Bonegilla 1947-1948: Two More Weeks, from January 14 to Australia Day by Endrius "Andrew" Jankus

This is the sixth part of the recollections of Endrius Jankus, a Lithuanian refugee who arrived in Australia on the First Transport, the General Stuart Heintzelman. Endrius became known as Andrew in Australia. He was born in Draverna in the south of Lithuania on 7 July 1929 and died in Hobart, Tasmania, on 23 July 2014. He sent the full memoir to me in 2012.

14th January 1948 

Apparently, yesterday afternoon a group of our fellows went to Albury and were greeted with the word, Fascists. Obviously from some "Red Ragger” Communist. 

Then they went to a dance and returned at 3 am, drunk and loud-mouthing everyone — until it came to fisticuffs in the bus. The driver stopped the bus and called the police. With that calm was restored and everyone returned home happy. I wasn't there and only recorded what I was told by one of the participants. 

Today three groups of workers left the camp for their assigned places. They have scattered us all over Australia. Why? We have a fair idea why that was done. 

It was a cold day and in the evening was a film shown in the Great Hall. 

15 January 1948 

Today 128 people left the camp for work. My friend Peter and 15 others, who had been found to have various health problems and sent to Heidelberg Hospital for treatment, were all assigned to their workplaces and left the Camp. 

It was my turn for duty in the mess hall. The weather returned to its warmer self. 

Apparently, one of our fellows was photographed having a punch-up in Albury and his picture was plastered over the local paper. But they didn't know that he was a trained boxer. 

In the evening we were shown a film about Canberra and Perth.

16 January 1948 

Twelve more people left the camp today. There weren’t many of us left in the hut and we spent an uneventful day trying to work out a system to keep in touch with one another. 

17 January 1948 

It was Saturday. In the morning I read my book. Then I went to collect my five shillings pocket money. With it I bought two airmail letters and had a haircut. 

We were informed that today there would not be any dances as was usual on a Saturday. The reason given was that one of the girls was supposed to have been raped last Saturday. This was never confirmed. 

The other story making the Camp rounds was that one of the newspapers was offering 100 pounds to the first local girl to marry a foreigner. How true this was, we never found out. 

18 January 1948 

A non-eventful day. 

19th January 1948 

More of our fellows left the camp this morning for their work assignments. The Camp is slowly being emptied. 

At 8.30 am all males were asked to assemble in the Big Hall. We were told to go and clean the rooms where our classes had been held. We did that, (then) most went for a swim as it was beginning to get very hot. 

In the afternoon, I was called to the Office to fill in and sign some papers. 

After the evening meal, most of us went for a swim again and return to the barracks late at night to sleep. Unfortunately, that was denied to us at first, as the mosquitoes were very active. I appeared to be the main target and for some time could not sleep. 

20 January 1948 

This morning I was called to work and once again sent to the kitchen to wash the big steel pans. The kitchen staff had improved since my last experience of work there. This time they gave me a steel putty knife and a ball of steel wool. 

I was fairly certain that those pans had never been properly cleaned right from the beginning. I suggested to the cooks that they sandblast the pans. Naturally, they probably did not know what I meant. 

I told them that I was to going to see the Commandant. I did that and explained the situation with the cooks. He finally listened to me about the problem. I promised to go and do any work as long as it wasn’t in the kitchen. 

Therefore, after lunch I was assigned to transferring blankets from one store to another. This took all the afternoon until our evening meal. But it made me happy and no doubt the Commandant too. We never saw eye to eye. 

Some 50 years later after my arrival in this country, a friend of ours who was heavily involved in archival research told me that she found my immigration file and another ASIO file on me. This aroused my curiosity. 

I got on the Internet and found my immigration file but the other file was missing. I contacted the Archives and asked to see my two files. The answer came back that there was only one file. Do they even lie in high places?* 

Since one of my best friends was leaving for a work assignment in Tasmania in the morning, we went to the canteen and each bought a portion of ice-cream. We drank some lemonade as a farewell gesture to the end of our friendship. My assignment was still in the lap of the gods. 

21 January 1948

This morning I bade my friend goodbye as he and several others were being sent to Tasmania for forestry work at Maydena. The day turned out to be one of the very hottest. After breakfast, I went swimming in the Lake. Some of our boys had found some 44-gallon steel drums and had built a raft. They christened it Kanimbla after the dirty, filthy, rusty, old bucket that took us from Fremantle to Melbourne. We used that to float about in the Lake. 

We were happily paddling this raft this morning some hundred yards from the shore, when a sudden strong wind kept driving us further out onto the Lake. Four of us kept paddling this unresponsive raft towards the shore, but the wind was just too strong and kept driving us further onto the Lake. Finally, we decided to abandon our Kanimbla by tying her to a tree poking out of the water and all swam back to the shore. 

 On our return, we were going to have our lunch when I accidentally ran into our Commandant, Major Kershaw. My diary doesn’t mention the subject of our conversation and after almost 65 years my memory has failed me. 

After lunch we returned to the Lake for a swim as the heat stifled us and the wind was as fierce as a fire. I got sunburned that day and was in agony for a number of days afterwards. 

23 January 1948 

This morning I was called to the clothing store and given two pairs of pyjamas, a hat and a pair of braces. As I was still suffering from the sunburn, I didn’t do anything but read my book. Only after tea I ventured for a swim.

On my return to the hut, we found one of our friends had returned for a visit. He was one of the fellows who were sent early to work, in the Kiewa valley. He was happy to dig trenches at the project and earning good money. 

He took me and a few others to the canteen to sample the non-alcoholic drinks. He bought us oranges to celebrate our "reunion". It was midnight before we stopped quizzing him about his work, living conditions and pay. 

24th January 1948 

Found my friend P had returned from Heidelberg Hospital. He was one of those people that were found at the Bonegilla x-rays to have damaged lungs. 

