I am Australian. Of Polish Descent.

Part IV: WHAT??? …. AUSTRALIA??? THERE ARE HARDLY ANY PEOPLE THERE!!

 

(Continued, Part III)

When I arrived back at the camp at Kaiserslautern I couldn’t believe my eyes.  In just three months there had been a lot of changes. The old tents had disappeared, everyone was housed in barracks, and on the side of the main gate there was a big concrete structure that housed a power station to meet the needs of the camp.

I was informed by my colleagues that there was a tavern in the town used exclusively by the depot personnel.  We, the truck drivers, were now required to transport personnel to the tavern and bring them back safely to the depot after closing time, which was around 10.00 or 11.00 o’clock.  I asked my colleagues why we were expected to do this.  One of them asked me if I had noticed the big concrete structure at the gate and I said I had.  He then told me that two of our colleagues (both truck drivers) had taken a jeep into town to go to the cinema.  Afterwards, they got drunk, and as they were coming back to the depot at high speed they missed the gate, ploughed straight into the concrete structure and were killed instantly.

He showed me the wrecked jeep and told me that I would be responsible for delivering the jeep to Mannheim maintenance shop.  I was to leave both my truck and the jeep there and be given an another truck to drive back to the depot.

About 7.00 o’clock the next morning I set off in my truck with the wrecked jeep loaded on it.  I left Mannheim in the other truck about midday and on my way back to the depot, as I approached one of the villages, I could hear music and singing tumbling down from a mountain to the valley below.. I stopped the truck on the side of the road and continued listening to the beautiful music and yodelling, echoing back up the valley to the mountain.  I could see a ruined castle situated on the mountain and boys and girls sitting together singing and playing various musical instruments.

As I sat in the truck, thoroughly enjoying the free outdoor concert, along came an Army road patrol.  An MP jumped out of his jeep and came over to my truck and asked me “What’s wrong soldier?”  I told him I was just having a little rest from driving and then I’d be on my way.  He promptly said “Move on, soldier!” and my automatic response was “YES SIR!”.

As I arrived at the depot, one of the truck drivers shook his fist at me and barked “You ******. We got a message saying we needed to replace you with another driver because you were tired from driving.  They thought you might fall asleep at the wheel.”  Obviously my colleagues weren’t impressed, but I must admit, the music and singing (ESPECIALLY THE YODELLING) was magic!

Things were moving along smoothly and as a matter of fact, became a bit boring after a while.  So I decided to break the monotony and one Sunday morning I got up from my bunk and suddenly started carrying on - jumping around, dancing, whistling, and singing.  This continued for a few minutes.

About twenty pairs of eyes locked on to me, all with a look of surprise and disbelief.  The men in my barrack must have thought I’d gone mad!  Then I suddenly stopped, looked at them all, and announced “I just had my five minutes worth of stupidity, but now I’m okay!….  You can all relax”.  They all roared with laughter and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing along with them.

A month passed by and a rumour began circulating that we would be issued a khakee uniform and were going to undertake formal military training.  According to the rumour, towards the end of our training we would be shipped to America, naturalised, reformed into a fighting unit and then sent off to the Korean war.  I didn’t like the sound of that at all.  The last thing I wanted was to get caught up in another war.

So I decided to look into what options were available to me.  I made enquiries with I R O (International Refugee Organisation) about migrating overseas as a displaced person and was told that I could choose between the U.S.A., Canada, France, Belgium, England, Australia and New Zealand.

France, Belgium and England only offered work in coal mining. Canada offered work in the Yukon where the climate was freezing cold. New Zealand offered work in gold mining and Australia offered rabbit hunting and labouring on the outback railway.

So I decided on Australia.  When I told my colleagues about my decision, they said “WHAT??? …. AUSTRALIA??? THERE ARE HARDLY ANY PEOPLE THERE!! Kangaroos race around on the streets and snakes get into the houses”.  I replied “it can’t be too bad if kangaroos can hop around on the streets and I’ll just keep clear of the snakes.  As far as the population is concerned, THE LESS PEOPLE, THE BETTER!”  After spending years in crowded conditions, the idea of wide open spaces and freedom really appealed to me.

I wrote a letter to my father Henryk, to let him know that I had decided to migrate to Australia.  I didn’t mention that I was working for the U S Army nor the reason why I would not be returning to Poland.  If I did, it would be too risky and have serious repercussions for my family.

