The Home Event

Pioneer Village, Caesar’s Creek OH

September 24-25, 2011

 

Pioneer Village holds special meaning to both me and the 1^st Tennessee.  It was here that I first started into Civil War reenacting, though it was with the 4^th OVI at the time, some five or six years ago.  The 1^st Tennessee has considered this their home event.

A lot has changed with this event over the years.  It takes a team of people with a passion for history to keep an event alive.  One person cannot do it alone.

For us, it is not about the wool and blackpowder alone.  Nor is it about Euchre.  These are merely things we all have in common that brings us together.  We all know our Civil War history—probably far better than most college history professors.  Our discussions sometimes discuss “What if” scenarios on how things could have turned differently, if something different had happened.

We come together for the camaraderie.   I hope we can continue to return to Pioneer Village for many years to come.  It is one of the events that bring in the largest number of our unit.

But it would be even better if it would bring in more Yankees.  If I had thought to bring my Yankee gear, I would have been galvanized over.  For both days several of our numbers wore blue to help the Yankees be more presentable.  James Sturkler, of the 19^th Virginia (I think), wore a blue sack coat with sergeant’s stripes on it, and when the Federal commander took a hit early in the battle, Sturkler was left to command the entire Federal force.  Made me wish I had my sack coat and had sewn captain’s bars to it—maybe I won’t hold rank for the 1^st Tennessee for awhile, but it might be fun to hold rank with the Yankees for an hour.

Pvt Steve Winston also galvanized, wearing is great coat in the heat to hide his butternut.  He took a hit, and when the battle was over we raided his corpse, nearly stripping him bare, for a show for the public.  He had to walk back to camp in socks.

Saturday morning Capt Evens provided a change to our normal day.  He took us on heavy marching orders through a couple of miles into the woods, to prepare us for a national event.  We set camp near a beach along the lake, setting up campaign-style, eating lunch with whatever food we brought with us.  It gave the officers ideas for next year—we could come out of the woods on heavy marching orders to go straight into battle.  I was accused of sucking up to the captain, however, when I provided a candle in a candleholder for his lunch.  Cpl Kletzli rolled his poncho around him in such a way it looked like he was wearing an inner tube.  It looked like he was afraid of drowning or something.

I believe the event served dinner, but we chose instead to make spaghetti.  I am not sure if spaghetti is period, but it was a good meal.  After the meal JR and Capt Evens held a speed loading training session, going over the load in nine times and providing tips on how to shoot faster.  A few of the 1^st did not want to go through this since they were not concerned about entering a competition, but my take was that learning to shoot quicker, though the whole nine steps, improves your impression.  After all, the actual soldier could load and shoot through all nine steps in about twenty seconds.  I see many reenactors taking forty seconds or more, and they are not even using the ramrod.  I think the one person who gained the most from this was Pvt Zach Carte.  I believe during the practice he managed to get close to that 20 second mark.

Usually I do not talk about the ball that the event has—since I generally do not go to them.  But this time I was the dance master, so it was my duty to be there.  I have never led one I was disappointed with.  I decided it better to lead a ball as an officer instead of as a private, so I put together my officer’s outfit I had been working on.  I looked good, but it has gotten me into trouble.  Lt Sharp and Capt Evens told me they are going to put my up on charges of impersonating an officer.

We even had a visit from Jefferson Davis—Pvt Winston donned his planter’s hat with civilian garb and attended the ball as the Confederate president.

The musicians were the Dedication Band, a local dulcimer band, and they played very well.  They had never performed for a ball before, but there were not many kinks to deal with.  I would love to work with them again.

We could not use Sgt Andrew Mott and Cpl. Eric Moore like last year as Moore had a gig with his band somewhere in Celina that night.  Brandi, who was in charge of the event, was worried for the past few months about finding an alternative band, since all my recommendations were booked.  She found the Dedication Band and pointed me to a few of the YouTube videos—and I knew they would work out well.

Sunday morning was an intense drill, mainly to bring a new recruit up to speed, but also to refresh our techniques.

After Sunday battle, the 76^th OVI joined us for a memorial for Tom Moore and several reenactors of the 76^th that have passed on.

This event is one of the closest to my home.  I want to see it continue, and I hope that passion for the event can grow with the organizers.  I remember the days when several good sutlers could be found and significant numbers on both sides would fight it out on the small field.  There were no sutlers this time, and the number of Yankees was down.  There were only two Confederate companies.  The size of the battlefield does limit the numbers that can be there, but there can be enough for an impressive battle.

Can anyone tell me where all the Yankees have gone?

The Largest Event

Zoar Ohio, September 17-18, 2011

Large events have their place.  It is always a thrill to go to an event where Yankee numbers match the Rebel numbers, and there are two full battalions on each side. 

I am told that Zoar is the largest event in Ohio, and it is the largest I had ever been to (although Jackson and Hartford City are pretty close)—I have not yet been to a national event.  But it was not an official 1^st Tennessee event, so only a handful from the unit attended.  Since we weren’t enough to form our own unit, we fell in with the 5^th Kentucky—a good unit, but not the 1^st Tennessee where most of my friends are.