The authorities wondered how he got here without being detected in Germany. Well, it was pretty simple. We knew that he had damaged lungs and would not pass the test. In actual fact, he had been shot in the back from an aircraft and the bullet had scarred his lungs. He arrived here with somebody else’s lungs. 

We worried that all those 12-20 people were going to be deported back to the refugee camps in Germany. Instead, they were assigned to jobs like everyone else. Our praise went to Mr Calwell and Mr Chifley. P praised the Heidelberg Repatriation Hospital for terrific kindness, variety of foods and the staff’s expertise. 

25 January 1948 

Today it was my turn to work in the various jobs at the camp but I was still suffering from my sunburn. The chap from our Transport who was in charge of the work group today was a kind fellow and sent me back to the hut to rest. 

He himself ended up being assigned to work in Victoria, in the Kiewa Valley. He married a girl from Albury-Wodonga area. They had two sons who became the local soccer stars. 

26 January 1948 

Today I spent the morning organising my wardrobe and packing it up, not that I had much to pack. 

At lunchtime, our Commandant came to the mess hall and singled out our table as being dirty. He and his offsider wrote down everyone’s names in a little notebook. Our table did not appear as dirty as some of the others. Nevertheless, nothing happened. We expected to be called to his office for a pep talk about hygiene.**

To be continued.

Footnote

* The National Archives of Australia (NAA) online Record Search facility shows that the public now has asked to access 2 files on Endrius, plus 2 other items which are only one page, front and back.  One of the smaller items is his 'Bonegilla card', which I have included in previous blog entries.  The confusion over the one or two files likely arose because his selection papers are held in the NAA's Canberra repository while his citizenship application (which included security vetting by ASIO) is held in the Sydney repository.  Presumably, his enquiry was thought to apply to any Canberra holdings only.

** Note the lack of any mention of Australia Day celebrations, compared with the modern focus on this national day.

Bonegilla 1947-1948: Another Two Weeks, from New Year's Day (January 1-13) by Endrius "Andrew" Jankus

This is the fifth part of the recollections of Endrius Jankus, a Lithuanian refugee who arrived in Australia on the First Transport, the General Stuart Heintzelman.  Endrius became known as Andrew in Australia.  He was born in Draverna in the south of Lithuania on 7 July 1929.  He died in Hobart, Tasmania, on 23 July 2014.  He sent the full memoir to me in 2012.

1 January 1948 

With hope and apprehension we welcomed in the New Year. It poured with rain all day. We stayed inside our hut and occupied ourselves by reading books, with some playing cards and others telling jokes. 

There were a number of drunks wandering around the camp. Those with a permanent job in the camp had money and spent it on plonk, the local wine. Someone gave me a taste. I didn’t like it at all.

2 January 1948 

I attended the English classes today. We had a photo taken by one of our people of the whole class with our teacher Mr Lightfoot from Adelaide. That photo is still in my possession. 

We were told that all of us would be leaving the Camp soon and allocated to our workplaces all over Australia. I stretched out on my bunk and read a book that I had. 

Someone we knew brought in an Australian sausage. We cut it up and all of us had a taste. It wasn’t the standard "Belgium"; it was obviously made by some butcher in Albury or Wodonga. It was quite delicious. Later on in life we had the privilege of tasting Tasmanian Belgium. We thought we were eating sawdust mixed with a bit of mince. It was edible fried up. 

The other horrible product was Kraft Cheese. It looked like a piece of soap and tasted like chewing tobacco. Toasted on a piece of bread with oodles of salt on it, it wasn’t too bad. But there was nothing else. 

3 January 1948 

I spent the day at the English classes. We had to say goodbye to our teacher, Mr Lightfoot, as he was leaving for home. He gave us top marks for our learning ability and the attention we gave him. He got to know us personally very well. He shook hands with everyone when saying goodbye and shed a tear or two. He was a very nice chap who was appreciated by all the class. 

After lunch, we collected our five shillings pocket money. We went to the shop and bought tobacco and cigarette papers. There wasn’t much money left but there was enough for an ice-cream. Naturally, we all smoked as it kept the hunger pangs at bay during the war years, and kept you calm when bombs rained down, or artillery fire harassed you or the Gestapo interviewed you. 

Today, the first list of people being allocated to jobs appeared at the Camp Office. My friend Henry and a few others were being sent to the paper manufacturing industry in Tasmania. In those days it was Boyer plant at New Norfolk. But he ended up working in the bush near Maydena. *

One of the largest groups went to South Australia to some water reticulation scheme. Some others went to the building industry. This was the beginning of the disintegration of the camp. 

4 January 1948 

It was Sunday so we went to the Lake [Hume] for a swim and stayed there all morning. We had a visitor, an emigrant from pre-war Klaipeda. Obviously he was a German national as he had been interned during the war for three years and nine months. **

He told us that in Albury during the night a board had been found painted with a swastika and the words, “We will kill all the Jews here". 

After dinner we went for a walk. We saw the Camp’s flag at half-mast and wondered what had happened. We returned via the Camp Office and were told that on this day Alex Vasiliauskas had drowned at the age of 23. The circumstances of his drowning were a bit sketchy at the time. 

Later we found out what had happened. He had a girlfriend among the girls who used to come to the dances. Apparently, he was invited by the girl’s family to lunch. Afterwards, they all went for a swim and poor Alex drowned. He was the first casualty from the First Transport. 

5 January 1948 

This morning I didn’t go to classes as all the former Scouts went into the bush to get leafy branches to make two wreathes. We made them out of gum trees and decorated them with sashes. One sash had the inscription, "From the Lithuanian Community". The other inscription read, "From the Sea Scouts of Lithuania". 

The Sea Scouts and the Rover Scouts in their respective uniforms went to the Wodonga church where the coffin with Alex’ remains was lying in state. We placed the two wreaths at the base of the coffin and stood by the coffin as an honour guard. Two Sea Scouts and two Rovers carried the coffin out from the church to the hearse. 

