WILKESBORO, N.C.—Each month, Irene Triplett collects $73.13 from the Department of Veterans Affairs, a pension payment for her father's military service—in the Civil War.

More than 3 million men fought and 530,000 men died in the conflict between North and South. Pvt. Mose Triplett joined the rebels, deserted on the road to Gettysburg, defected to the Union and married so late in life to a woman so young that their daughter Irene is today 84 years old—and the last child of any Civil War veteran still on the VA benefits rolls.

Mose Triplett, second from right, with his first wife, Mary, and unidentified people. After Mary's death in the 1920s, Pvt. Triplett married Elida Hall, 50 years his junior. She suffered from mental disabilities, as did their daughter Irene. Collection of Dorothy Killian

Ms. Triplett's pension, small as it is, stands as a reminder that war's bills don't stop coming when the guns fall silent. The VA is still paying benefits to 16 widows and children of veterans from the 1898 Spanish-American War.

The last U.S. World War I veteran died in 2011. But 4,038 widows, sons and daughters get monthly VA pension or other payments. The government's annual tab for surviving family from those long-ago wars comes to $16.5 million.

Spouses, parents and children of deceased veterans from World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Kuwait, Iraq and Afghanistan received $6.7 billion in the 2013 fiscal year that ended Sept. 30. Payments are based on financial need, any disabilities, and whether the veteran's death was tied to military service.

Those payments don't include the costs of fighting or caring for the veterans themselves. A Harvard University study last year projected the final bill for the Iraq and Afghanistan wars would hit $4 trillion to $6 trillion in the coming decades.

Irene Triplett, 84, the last living recipient of VA benefits connected to the Civil War. Her father, Mose Triplett, fought for both South and North. Michael M. Phillips/The Wall Street Journal (Ms. Triplett), Jerry Orton (certificate)

Eric Shinseki, the secretary of Veterans Affairs, often cites President Abraham Lincoln's call, in his second inaugural address, for Americans "to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan."

"The promises of President Abraham Lincoln are being delivered, 150 years later, by President Barack Obama, " Secretary Shinseki said in a speech last fall. "And the same will be true 100 years from now—the promises of this president will be delivered by a future president, as yet unborn."

A declaration of war sets in motion expenditures that can span centuries, whether the veterans themselves were heroes, cowards or something in between.

Ms. Triplett's father, Pvt. Mose Triplett, was born in 1846, on the mountainous Tennessee border in Watauga County, N.C. He was 16 years old when he got caught up in the fratricidal violence of the Civil War. North Carolina seceded from the Union soon after Confederate forces attacked federal troops at Fort Sumter, S.C., on April 12, 1861.

Confederate records show Pvt. Triplett joined the 53rd North Carolina Infantry Regiment in May 1862. He spent half of that enlistment hospitalized, though records aren't clear whether for illness or a gunshot wound to the shoulder that he suffered at some point during the war.

In January 1863, Pvt. Triplett transferred to the 26th North Carolina Infantry Regiment. The regiment's farmers, tradesmen and mountain men were commanded by 20-year-old Col. Henry Burgwyn, Jr., a strict drillmaster educated at the Virginia Military Institute, according to David McGee's regimental history. Earlier, in 1859, Col. Burgwyn had been one of the VMI cadets dispatched to provide security at the hanging of John Brown, the famous abolitionist.

In early 1863, Pvt. Triplett joined a Confederate regiment, the 26th North Carolina Infantry, commanded by an officer the soldiers called the 'boy colonel.'

Col. Burgwyn's martinet ways alienated his men at first. But he won their affection and a reputation for coolness under fire when he guided the regiment across a swollen river after the Southern defeat at New Bern, N.C.

The regiment spent months sparring with Federal forces. In June 1863, the men were posted outside Fredericksburg, Va., trading artillery rounds with Union troops across the Rappahannock River. On June 15, the North Carolinians began the long march through the Shenandoah River Valley, across a slice of Maryland and into Gettysburg, Pa. Gen. Robert E. Lee intended to give the North a taste of the war, fought so far mostly on Southern soil.

