This is a story of a three-year-old caught up in the horrors of World War II. The "quiet time" in the Dutch East Indies, now called Indonesia, was replaced by the ravages of war and Japanese concentration camps. We spent three and a half years in three horrid camps. My mother was responsible for three children, including myself and Grandma. We ate any creeping or sliming creature trying to stay alive until we were saved by two atomic bombs.The Indonesians declared independence on August 17, 1945. Our family was then endangered by murdering youth gangs who roamed the island of Java. We could not go back to our plantation. My father saw handwriting on the wall and immediately began the process to immigrate to the United States. This was very difficult since we were stateless. He was arrested and jailed for allegedly being a Nazi sympathizer without any due process.We finally received the requisite papers to board the American President Lines ship The Jefferson. We sailed to the United States in March and arrived at San Pedro in April after a five-week journey at sea. Our family experienced culture shock when we finally came ashore.My long journey is a story of all the funny things I did as I grew up, including adventures in a Dutch colony and learning to be an American. You will have fun when you read my exploits with successes and many surprising endings. We hope that you will appreciate the American dream I realized in my long journey.