The Sea Scouts and Rover Scouts carry the coffin from the church

Source:  Collection of Endrius Jankus

Then all of us proceeded to the Albury Cemetery for the burial. At the graveside, the priest said his eulogy and the Camp Commandant, Major Kershaw, praised the person now deceased. Our community leader, Jonas Motiejunas, put the gold chain with a cross that Alex wore round his neck on top of the coffin. He added a holy picture found in Alex’ belongings. 

Then the coffin was lowered into the grave. There were wreaths from us, Mr Calwell, Major Kershaw and Alex’s girlfriend. It poured throughout the graveside ceremony. Hurriedly we took some photos and departed for home. 

6 January 1948 

This morning I spent my time at the English or assimilation classes. My issue jacket was somewhat short in the sleeves so I went and exchanged it for a better-fitting one. In the afternoon I did a bit of washing to be ready for my work assignment. At 8 pm I went to the pictures in the Great Hall to see a film called Holidays in Mexico. ***

7 January 1948 

I didn’t get to the classes today, but read my English book. I collected my photos from the wedding. Finally the names of the people who were to depart on the next morning for work on the Adelaide water supply were announced. Four fellows from our hut were amongst them. 

Somebody obtained a bottle of wine from somewhere and we all had a drink. One drink and my head seemed to be swimming in space. It must have been a "good grappa"! 

8 January 1948 

Today, at 7 am, all the fellows selected for work on the Adelaide water supply left the Camp. The remainder of us gathered to say goodbye. 

After seeing them off, we went for breakfast but our table was bare. There was nothing left for us as we were late and others had consumed our share of the breakfast. This problem was always there. You had to send someone fairly early to guard your table rations or you found that nothing was left. Poor organisation. 

After lunch I went for a swim and stayed there till teatime. It was just as well that we had a Lake to help us acclimatise to Australia. 

9 January 1948 

This morning 33 people left for forestry work. Another six went to for mining jobs in South Australia. 

I ordered 10 photos from Alex’ funeral and 21 photos from our trip out from Europe to Australia. I would have to pay 13 shillings them so would have to save up.**** 

My group of friends spent all the afternoon in the Lake, swimming, diving and larking around. 

10 January 1948 

I wrote a letter to a firm in Sydney to inquire about the possibility of sending food parcels to Germany. I had seen an advertisement in the local paper advertising food parcels for Britain. I handed the letter to a friend with instructions to show it to his English teacher and to correct it if necessary. The teacher praised the writing and offered few corrections. 

The No.14 Class recorded its entire lesson into an audio recorder. Then all the pupils were told to assemble in the Big Hall. We had to record a few songs on the recorders. After that we went to collect our five shillings pocket money. 

All of the Lithuanian group decided to donate two shillings each for the cost of the monument for poor Alex Vasiliauskas. The community committee was responsible for arranging and overseeing the construction of the monument. It has withstood the ravages of time and was still there in 1998. Somewhat worse for wear, with an inscription which was hard to decipher, but still there. A surprised local historical society was advised of the monument’s existence and assured us that it will look after it. 

After lunch, one of our chaps decided to drive to Wodonga to get some wine. He returned with two Army chaps, a Major and a Corporal and eight bottles of wine. Two of my good friends got paralytic and it took all my time to get them to bed. They were as drunk as skunks. 

After all that trauma I went to the dance. There I was confronted again by the recording crew. They asked a lot of questions and the answers were recorded. 

One of the Australian girls whom I got to know was there as well. We had a few dances and talked a lot, probably because my time had arrived to depart Bonegilla. She promised to write but I never received a letter. 

11 January 1948 

Somehow, I got up this morning with a great headache. I had drunk only one glass of the plonk. It must have been a poisonous substance. I went for breakfast and then went back to bed and slept till lunchtime. 

I dreamed that I was talking to my mother who had just arrived in Bonegilla. I asked where father was. She told me he couldn’t come as he had duty to perform. And that he was being sent to England. What for, I didn’t know. 

At lunchtime it started to rain. At night we played cards to pass the time. 

We didn’t know that furious warfare was being waged by the media throughout Australia against our arrival. The "Poms" were frightened that a takeover of Australia was under way. We didn’t get any newspapers and only a few of us had radios. The Immigration Minister, Mr Calwell, was under constant attack. 

12th January 1948

I skipped classes to see off the three groups of labourers who were going to their employment placements. At 10 am, my friend T. came and asked me to go to Albury with him. My excuse was that I didn`t have any money, so he offered to pay my fare. The real reason was that he needed me as an interpreter. 

We caught the bus to Albury. With my help T. bought a suitcase and a pair of shoes. After the purchases, we had lunch in a cafe and at 2 pm caught the bus back to Bonegilla. 

I posted my letter to the Sydney firm asking for the details of sending food parcels to Germany. They were sending food parcels to Mother England, but Germany was the pariah and all the convicts and Poms wished that all Germans would die of starvation. Not knowing that they were cousins of the Germans. 

All my previous years of study of the English language had finally paid dividends. I was reading a book in English and interpreting the contents to my friends. 

13th January 1948 

Four groups left the Camp this morning for their work assignments. It was raining and very cold. I stayed in the hut and read my book. 

To be continued.

Footnotes

* Henry probably is Henrikas Juodvalkis, whose obituary written by Endrius was published in this blog on 29 April 2021.  This is confirmed not only by the first name but Juodvalkis' 'Bonegilla card' showing that he was sent to Maydena.

** The visitor probably was David Pallaks.  See Jonas Mockunas' comment below for more on his life, including why he was regarded as a German during World War II.

*** Actually, Holiday in Mexico, a 1946 Technicolor musical, the first film made by 17-year-old Jane Powell and with Fidel Castro as an extra, particularly in some crowd scenes.  More information is in Wikipedia.

