The Bonegilla Kid

By Stefan Michael Klepiak

This is a bizarre story by Stefan Michael Klepiak of a boy who from 1957 to 1962, when he was between the ages nine and fifteen, terrified the migrants at the Bonegilla migrant camp day and night A kid who was a regular guest at the Wodonga jailhouse and became known by the police and magistrates after several court appearances as The Bonegilla Kid.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReadOnTime BV
• Release date: Jul 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781742844794

Stefan Michael Klepiak

Stefan Michael Klepiak is a family man who over a few decades has always had the ability to adapt to what life has offered and make the best of any situation. His entire life is maintaining a balance in whatever he does and quickly gets up after a fall. His natural talent to tell stories or to paint a picture with words have always been a great asset to him and has led him to writing this book.

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The Bonegilla Kid

by

Stefan Michael Klepiak

The Bonegilla Kid

Copyright © 2009 Stefan Michael Klepiak

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

The information, views, opinions and visuals expressed in this publication are solely those of the author(s) and do not reflect those of the publisher. The publisher disclaims any liabilities or responsibilities whatsoever for any damages, libel or liabilities arising directly or indirectly from the contents of this publication.

A copy of this publication can be found in the National Library of Australia.

ISBN: 978-1-742844-79-4 (pbk.)

Published by Book Pal

www.bookpal.com.au

To all the Bonegilla kids, a small reminder of what different individuals we all were

…special thanks to former Bonegilla residents Ivan Janiz Tratnik and Carmen Morris-Vihm, who inspired me to write this Bonegilla experience.

The kid was born in the war-torn city of Mannheim, Germany, of Polish and German parents, and grew up in those poverty-stricken, war-ruined apartment buildings. At the age of five he was already street-wise, having learned at a very early age to become self-sufficient doing odd jobs to make ends meet. He collected firewood, copper, brass, cast iron, lead, and such-like from the bombed-out apartment buildings and sold them to scrap metal merchants. And he’d steal anything he could get his hands on, anything that he could turn into food, often bringing food home for his two younger brothers.

He used to climb to very dangerous high parts of the five-storey, partly bombed apartment houses to get at the lead or other metals, as the easy pickings were long gone. The greater the risk, the better the rewards. One time he had to land safely from the third floor after the ledge he was walking on gave way. He also worked as a ball boy at the local tennis courts and ran errands for older people — anything at all for food or money. Food was scarce for everybody and a lot of people went hungry. The kid was hungry too, but he found ways to get things to eat.

Around the age of five he developed a new talent: he learned how to travel on buses, trams and trains, exploring the city and nearby towns. He would just get on a train or tram, sitting beside some lady and talking to her as if he was with her. This way he travelled for free. He’d often come home late at night and get a hiding, but it was worth it in his view. His mother never knew where he was or where he had been. By the time he was nine he was an expert traveller.

His father was Polish and was in the American army, there was no love lost in this father and son’s relationship. They seemed to irritate each other to the limit and the kid was beaten often from an early age. His mother was German and treated him no better. As far as the kid was concerned, he hated them both and gave them hell by rebelling against them. He just did what he wanted to. The worst had already happened a hundred times over and the kid was used to it.

The best thing his parents did for him was to migrate to Australia in the early months of 1957, when the kid was nine. The trip took a little under two months, even though they travelled by plane. In fact, they almost didn’t get to Australia at all. The plane had engine problems after leaving Jakarta for Darwin and had to turn back, making an emergency landing in Jakarta.

The trip started in early March, 1957, when the family walked out of their war-damaged apartment with a few suitcases. Down the street to the railway station they went: quite a long walk. There were teary farewells with the boys’ grandparents and their seventeen-year-old sister, who was not coming to Australia with them. They boarded the train and were soon on their way to Hamburg.

The thrilling train trip took all night. Arriving at Hamburg they walked to their departure location. There was a monorail track along their route, with small trains were coming and going — the kid never took his eyes off them. The family arrived at a camp compound with two-storey brick houses. They ate in the compound’s dining room: the food was very nice — like eating out in a restaurant.

This was Finkenwerde, on the Elbe River in Hamburg. Here the kid saw huge ships moored to the wharfs. And after a few days he snuck away to ride the monorail — it was magically quiet as it moved along on its rail — till a conductor told him to