February 8, 1944

Dearest Mom,

I received a letter from Dad today telling me of his efforts to help me. It would certainly be excellent if I could be transferred to an interesting job in the Medical Corps. I hope things turn out well. I'm still in the hospital. After my first touch of nasopharyngitis my tonsils acted up a little. Then, a Day or so ago, my temperature jumped for some reason. So, I'm stuck in bed drinking large quantities of water and sulfadaizinc. The hospital is very free with sulfa drugs. I wish I knew what was keeping my resistance so low. I hope this condition doesn't continue. I've spent as much or more time in the hospital as I have in training.

I'm going to buy volumes of de Maupassant's and Chekhov's short stories. According to Maugham they are the best writers excepting himself, of course so I thought I might study therm. Maugham gives a good critical study of each in his own volume of stories, and from what he says I doubt that they will appeal to me. I still have a romantic inclination toward happy and definite stories. I haven't matured enough to enjoy the effect of disappointment. It is interesting to see how Maugham's stories become smoother and better written as he gets older. I discovered one grass error he mentioned that the ship traveled at ten knots per hour! Inexcusable for one who has traveled as much as he has.

I hope Peter enjoys his birthday present from me. He can buy himself a drink with the extra dollar and a quarter.

It is wonderful news about Daddy. How low will the protein content get? Or is that unanswerable? Even Maugham mentions Bright's in one of his stories.

You'd better jump on Peter for slipping this past month. Or were those semester grades?

All my love to you and the family

Linus