**** This record from Endrius confirms what I have written below the entry from Endrius about his first five days (in Port Melbourne, travelling by train and at Bonegilla), that passengers with a camera and some film could run a business selling photos to other passengers.  Thanks to Endrius, we can calculate that 13 shillings for 31 photos means that they cost about 5 pence each.

Bonegilla 1947-1948: Boxing Day to New Year's Eve (December 26-31) by Endrius "Andrew" Jankus

This is the fourth part of the recollections of Endrius Jankus, a Lithuanian refugee who arrived in Australia on the First Transport, the General Stuart Heintzelman.  Endrius became known as Andrew in Australia.  He was born in Draverna in the south of Lithuania on 7 July 1929.  He died in Hobart, Tasmania, on 23 July 2014.  He sent the full memoir to me in 2012.

26 December 1947 

The second day of Christmas was stinking hot and the sun was burning down on us. Nevertheless, an Australian basketball team arrived to challenge the Lithuanian team. Naturally, the Lithuanian team won. In the late afternoon, the girls from Albury-Wodonga arrived. Someone introduced to us the game of Lotto. Any one who won got 10 shillings, a fortune to us. After that we danced the night away till midnight when the girls left for home. But saying goodbyes took longer, in fact maybe a whole hour. 

27 December 1947

In the morning, I attended English classes until lunch. At lunchtime, Mr Bauza, his wife and a secretary arrived for a visit. Mr Bauza was the President of the Lithuanian Community in Sydney and had migrated to Australia in 1930.* 

We Lithuanians gathered in the Great Hall to hear him welcome us to Australia and describe life in Australia. We had a thousand questions to which we wanted answers. He obliged with clear answers in our own language that everyone understood. 

That night, at 8 pm, the dance started. For some unknown reason, we had a great influx of girls. There were three buses, one truck and a heap of cars full of girls. Well, it was Saturday night when just about everyone in Australia goes out. Or it could have been that the word had spread about our fantastic dancing ability? With the new army boot issue, when you trod on the girl's toes, it made her jump off the floor. At least dancing gave us time to practise our English. 

28 December 1947

It was very hot. Everyone was walking around like a zombie. We spent the day in the Lake (Lake Hume) to get some relief from the heat. At night, at 8 pm, we had a concert. Many luminaries from the area arrived including all the girls whom we had come to know. 

29 December 1947 

I got up early as I had orderly duties in the mess hall at breakfast, lunch and dinner. At lunchtime, I and many others went swimming in the Lake. In the afternoon, it was payday. Each of us collected our five shillings pocket money. I even managed to attend the English classes as well. 

30 December 1947 

On this day our whole English class had been rostered for duty at various places in the camp. I was assigned to the kitchen to wash up the big roasting pans. That was one hell of a job, trying to clean the burnt parts of the pans with no proper implements. All I was handed was a knife and a wash-up rag. 

The kitchen was dominated by pushy Latvians who claimed to be cooks. We thought of them as a bunch of crawlers with very little cooking experience. 

Some of the Latvian kitchen staff with friends, 
probably photographed after Endrius left Bonegilla —
do you recognise any of them? **

At the beginning of my duties, I was allowed to have a meal of whatever I wanted. I chose a pudding, apples and oranges. 

Friendly relations soon deteriorated as one of the cooks kept telling me that the pans were not clean enough. I asked him to show me how it was done. He declined. 

There was a stack of pans, probably more than twenty. In the end, after one more criticism, I threw the pan at him. I told him to clean the pans himself and walked out. 

Naturally, I was reported to the Camp Commandant for shirking my duties. I was told to report to him through the loudspeaker. I ignored the request for most of the day, going for a swim in the Lake and spending some time there. 

Towards evening, the announcer changed his tactics and asked me to come to the office as there was an urgent matter to discuss. Well, I thought, maybe there is some bad news for me. 

I fronted up to the Office and Major Kershaw jumped at me. After raving on for some time, he tweaked my ear and told me that if I had been in his unit, he would have fixed me, whatever that meant. 

That night a furious storm descended on Bonegilla. The barracks rocked and creaked and most of us thought that they might overturn. I think that it was just to frighten us. 

Talking about the kitchen crew comprising mainly of Latvians, I had previous experience with the Commandant. I was asked to be part of a delegation to him with a complaint when three-quarters of the camp was suffering from diarrhoea. 

The Commandant met us outside his office and went into great detail about "a little fly in Australia" that was the cause of it. One fellow elbowed me in the side and asked me to ask the Commandant if you could get VD from this fly. 

The Major went ballistic. He harangued us for some time about how ungrateful we were for their effort to accommodate us. You would think that they had rescued us from certain death. 

We knew what the problem was. The cooking staff drank plenty of milk that was supposed to be for our breakfast and made up the shortfall by adding water to the remainder. We came away from the confrontation shaking our heads.

31 December 1947 

There were English lessons as usual during the day. At 9 pm there was another dance with the usual crew. Our girls and those from Albury-Wodonga arrived and a great time was had by all. It ended at 2 am. Since I was one of the orderlies I had to help to restore and clean the hall. I got to bed at 4 am.

To be continued.

Footnotes

* For more on Antanas Bauže and his wife, Ona, see various Early Lithuanians in Australia blog entries by Jonas Mockunas at https://earlylithuaniansinaustralia.blogspot.com/search/label/Bauze.  In particular, this blog reproduces some text from another Heintzelman passenger, Kazys Mieldazys, who recorded his memories as First Steps in Australia.  Mieldazys wrote that, 

"A large surprise came from the President of the Australian Lithuanian Society, Antanas Bauze.  He had already greeted us by letter at Fremantle.  [At Bonegilla, late December 1947]  he visited us with Mrs Bauze and Mr Kuodis.  A meeting of all the Lithuanians was called, at which Mr Bauze greeted the newcomers, provided some details about life in Australia, and invited all to become members of the Australian Lithuanian Society.  The invitation was warmly embraced and Mr Bauze left with a list of about 400 new members."  [There were 437 Lithuanians among the 839 First Transport passengers who initiated the Bonegilla migrant camp.]