Unable to read or write, Pvt. Triplett signed an X when enlisting in the Union's 3rd North Carolina Mounted Infantry. National Archives





"He served his time out with the Union so he would get a pension," said Pvt. Triplett's grandson, Charlie Triplett, of North Wilkesboro, N.C.

Charlie Triplett, grandson of Pvt. Mose Triplett, visits his grandfather's grave overlooking Elk Creek, in Wilkes County, N.C.



Col. George Washington Kirk, commander of 3rd North Carolina Mounted Infantry, with his wife, Mariah Louisa Kirk; far left with his father Alexander, standing, and his brother John, at left Collection of Joey Maurer Woolridge and Leon Kirk; collection of Leon Kirk via Tarheel Press



Back home, tensions simmered between those who had sided with the Confederacy and those who joined Union forces, especially a regiment as hated as Kirk's Raiders. "Most, if not all, of these soldiers would be outcasts, to a degree for the remainder of their lives," Ron V. Killian wrote in his history of the 3rd North Carolina Mounted Infantry.


National Archives

Pvt. Triplett had farmland and a big house near Elk Creek, in Wilkes County, N.C. Long after his death, local men would drink moonshine, play banjo and fiddle, and swap legends about what a "hard man" Mose Triplett had been, said his grandson, Charlie Triplett, who heard the stories from his father. He wore a Wyatt Earp mustache and would pull the fangs from rattlesnakes, then keep them as pets in a chicken coop.

"A lot of people were afraid of him," Charlie Triplett said. "Most of the time he sat on the front porch with his old military pistol and shot walnuts off the trees just to let people know he had a gun."

Once, standing atop a car in the center of Wilkesboro, Pvt. Triplett cursed a local bank that had gone under and taken his money with it. "He was a cussing just like a preacher would preach," Charlie Triplett said.

Pvt. Triplett and his first wife, Mary, apparently had no surviving children, according to a review of decades of census records.

After Mary Triplett's death in the 1920s, Pvt. Triplett married Elida Hall, nearly 50 years his junior. She was a distant relation of Thomas Dula, whose 1868 hanging for his girlfriend's murder was recounted in the folk song " Tom Dooley, " which was made popular by the Kingston Trio in a 1958 recording.

Such May-December marriages weren't uncommon. Jay Hoar, a Civil War researcher, found 72 couples where the age difference between the veteran and his wife was at least 19 years. The biggest spread was between a 93-year-old Virginia cavalryman and his 26-year-old bride.

Many of the marriages took place during the Great Depression, when veterans' pensions offered some financial security. About a third of the wives were nurses, offering security for aged veterans, as well, according to Mr. Hoar.

Elida Hall's 1924 marriage doesn't appear to have been so blessed. She was mentally disabled, according to people who knew her. The couple lost three babies—Phema, Patsy, and Billie Coolidge. Irene was born in 1930 when her father was age 83 and her mother 34. Irene, too, suffered from mental disabilities, said past and current nursing home staff. Pvt. Triplett was just shy of his 87th birthday when Elida gave birth to a son, Everette, later the father of Charlie Triplett.


"I dipped snuff in school, and I chewed tobacco in school," said Ms. Triplett, who lives in a nursing home in Wilkesboro. "I raised homemade tobacco. I chewed that, too. I chewed it all."

Irene said her teachers beat her with an oak paddle. Her parents continued the beatings at home, she said: "When you got a whooping in school you'd be getting tore up when you got back in those mountains."

At school, children would taunt Irene about her father the "traitor," said Charlie Triplett. She dropped out after sixth grade, unable to read or write proficiently. Of her parents, she said, "I didn't care for neither one of them, to tell you the truth about it. I wanted to get away from both of them. I wanted to get me a house and crawl in it all by myself."

In 1938, on the 75th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg, the government paid for Civil War veterans from both sides to attend a reunion on the Pennsylvania battlefield. Pvt. Triplett was one of more than 1,800 who went.

