Frozen to the Ground

150th Battle of Franklin

Franklin, TN

November 15-16, 2014

I set up my pitiful excuse for a dog tent, grumbling about my need to make longer uprights for it.  One of these days I’ll get around to it.

My pitiful dog tent

No shovel, but the fire pit had to be dug.  I was assigned the detail of digging the pit, and with the assistance of Pvt Myers we moved the dirt with a hatchet and bayonet.  Pvt Foust used his ingenuity and procured a shovel from a neighboring camp and finished the pit out for us.

We were informed that firewood for Friday evening was in short supply, but more would come in the morning.  We were to take only what we needed.  We set up a stack and I piled some wood in the pit to ready a fire, but we waited to start it so that we could make a trip into town to visit the local pub for some burgers.

We first hit a few of the Franklin Battlefield sites about the town, seeing where several significant actions took place, then made our way to dinner.

A few, including Capt Sharp, stayed behind to cook their meal.  I chose to join the crew for burgers as I like to be lazy the first night after the work of setting camp—plus I wasn’t sure I had brought enough provisions to include Friday evening meal.  Within the warmth of the pub and full on what must have been a half pound of beef, I received word that Capt Sharp was having difficulty getting the fire going.  Since Sgt Kletzi was unable to attend due to surgery, I knew that he couldn’t be the source of the difficulty, so I was a bit confused as to why the captain would have trouble.  My pile included plenty of kindling plus a couple of firestarters, so a single match should be all it took to get a good bonfire.

I found my explanation when I returned to camp.  By the time I arrived a small fire was smoldering in the pit, but almost no flame nor heat came from it.  It looked as though the men were gathered around a candle trying to keep warm.  The cold had started to hit, but the fire refused to warm us due to wood that was extremely green.  It was as though the wood had been chopped down from living trees the night before.  I piled a few more logs onto the flames, but it was to no avail.  It took until well into the night before a decent flame was emitted within the dense cloud of smoke pouring out of the pit.

The night was cold.  Well, that does not quite describe it.  The night was very cold.  Bitter cold.  Artic cold.  So cold even the fire couldn’t burn.  It might not have been a night where hell was freezing over, but certainly the lake of fire needed stoking.  The morning report told us that Louisville experienced a record low of 16 degrees.  We heard mixed reports of somewhere between 18 and 22 for us.

Pvt Foust struggles to get warm.

Thank the Lord, I’m not a hard-core campaigner.  Though I used a dog tent (and a pitiful one at that), I did have a modern army sleeping bag and one of those hand-warmers.  Capt Sharp loaned me a spare Zippo hand-warmer.   I was able to keep satisfactorily warm during the night, getting a decent sleep, and ready for action in the morning.  I was far more fortunate than Privates Foust and Hampton, both of whom roughed it by going true campaign-style with only a couple of blankets and a ground cloth.  Pvt Foust had it worse with only a summer quilt and ground cloth.  No end came to his informing us in the morning of just how cold he was.

As company clerk, my duty for this event was the morning reports.  In total, we had 18 soldiers, seventeen rifles, including Sgt Carte’s as acting 1st Sergeant.  We made it through the night, but supplies were grim.  No water buffalos, though we were promised them the night before.  Sufficient water was provided within the time of our need for them, but only by a supply of one gallon jugs.  Porta johns were sufficient, but only convenient for the Yankees—we could only get to them by trudging through the Yankee camps, which fortunately was not far, but still—a little awkward.  Servicing of the porta-lets was non-existent, so by Saturday afternoon they had become unusable—but the park gave us all-night access to the permanent facilities.

Overall, there was an air of disorganization about, but it was what it was.

The battle itself went well, following a decent scenario from the Battle of Franklin, though there was a bit of confusion from not knowing the colonel’s command style, which was far different from the various battalions we’ve fallen in with in the past.

We opened forming a skirmish line, and I found my new trousers to be troublesome as the smaller pockets kept spitting out all my possessions all over the battlefield.  Somewhere is a pocket knife someone else will enjoy.

We soon advanced in waves upon the Federal breastworks, eventually failing the charge.

Saturday evening a few of us wanted to try to make for Stone’s River to see a bit of the museum, but unfortunately were delayed by a technical issue with one of the vehicles, so opted instead to run to the local Taco Bell for supper.