** Kitchen staff photo:  Standing, 5th from left, standing, is Galina Vasins, later Karciauskas; 8th from left, is Irina Vasins, later Kakis, both cleaners.

Bonegilla 1947-1948: The Week to Christmas Day (December 19-25) by Endrius "Andrew" Jankus

This is the third part of the recollections of Endrius Jankus, a Lithuanian refugee who arrived in Australia on the First Transport, the General Stuart Heintzelman.  Endrius became known as Andrew in Australia.  He was born in Draverna in the south of Lithuania on 7 July 1929.  He died in Hobart, Tasmania, on 23 July 2014.  He sent the memoir to me in 2012.

19 December 1947 

All the Lithuanians worked hard today to erect and decorate a welcoming portal for the Archbishop of Melbourne who was to arrive in the late afternoon. Another group erected an altar in the Great Hall. 

During the celebration of Mass, one Lithuanian couple took the vows of marriage from the Archbishop. This was the second Lithuanian marriage at the camp. 

Source:  The Advocate (Melbourne), 8 January 1948 page 7

One elderly Lithuanian woman was offering her daughter to me as a bride and prodded me to "tie the knot". She used the old Lithuanian saying that “two beggars live better than one", or words to that effect. Or "if you have to beg, two beggars will bring home more than one". Nevertheless, I remained a proud bachelor. 

20 December 1947 

The loudspeaker was working overtime and kept repeating the message. We all were called to assemble at the Great Hall as Dr Crossley had something important to tell us. He spoke to us in German and assumed that everyone understood the German language. 

He talked about our contracts, saying that Parliament had decided to increase our obligation to work under government authority to two years, instead of the one year we had been told in Germany. He tried to explain to us that the one-year contract was meant as no less than one year. 

When this drastic news sank in, there was almost a riot. Most of us felt betrayed even before we started work. There was an angry confrontation, with people shouting Nazi slogans at the Professor. He bounced up and down the stage calling us ungrateful immigrants. 

By that time Dr Crossley was screaming and asking us not to take any notice of our sergeants, inferring that some still had influence over us. There were a few ex-sergeants among us, but they were in the minority and certainly had no influence over anyone. He finally left the stage and retreated to the Commandant’s Office. No doubt, he passed the message on to higher authorities. 

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. 

Unfortunately, this information was not passed on to all the employment bureaus. This resulted in threats of deportation and or imprisonment. When we left our employment after 12 months, we were all threatened with deportation from some of the Anglo-Saxon bureaucracy. The Communist Party’s inspired hatred of us lasted a lifetime. 

At night we had a dance. All the usual local Albury-Wodonga girls arrived. Some had already made romantic attachments with some of the new arrivals. It was becoming boring and the attendance from the men was dropping off. There were never enough girls to go around.

21 December 1947

Today a basketball competition was organised against an Australian team and a Latvian team. Both got a hiding from the Lithuanian Team, as basketball was a national sport in Lithuania and they were European champions. 

At lunchtime, one of the Australians employed at the camp, who used to accompany the girls moving to work in Canberra, died of a heart attack. 

We had a big contingent of Scouts. There were Air, Naval and Rover Scouts and Girl Guides among the Lithuanians. We had a meeting to organise a traditional Scout gathering for the next night starting at 8 pm. 

The centrepiece was always the bonfire with a performance of funny skits, songs and much merriment. It was just like we used to have back home in the pre-war days. Everyone had a job to do, from performing, to singing, to welcoming guests and seating them. We invited the Boy Scouts and friends from the surrounding area. 

22 December 1947 

In the morning I attended the classes organised for us in familiarisation with our new country and English lessons. 

Later, at 8pm, we had our traditional Scouts’ bonfire. Lots of Scouts from around the Albury-Wodonga area arrived and brought us a present, a case of apples. That was very nice of them. We did enjoy chomping into them later. 

The ceremony by the bonfire was an outstanding success and an eye-opener for our visitors. We selected skits which included miming with no interpreting required so that everyone watching could understand. In between, a choir sang old Scouting songs. The words were different to those our audience knew but the melodies were the same. 

The continuous robust acts impressed all our visitors, our teachers, the Commandant and his retinue and the Scouts. Amongst us we had a few outstanding performers. Two fellows carried in a stick from which hung a dozen bottles with various amounts of water in them. The "Maestro" appeared suddenly with two sticks and played the tune of "My Bonny Lies Over the Ocean”. The clapping took a long time before it stopped. 

Our "Maestro" played a few more tunes before he called it quits. Most of the audience didn’t know that less than one month earlier we had put on the same performance for the Scouts of Western Australia on one of their beaches. 

We all had worked hard in one capacity or another late into the night and decided to have a rest day. We slept late and spent the day diving and swimming in the Lake, to get away from the infernal heat. 

Inside the corrugated iron barracks was worse than outside. It was like an oven even at night. Most of us took our blankets outside and bedded down in the long grass. That was a good idea until one chap jumped up with a barbaric scream in the middle of the night, just because a friendly snake had slithered inside his primitive bed for a bit of company. That ended the sleeping in the grass episode. 

One another night as we rested on our wire stretcher beds, having a chat with one another with the doors opened at either end for some air, a snake navigated the three steps into our barrack. She was about to enter our space, when someone threw a boot at her and she beat a hasty retreat. 

24 December 1947 

Christmas Eve used to be celebrated throughout our country and most of Europe. It didn’t seem right that Christmas Eve was boiling hot in Australia. It was very unusual for us and it certainly proved to be at Bonegilla. It was obvious that our new bosses either didn’t know the significance of the day or could care less. It was a big disappointment to us. 