It is good to sometimes fall in with different units and different battalions to be grateful for what we have.  5^th Kentucky uses Gilham’s tactics, which takes a little getting used to when we always use Hardee’s.  The key difference is shoulder arms, and I learned to appreciate Hardee’s after this weekend.  Shoulder arms with Hardee’s manual of arms is to hold the rifle on your right, barrel toward your body, holding about the trigger guard, relaxed to your side.  Gilham’s holds the rifle on your left shoulder, holding the rifle butt, barrel out.  This has the unfortunate side effect that during a battle, the barrel gets hot and can tend to burn your face if you are not careful.  You do not have this problem with Hardee’s.  I kept hearing the 5^th wonder how would could carry the rifle with Hardee’s tactics without wearing out, but I find it to be a natural position, plus I never worry about burning my face.

Anyway, I also learned to appreciate the Independent Guard, the battalion that both the 1^st Tennessee and 5^th Kentucky are members of.  The Independent Guard is more west Ohio and east Indiana, so was not part of the Zoar event.  We therefore had to fall in with another battalion.  Since there were two battalions, we could have ended up with either.  I do not know how we end up in one battalion or another, but somehow we ended up with the Army of Northern Virginia.

Since I had heard of issues that exist between the 1^st Tennessee and the Army of Northern Virginia (though I do not know the details), I kept quiet about being from the 1^st Tennessee outside the 5^th Kentucky camp.  Somehow we (the 5^th Kentucky) managed to impress the battalion as they invited Capt. Steiner of the 5^th Kentucky to join the battalion.  However, the positive impression only went one way, as there was mutual agreement with both 5^th Kentucky and 1^st Tennessee members that there would be a forecast of frostbite over the Lake of Fire before we would fall in with them again.

I am a reenactor as a hobby.  This is not my job, I am not a real soldier, nor do I have any desire to have the full experience of being a real soldier.  I have never been in the real military.  I know that even our modern soldiers have an experience in the real world that I am grateful I do not have to.  I do not have to march 20 miles on a half-day ration and a bout of dysentery. 

And as my hobby, I expect respect from superior officers.  After all, these guys are not real soldiers, either.  I will obey superior officers as a matter of course of the hobby, but if these superior officers do not show me respect, despite my being a private, then I will simply go find a new hobby.

And that was the problem—point blank—with the Army of Northern Virginia.  Before all battles we always do inspection arms.  I expect this, and this is for everyone’s safety.  With the Independent Guard, the captain of each unit performs the inspection when we are standing in battalion formation.  The inspection goes pretty quick.  But with the Army of Northern Virginia, the battalion staff apparently does not trust their company captains, as we had to stand in formation while a single staff officer inspected each and every rifle.  This probably quadrupled the amount of time we spent standing at attention in battalion formation.  It meant that for a 1:30 battle, we were formed at 12:30 for inspection—basically marching to the battlefield almost as the battle began.

But there were other things—such as referring to each other in derogatory terms as if they were terms of endearment.  Basically, there seemed to be a general lack of respect from the top down.  Perhaps it was something you would expect to see in the real military.  But this is my vacation time.  Yes, I strive to give the best Civil War soldier impression (I am not a farb), but at the same time I have zero desire to live like a real Civil War soldier—and anyone who says they desire differently has no idea what the life of a soldier during the Civil War was really like.  And if you are reenactor that thinks differently, I would recommend you read up on books like Company Aytch, Privations of a Private, Hard Tack and Coffee, and Recollections of a Soldier.  Because if you think you would like have been a real Civil War soldier, then you do not know crap about the Civil War.

Anyway, I’ll get off my soap box and back to the Zoar event.  Overall, it was a good event.  I hope to return when they have it again in two years, only I hope we fall in with a different battalion.

There was a Saturday morning tactical that I had nearly forgotten--it was not memorable.  Most of the time was spent waiting for something to happen, and when it finally did, there were judges who kept interrupting to say, "Captain, two of your men just took hits--take them out of action".  Strange way to perform a tactical.

The battles for both Saturday and Sunday were to be 1^st Manassas, with the Yankees winning Saturday (try to explain that one).  Unfortunately, Billy Yank was being Billy Yank and didn’t push like they should have—pretty much leaving the field before the end of the battle before we could pull back closer to where the public would have a good view of us—we had to walk off the battlefield to give the public some kind of idea that we lost (which felt pretty weird).  Sunday battle, however went well as the colonel pretty much had it in his mind that if the Yankees did play like they should, we would simply run over them.  But the Yanks did their job and made us work for every inch of ground.

Sutlery was excellent.  I think there were around ten or so sutlers, although most were smaller sutlers.  There were one or two large ones there.  The odd thing was that the place I found that had the best things was a local antique store across the street from the sutlers.  They must have pulled out a few odds-and-ends of reenacting gear just for the event.  They had a $45 civil war cot and a few other items at good prices.  Zach bought a pretty good shelter half with an end for only $25.  I would have bought it myself if he hadn’t of found it first.

And, like I said at the start, this wasn’t the 1^st Tennessee. I am not much for sports, so I decided to stay in camp when the rest of the 5^th Kentucky left for the local tavern to watch the OSU game.  And without anyone to get a good Euchre game going, I turned in early.

