Letter from Pvt. Howard, 1st NH Inf. 1863 Options

[RC James]

(letter from Pvt. Benjamin Howard
1st N. H. infantry, November 21, 1863
bivouac outside Jefferson City, Mo.)


Deerst Rebeka,
I finely hev the opurtunity to rite you after a long and miserble fite
ulong the mizoory river neer to Levenwurth. I miss you lik a broun bare
missis huny, an thare aint much uv thet aroun heer. I hope andrew and jerumyah
ar heppin yu out gettin the farm all bukld up reddy for the winter blo. Tell them
to cut the oke trees near the east meadow spring, thet's sum gud burnin wud.
I wisht i wuz thare to keep yu warm my own sef (ha ha - don sho tha kidz that part.)
Yup wintuh time is about to set in and us without no propuh col wether cotes.
When tha rebz git there reforsemunts and suppliz, we’ll have uh hard time in frunt uv us,
no arguun thet, but me an’ tha boyz ar reddy whenevuh thay ar, so let um cum,
ar spirutz is hi an reddy to put uh finish on this heer conflugrashun
(don no ef thetz tha rite spellin but yu no whut I meen). Well, my hanz getting tirud,
aint uset ta ritin so much so i ill bid you gudby an send you tha deepest love yu eveh seed,
itul sprout up lik ten fut tall corn yull see, ill sho yu wen I rive back home and we can
luk et a spell of peece. I thenk about yu jus about all tha time an evun mor.
Yor luvin husbun, benjumin.
(ps tell Lindy I’m gunna bring hur a red heded doll. I shore do luv yu all.)
pps I hop yu cen reed this lettu, my spellun ain wut it shud be,
love agen, yur husbun Benjumin

[Psyche]

OMG, Richard, this letter is amusing, but heartbreaking... I can visualize that brave young man trying to write in the bivouac, surely in a damp, uncomfortable corner. Shivering. Brave. Pretending they're all in high spirits, maybe believing it.

My imagination runs ahead of this letter, thinking that maybe he'll get killed and his wife will receive it, along with medals and ribbons.

At least that's what my father's family was given after the British went to war and his two older brothers were lost "somewhere in France". With guilt-edged cards thanking the family for services to king and country.

You've achieved a poignant tone, in tune with the period's style and hush-hush about anything remotely related to sexuality. I think I spy a metaphor there with

'itul sprout up lik ten fut tall corn yull see, ill sho yu wen I rive back home and we can
luk et a spell of peece..'

Or perhaps I'm being dirty minded...LOL...

I can't imagine how you immitated the spelling so well! Perhaps a country lad? Not necessarily.

Enough of wars and deaths! The world can't seem to stop it. An eye for an eye...and we all end up blind.

Tx for sharing. Perhaps this is a true experience?
Sylvia