Sadly, I did not receive a reply and wondered if he even got the letter.

So I put in a request to the Captain asking to be issued a Certificate of Discharge for the purpose of immigration to Australia.  I was discharged from the US Army on 3 April 1950 and transported to a migration centre in Ludwigsburg.

I sent another letter to my father confirming that I was leaving Europe for Australia, but again, there was no reply.  At that point, I strongly suspected that my letters never reached their destination.

Two weeks later, buses arrived at Ludwigsburg migration centre to take us to the local railway station.  We were told that up until recently the transportation route to Australia was from Italy but now it would be from Bremenhaven.

‘Anna Salen’ at Bremenhaven wharf

So the train pulled into Bremenhaven wharf late that afternoon and we boarded the ship “Anna Salen” which was a converted aircraft carrier. The crew showed us our accommodation quarters and late that night I heard someone call out “We’re moving!“.  So we ran to the deck and I saw the bow of the ship clearing the wharf. The lights of Bremenhaven became smaller and smaller as we sailed away into darkness…………destination Australia.

On the ship there were hundreds of displaced people of all nationalities - families, single people, young and old.  Some of the crew told us that it would take about thirty days to reach Australia.  They told us that sailing through the Baltic Sea would be relatively calm but when we reached the Bay of Biscay it was likely to be very turbulent with rough seas.

That wasn’t the case.  We had smooth sailing all the way through to the Straits of Gibraltor.  We passed Gibraltor during the night and didn’t get the chance to see anything as it was pitch black.  As we entered the Mediterranean Sea the water was as flat and smooth as a table top.  We proceeded with ease to Port Said where we had to wait for a shipping pilot to escort us through the Suez Canal.

When we berthed at Port Said wharf we were inundated with men in small boats posing as money traders.  As they approached the ship they skilfully tossed ropes onto the ship’s deck and the ropes wrapped around the deck’s handrails.  Attached to these ropes were small bags and inside them there was information telling us what currency notes they would exchange.  As soon as the crew saw what was happening, they cut the ropes and explained to us that the men in the boats were illegal money traders and most of them robbers.  We were informed that if we wanted to exchange our money there were legal international money traders located in the Captain’s office.  But the crew recommended that we hold on to our money and exchange it for Australian dollars when we reached our destination.

It was dusk when the pilot came to take us through the Suez Canal.  Again we missed out on seeing the sights as we passed through the Canal in darkness.  Occasionally the pilot shone a bright light on to the water and when he did, we could see houses in the distance.

Tired from the heat of the day, we slept in our quarters below deck.  In the morning we realised we had missed out on all the excitement.  The pilot was gone and we were heading towards Aden to replenish the ship‘s water and food supplies.

By the way, throughout our trip there was music playing day and night - records of the Glenn Miller Band.  After a while, I came to know the songs so well that I knew which one was coming up next.

We restocked our supplies and passed Ceylon (Sri Lanka), headed for the Equator.  We were asked if anyone had crossed the equator before and most of us said that we hadn‘t.  That meant we were to go through an initiation ceremony to get the seal of approval from Neptune as we crossed the Equator.  Some of the crew and passengers doused us with buckets of water and we were stamped on the arm with Neptune‘s seal of approval.

So we successfully crossed the equator only to be confronted by Indian Ocean monsoons.  The monsoons generated waves up to 40 metres high and as a result, one minute I was looking out at nothing but sky and the next minute, all I could see was a wall of water.  The ship started making cracking and creaking noises and
the crew were running around closing windows, porches and doors.  Passengers were becoming violently seasick and the first aid officer had his hands full dispensing seasickness tablets.  There were people lying on the deck, vomiting and moaning.  They looked as white as ghosts.

Word got around the ship that volunteers were needed to help in the kitchen.  I figured out that the kitchen would be the best place to be.  It was situated in the centre of the ship and there was less movement compared to the decks.  So I volunteered to wash dishes in the scullery and continued to do so until we reached Australia.  I washed thousands of plates, cups etc. and would have been an ideal candidate for a dishwashing competition.

We sailed through the Southern Ocean and early in the morning about six o’clock passed the entrance of Port Phillip Bay.  We stopped in the middle of the bay and waited for the shipping pilot to come aboard to guide us to the port at Melbourne.

Finally we were nearing our destination and everyone wanted to see what the continent “downunder” looked like.

There was an air of anticipation on the ship that morning as we sailed towards our adopted country.


Part V: Old Pat

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