakfast. Naturally I didn’t have lunch, in case I was sick in the dining room and ruined everyone’s appetites. 

Shortly before dinner I sought the toilet again, but this time only green liquid came out, and the vomiting itself made me feel bad. To stop my queasiness I ate dinner, but within an hour that went overboard as well. I was only sick once, but even that was enough to feed the fish, and then I went to bed.

This photograph of Heintzelman passengers surely was taken in the Bay of Biscay

Source:  Private collection

ATLANTIC OCEAN, 2.11.47, Sun.  For a second day I’ve suffered this awful queasiness. When it was time to go outside, I leapt out of bed and, to prevent myself being sick again, started running around the ship, along the decks. 

I didn’t eat breakfast or lunch, but now and then just had a few mouthfuls of cool, refreshing water. Occasionally I stood at the rails and watched the large waves fighting amongst themselves, then fought my queasiness again with my useful remedy - running around. 

It really works - all day, right until I went to bed, I wasn’t sick and the biscuits I ate for dinner stayed down. Now and then I did come close, but held it at bay by watching the mountainous shoreline of Spain, and also by running around the decks.

GIBRALTAR, 3.11.47, Mon.  The sea is half-peaceful now, and Biscay far behind. It’s still difficult standing in the breakfast queue, especially when the ship takes a higher leap into the air, but after all I have to eat something, so I forced myself to go down to the dining room. 

After this torture I went for a walk on deck, and my queasiness gradually diminished; it seems it’s persisted only because of my empty stomach. I climbed onto the bridgehead and watched the water churning, but by this time my queasiness and headache were completely gone; apparently they’ve swum over to Biscay to seek a new victim. 

Now I felt the desire to smoke and my mood improved. Yesterday I thought I was one of the people who can’t cope with the ocean and that I would never make a seaman, but that was yesterday, and today I’ve changed my mind. After all I won’t wish to spend my entire life in far-off Australia ... 

Today the food tasted delicious, as I discovered when I ate the lunch sausages. Also enjoyable are the Chesterfield A cigarettes I received today; I’ve got a whole carton of them.

After dinner I went onto the middle deck and saw that we’ve sailed quite close to Gibraltar. On the left I saw good old Europe for the last time, and on the right stretched the coast of Africa. Soon the last corner of Europe disappeared from my sight, it seems for a long time to come.

The coast of Africa viewed from Gibraltar with some sea traffic for scale

Source:  Wikimedia Commons

FOOTNOTE

* Vaclavs spelled his name in the Czech manner, without a middle S, but the officials got it wrong in 1947.  They wrote his name as Vacslavs instead, so you will find both spellings in this blog.  The bloggers will use the correct spelling but are stuck with the wrong one in the titles of official documents.