The stories told and untold about the Second World War must be infinite and will only ebb (not end) when the last old soldier leaves this world for the next. Katjas story remained dormant for many years after the seed to write about her wartime experiences was planted unwittingly by her father. Mr. Mrzyglod was an extraordinary raconteur, and during our teatime breaks at her first dress factory in Mooimark House, he would entertain us with stories about his family in Poland particularly when he was a boy. Tales that were humorous and appealing. Accounts regarding the war were only touched on briefly, but there was no doubt about their sorrowful misery. I listened, enthralled, while Katja nodded thoughtfully. We must write about all this we promised one another. That was forty-eight years ago! It proves that it is never too late to realize a dream. And so this is Katjas story.