'The child is father of the man', our author is able to say with some feeling. For, dwelling over the collection of letters still in their battered orange folder, his father, then in the East Indies, is once more alive, chatting, advising, rebuking and loving intensely from afar. Past voices echo from musty pages and buried memories, voices of his foster parents and so many friends and mentors shaping and bringing him up in an exciting and bewildering post-war Holland - a place where the child became that man and after six long years welcomed his father back into his arms.