That night, all of us gathered in the big hall. A decorated Christmas tree stood there like an orphan. A few streamers hung down from the rafters in a careless fashion. We each received two slices of bread with butter and jam on it and an orange. To drink, we had orange juice. We sat around the Christmas tree and sang carols like we used to do at home or wherever we found ourselves to be on this Holy Night. 

Someone produced a blessed Eucharistic wafer and broke it up in tiny pieces on a plate to go around 400 Lithuanian Catholics. The plate was passed around and each of us licked the end of the finger and retrieved a tiny piece of wafer to put on our tongues. This bound us in unity to our nationality. 

The Commandant, the professor and the teachers wished us a Merry Christmas. At midnight we left the place for our quarters. 

It was a far cry from our country’s tradition, when everything had to be spick and span. Hay was put on the table and a white tablecloth was put over it. The plates were set out, including plates for the recently departed. A candle was lit on their plates to welcome the departed spirits. 

It was a feast for Jesus, with a twelve-course cuisine. That day, no meat was to be consumed. Although the Church allowed the consumption of meat, the people still carried out the old traditions. 

The eating began when the first star appeared in the sky. On an overcast day, the family elder decided when it was time to eat. The twelve dishes started with a pea gruel, a bean gruel, dumplings made from ground wheat, some traditional Lithuanian dishes, dumplings with cottage cheese, cranberry jelly, apple cakes, little Christmas cakes, marzipan and various nuts. To drink there were various fruit juices. The heavy eating was left for Christmas Day. 

25 December 1947 

On Christmas Day at Bonegilla, it rained cats and dogs as they say. The rain stopped in the evening and some of us went for a walk. The day was a non-event.

To be continued.

Bonegilla 1947-1948: The Next Week (December 12-18) by Endrius "Andrew" Jankus

This post continues the recollections of Endrius Jankus, a Lithuanian refugee who arrived in Australia on the First Transport, the General Stuart Heintzelman.  Endrius became known as Andrew in Australia.  He was born in Draverna in the south of Lithuania on 7 July 1929.  He died in Hobart, Tasmania, on 23 July 2014.  He sent the memoir to me in 2012.

12 December 1947

English Classes were organised by a group of university lecturers and the man in charge was Professor Crossley. The professor was from the University of Sydney. He was a short, dumpy fellow who spoke to us in German. We thought that he was a linguist and assumed that all of us could speak German. Probably about three-quarters could understand German, but not many were fluent.* 

In his late 30's but still playing rugby union with the students:
Dr Ralph Crossley from a photograph of the 1939
New England University College rugby team

Source:  http://aussieobserver.blogspot.com/

I was assigned to Class 3a, an advanced class in English. Our teacher was a Mr Lightfoot from Adelaide University, a very nice person. We had to attend four lessons a day. We were taught some English, but also about the strange monetary system of pounds, shillings and pence. We touched on the basic law of the country, the political structure of Parliament and the complicated measurements of rods, chains, feet and miles. 

The professor, Dr RG Crossley, was from the Department of German at the University of Sydney and was the chief instructor of 22 teachers recruited from NSW and Victoria who volunteered to work during their summer vacation to teach the newcomers English and familiarise them with the Australian way of life. 

The official estimate was that 80 per cent of the migrants could not speak English. I would dispute that figure. Of the 839 in our group, that would amount to more than 150 speaking English. There were very few in the First Transport that could speak English. My guess would be that 95 per cent could not speak the language. Most of them could speak and understand a little German. 

We had dances in the Great Hall. Girls from Albury and Wodonga were brought in to complement our somewhat moody girls. Some started quick romances with them. Some came back later after completing their contracts and married them. 

One fellow showing off his swimming capabilities drowned in front of his girlfriend. He was our first casualty in Australia. We buried him with the respect that we always applied to our departed.** 

One barbel latched on to me, but I steered her promptly towards another fellow.***  I wasn’t interested in getting 'chained' just yet. The slogan at that time was Populate or Perish. When we asked the local girls to help with the 'population' part, pointing out that it will be good for the country, the reply was that it might have been good for the country but that it wasn’t too good for them. How unpatriotic! 

15 December 1947 

A heap of journalists and photographers descended on us. They took our photos at the Lake, swimming and diving. Those photos appeared the next day in the newspapers. I didn't see it, but someone told me about it. I was watching a movie in the Hall when a camera was pushed in front of me and I was filmed watching it. Later, a journalist 'corralled' me for an interview.

It's OlgerTs Bergmanis playing with Gunars Berzzarins but
at least this is a photograph of some men for a change:
it's likely to be one of the photographs taken on 15 December 1947

Source:  Sydney Morning Herald via Trove

Camp life went on as usual. I didn’t hear it, but someone informed me and my friends that at 2 am Radio Moscow read out all the names of the people who had arrived in Australia. No doubt the KGB was still interested in the people who got away from them. 

17 December 1947 

I was ordered to offside on the camp’s truck. We drove to the railway station at Albury to pick up clothing and bring it back to the Camp. The second trip we made was to Wodonga to pick up food for the camp. 

At 6 pm we received a surprise visit from the Immigration Minister, Mr Calwell, as we had organised an exhibition of cultural relics from the three Baltic countries. He was impressed. 

At 7.30 pm we had a concert in the Hall. A lot of guests arrived as well. All this was filmed and taped. After the concert, Mr Calwell thanked us for our efforts and appeared to be very pleased. The next morning as we were standing at the clothing store, he waved goodbye to us as he left the Camp. 

Estonians Valter Kongats (left), Tiiu Jalak (later Salasoo, centre) and
Vally Meschin (later Johanson, right) perform one of their folk dances,
Raksi Jaak or Crackerjack, at the concert put together for the visit of
the Minister for Immigration, Arthur Calwell****

Source:  Collection of Tiiu Salasoo

18 December 1947 

At the clothing store, I was issued with a sports jacket, trousers, army boots, army shirt and two pairs of army socks. Outside the clothing store we had to line up to receive our new outfits. We were called alphabetically according to our surnames. 

