Double-Quick Up the Hill

Fort Recovery, OH

Sept 8-9, 2012

The change in perspective from private to major is dramatic.  As a private, all I saw during a battle was the blue target in front of me.  I fired my musket on command.  I right-faced on command.  I marched on command.

But now, as major, my job is to know what is going on and assist the colonel in commanding a battalion of muskets.  I give commands. I look for not just one, but all the blue targets on the field.  I work with the colonel to get the battalion out of the line of fire and into position to fire upon the coats of blue.

Where before I would wonder, "Why are we running all over the field?" Now I wonder, "How do I get out of here?"

Wet.  Friday opened the weekend at Fort Recovery very wet.  I was fortunate to get my tent and fly set up at battalion headquarters before the rain started, but once the much-needed torrent started a little after dark, it never stopped until about six the next morning.

I kept an eye out for Colonel Julian.  He had let me know he would not be there until 11 pm on Friday, but as the hour passed, he was still not present.  I found out that when he arrived at 12:30 in the morning, he was kept from entering the park with his car for fear his car could get stuck in the mud.

I was up before daybreak, as the dawn comes much later this time of year, and the hour I arise does not change.  The fire pit I dug the night before was now a pond, and would have had ducks swimming in it were it not for the lake that blocked passage to the plastic palace.  Fortunately, Steve Winston was up and finished with his shovel after digging a trench to drain his fire pit, and he let me borrow it to bail the water out of my pit.

Getting the fire going proved the largest challenge of the weekend.  Pvt Winston, determined to use nothing but flint and steel, had to work through three charcloths to finally sustain a blaze.

I was lucky to have a camp next to the battalion headquarters with an established campfire.  They were kind enough to lend out a few coals.  I stacked my wood high to keep the coals out of the moist soil.  Both the adjutant, Lt Porter, and I fought that fire to blaze up.  Although the wood was relatively dry, there was still a high level of humidity in the air.

When finally we had a blaze large enough to use (which was now well into daybreak), I balanced my coffee pot on the stack, only to lose all of the water into the pit.

At least the reenactor portraying General Picket (Dwight Hensley) camped nearby was kind enough to offer cup.  It was not the tar I like, but it was sufficient.

Other than that early drowning, the weather was perfect for reenacting.

Battalion drill started with a safety meeting to discuss the rules concerning the pyrotechnics that were used on the field, and after going through a few maneuvers, the companies broke off to drill independently and skirmish against imaginary Yankees.  Skirmishes were on the schedule, but those Federals chose not to come out and play.

Capt Sharp took the 1st Tennessee out and drilled them on deploying into skirmish lines forward.  They had never trained deploying forward in the groups of four-only deploying on the flank for when already on the battleline.  I was out watching with the 27th South Carolina captain, and noticed that Capt Sharp kept maneuvering his men at me, then having them fire.  Every time I would move, he would reposition his men.  The 27th SC captain backed away from me, and Capt Sharp finally surrounded me.  I thought it best to take a hit when the entire company fired upon me.

Saturday and Sunday battles were very similar.  Both had pyrotechnics, but we were to be decimated on Sunday.

At the Sunday officer's meeting, the Yankee colonel complimented us on our maneuvering, commenting that as soon as he got his lines in position to fire on us, we would move, and he would have to reposition.  I think some back in camp thought the Yankee colonel was complaining, since we seem to get a bit of that (like one Yankee at Reynoldsburg complaining about us "messing up his lines"), but I think this Federal actually enjoyed the challenge we were giving him.

Capt Craig Schmidt had good humor with his company, the 19th Virginia.  He only had his 1st Sgt, his Lt and two privates show.  But because we needed three companies to be able to carry the battalion flag, the 19th VA was kept as a separate company.  He commanded his company with grandeur, as if 30 men were under his command.  But it is difficult to keep a straight face when commanding the company to wheel with only two soldiers in line.  Right and left face nearly caused his company to disappear.  At one point, he brought his company up to the battalion, then had them count off by twos.  The two privates repeated the one-two about a dozen times to sound like a much larger company.

At rest before the battle

For the Sunday battle, we followed a similar path as Saturday: 1st TN, with the Adjutant, Lt Porter, sent a skirmish line in first to face the Yankees, then the rest of the battalion (with both Col Julian and I) followed in.  We progressively left flanked and double-quicked up the hill to flank the Yankee battalion until we reached the high point behind a small barricade.  As the Yankees got into position, a small federal howitzer was brought up beside them to fire on us.

Being that we were to lose on the Sunday battle, and that we were now cornered, our options were limited.  The 1st TN was keeping the bulk of the Yankee battalion and the howitzer occupied on the right flank, but we on the left flank had to deal with a hand full of Yankees with Henrys.  Col Julian ordered the 2nd and 3rd companies to the left, sending us into those Henrys, which put me at the front of the battalion, which was now starting to quickly shrink.  I ordered a double-quick, and as we approached those Henrys, it occurred to me that we could not stop to deal with the Henrys as both they and the Yankee battalion would finish us off, so I ordered a charge, not realizing that Col Julian at the back of the battalion also ordered a charge.  I took a hit about 10 yards from the skirmish line, but saw enough of the battalion fall to know this was our final stop.  I overheard someone checking on Col Julian, so I guessed that we did not have a single survivor, especially considering that there was not a single survivor of the battalion staff.

