The following letters were written by Milton R. Billings (1832-1910, the son of Samuel Billings (1789-1854) and Abigail Adams (1799-1872) of Worcester county, Massachusetts. Milton was married to Mary Jane Colvin (1837-1910) in 1858 and had two children, Samuel (b. 1859) and Henry (b. 1861) when he was drafted at Blackstone, Massachusetts in July 1863 to serve as a private in Co. G, 18th Massachusetts Infantry for three years service.
Billings was engaged with the regiment in the campaign against Richmond from May 1, 1864 until June 1, 1864, when he was reported absent without leave. Billings was, in fact, in the hospital due to a back injury and subsequently returned to the regiment. He was transferred with the remnants of the regiment on Oct. 21, 1864 to the 32nd Massachusetts Infantry and assigned to Co. B. On Feb. 8, 1865 he was reported wounded and missing during the battle of Hatchers Run. He returned to the 32nd Massachusetts and was mustered out with that regiment on June 29, 1865.
[Note: The following letters are from the collection of Greg Herr and were transcribed and published on Spared & Shared by express consent.]
Letter 1
Camp near Beverly Ford, Va.
March 20, 1864
Dear Wife,
I seat myself this Sunday afternoon to answer your letter which I received today. It was dated the 13th. It came last night and the suspenders too. I was glad to hear that you are all well and hope those few lines will find you the same as you was when you wrote. I am well too once more [and] glad to send you such good news and hope I never shall send you any worse not have anyone else.
Well, dear wife, those suspenders are just what I want and I am greatly obliged to you and hope that sometime or other I can repay it. It seems to me that when I have anything from you, that I never can repay you. If I could think that my love would repay you, you never send enough to me so but what you would be indebted to me all the time for I think I know how to prize a family now.
Well, dear wife, I have just come in off from picket and I want to send this letter tonight if I can. Those specs—you need not send them because he thinks he has got another pair a coming so he say tell you to never mind about getting them. Well, dear, I have wrote about all I can think of now, only Andrew says tell them that he is sick. He has just eaten a quart of beans and drunk a quart of coffee and eat a loaf of bread.
We have been expecting a raid of rebels but they have not come yet and I guess they won’t. They have had a Ball to Division Headquarters, 3 days and 3 nights. None was allowed to go that was under [the rank of] Major. I saw one of the Majors Friday morning and he hardly could sit on his horse he was so drunk. I was told that they had thousands of dollars worth of liquor their. It is too bad to have this war kept up for such men as them, and men keep fixing their things for them to have their good times. I could tell you more if I was to home that would make the folks stare, but they’d say I led about it. But I could not lie as bad as it is so I should have to tell the truth about it.
We expect to have to march soon. The women have been ordered home and the sutlers are ordered to the rear so they say, but I don’t know for certain. I saw some women here today but they can go anytime most.
You spoke of the money. I guess you can put it in the bank in Marion Bank and they won’t know it. And tell the town that they must pay your house rent and find your wood. Tell them that things are so high that you can’t get along. If they want you to get along with less, tell them you want more and ask them for more. They give to the families in Milford twenty dollars a month for Ben Bennett told me his wife had it. You spoke of going up to Mother’s. I am glad that you are smart [healthy] enough to go and see them. You spoke of its raining that Sunday in the afternoon. It was squally here. It snowed and the wind blowed like fury. But after all, you can hear the blue birds sing and robins and frogs peep and have heard them for some time. The frogs down hollow as they do at home. They don’t peep—they squall.
Well dear wife, I have made out to fill this letter most up. I will close now by sending my love to all and keep a good share yourself and kiss the little ones for me. I should like to do the kissing myself but I can’t how. Hoping I can sometime, this is from your most loving and affectionate husband, — Milton R. Billings
Letter 2
Fifth Corps Hospital
City Point, Virginia
September 3rd 1864
Dear Wife,
I received a letter from you today which I was happy to receive but sorry to hear that my little man ws not very well, but hoping those few lines will find him smart again. Tell him that his father sends him lots of kisses and hope that he is better.