My new palace

But that was okay.  I got to enjoy my new palace.   For the past two years I had been camping out in a small 5 foot by 6 foot by 4 foot A-frame.  I was used to moving around in it on my knees, having all my gear piled around so I could hardly move, anyhow.  But this last week I bought a large A from someone who used to be part of the 1^st Tennessee but was getting out of the hobby.  He told me it was made by Big Dave.  It was seven feet tall by nine feet long, and had a fly to boot.  It was a freakin’ palace!  I had so much space in that thing, I did not know what to do with myself.  I think Zach got a good laugh from me as just about every time I would go into that thing I would say, “This is a freakin’ palace!”

Zoar is a town full of historic buildings, which helped a lot for providing a good time-trip.  The battlefield looked like it had been left to grow, but was hit with a bush-hog a week or two before the event.  There was not any grass on the field, but it also was not problematic to perform our formations.

I still missed not having enough of the 1^st Tennessee to form our own unit.

Canton Rep news story

Assault at the Fort

Fort Recovery, September 12-11, 2011

I did not get much Euchre in this weekend, but it was an excellent time anyhow.  About the only cards I got in was about half a game before each of the battles.

Much of the time spent was with chatting with each other in camp, which was good since I think I am nearing burn-out.  I still have an event every weekend through the second weekend of October.

Saturday battle went far longer than I expected, and was probably the longest for the season so far.  A bridge occupied the middle of the battlefield, with a creek flowing through, dividing the field and providing a spectacular objective.  The event hired some pyrotechnics for simulating artillery hits to go with the cannon fire, and these guys were serious with their explosives, as dirt was nearly constantly raining down on us.  We advanced down the main hill toward the bridge, held by the Yankee forces.  Numbers were not huge—a little smaller than Reynoldsburg—but this is only the second year for the event.

We advanced on the bridge and were pushed back—the fighting was intense.  I had around 60 rounds stuffed in my cartridge box and completely emptied them out.  The battle finally ended with our surviving forces having to scavenge rounds from the casualties.  Now that is when a battle becomes memorable.

Artillery night-fire is common at the events, and Fort Recovery was no different.  But this was enhanced with a spectacular fireworks display set up to respond to artillery fire.

A Sunday morning tactical was planned, and I was looking forward to it, but the heavy rain Saturday evening made us fear that the Yankees would bail.  Our forces had something special planned for the Yankees for this tactical, but the event coordinators were the ones who canceled it—so I cannot blame the Yankees this time—as they told us that the grounds that were to be used for the tactical had turned into swampland.

Sunday battalion parade began with charges being filed against Cpl Moore for fraternizing with the enemy.  A card had been found in his gear inviting him to a date with Abraham Lincoln.  And his judgment became set when Mr. Lincoln himself approached the battalion to pin an award on Moore’s lapel.  Moore’s reaction was priceless, since he had no warning.  After the battalion drill, a tribunal was held to determine Moore’s guilt to the charges, with Moore, a lawyer in civilian life, defending himself.  In true attorney fashion, Cpl Moore offered an astounding off-the-cuff defense, claiming to have been co-counsel for Mr. Lincoln on a case prior to the war.  With proper argument, this could have saved him—but his sentence had already been determined, and with a raise of hands from a majority of the 1^st’s (including Cpl Moore’s) guilt was determined.  He was placed in front of a bail of straw and blindfolded.  And upon a company volley, he fell dead to the ground.

Moore is quite the ham.

Sunday battle was even better than Saturday, since this time the Confederacy would claim victory.  Our battalion boxed the Yankee forces at the bridge, given them only one exit across the other side of the creek.  The 1^st Tennessee charged the Yankee force to push them, General Jackson style, over the bridge.  Our four companies advanced across the bridge, with each company (starting with ours) firing a volley, and then wheeling by platoon to allow the next company through.  After all companies passed us, our two platoons wheeled back into company line and about-faced to advance forward through the other companies, only to find ourselves somehow inverted within our platoons.  Capt. Evens quickly corrected the situation with an “Uncluster yourselves” command.  We were supposed to stop at the end of the bridge to fire another volley, but an opportunity presented itself and Capt Evens ordered us into a double-quick and charged an artillery piece.  I have never seen an artillery unit retreat with their weapon like that unit did—it was a smaller gun, and thus lighter, so the men were able to grab the carriage and run with it.  It was a bit tough to catch up to them—it was hard to believe that a cannon could be moved as fast as they moved it—but in the end we succeeded in capturing the gun.  The battle continued with us to the rear of the Yankee force, forcing their further retreat.  At the end, we faced and advanced against my old Yankee unit—the 4^th OVI.

I did not visit any of the three sutlers there as my need was limited and the distance from the Confederate camp was long (Yankees had a nice short stroll, though).  The Confederates again outnumbered Yankees, but hopefully with the great efforts the event coordinators put, we can find this growing next year with more reenactors and more sutlers.  Lt. Sharp expressed his satisfaction for the event, and I know we all enjoyed it, so it is likely this will be a strong event for us next year.