We were a bit surprised that the Federal cavalry did not seem to do much. I'm not sure if they got their run out at the start during the artillery barrage, or if they were focusing on scouting.  We were somewhat prepared-we had drilled forming a square, though we seemed to have a bit of a confusion concerning how to get out of that square.

Numbers were down significantly from the last two years at Fort Recovery, but I still think it was a terrific event.  There is room there to easily double the numbers of both sides.  Yankee numbers were surprisingly equal or slightly greater than ours.  Perhaps next year we will see better numbers.

Video

The Federals and the Copperheads

Durbin Bean Bake

Sept 1-3, 2012

The Durbin Bean Bake is a Labor Day only event, but the 1st Tennessee makes its own fun Saturday and Sunday.

I arrived early Saturday expecting to be pretty much alone most of that first day, so planned on taking advantage of the time by bringing a bunch of extra gear to repair this and that, patch my canteen, sew the ten missing buttons on the ends of my dog tent, do a bit of gunsmithing on my period Colt pistol, roll up my last pound of powder, and fill the 400 tube order for Pvt Zack Carte.

I found Pvt Steve Winston there already when I arrived at 11:30 am-he had arrived at 9 am.

It was a hot and humid day, and with nothing really planned I took my time setting camp.  I usually try to arrive in uniform, but this time I was in modern wear until my tent was up.

Beforehand we had already established that half the unit would galvanize for the 40th Ohio, while the other half would come representing a rabble of Copperheads.  Federal veterans of the Civil War established the Bean Bake over a hundred years ago, so it was only right that we honored the tradition of the Bean Bake with a Federal presence instead of our normal Confederate issue.

As I changed into my Federal gear, I discovered my Federal sky blue trousers were missing-I had left them behind.  I only had my Confederate jean wool trousers.  Since I had established my name as the token Yankee, I very well could not represent a Copperhead.  Fortunately, my humble call to Sgt (and 40th OVI Capt) Mott proved fruitful as he had a spare pair of Federal trousers to loan me.

It started to rain lightly as the time for dinner arrived.  I ran into Celina, only about six miles away, to pick up ice and pizza for the two of us.  I became aware that this weekend was to turn into a comedy of errors for me as I loaded my cooler with ice and somehow pierced a can of Mountain Dew Voltage, spraying a fine blue mist onto the flap of my tent.  Lucky for me, all it took was some water to wash it off.

As we set up the pizza on a table under my fly, the rain picked up and we suddenly realized that the fly seemed to lack purpose.  Water dripped on us at all points as the fly served the exclusive purpose of water purification, as opposed to a shelter from the elements.

The only time I can recall my tent being in the rain since I bought it a year ago was during a rather light drizzle at Hurricane WV this year, where the fly was absent, so my knowledge of this shelter imposter eluded my comprehension until this day.  Steve and I quickly gathered everything into the tent and away from that cheesecloth, where we finished the pizza in crammed quarters as all my stuff, including all my extra crap I brought to work on, was piled around.  Yes, it was embarrassing for me to share the innards of my tent with Steve, where normally I leave a flap open to impress on others a somewhat period look, only to now feel like a refugee of a disaster zone.

The rain did not last long.  With only two of us, Euchre was out of the question, so Steve pulled out the chess set he made from Minie balls.  It had been awhile since I had last played chess, and it was a good, close game.  In the end, Steve won.

Sunday was an easy day, and I managed to get caught up on a lot of the work I brought up.  There were a few more arrivals during the day, and our Federal Captain Andrew Mott started a tactical for us, breaking us into two teams of two-Zack and I on one team, and Jeff and Steve on the other.  The tactical was basically a treasure hunt with no rules, just "guidelines".  In the end, Steve and Jeff won.  There were many was to get points, but the kicker was where we started with ten rounds and were penalized for every round less than ten at the end.  Steve and Jeff figured out there was no rule regarding returning to camp and refilling the cartridge box-a concept that eluded both Zack and I.

Jen Mott and Barb Moore provided dinner of ham and potatoes.

The tactical challenged finished with a drill with specific maneuvers.  With only two, the drill presented an odd challenge, plus I had to remember the specific maneuvers.  One of the main reasons I write this blog is that I would probably forget what happened a week later.

The Motts have a place nearby they stayed at, so the evening left us with just four-Steve, Jeff, Zack, and myself; just enough for Euchre.  Steve is not much of a Euchre player, but he managed to catch on pretty well.  Although a constant drizzle kept the night in a watery mantra, Andrew was kind enough to set his fly up for us so we would not have to play under my cheesecloth.

Monday morning brought my usual bacon and eggs with tar for drink.  Capt Mott brought me his loaner Federal trousers, and the rest of the 1st Tennessee soon arrived, including the surprise arrival of our former captain, Gary Evens.

