Walter Kum Dorne was just four years old, when he heard the door slam downstairs. His father was home! Finally. All exited, he ran down the stairs in his peejay's to see if he had brought anything home with him, to play with. He loved his father very much, although he was hardly ever home. When the young boy entered the kitchen, however, the scene was altogether not pleasant. His father and mother were both seated at the kitchen table, grim looks on their faces. His father sipped his glass of brandy, his mother was staring into space. Neither of them noticed Walter, and he dared not speak. At last, mother spoke.
'We can't stay here, Johan. What if they come for us…me and Walter? What are you going to do, hmm? Protect us with your bare hands?'
Walter's father looked gloomy.
'If necessary. And besides, maybe it will not turn out so bad. After all, I am a government official. They wouldn't dare do anything to my family.' He said this last thing resolutely, but the boy sensed doubt in his fathers voice.
'Please, Johan,' the woman pleaded 'let's just go to England, or America. At least there, we're safe.'
But her husband's mind was set.
'We're staying.'
He stood up, and turned on the radio. In stead of the usual program, there was a voice. It rang through the room like a bell. It was January, 1933, and life was about to change for Walter and those closest to him.