Video of Battle
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CphfCRP68Bs&feature=channel&list=UL
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yOII8UE3TeI&feature=channel&list=UL
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tfRAMC-q8rc&feature=channel&list=UL
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQvQdKZL4SI&feature=channel&list=UL
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4ApyxfyEXg&feature=channel&list=UL

Beans in Blue

Durbin Bean Bake, September 4-5, 2011

Having an event on a holiday is always a bit different.  The Durbin Bean Bake was one of those different events.  Started sometime around the 1880s, this annual festival was originally organized by veterans of the 40^th OVI.  As such, and since we were the only unit there, most of us dressed in blue.  A few of us stayed in gray to represent Confederate opponents, but since we had the option to go blue or gray, I did not have a choice but to go blue.  It actually only occurred on Labor Day itself.  Sunday, the day before, we spent the day for ourselves.

Sgt Mott put on Lieutenant blues and was the primary coordinator for the weekend.  Cpl Moore (Girth) assisted more on Monday, since he was pretty much the hometown hero—being on the Bean Bake Committee and all.  Sunday started pretty normal—I fried up my usual bacon and eggs, then went into some Euchre as the day proceeded, with no other expectations.  Around 11 am, however, Sgt (er, Lt) Mott started up a couple of simple games to pass the day.

The first game broke us into two groups of four, with both Mott and Pvt Winston abstaining.  They set up small ropes about two feet above two separate fire pit and gave each group a small and equal amount of wood, along with some char cloth, some kind of fungus useful for starting fires, a small piece of twine, and a flint and steel.  The object was to be the first team to burn through the rope.

My team consisted of Sgt Gary Shaw, Kevin Feeman, and Zach Carte.  We quickly decided that I would start and manage the fire, while Shaw would chop the single half-log into small pieces.  We also had a single nine inch 1x6 board he would work on.  Feeman and Carte would use knives to produce shavings from the few sticks we were also provided.

Winston and Mott were excluded because they both had extensive experience with building fires from flint and steel.  Other than that, any of us that had started a fire always cheated with fuel and a match.  My only experience with flint and steel was firing a flintlock. As we gathered the materials to start, I made sure to note where the sharpest part of the flint was.  At the start, I shredded up the twine, put a couple of shavings on top along with a little piece of the char cloth, then struck the steel with the flint.  I got a spark right away, but it took about three strikes to hit the char cloth.  I was surprised how quickly it produced a hot coal.  Within a minute I had some good flames coming from the tinder.  I glanced at the other team and realized we were well ahead of them.  But then I realized I had a problem—Feeman and Carte did not have enough shavings ready for me.  I had jumped the gun getting things started, and now I was rushing to assist in getting shavings added—but it was too late.  All the twine was now burned up and the fire was out.

Fortunately, I still had a good amount of char cloth and that fungus.  I couldn’t break up the fungus, so I just threw it in and got a hot coal on it.  A couple of times I looked up to see someone stopping to watch me and I had to push them to get more shavings.  We just kept throwing more shavings on the pile and I kept blowing on that one small hot coal, certain I would lose it altogether.  At one point Mott gave each team a splinter soaked in pine sap, but that seemed more trouble that it was worth.  With perseverance, we finally got a flame.  At that point it was simply a matter of getting all the shavings on the pile ablaze, then adding the kindling that Gary made of all the remaining wood.  I piled it up in a simple teepee fashion, stacking it as high and heavy as I could.

I again glanced at the other team, and it looked like they also had a fire, but I noticed they were stacking the wood strangely.  Instead of forming a teepee at the start and stacking on top of that with as small pieces of wood as possible, the and placed nearly all their wood flat.  Although they had chopped the wood smaller, they only produced about ten or so pieces. We probably had thirty or more.  And with the three last sticks, they formed a small pyramid.  I was confident.

Zach and I got into a rhythm blowing the flames until they reached well into the rope, then simply stepped back and watched it finish.  The other team accused us of stealing extra wood—and I guess the stack we had did look like a lot more wood than theirs, but it was the same amount—we had simply chopped up a lot more and smaller pieces.

It was a fun game, and the women had arranged some prizes for the winners.  Gary got some candy.  I got a harmonica.  I guess I am going to have to learn to play.

The second game brought Steve Winston on my side while Gary Shaw was excluded.  Gary was to be the judge.  We were given various food items, and the idea was we were to cook up a meal for Gary to eat.  It took about an hour to cook everything up. We made some Gumbo, with a vegetable side and fried apples for a desert.  I did not pay too close attention to what the other team made, other than the main course was a soup, but I did hear something about them caramelizing everything.

We finished up the day—except for more Euchre—with a three team tactical with three to a team.  Zach Carte and James Sturkler were on my team.  We all enjoyed it, but I think there were some kinks that need worked out for next year.  Each team was given five challenges, with the order than we had to respond whenever engaged in battle.  We got confused somehow in that the order of the challenges were to be first from Jen Mott, then Andrew Mott, then Jen Mott, then Andrew Mott, and finally Jen Mott—or at least that seemed to be the explanation to me.  Jen gave a Civil War trivial question whenever approached, while Andrew gave some kind of physical challenge.  The trouble was that after the first challenge—given by Jen—we started getting confused as to the order of things by first trying to return to Jen for the second challenge, who redirected us to Andrew, but then we somehow thought all remaining challenges were to come from Andrew.  Shaw’s team also experienced some kind of confusion—he told me they had a difficult time cornering Andrew since he kept moving around.  In that confusion somehow we skipped a step.