The back of Endrius' 'Bonegilla card' confirms the clothing issue;
a later diary entry records that the 2 pairs of pyjamas, hat and
set of braces to hold up the trousers were issued on 23 January —
they were all Army surplus, left over from the end of WWII

Source:  National Archives of Australia

The clothing store was next to the Camp Commandant’s office. In the line there was banter going on in our own language. 

One tall fellow with a booming voice replied to the banter quite often. That must have infuriated our Camp Commandant, Major Kershaw. He came flying out of his office, marched up to the 'booming voice' and punched him in the face saying, 'I am the Commandant'. 

We were astonished that the receiver of the punishment punched him back with the words, 'and I am an emigrant'. The Commandant retreated to his office speechless, and most of us just clapped and shouted 'Bravo'. Not because he had hit the Commandant, but for his ability in the English Language. 

A Scout Master from Albury arrived after lunch to inspect the Scouts and have a word to us. 

That night I was invited by the Albury girls to a dance in their town. About thirty of us went in the Camp’s truck. We saw the same girls who visited us, but a few new ones had joined them. I met a girl called Nancy. She was a good looking Amazon and friendly girl. She even gave me her address. 

The supper was fantastic. We were urged to eat up all the different cakes and biscuits. The problem was that they were too sweet for us. We were not used to so many sweet things, but enjoyed drinking the tea.

To be continued.

Footnotes

* Ralph George Crossley was the Senior Lecturer in German and head of the subject at the University of Sydney, but not a Professor.  Most of the 22 other teachers were his students who had just completed their third year of university studies.

** I have told the story of Aleksandras Vasiliauskas earlier in this blog, at  https://firsttransport.blogspot.com/2021/04/aleksandras-vasiliauskas-short-and-sad.html.

*** A barbel is a type of fish found in British fresh waters.  I don't know for which word or words Endrius might have been searching here.  Bar girl?

**** There are videos of Raksi Jaak on the Web.  Since the photograph shows 3 dancers only, I've linked it to a video of the dance performed by a trio.  It seems that, the more dancers you have, the more energetic and athletic it can be.  Watch more energetic versions here and here.

Bonegilla 1947-1948: The First Five Days (December 7-11) by Endrius "Andrew" Jankus

Endrius Jankus, known as Andrew in Australia, was born on 7 July 1929 in Draverna, a village near the Lithuanian coastal town of Klaipėda in the south of the country.  He died in Hobart, Tasmania, on 23 July 2014.  He was a grandson of the 'Patriarch of Lithuania Minor', Martynas Jankus, a printer, publisher and social activist.  Endrius' memories of his first four months in Australia were written in 2012 but based on a diary he had kept in 1947-48.  You may see something of his grandfather's social activism in his views. I would not be surprised if the Commandant of the Bonegilla Migrant Reception and Training Centre, Major Alton Kershaw, had seen a brash 18-year-old who needed to be trained to obey.  Read on...

7 December 1947

We arrived in Melbourne on the dirty old tub, Kanimbla.  It was like a hell ship out of some fantasy.  Dingy quarters, grime-ingrained bunks with food to match.   It was a big letdown after the General Stuart Heintzelman.*  

At 2.30 pm, the then Minister for Immigration, Mr Calwell, arrived with his retinue on the main deck and welcomed us to Australia.  With newsreel cameras whizzing and camera flashes just about blinding everyone, the whole ceremony was over within the hour.  

Estonian Lucia Maksim thanks the Minister for Immigration, Arthur Calwell,
(centre, in light suit)
on the Kanimbla at anchor in Port Melbourne, 7 December 1947.

Source:  Private collection**

I had volunteered to help load baggage onto the train. There were not that many pieces. While we were loading, a chap approached us and introduced himself as the First Officer of the Danish ship Java berthed on the other side of the pier. Since I could speak English, he told me what a terrible country this was. The exact conversation escapes me after 65 years. 

It would be better if I joined his crew as they were leaving for Europe in the morning. That was a great temptation as I always wanted to go to sea. He showed me a newspaper called the Tribune. This Australian Stalinist rag had a cartoon of people getting off a ship with swastikas and SS armbands. The caption was, "These people will make good Australians". 

But my first reaction to the proposal was no desire to return to Europe, since we had just arrived in Australia. Secondly, we travelled on international refugee papers and were still regarded as stateless persons. We did not belong to any country, since our country had been swallowed up by the criminal Soviet Union. ”Thanks” to the idiotic US President Roosevelt who sold us out and three-quarters of Europe to the Stalinist butchers. 

I had heard stories of stateless persons on ships travelling the seas who were not allowed to step ashore on any land due to lack of a passport or identification. That thought made me decline the offer. 

It was the days when the White Australia policy was strongly defended. We were lily white but not English, which was unacceptable to the population. Most of them had some black blood cruising through their veins but that was ignored. That was why we were discriminated against for many years to come.

Some groups, particularly in Tasmania, of the isolated, inbred, black-brushed population and the Stalinist unionists made our life a misery. We faced strikes on our arrival organised by the Communist-dominated unions and fights in the pubs. 

This antipathy is still alive today in 2012. It’s more gentle because of laws prohibiting discrimination, but it is still being practised by some idiotic clerks in government departments and in businesses and workplaces. Under our breath, we used to call them Anglo-Saxon Nazis and Australia a country built on bullshit. You never struck that many conmen, crooks and criminals in any country as you did in Australia. 

Just like going through the medical in Germany. They looked at our teeth, like the old horse traders did, to make certain that they were healthy. On arrival in Australia, we found out that most people had no teeth at all but had prostheses. 

8 December 1947 

This morning we boarded trains and our journey began towards Bonegilla. We were divided into two groups, one per train. I was in the first one with all our girls. 

This sparsely occupied land already had sunburned yellow grass as far as the eye could see. It was almost the middle of December, in the summer. The train stopped for lunch at Benalla. Some Red Cross Ladies provided us with a meal. 