Upon our return, Pvt Hampton somehow succeeded in creating a blaze that stood to his reputation, warming us to the point that vests were all that were sufficient to hold back the cold.  The night was warming than the previous, but rumors were abounding of possible sleet hitting us during the early morning hours.  Some of the Rebels, scared off by the rumors, deserted.  We discussed the option of leaving, but decided it best to stay and await for what the morning would hold for us.  We had come this far and had been through the worst with the night before—we should at least see what was in store for us in the morning.

I woke Sunday morning almost too warm, not quite so tightly bundled in my sleeping bag as I had been the night before.  A light pattering of spitting rain danced on my canvas as I struggled to convince myself to squirm out of my coverings.

A glance about revealed by the absence of canvas that a large portion of the Rebel force had gone AWOL due to the weather, with the Yankees across the field soon following.  It did surprise us a bit to see the Confederate forces leaving first, as in the North we’re used to seeing the Yankees desert first at the sign of inclement weather.  We decided to join the crowd and abandon the cause, packing up our gear.  We were held up by another technical issue—one of ours locking their keys in their car—so we held on in the rain.  Soon, the captain of the other 1st TN came over to tell us the event was canceled, so once our comrade freed the keys from his vehicle, we made our way to Stone’s River to view the museum, stopping first at the Confederate Cemetery at the edge of the park.

We viewed the museum and drove around the battleground, spending little time out due to the continuous rain.  From there, we drove to the Sam Davis Homestead, where artifacts from the original 1st Tennessee were said to be.  Unfortunately, we found the place closed on Sundays, so settled for a few cameo photos of the cotton field.

We finished our day driving to the Civil War Museum in Bardstown, Kentucky, arriving about a half hour before they closed.  It was an experience to see this museum, and I wish we had more time, as the artifacts were more than could be viewed in the little time we had.  An elderly volunteer, however, offered to take us up to another location of the museum, just to the top of the hill, and show us the flag captured with John Hunt Morgan, in spite of it being after-hours.  We were able to see that among many other things in that other part of the museum.



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The battle hot and heavy, I’m fighting for my home.
The Yanks have got Nashville, and the lead is falling down.
My mate Frank fires his musket, a ball takes me down.
And on this field I lay, wondering if tomorrow I'll be home.

A victory or defeat escapes my eyes and ears
For I am buried to keep the crows from feeding
Upon my flesh which finally stopped bleeding
And leaves my kin in tears.

But one day comes and I am dragged
to one corner of that field
Where with my mate Frank I lay
And rest through the years.

Time goes by and a Juniper grows
That forgotten may we not lay
Marked by a stone that all may see
That Frank and John fought and died
And now lay under the Juniper tree.

How to Become a Reenactor Part 1

Everything written here are my sole opinions and observations and do not represent the opinions or observations of anyone else or any organization

With the reenacting season now over, I thought it a good idea to find something to keep this blog going for the off-season.  Here and there I've been asked the question, "How do I become a reenactor?"


I've thought about answering the question with humor.  After all, most of us are a bit nuts.  On overly hot days--say in the nineties--we'll don wool trousers over cotton drawers, followed by a wool vest and wool jacket, a hat, a large leather belt with a cartridge box, percussion cap box, and bayonet hanging from it, a canteen full of water (a half gallon for those fully prepared), and a haversack full of various food items.  For the excessively zealous, we'll also wear a 30-pound knapsack on our backs, or a quilted bedroll around our neck.  And of course, there's the 5 to 10 pound musket on our shoulder.


And on wet days we'll add a poncho to keep our gear dry while the rest of us gets soaked to the bone (remember it's wool?) with mud up to our thighs.


And with all that on, in the heat of the day, we'll gather around the campfire with the smoke stinging our eyes just to add a bit of reenactor perfume to our countenance.


And on overly cold days we'll add a heavy greatcoat (a wool winter coat) to the mix along with fingerless gloves so that only our fingers, ears, and noses get frostbit.  The smart ones protect their ears by flapping the greatcoat's cape over their head, but then any chance of seeing is gone.


When night falls, the daring will sleep on the ground between some tar-painted canvas and a rubberized poncho beside the campfire with a stack of logs--waking every so often during the night to throw another log of the fire, hoping they don't turn in their sleep and end up in the fire.