"Lincoln spoke in solace for all who fought upon this field; and the years have laid their balm upon their wounds," President Franklin Roosevelt told them. "Men who wore the blue and men who wore the gray are here together, a fragment spared by time."

Pvt. Triplett wore both, but he kept that secret during the reunion. Organizers housed him in the Confederate camp. The Gettysburg Times quoted him saying he had "fooled everybody" because he had actually been in the Union Army for the entire war, a tale at odds with his military records.

In 1938, Pvt. Triplett attended a Civil War reunion on the spot where the Battle of Gettysburg had been fought 75 years earlier. President Franklin Roosevelt addressed the aged veterans.

"We didn't want to leave the Union," Pvt. Triplett told the newspaper, "but our neighbors did."

Pvt. Triplett died of cancer days after returning from Gettysburg, at age 92. His family put pennies on his eyes and buried him on a hillside covered in holly, pine, oak and cedar.

In Wilkes County, the local Sons of Confederate Veterans of the Civil War put Confederate flags on tombstones of rebel soldiers. Mose Triplett's granite grave marker has no flag and is conspicuous in its neutrality. "He was a Civil War soldier," it reads.

In 1943, 13-year-old Irene and her mother, unable to fend for themselves, moved into the Wilkes County poorhouse. Locals remember it as a grim, two-story brick building on the outskirts of town, where mice and rats scampered on concrete floors.

The Wilkes County Poorhouse

Irene moved into the poorhouse in 1943 when she was 13 years old.

The facility included a 'colored ward' and jail for black prisoners.

Residents with tuberculosis were housed separately in the TB hut.

Photos: Pardue Library, Wilkes Community College

The complex also had a wood frame "TB hut" for tuberculosis patients, as well as a two-room "colored ward" that doubled as a jail for blacks, according to a 1946 county insurance report.

Though just 10 years old, Irene's brother, Everette, ran away rather than live there, Charlie Triplett said. Everette Triplett made his way to Roxboro, N.C., and found work in a saw mill. He became a bulldozer operator and died in 1996.

Irene and Elida Triplett remained at the county home for 17 years. The facility shut down in 1960, and Irene and her mother moved into a new private nursing home. The women didn't get along and had to have separate rooms, recalled James Richardson, one of the nursing home founders.

"I didn't play around," Irene Triplett said. "I mowed the grass. I washed dishes, made up beds, washed and ironed. They had hogs. They raised hogs up there. I raised eight hogs."

Once a month, the two women would put their X marks on the VA pension checks, which helped pay for their care. At one point, Irene's brother, Everette, invited her to live with him, but she had grown accustomed to institutional life and declined, Charlie Triplett said.

Elida Triplett died of cancer in 1967. Irene Triplett lived in the nursing home for more than half a century until she broke her hip last year and moved into the Wilkesboro skilled-nursing facility. Medicaid pays her expenses at the home, supplemented by the VA pension her father earned her in 1865.

She said she likes the facility more than anywhere else she has lived. She gets very few visitors, but enjoys working on crafts and watching TV. She attends religious services. She inches her wheelchair through the halls. Sociable but prone to bouts of isolation, she often spends her time in the lobby, sipping a Coke and spitting tobacco through a toothless smile.

During World War I, 2nd Lt. Forreste Ellenberger was a white officer in the segregated black 25th Infantry Regiment–some of the famous Buffalo Soldiers. His widow, Florence Ellenberger, 103, received $1,113 a month from the VA to help pay her expenses at Tampa, Fla., assisted-living facility. The pension fell to $90 a month after Medicaid's contribution increased last fall. Her antique locket holds photos of Lt. Ellenberger and herself. Edward Linsmier for The Wall Street Journal

Bill Collins was a cook with the 14th Cavalry Regiment during skirmishing on the Texas border with Mexico in the late 1910s. Mr. Collins owned a three-chair barbershop in Somerset, Pa., until his death in 1976. VA payments to his widow, Alda Collins, helped cover rest-home costs until her death last September at age 111. James Collins

Write to Michael M. Phillips at michael.phillips@wsj.com