After about one and a half hours, we were told to board the train again and proceeded. In the rolling northern hills of Victoria, with no signs of life, the train stopped. Had we arrived? 

The girls, some 120 of them, alighted on the dirt ramp which was level with the floor of the train. The rest of us jumped out into the belly-high grass. There was deathly silence interrupted only every now and again by the locomotives snorting. 

Someone suggested that we had arrived at our execution spot. I countered that they would not have sent us halfway round the world to execute us. The suggestion hadn’t been that far-fetched. Those sorts of isolated places were normally used for mass murder in Europe. 

Suddenly, we could hear the noise of revving motors. Khaki green trucks were slowly working towards us. Only a slight wisp of dust rising from the ground indicated the Army trucks’ position as they laboured to reach us. There was no road, just a miserable track between the high grass and a fence. The girls got preferential treatment and went first to the trucks. 

Three of the Lithuanian women, with Viltis Salyte on the left
seated on one of the Army trucks at the Bonegilla railway stop

Source:  Border Morning Mail via Trove

We followed some time later and got a bumpy ride across some paddocks to the main highway. Once we reached the highway, our vision of the countryside improved. We could see Lake Hume and a large conglomeration of barracks on its foreshore. The Hall, a massive barn, stood out amongst the corrugated iron huts, our accommodation. 

Our group from the Flensburg Camp (close to the Danish border) and a few friends had stuck together throughout the journey and now were allocated accommodation on the outskirts of the camp in Block 18, Barrack 33. 

Endrius Jankus as a sea scout in Flensburg, 10 September 1947,
just 3 months before his arrival at the Bonegilla camp

Source:  Europeana

The corrugated iron huts were stinking hot like a sauna. The beds were tubular, folding iron and fencing mesh constructions made up with white sheets. Twenty-two of us took up our accommodation, threw our few belongings under the beds and bolted outside. 

It was cooler there. A group of kangaroos watched us in dumb silence from the High Hill, keeping a respectable distance. 

At 5 pm a loudspeaker blared out that it was teatime and all should proceed to the mess hall. What we ate, I didn’t record in my diary, only that it was sufficient and tasted bland. That seemed to be the norm in this country. We always maintained that the good food was spoiled because of the lack of tasty ingredients. 

9 December 1947 

We were shown a film about the Australian environment. After that we had to hand in our International Refugee Organisations documents. We were told that we had to be photographed for new documents, which never materialised.***  This left us only a red card for identification. 

This is likely to be the photograph of Endrius 
taken in the Bonegilla camp on 9 December 1947,
for use with his 'Bonegilla card'

Source: National Archives of Australia

10 December 1947 

Everyone had to have an x-ray of their lungs. The strict medicals that we went through in Germany were partially checked again. There seemed a suspicion that somehow people had escaped health scrutiny. 

It made the camp authorities and Immigration Department scratch their heads when they found almost 30 people with lung damage, mainly injuries from bullets. We knew about some of our fellows who we had helped smuggle into the country. They arrived here with someone else’s lungs. How it was done shall remain a mystery. Several had only one good eye, but they too were discovered. 

Actually out of 839 passengers this wasn’t such a great number of fraudulent immigrants. We had expected that all of them would be deported back to Germany and discussed what action we could take to prevent this or at least convey our displeasure. 

A few days later, they all were rounded up and sent to Heidelberg Repatriation Hospital. They returned to camp about a week or so later and the whole affair was “swept under the carpet”. They all stayed here. 

In the meantime we just rested, went for walks to the kangaroo vantage points, the hills, and discovered the multitudes of rabbits — black, brown and brindle. The hills seemed alive with rabbits. Someone in our group had a camera and we photographed ourselves on the walks to the hills and the Hume Weir. What happened to these photos, I am unsure. 

11 December 1947

We were called to the camp office and asked what sort of work we wanted to do. This was a strange question as in Germany we had been told that unless we signed up as labourers, we would not be accepted for the interviews. Just like the medical where they scrutinised the status of our teeth. And on arrival here we found that most Australians did not have any but chewed on their falsies. 

This was payday for us. The unemployment benefit at this time was one pound and five shillings. The camp kept the one pound for our keep and handed us the five shillings as spending money. We had to sign that we had received it. 

I spent three shillings at the shop down the road a bit on tobacco, cigarette papers and a box of matches, plus an ice cream. I had one shilling left. These days, the anti-tobacco or anti-smoking campaigns amuse me. I began to smoke at 14 years of age. I found out, like millions of others, that smoking calmed you down and suppressed your hunger pangs. 

In four years of warfare, I can well remember being hungry day after day. It was just like a rat gnawing at your empty stomach. It may be dangerous to your health, but no little Hitler should have the power to ram his ideas down other people’s throat. In my book, they are the “perverts of democracy”. Besides, I stopped smoking 30 years ago. 

To be continued.

Footnotes

* Endrius was not alone in this recollection.  Several of the women have told me too that they regarded the Kanimbla as filthy, and not just in comparison with the General Stuart Heintzelman.  The captains (Army and Navy) of the Heintzelman had figured out, probably through the experience of other troop transports of the same class built before her, that the best way to keep their soldier passengers out of mischief on the high seas was to give them work to do.  Much of it has to do with keeping the ship clean, but there were other tasks as well, such as helping in the kitchen and bakery or the ship's library.  Australia's first post-WWII refugees on the Heintzelman had been subject to the same regimen, but benefited from a clean and orderly voyage.

** There are so many copies of this image in public and private collections that I think it was taken by one of the Heintzelman passengers with their own camera.  These photographers could run something of a business, selling or bartering their prints to cover their costs, and probably make a small profit as well.

*** The new documents were quite likely to have been the 'Bonegilla cards', National Archives of Australia series A2571.  They were for the use of the administration, not the Centre residents.