On the really cold nights, we sleep in our clothes, with a greatcoat or two on top of a ton of blankets to keep warm by, only to be immobilized by the weight of the blankets, yet still shiver from the cold.


Sound like fun?


I think it's a blast.

Of course, the height of the weekend is the battle, with only rain being the only show-stopper for the thrill (powder does not burn too well when wet).  But even if it does rain, it's got to be a hurricane-level downpour to put a stop to our battles and our fun.

But there's also the time spent with friends who also share an interest in reenacting.  We are all sorts of people--some are doctors, some work maintenance, some are architects, others police officers.  Others, like me, are computer programmers, while still others are engineers.  There are janitors and assembly-line workers among us.  One I know is a city attorney who plays in a rock band.  Heck, we've even got a comedian.  As disparate our lives are, we all share one thing in common--Civil War reenacting.

So, now that I've sold you on all the perks, how does one become a reenactor?


Every reenactor has a different story as to how they got into the hobby.  A few in the 1st Tennessee started as kids, even before they were old enough to carry a musket (16 is the minimum age to carry a musket on the field for the 1st Tennessee and for most companies).  Others got into it late in life, stumbling on a reenactment, and offered a taste of the experience.  When you find a good unit, they usually have enough spare gear to outfit you until you can get your own stuff, so you shouldn't have to dump a bunch of money down right away to get started--but you certainly can get the bug quick.


I'll start by telling my story, and finish by giving some tips as to how to get into the hobby, and how you might select a unit to join with.   I'd love it if you found the 1st Tennessee Company B and join with us--but there are plenty of good companies out there--and some may be more suited to you than others.

Some time in the early 2000s, when I was still in my thirties, my wife dragged me to a Revolutionary War reenactment.


"Rev War?" you might ask.  "I thought we were talking Civil War."  Yeah--I'm getting to that.

To be continued...

Guyandotte and Weenie Dogs

Guyandotte WV 2012

November 3-4, 2012

Sgt Mergle getting carried off the battlefield.  He was dropped four times.
photo courtesy Toril Lavender For The Herald-Dispatch

Cpl Carte and I arrived early on Friday at Guyandotte WV to get settled in and kick back for the rest of the day.  It was around 2 when we pulled up next to the usual spot where the 5th KY set up.

With Capt Steiner and his men nowhere to be found, we just figured we were the first of the group to arrive.  But in our usual spot, another group had marked out a campsite, laying out canvas and poles to mark where the tents would go.  The real kicker was the flag--there seemed to be an awful lot of stripes on that furled flag--like somewhere around thirteen.  Confederate flags do not have that many stripes--only the first national has any stripes at all, and they stop at three stripes.

Something did not seem right.

Well, we went ahead and registered and asked them where the 5th Kentucky camp should set up, pointing out that the usual spot appeared taken.  The coordinator in charge of Confederate camping took us out to the regular spot, and suggested a vacant lot on the other side of the house.

Seemed fine, but there was still that thing about that flag of many stripes.  Pretty soon, Jonesey of the 5th KY showed up as well, and suggested we wait for the Captain.  As I was not keen on the idea of relocating after unloading, I was completely agreeable to this recommendation.

In the mean time, I noticed I had lost my heal plate to one of my brogans.  The plate was there at some point during our hike about the village, so it had to have fallen off somewhere nearby.  Cpl Carte assisted my retracing my steps, taking a different route than I in our excursion, and fortunately came across Capt Steiner pulling into the center village square to set up camp.

Capt Steiner had been in contact with the Confederate commander and was instructed that the camping locations were switched this year--the Yankee camp was where Confederate camp was last year, while the Confederate camp was where the Yankees had camped.  Or something like that.  There was a severe absence of significant coats of blue, and one Yankee infantry camp set up close behind us.

It was also a bit disconcerting that the coordinators seemed to have a bit of a communication problem--after all, had Cpl Carte and I set camp in that vacant lot, we would have been camped with a part of the Yankee contingent.

Capt Steiner expressed his concerns for the event.  The area, though in the heart of Huntington (Guyandotte had long since been annexed into the city of Huntington), nearly all businesses in the area were closed down.  The nearest restaurant was probably over a mile away--although the two bars (one being the VFW), were certainly within easy access.