I know the Mott’s will probably read this, so I want to make sure they understand that we all had a blast, in spite of the issues encountered.  I am sure if time is taken to examine what did not work and what did, then these issues can be resolved for next year.

Monday was the actual Bean Bake.  We were a part of it since Mercer, Mott, and Girth are all from the area.  For most of the time we pretty much did a living history—although surprisingly with the weather dropping from 97 on Saturday to 60 on Monday, we had more public hanging around us to keep warm by our fire (the only one on the grounds) than anything.  Lt. Sharp showed up to participate as well-this time as a private in blue. 

In the early afternoon we set up a silly skirmish with three of us dressing gray to attack the rest of us in blue.  We seemed to have way to small an area to work with and somehow ended up doing more fighting among cars in the parking lot than in an open area, but it was fun.  A good opportunity to work out some more kinks for next year.

The last piece of participation for us was to stir the beans.  Most of us thought it was to be little more than a photo op to have us all up there stirring all the pots of beans, and then we would be done with it.  But time seemed to pass with little concern.  I do not know how long we were stirring, but my arms are still hurting—three days later.

We finished up the day with a challenge from JR for a speed shoot competition.  I blew any chance of winning early on when I forgot to ram paper and had to pick my first tube off the ground to shove it down the barrel.

The Durbin Bean Bake is a laid-back event that we look forward to, even though it really is not much of a Civil War event, and we have to go Federal.  It is only one day of living history, with the rest of the time entirely for us as we see fit to spend, far out in the country away from anything that could interfere (or interrupt).  I look forward to next year, and hope that perhaps the Bean Bake Committee seriously considers allowing us to invite a Yankee unit to expand the Civil War representation to the festival.

Far Away on the Mini Battlefield

Jackson, Michigan, August 27-28, 2011

Jackson is a good distance for all of us to travel—I think it is nearly five hours for me.  This is really only worthwhile for large events.  Fortunately, Jackson is a large event.  We set up camp in a distant corner of the campground, right against where the suburban neighborhood began.  Sergeant Mott selected this location as a means of both ensuring the unit would be able to camp together and to get good shade from the nearby trees.

Breaking in Lt. Sharp's new slouch hat.

Once we set up camp, we visited the large number of sutlers that opened early.  Fall Creek and the Regimental Quartermaster were both there, along with several other large sutlers.  Jackson is a great place for shopping the sutlery.   Caps were $12 for RWS and $10 for CCI.  Regimental Quartermaster had the best price with a sleeve of 10 tins of the German caps for $95.  Prices overall were disappointing—I was looking to finish out an officer’s uniform (to go with the pistol and my recent sword purchase), but the gauntlets I found at Fall Creek (which had the best price of $35) would not fit, even though they were extra large (large size gloves normally are the correct size for me). And sashes were around $40—so I decided to go with eBay instead.  I did find a good cravat, though.

The event provided pulled pork for the Saturday supper, which I am sure would have been a wonderful meal, but due to the distance from camp, we chose to prepare our own food of ham and potatoes, with corn and squash.  It was very good, and nice to not have to wait in any kind of line.

After supper Private Zack and I challenged Captain Evens and Lieutenant Sharp to a battle of Euchre.  I suppose this was to break the curse of last year’s round of Euchre (Jackson 2010 After-action report) where Sergeant Enyart was my partner—but Enyart was absent this weekend.  I believed we did not stand a chance this time.  My experience over the past year was that the only way I could defeat the Evens-Sharp team was with Enyart has my partner.  Anyone else and I could keep the match close, but I could not win.  With Zack as my partner, I honestly expected quite the whooping.

But apparently I was quite successful in training Zack up at Nelsonville with those 14 or so games.  He disposed of many of his tells, so you could no longer read him like a billboard on Times Square.  And his confidence had reached its pinnacle.  I also learned how to play better against JR and Evens over the past year.

The first of three games we did lose, but we kept it a challenged.  But the second and third games we won, still keeping the game close the entire time.  I think I taught JR one thing, too—and that was to beware of trying to bluff me.  At one point I had a hand of questionable strength and would have had to order the Ace of spades into JR’s hand.  I nearly passed on it, but then JR said, “Go ahead and order it up.”  So I did.  It turned out he was trying to bluff me—he had a loner hand in hearts.

The only trouble now with winning was that Zack and I were put on detail to guard a puddle of water in the middle of the battlefield.  Well, I guess that’s the price for beating the commanders.

And then there was the Sunday morning romantic breakfast between Lt. Sharp and Pvt Silvers.

Saturday morning I finally caught on what was meant by Battalion parade.  I had always thought of it as basically a march in front of the public—but apparently it is really nothing more than lining up as a battalion, to the rear in open order, first sergeants reporting on numbers, close ranks, then going off to drill.

During that drill we overheard an NCO of another unit spew forth all sorts of profanities at his men trying to get them in line.  Mercer commented to our captain, and I think all of us agreed, that if any of our NCOs talked to us in that way, we would head back to camp, pack up, and go home.  The biggest problem was that this was in front of the public, and the event coordinators complained to our colonel.  During Sunday drill, the colonel warned us (without naming names, even though we all knew who he was talking about) that this is not the place for that language and that it needs to be kept under control.