You spoke of John enlisting in the 8th Regiment. You did not say whether it was Heavy Artillery or Infantry and you said he got $375 dollars down as if he was a going to get more. If he does get more, let me know and how much. And you said you would send me a list of the different towns of men that they wanted to fill up their quotas and I did not find it. I guess you forgot to write about it. But you can tell me in your next.
The morning glory blossom I got and the four postage stamps. The stamps come very handy because I do a good deal of writing now days. You spoke about the town had not brought that money. If I was you, I would make them find my wood. That would be better than the 4 dollars a month.
And another thing you spoke of, that was whether our folks held the Weldon Railroad or not. They do and it will take a big force to drive them away. But that road ain’t so important as the Danville Road is. That is the road we want if we can get it. But that is the thing of it—is to get it and hold it. We have had it once but could not hold it.
You said that they had got their quota in Bellingham. I am glad of that so Elias won’t have to go. You spoke of Sam and Cate being to Mother’s but you did not know what they were going to do. I know what they will do if they can—they[will] stay and help eat up that $375 that John sent home. It is too bad but they have got cheek enough to do it.
You spoke about some quinine. I can get all I want here. No matter what ails you, they will give you quinine and whiskey so we don’t suffer for the want of that. Those pills you spoke of I can get about the same kind here. There is medicine enough here to keep us all in good health. It is the care that folks want with it. That is what fails. The doctors are pretty good ones. Benjamin Bennett has gone to Washington sick. I should not wonder if he got his discharge. He was not very sick neither. He was round camp all the time while he was here.
Has John enlisted for more than one year? I have not told you how I am, but better late than never. I am about the same as usual. I don’t feel very well but well enough to do duty and that is all they want of me out here.
Well, dear, I don’t think of anything more this time so I will close by sending my love to all and keep a good share yourself. Tell Mervin and Henry that I send them lots of kisses and you can put them on and if I ever come home, I will bring some for you all and put them on myself. Excuse all mistakes and receive this from your kind and loving and affectionate husband, — Milton R. Billings, your better half
I don’ know the name of this seed.
Letter 3
Post Hospital near Fort Williams, Va.
May 31st 1865
Dear Wife,
I take the pleasure of writing to you to inform you that I am well and hope that those few lines will find you and the rest of the folks the same. I am writing over to Johnnies now and Johnnie is scouring his knives for dinner. I came over here this morning and Andrew came with me. We came by where Markey and Gib were. Gib is better now than he has been for a week past. He is getting better now. I think that he will get smart enough to come home when his regiment comes. He looks rather bad yet but he has had a pretty hard time of it for a few days past. i am going to stay here till after dinner and then I shall go back to camp. I get a good dinner when I come over here and I come over pretty often, I tell you.
Well, dear, I hardly know what to write now. I suppose you would like to know when I am coming home and I would like to tell you if I could but you will know it as quick as I shall if you have the Boston Journal. That will tell when the Massachusetts troops are coming if anyone knows. There is troops going home every day now from some of the Corps and when it comes our turn, we shall come if nothing happens.
Andrew says that we shall be to home about the time the tomatoes are ripe but i guess we shall come before that time if nothing happens. John says that he thinks that they will get in to Massachusetts the last of next week but don’t know when he will get home. Andrew says that he has not any notion of coming home yet awhile—not as long as the pie women come into camp. Our camp is lined with women that are peddling pies and cakes but we don’t buy many for we have not got any money to buy with. I have had $2.50 of John since I came here and I had spent that so I don’t get any pies now.
Some of the boys had gay times with the women that peddle. I was down to Camp Distribution the other day to see James and they told me that he went over to Washington the first day that the review commenced and had not got back and he had been gone three days then and I had heard from his company since then and he is dropped from the rolls as a deserter. And I hear today that he has not got back yet. The order is now that if a man is absent three roll calls, he is put down as a deserter. I went to see him to tell him where George was for he told me that he should go down to New Berne as soon as he got out of the service to see if he could help George out and so I went down to tell him where he was and I got wet through to my hide and never see him after all. It rained all that day!
Edy Cory has been to see me and Johnny Ditson. They look tough and hearty. They said that all was well and tough.
Well, I don’t think of anything more this time so I will close by sending love to all and keep a good share yourself and kiss the little ones for me and receive this from your affectionate husband, — Milton R. Billings
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