The glorious fourth is over and I’m suffering from a terrific hangover. Bill and I made honey yesterday and went to the hospital to have lunch with Mr. and Mrs. Curran. There was a vegetable salad, peas and corn, corned beef and pressed meat, pudding, bread, good coffee (yours) and fudge and peanuts. They asked the Lord’s blessing in their original fashion and requested the presence of you and Polly at the next such gathering. I love you darling. I wish you were here to take care of me because my stomach is rebelling and I feel like hell. We had beans and pork last night, maybe they should be blamed, at any rate I’ve been in distress since 3 a.m. today. Calhoun returned last night and it appears that some of the duds at Santo Tomas are finally convinced that the camp here is to be enlarged. The feeling is that Santo Tomas Authorities have deliberately refused to admit that the camp was to be moved and have regarded us as the unlucky guys that were sent to Los Baños. The refusal to release necessary equipment and charging us total amounts for things that will benefit those yet to come has rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. Classes started today and I enjoyed all three very much; particularly Newman’s German II.