But as we lined up for the Sunday battle, that same unit passed by us while we were in formation and a number of their soldiers were having difficulty keeping the line.  That NCO, the second sergeant, had no pause about spewing profanities like an alcoholic on some bad liquor.  There is no way his captain could have missed that.  Even without the warning from the colonel, that sergeant should have been summarily dismissed from the battalion—told to pack his gear, and go home.  He has no business being a reenactor.  He was warned by the commanding officer, and yet he chose to ignore those instructions.  In the real military, insubordination like that can get you a dishonorable discharge.  Maybe the NCOs commanded like that 150 years ago, and maybe not, but reenactments with public attending are supposed to be family events—kids will be there and within earshot.  I will admin that private in most groups, including ours, the language is like any normal gathering of adults.  But bring kids into the picture and we do our best to keep our French under control.  The colonel was present, but I am not sure he heard that sergeant or not—but if he had, I think he should have gone to the captain of that unit and requested the sergeant be removed. 

The battle was good, but the grounds were rather, well, strange.  My biggest complaint of that battlefield is the ridiculously small size of it for the number of soldiers.  The battlefield is small for even a small event, but for the numbers we had—two battalions on each side—it was difficult to maneuver.   But this year there was another problem—the park had used heavy equipment to plow and completely reshape half the field.  Half the field was completely absent of sod, and had tons of ruts, rocks, and various mud holes to injure ankles and knees. It was better on Sunday after we had packed it down significantly from the Saturday battle.  But anyway, the battle quickly ended up not going as planned.  From what I have been told, the Federal forces were led by Shackleford, and from what I hear about him, he throws out all plans five minutes into the battle and creates his own scenario.  Although I enjoy the battle, it felt cramped.  The Yankee forces advanced far closer than felt safe.

But it was the Sunday battle that had a moment of insanity.  Overall I liked the Sunday battle better as it seemed to last longer, and we were all over the field taking advantage of holes that the Yankees gave us.  But there was one point we watched one Yankee battalion corner and advance on the other Confederate battalion.  We were all backed to the edge of the battlefield, so could pull back no further.  But the Yankees continued to advance in a scenario where the Confederates were supposed to win (the Battle of Bethel Church), although casualties were near zero.  Then the moment of insanity occurred.  The Yankee force advanced close enough to actually shake the hands of the Confederate soldiers—and that is no joke.  It looked stupid.  Both sides were in confusion—they did not know what to do.  They were too close to even load.  All they could do was stand there, admiring the color of each others’ eyes, until the commander figured out how to get out of this kerfuffle.  It was not until the federals finally pulled back that the battle could be re-engaged.

Of course, there are not many that can be blamed for such a farce.  The only one responsible was the Yankee colonel of that battalion.  Everyone else was just following orders, and the Confederate colonel was pinned with nowhere to go.  Perhaps that Yankee commander should try playing private for awhile.  I know a few privates that could better command a battalion.  Although the 1^st Tennessee was not part of that Confederate battalion, we were all wandering, “What are those Yankees thinking?”

It had to be the absolute stupidest thing I ever saw.  It was insane to see two opposing battalions standing close enough to shine their enemy’s boots, looking around, waiting for someone to figure out what to do next.  Here is an idea—the Confederate colonel could have claimed the entire Yankee battalion as their prisoners.

The thing is, the only possible thing that Yankee commander could have been thinking was how he could make the Confederate forces look foolish.  If that Confederate force had pulled back as little as fifteen yards, they would have been in our lap.  Both battalions of the Confederate forces would have been jumbled together, their artillery overrun, and would have been the farce.  And in my opinion—that’s what makes this Yankee commander as worthless as a deerfly.  He is so concerned with making others look foolish that he himself is made the fool.

Despite that disturbing moment, and the lack of space to maneuver, I thought the battle quite an enjoyable experience.  I nearly finished off my rounds, to which Mercer said, “Well, if you didn’t shoot eighteen rounds a minute, you might still have some.”  I guess I have gotten a bit quick on the reload.

And despite all the fussing I have made, I did enjoy the event.  I was even told that the announcer acknowledged our unit for the first time (apparently they acknowledged every unit but ours in the past).  The food was great and the quantity of sutlers were extraordinary.  The only real downside (other than the “N” gauge battlefield) is the distance.

Youtube video of battle
Youtube video of battle

The Red Carpet of Coshocton

August 13-14, 2011

This was the third first-year event that I have ever attended, the first being Fort Recovery last year and the second being Nelsonville last week.  Coshocton (or “Shocatoan” as Pvt Jim Kletzli says it) was a good event.  They treated the reenactors very well.  It was surprising that they supplied T-shirts, 3x5 period flags, powder rations, and showers to the registered reenactors for this free event.  I’m not sure they will be able to keep that up.  It was a small event—and I am not sure if they have much room to grow.  Again, as usual, the Confederates outnumbered the Federals, but Hale Farm is nearby the same weekend, so that did not help.  Located at the highest point of the town, next to the airport, we occasionally joked about the Confederate Air Force preparing a raid.  The airport distraction is not a problem—only small aircraft used it.  The in-town reenactments are far worse.  The event provided two good breakfasts and a Saturday dinner, all of which were very good. 