Another bad sign was the tailless black cat that crossed our path as we marched out to the Saturday battle.

The fight was not much more that a short advance and fire street fight.  The colonel was putting on a show, but it was Capt Steiner that was really running the battle.  There were a few Yankees there I knew--one normally a Confederate (James Sturkler), but chose to galvanize to help with the numbers.  The 5th KY was the main Confederate force, and pretty much the only Confederate company as rebel numbers were down as well.

At one point during the evening, several of the 5th KY and I discussed Perryville.  Since I had taken a hit before the end of the Sunday battle at Perryville, I was unaware of how battle progressed near the end, but once the Independent Guard Battalion reached the last road, I was told there was a company of federals waving us on, to get us to push them across the road and up the hill beyond, and both the 5th KY and those federals were confused as to why we never crossed the road.  It had never occurred to me that the message simply had not been passed down the chain of command--at the battle walk-through that morning, we were very clearly made to understand that the road marked the end of the battle--under no condition were we to cross that road.  Only the companies that had rehearsed hand-to-hand were to cross the road.

Back in Guyandotte--the organizers did provide a decent breakfast and lunch both days, but no supper, so Capt Steiner’s men all headed out to a place called “Hillbilly Hot Dogs” about five miles down the road, while Cpl Carte and I watched camp, sharing in some of his homemade chili.  Capt Steiner gave such a good report of the place (particularly since he never stopped singing the “Weenie Song”), we stopped there on the way out after the event, but I think Cpl Carte and I had a better meal.

I almost always enjoy myself at an event, and Guyandotte was no exception, but I feel bad for the place--it does seem to have declined a lot in the past few years, and I am concerned it may not last much longer.  We can only wait and see.

Photo Gallery at the Herald-Dispatch, Huntington WV

The End of the Season

Guyandotte, Huntington WV, November 5-6, 2011

The 1^st Tennessee had a contingent of five, larger than last year, although Winston went civilian this time, dressing as Jefferson Davis.  We fell in with the 5^th Kentucky, rather cramped up into a little corner.

It was a good weekend.  Even though all battles were street fights, it seemed more appropriate since this was the actual location of a skirmish 150 years ago, when the Federal forces burned the village to the ground.

The weekend did not start so well for Cpl Jeff Carte, who had somehow managed to forget the entire wood frame for his tent.  But being creative rebel soldiers, we managed to scavenge Cpl Kletzli’s fly.  Cutting the wood for his fly down to size, Carte managed to use the canvas for Kletzli’s fly as his tent.  He was fortunate that I had also brought my dog tent, so that the ends of his tent could be covered.  When done, with the odd dimensions of about 12 feet by 5 feet, Kletzli christened the tent Jeff’s Weiner Dog tent.

Jeff's Weiner Dog Tent

It was probably just as well that Kletzli had to give up his fly.  It felt like there was hardly any space to move.  I imagine, though, that if we have any more numbers, we’ll be sure to get sufficient space.

Zack Carte got into some kind of motivated work mode that Friday evening.  He made two trips to the wood pile, loading up a good portion of the bed of his truck each time.  We had more wood than we knew what do to do with.  Winston even had a tough time using up the wood while he attempted to signal the Soyuz capsule down.

They did feed us well, with breakfast (biscuits and sausage gravy) and lunch both days.  Lunch on Saturday included vegetable soup, which everyone thought was good, though I was not fond of, but I am not much for vegetable soup.  Sunday lunch was hot dogs, with chili sauce, which was more to my liking.  No supper was served, so we were on our own.  Fortunately I had my trusty jowl bacon and eggs I had planned for breakfast, and included frying a brick of oatmeal.

Saturday brought us a disappointing battle, although we did have HK Edgerton join us as our flag bearer.  The colonel had the 5^th Kentucky wait to one side for the Yankees to pass, then we were to enter the street and join the battle, where they would eventually surrender.  The problem was that the Yankees never pushed far enough to get past us, and so we would have missed out on the battle completely.  I looked around and thought that if we ran down the street we could enter at the far end of town and at least get a fair showing.  I had no sooner finished this thought when Capt. Steiner ordered us at the double-quick down the street, as if he had read my mind.

