Warning: This story may contain images of First Nations people who have since passed. This story mentions sexual assault which may be distressing to some readers.
Ducking to the outdoor toilet block of his boy's dormitory at night was always a gamble for David Wragge.
Separated from his parents at nine years old, there's a chilling reason he wouldn't dare make the journey alone and always woke a brother to go with him.
David Wragge and barrister Benedict Coyne outside the hearing on Thursday. (ABC News: Liz Gwynn)
"We had abuse — physical, sexual and mental abuse — all of us, including myself," he said.
"You shouldn't have adults staying in the homes of kids, that's where bad things happen."
The Wakka Wakka elder — who has connections to Ghungalu, Juru, Bindal, and Wulgurukba mobs — spent six years in the Cherbourg Boy's Dormitory, west of Brisbane, after his parents separated.
Adult workers would often sleep inside the Cherbourg boys' dormitory. (ABC News)
Unlike the girls' dormitory, the boys' home was not locked down at night and grown men who were working in the area would sleep in the same building.
"We could have people come into our buildings at a whim — and we did," he said.
"We had no secure lock-down, so anyone could have come in, cut our throats or whatever."
Mr Wragge, now 66, also remembers the severe punishment he and others received for minor things, such as not finishing the food on their plates.
"You would get beatings and floggings, could be a strap, could be a switch — that was a daily routine, some boys copped it more than others," he said.
Mr Wragge said his father was sent away for work and would need permission to visit his own children at the dormitory when he returned home every couple of months.
"My father would try and come and see us, but he couldn't see us without a permit. Our fence line was the boundary for us."
A sign with an old notice from the superintendent sits outside the government-run Aboriginal mission. (ABC News)
'People come out traumatised'
Mr Wragge credits his loving wife and family with helping him grapple with the trauma, but he acknowledges that not every Stolen Generations survivor has been so lucky.
"Six years in the boys' home, generally 100 boys in that time — 30 per cent of those men died young, went into jail, drugs, alcohol, you know, from the stuff that happened as children," he said.
"When you got no love shown to you as a child and you are living in that type of residence, it's any wonder people come out traumatised."
The grandfather has made truth-telling his life's work and is among several participants who gave evidence at Queensland's Truth-Telling and Healing Inquiry in Brisbane this week.
The hearings are part of the state government's Path to Treaty Act — which passed parliament with bipartisan support in 2023 — and are set to run for three years.
Queensland's Path to Treaty passed parliament with bipartisan support in 2023. (ABC News: Mark Leonardi)
Mr Wragge hopes it will help all Queenslanders better understand the history of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people.
"The real history for Queenslanders is about the history of these missions and reserves and people being displaced from their land and culture," he said.
"It's also important that there are changes to the curriculum to show the history of Australia in relation to First Nations people."
Sent to work in childhood
Now aged 95, Ruth Hegarty still vividly remembers what life was like as a child on the government-run Aboriginal mission called Barambah, now known as Cherbourg.
Aunty Ruth Hegarty gave evidence at the inquiry on Thursday. (ABC News: Geoff Kemp)
Her mother moved there when Aunty Ruth was just six months old, on the promise that she and her baby would be "looked after".
But by the age of four, Aunty Ruth was removed from her mother's care and forced to live in the girls' dormitory where they were often separated only by a lattice wall or dining tables.
She recalls coming home after her first day of school and calling out to her mum to let her know what happened.
Aunty Ruth was educated at Cherbourg until she was sent away to work. (ABC News)
"One of the women came out and said to me, 'You're a big girl now, you are not allowed here, you are not allowed on this side'," she said.
"I thought, 'A big girl'? I was only a child."
Around 12 months later, her mother was sent away to work as a domestic servant for white farming families in remote areas and had no choice in where she went.
"They just take your mum, they took everybody's mum, we had no mothers, nothing at all," Aunty Ruth said.
The Gunggari woman completed several years of education at Cherbourg, but she was sent away to work when she was just 14 years old.
Before she left, she was warned about the dangers of being a vulnerable young girl.
Aunty Ruth still vividly remembers growing up in Barambah, also known as Cherbourg. (ABC News)
"One of the old girls said to me, 'Now they will try and get into your room, so push your wardrobe or dressing table against the door every night, that's the safest thing you can do'," she said.
"Well, I did that every night … pushed that blooming dressing table over to make sure they couldn't get in."
Despite taking every precaution to keep herself safe, Aunty Ruth got pregnant at the age of 18 while she was away doing her domestic service.
"We were there to be used and abused by the government and anyone else who was willing and able to do it," she told the inquiry.
"That's why a lot of girls came back pregnant, that's why I came back pregnant. Because you couldn't say no, you couldn't scream out because you would get punished."
Queensland's Truth-Telling and Healing Inquiry will continue public hearings in Brisbane on Friday, then travel to other parts of the state.
The inquiry aims to examine the impact of colonisation on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people and will make findings, recommendations and provide advice to the Queensland government.