It was a disappointment that no sutlers, other than a Sassparilla vendor, made it to the event—but again, this was probably due to Hale Farm.  It’s too bad that it did not occur to even one small vendor that there would be a good opportunity for them here.

I was surprised to learn that the nine rifles that showed up for the 1^st Tennessee made the largest unit—particularly when this event was not even on our calendar (it was a free weekend).

Saturday battle went well as we joined with the 5^th Kentucky to defeat the Yankees, whose numbers were not too much less than ours.  I think the Confederate commanders are starting to learn that if we promise the Yankees to win on Sunday, they are more likely to stay for the Sunday battle.  It seems that if they win on Saturday, they tend to go home right after.

Near dusk Alabama, of the 19^th Virginia, and Private Steve Winston decided to initiate an artillery barrage on the Union forces.  Alabama pulled out his 12-pound Napolean (no, it did not fire 12 pound balls, it weighed 12 pounds) and Steve brought out his toy cannons.  It was hilarious to watch as Alabama called out artillery commands.  “Fire by battery, two second intervals.”  “Gun number one, ready.”  “Misfire on gun number two,” and then he crossed his arms over the little pea-shooter.  The union tent they were shooting at also had a toy cannon, and was kind enough to play along with return fire.  I heard that the artillery crew that was there asked, “Are they making fun of us?”

The Union forces challenged us to a Sunday morning tactical, which we were more than happy to oblige them with.  The only concern was that the prediction was for rain.  The night did bring some heavy rains with slight drizzle off-and-on in the morning, so we thought the Yankees might cancel—although I think we would have been more understanding that we were at Reynoldsburg because of how wet everything was.  But to our surprise they wanted to continue anyhow.  I discovered later that they had a bit of a tactical advantage that they wanted to use.  They had scouted out the nearby woods and knew the lay of the land the night before—we never had such an opportunity due to the lateness of the challenge.

But none of us mind that if it gets the Yankees to play.  There were some killer ravines in that woods that we climbed through trying to get behind the enemy forces while the 5^th Kentucky held them down at a clearing.  But we had a lot of fun, even if we did end up a bit late to the battle.

The Yankee numbers had dwindled for the Sunday battle, so three of us (including me) from the 1^st Tennessee galvanized to balance the numbers.  The Rebels still outnumbered the Federals, but they were about 14 blue to around 17 gray.  We started out at the bottom of the battlefield, pretty much out of site from the public.  The plan, which was made clear to us by the Federal commander, was to allow the Rebel troops to march in toward the public.  We were then to advance, pushing them more to the public.  This was obviously so that the public would get a clear view of all the soldiers.  The field was narrow, but long.  The rolling nature of the field put the Confederates at their starting position completely out of view of the public.  We took a knee at the start of the battle to take us out of view as well.  Since we did not have full Federal gear with us, the three of us basically just took off our jackets and wore blue vests to appear as militia.  To our right were the eight or so regulars, and two Henrys held position to our left.  Granted, if this battle were for real, and if the Henrys fought like they really would have back then, the two Henrys alone would have defeated the entire Rebel force on that field.  But those Henrys really seem to have no idea what they are doing out there.  There we were, waiting for the Captain to give the command to rise and advance.  The Rebels were just advancing above the first hill and turning toward the public to move into position.  All of a sudden we hear this machine-gun fire to our left.  Those blasted Henrys—against all common sense and chain of command—fired off all 17 of their rounds in under five seconds.  The 1^st Tennessee, the unit closest, had no choice but to respond.  And now, with the battle now underway, the rest of the Federals also had to react.  I looked to Big Dave, who was next to me, and said, “What the heck?”  What was wrong with those Henrys?  They basically ruined the entire battle for everyone on the field—public and reenactor alike—in less than 5 seconds.  The entire battle was found over 200 yards from the public, with most of the Confederate forces completely out of site so that it looked like the Yankees were shooting into a hole.  I still had fun—but it did not sit well with me at all that a couple of soldiers on the field are nothing but loose cannons—pretty much worthless to the reenactor community as a whole.  No—I think they really don’t have any business being on the battlefield.  Someone needs to give them lessons on chain of command and on the art of “aiming”.  It is not the fact that Henry rifles were on the field that bothered me—it is the fact that they were used solely as a means to become the center of attention.  My recommendation to any commander that reads this is that if these Henry soldiers ever end up on the battlefield again, either prohibit them or locate them such that any Confederate response will put the Confederate into the position you need them to be—instead of like the preempted position they ended up in at Coshocton.  For example, if those Henrys were placed by themselves at the top of the battlefield, near the public, the Confederate response would have moved all the action close to the public—plus those insane Henrys would have become the center-of-attention clowns they wanted to be.

But anyway—now that I have gotten that gripe out of my system—it was a good weekend.  I have seen those Henry rifles before, I have always thought little of them because of the way they machine-gun those things—I had just never seen them mess up the entire battle like that before.

I do hope they continue with this event.  They should probably move this to a different weekend than they Hale Farm event, since that is a rather large event.  For the 1^st Tennessee to return, they also need to keep it out of September, since that’s a pretty big month for us.  But I know we are looking for to next time for how well they treated us.

