I will return when Poland is free
On 30th December 1949, our ship sailed into Sydney Harbour and put down the anchor at 11PM. The next day at 4PM buses arrived to take us to the railway station. We travelled all night by train, climbing hills, puffing, it seemed, as if it would fall apart. There was so much noise. We came to Bathurst where again buses were waiting for us. It was New Year’s Day, 1950. They took us to the camp, which was spread out over 10 square kilometres and divided into sections alphabetically from A to J. It was an American Army camp.
We went straight to breakfast in the kitchen, where there were whole trays of lamb chops, as much bread as you could eat, milk and eggs for the children. I thought to myself that I would have some meat to eat which I had so little of in Germany. I touched the meat to my lips, tasted the sheep's fat, and to this day I cannot touch lamb. After breakfast we were given beds and blankets. I remember how I used to cover my children at night because the nights were very cold. In the morning when I awoke, I could not move my legs from sand that blew in overnight. The huts were of steel sheet, without rooms, just two doors, one on either end, and a big stove in the middle to warm up the interior. They assigned this hut to 8 families, and together with children there were 19 of us. The families were separated by blankets. The bed was used for sleeping, sitting and as a table, until our luggage arrived, and I used a trunk as a table. All you could hear in the hut was the crying and sobbing of women. At 4am the kookaburras would wake us from sleep with their laughter. The sheep bleated behind the barracks.
I was alone with my children because I had lost my husband in Germany. It was hard to find work. With one child you were sent to work on a farm or in a hotel, but with 2 children it was almost impossible. The only possibility was work at the hostel. I had to wait till someone left. I waited 4 months, receiving £7 a fortnight. This was hardly enough for soap, washing powder, toothpaste, and little else. All I brought with me were my two hands for work. I felt bad mostly for my children, because I could not buy them anything. I could not send them to school in town because as long as I had work they would not be accepted.
At last in May I found work in the kitchen. I lived in Block H and worked in Block B. I used to start at 6am and finish at 6pm. My daughter was already at school. I used to leave at 5AM, set the alarm for the children and a lady would help them get ready. I would walk 4km through the fields. It was always dark in the morning and there were a lot of wild horses. Once a horse chased me and I thought the fright was going to give me a heart attack.
At lunch time, I had one and a half hour break. I would run, breathless, to my son to feed and hug him. He was only 3 years old. My daughter was just 6 years old and she looked after him after school.
I fulfilled my contract and received a letter and application for naturalisation. I wrote back that when Poland is free, I will return. I knew no Australians and did not know what they thought of us. In the camp there were people of all nationalities, so I learned Russian, Yugoslavian and very little English.
In May 1952, they transferred us to Benalla, Victoria, because the army was to move into Bathurst! Mainly women and children were relocated to Benalla. I started work in a sewing factory, close to the camp, so we could come to the camp kitchen for lunch. I was happy that I could make sure my children ate. I worked for 4 months in the sewing factory and then was given work at the camp Director’s residence. They were elderly Scots and the lady was like a mother to me. I worked there for 2.5 years. Over five tears, I saved 900 pounds for a deposit for a house. I used to earn £9 - £10 per week, because I worked Saturdays and Sundays. I started to look for something of my own because I was sick of living in a camp. I worried most about the children, because there were all types of people living there and my children would bring home words that they should never have used.
In February 1955, I bought a house and agreed to pay it off over 25 years. In May I moved into my own house, though it was owned by the bank. I rolled my sleeves up even higher, and found very hard, dirty work in a factory. I had no choice.
There was some land around the house. I bought a pick and shovel and started to dig the garden. Before spring I turned the soil over, levelled it out and sowed vegetables. I used to work 12 hour shifts in the factory. Sometimes I would return at 11PM, if I missed the 10PM bus. Then I would cook dinner for the children for the next day so they could warm it up. When my daughter was 12 years old, she was both a sister and a mother for her brother. Many times 2AM would find me doing the washing at the washboard. There were no electric washing machines.
Many nights in the summer time I slept only one hour, because I would tend the garden before I went to work. The garden was a big help to me - it gave me vegetables and potatoes. I would bring home my pay, put it on the table and divide it up to meet my bills. And so I coped. Although some times there was not enough for milk, there was no one who could help.
I found out in the factory what Australians thought of us. I came to my machine one day and an Australian woman told me that she was working there. I waited for the foreman. He came and told me to work and took the other woman elsewhere. She said to me: ‘Bloody New Australian, drop dead’. I did not know what that meant until my daughter told me.
After work, we would go home around 5PM. It was winter and it was very cold and blowy. Australian women got on the bus ahead of us and opened all the windows. It was very draughty and we wanted to close the windows. They would not let us. They called us all sorts of names. I already knew some English, and asked them if they knew their background, and said that their forefathers were also once ‘Bloody New Australians’ and were brought here in handcuffs and with numbers on their backs. From that time onwards they would catch a different bus. But the foreman started to mistreat me, pushing me around all the different machines, or would give me a broom and tell me to sweep. I managed to cope with this with the help of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, who was with me when I went to sleep, and when woke up.
After several years of hard work I became sick and could not walk. I was told to stay home. Even though there was work to be done around the house, this was a difficult time because I was used to being with people.
Now I could live my life happily but old age is upon me and is pushing me to the ground. I am very grateful to God that I was able to live and raise my children through these hard times. Because in reality, only the watchful eye of God was on them. Dark would see me leave and dark would see me come home and these poor children were all alone. I kissed them each morning. The picture of Our Lady of Częstochowa hanged on the wall and in her keeping I left my children every day day. And I do that still!