After I cleaned my gun I did get to listen to HK Edgerton for awhile.  After experiencing him last year as a black Confederate soldier, I was hoping I would see him again this year.  I managed to video quite a bit of his talk, but the batteries for my good camcorder died after about ten minutes.  The rest of the video was from my cell phone, which is of rather questionable quality.  Hopefully, you will find him interesting, and will be able to view the videos.  One thing is for certain, he has a certain dislike for Yankees.   More information on HK Edgerton can be found at http://southernheritage411.com. 

The Sunday battle did go much better.  We entered the battle at a good point and made a glorious death.

The one turn-off of the day was about an hour before the battle, there was a scenario where a group of Yankee prisoners were to be marched out of town. Since they were short the hundred or so Yankees they needed, they asked us to galvanize as prisoners for the scenario.  I had my navy vest and black slouch hat on, so all I had to do was take my coat off and I passed for a Yankee (go figure).  But most of the rest of us had butternut or gray kepis, so it was a little more difficult to pass them off as Yankees.  Plus it all just felt weird.  It seemed to me that they would have been fine with the smaller numbers.  They did offer us the opportunity to bow out, but I think most of us just went with the flow, not really thinking about it.

Overall it was a great weekend.  The weather could not have been better, even though it was late in the year.  It was a bit nippy during the early morning hours, but during the daylight hours it was warm enough that we did not need our greatcoats.  Kletzli has expressed his dislike for street battles, but at this event he gave an approving nod, since it was in line with the history of the location.

It was an excellent way to end the season.

And with that, there will be a few posts between now and the start of next season, but it will be light.

The Burning of Guyandotte

I've heard stories of the Guyandotte re-enactment, but have never been there.  I've heard of being well fed, but I've heard of other things that made me worry.

One of my biggest concerns was for cold weather, which is expected this time of year.  However, this year was unseasonably warm and sunny--I was only a little cold Sunday morning when I ran out of propane for my heater.

The event was better than I expected.  A small, in-town type of event fought on the streets of the little community inside Huntington WV, on the actual location of a Civil War battle, fought in November 1861, making next year the 150th for this event.

If you don't like street fighting, this would not be an event for you.  The streets were well blocked off, and many of the buildings in the area were survivors from the actual battle.  Not all the modern inconveniences can be eliminated, as you might find at an event in a park, but it is still a good event.

Three of us from the 1st Tennessee fell in with the 5th Kentucky for the weekend.  Being a more laid-back event, there's not really much I can say about it.  They did feed us two breakfasts and two lunches, which is more than every other event, but we were on our own for Saturday dinner--but it was a short walk to a local diner.

For the battles, I had to get used to fighting using Gilham's tactics--the 1st Tennessee uses Hardee's, while the 5th Kentucky uses Gilham's.  Most of the commands are similar, but shoulder arms kept throwing me--when you have to hold the rifle on the left shoulder instead of at your right side, motions for all commands end up completely different.  Even support arms threw me--there wasn't enough movement--I kept thinking there had to be something I was missing when all you have to do is bend your elbow.

All I know about the Saturday battle is that I still had a lot of rounds left--while I completely finished off my season's rounds in the Sunday battle.  I guess us Confederates are better at making a battle last when it's our turn to die. 

H.K. Edgerton leads us with the Colors.
Photo courtesy of Herald-Dispatch

The one thing that really stood out for the Saturday battle was something I have never seen at a reenactment--a black Confederate (H.K. Edgerton) in our lines.  He was there for a special impression as a black Confederate soldier--he acted as our flag bearer during the battle, waving the Confederate battle flag.  We need more of that type of impression--too many people have no clue what the war was really about.  If they know anything at all about the war, too often they think it was about slavery.

Slavery was only added halfway through the war as an excuse by Abraham Lincoln to continue the war--it was not what started it.  Mr. Edgerton is at the heart of what even our reenacting is all about--preserving our heritage.   In putting together this post I stumbled onto some posts of those who think Mr. Edgerton crazy.  But they miss the point.  As George Santayana stated, "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."  History may be written by the victors, but if the victors lose sight of the truth, the truth will enslave them.  It is only by knowing the truth are we set free. 

I hope to run into Mr. Edgerton again at another event. 

His website is http://www.southernheritage411.com/.