Cavalry Raid on the Nelsonville Train (without the horses)

This weekend was a first-year event in Nelsonville, Ohio.  We were to do an impression of dismounted cavalry and take over the train.  I did the Civil War Train Raid in Lebanon, Ohio a few years back, and it’s hard not to have this type of event be a farb fest.  But it was fun nonetheless.  Since we were to be dismounted cavalry, I got to play with Lil’ Mary (my .44 1858 Remmington) and Nicolas (my best guess is that it is some kind of American target rifle reproduction from a little before the Civil War period).  The concern was that the Confederates would heavily outnumber the Yankees (big surprise there), so a few of us, including me, came ready to galvanize.

The raid was planned for only one train ride, starting a little after 5 pm Saturday, so that left the four of us that camped Friday a lot of time to kill playing Euchre.  Most of the rest of the reenactors showed up around 3 to gear up and attend the planning meeting.

The plan was that the Rebels hide on the train in the last car (which was otherwise empty) to about halfway to one end of the line and sneak off as a few civilian reenactors got on (to give the excuse for stopping the train at an unusual point).  The train would continue to the end, where we would take the train with the public and civilian reenactors (including Doc Gill) on its way back, then ride the train to the end of the line where the full battle would be held.

Being one that was to galvanize, I boarded the train at the depot in my full Confederate gear, with my sidearm in a borrowed holster (I’m still looking for one for myself), both my Springfield and target rifle, and my Yankee blues in my knapsack on my back (try climbing into a train with all that).  When we stopped at the raid point, I left Christine (the Springfield) behind with my knapsack.  I think that’s when I realized there was only one other reenactor galvanizing.  We mulled about for the half hour it took the train to return, with Kevin Feemen asking every so often, “You got yer cards?” Okay, I like my Euchre, but we’d already gotten about 15 games in that day—couldn’t give it a rest for 30 minutes?  I was grateful that Captain Evens (or “Capt’n Sprinkles” as Private Kletzli calls him) gave orders to post us at several locations to prepare for the surprise attack—locations that kept four of us from being together at one spot.

As the train approached we were to fire off a couple of rounds to stop the train, then board it, harassing public and civilian reenactors for a bit of a show.  Somehow this was a bit different than what we ran into at McConnelsville—I guess it was the smaller number of public, or perhaps that we were not doing our standard infantry to begin with.  It just didn’t feel so awkward like McConnelsville did.  My improvisation was off that day—I did little more than look pretty, but still, I got one shot out of my pistol and one shot out of the rifle.  I wanted to get a second shot out of the rifle—but with it using #11 caps, and those were in my vest pocked underneath my jacket inside an old plastic cigar container with a tight lid, I could not exactly reload in a hurry.  It would not have mattered even if the caps were loose in a cap box—have you ever tried to prime a rifle quickly with those tiny little things?

At this point the plan was we would stop at the end of the line when Yankee artillery fired at the train.  The Rebels were to unload, where there was supposed to be a pause in the action so that the public could unload.  I was to take advantage of the pause to race to the last car where I would switch coats, hats, traps, and rifles, unload and stow my knapsack, straw hat, and target rifle in a safe place, then join the Yankee lines to shoot at all my friends.  But, the battle started as soon as I boarded that last car—I had to hurry if I were to join the fight.  It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were just the coat, but I had it in my head that I needed to use my Yankee traps—plus I still had five rounds in the side arm, so I had to relocate the holster from my belt with the Georgia frame buckle to my US belt with keeper.  I shoved my butternut shell jacket into my knapsack and almost put it on—but realized I’d probably miss the entire battle if I took the time.  When I got off the train and set my unneeded gear down, I realized I was right next to the public—I tried to give them the impression I had snuck around behind the Rebels (yeah—that’s the ticket).  Unfortunately, I didn’t see any reenactors—they were all around the buildings of the pioneer village we had stopped at.  I had no idea where the Yankee line was, so I did the only thing I could—follow the sound of musket fire.  I saw some butternut moving between buildings, so headed that direction, only to find Confederates on two sides of me—but I had the advantage as they didn’t know I was there.

It was a lot of fun—I emptied my sidearm on Sergeant Mott, who took a hit in glorious drama.  Ducking around a cottage to reload my musket, I started to a corner where a musket blast shot in front of me.  I jumped out around that corner and fired a blast toward Corporal Carte, giving him quite the surprise.

Every so often I could hear what sounded like machine-gun fire.  Then I realized it was just Flash emptying his Henry.  It was in the book, Company Aytch, that Sam Watkins talks of soldiers loading their Henrys on a Sunday and shoot all week long.  I don’t think Flash ever read that book—he loads at 4:15, then again at 4:15 and 30 seconds.

Afterwards, the event coordinators served a delicious pulled-pork meal.  It was probably among the best we’ve had this year.

We discussed ideas and tips for next year, such as seeing about locating the campsite in some shade, or somewhere where the public could interact with us in camp.  I think they should do more than the one train raid ride for the day—with nothing else going on, and with the raid so late in the day, most of the reenactors didn’t have a reason to camp when they could show up at 3 and leave by 8.

Hopefully we’ll get solid numbers next year—it’ll be nice to be able to stay in butternut next year.  It’s kind of awkward being a Confederate in blue—although Kletzli thinks I secretly enjoy it.