A mandatory speed shoot competition was held before the skirmish, where we divided into two groups of about five each.  I won first heat, but in final heat I first dropped my ramrod, then several times my ramrod got stuck after being returned.  I had recently had some gunsmithing done to my rifle, and some of the adjustments threw things a bit out of wack.  I may need to go back to that gunsmith for a bit of tweaking.

The scenario was for us, as federal soldiers, to be attacked by the rabble of Copperheads during our drill. The Copperhead gang, led by Capt JR Sharp, wore the same as usual, except for the lack of their coats to look more civilian.  Mott captained 40th Ohio group.

I carried massive flag of 40th OVI, and as instructed by Mott, took an early hit, which Mercer picked up from me.

For the past two years prior we always spent a good amount of time stirring the beans, but somehow got out of it this time, though I think some of the Copperheads filled the duty.

It was a great time.  I got some things done, others undone (and so ended up with a lot more crap on site than I really needed), and now have more guns to clean.

Girth was originally 1st Sgt for the 40th OVI at the start of this weekend, but was given a promotion to Lieutenant.  JR got the idea to be sure to get a picture of Girth in his Lieutenant's uniform (which was easy since Girth is such a ham).

Plans and plots are always afoot in the 1st Tennessee.

Rising through the Ranks

Jackson, Michigan

August 25-26, 2012

Jackson usually is an event that the 1st Tennessee shows in force, but for some reason was not voted for at the Regimental meeting.  I had debated about whether going to Jackson, or to Richmond, Kentucky, which also had a large event this same weekend.  In the end I decided on Jackson since it was an Independent Guard Battalion event and since Jackson was the event that the battalion holds its annual meeting, and since this year the battalion was holding its election for staff officers—and I was running for major for the Independent Guard.  Capt Sharp of the 1st Tennessee pointed out it might not look good for me if I was absent at these elections.

Four of us from the 1st Tennessee arrived on Friday—Sgt Jack Nyman, Cpl Jeff Carte, Pvt Zack Carte, and myself.  Enough for a few good rounds of Euchre.

Although Col. Julian had brevetted me to major at Reynoldsburg, he asked if I would be willing to allow a long-time staff member play major one last time for the Saturday battle.  Since I technically did not have the title yet, I was more than happy to step aside for him.

We fell in with 50th Virginia Company D.  They proved a great group to fall in with, although they used the face-burning Gilham’s tactics.  Captain Jim Lemon’s hospitality toward the 1st Tennessee was on a level of being more than happy we could join them.  Their numbers were also down for the event, so with our guns, it brought their size to an acceptable level for being a stand-alone company.

It is nice to have groups that are happy to have you fall in with them.  Sometimes you are not sure what they expect—I keep thinking one of these units we fall in with will think they are doing us a favor by letting us fall in with them, but so far I have not encountered that—they always seem genuinely impressed with our abilities and more than happy to share the company lines with us—and the 50th Virginia was no exception.  I watched them at Ft Wayne and was impressed with how well they performed with skirmish deployment.  At Ft Wayne I watched the 50th Virgina deploy forward in their groups of four—and it looked good.  It was good to fall in with them at Jackson.

The battalion had three companies that weekend—the minimum needed to form a battalion.  The 50th Virginia was designated 2nd and color company.

Seeing the Jackson battlefield, I couldn’t help but think of the size of Ft Wayne.  The battlefield seemed smaller than I remembered—maybe the entire Ft Wayne park would have trouble fitting in this field—but it would certainly be close.

Battalion drill helped work out some issues.  Although as private I had my own positions to worry about, I studied the Lt Colonel for where he positioned himself, to try to understand where my job would be once I was elected Major.  I am not sure where the other major was for drill—but he was only available at the battle.

As usual, I visited the sutlers—and as a quick note, they list are among the best of the year, but their numbers seemed a bit less than in the past.

Courtesy Jackson Citizen-Patriot

The battle seemed to go okay—though it was divided into two parts, and as private I was not sure what that was about.  Basically, we pounced on the Yankees, the battle was halted, we marched off the field, then a new phase in the battle resumed.  Fortunately there was no strange action like last year where a Yankee battalion marched upon a Confederate battalion and shook hands with them.   I think this year had a different Yankee commander than last.

However, I found out later that the battle scenario had gotten mucked up (at least, much more than usual).  Confederate forces were supposed to lose—we were to get decimated from an artillery barrage.  Unfortunately, the artillery ran out of ammunition, so could not launch that decimation—causing a Confederate victory.

We got some good Euchre that evening—something that had not happened much since our marathon at Nelsonville last year.  It was good to play a bit after the hiatus from it.

The weather cooperated for the weekend by keeping dry—but the heat and lack of wind seemed to stagnate the air.  Even after taking one of my allergy pills I awoke about 4 am Sunday morning hacking up a lung.  There was not much else to do other than get the campfire going and get the coffee ready.  By daybreak, the tar was ready, and it tasted better than usual.

Sunday I got to play major.  The battalion parade and drill were uneventful—but I used it to study where my place would be.  At the end of drill, the battalion was gathered for the annual meeting, where we decided to attend the GAC Gettysburg to fall in with PACS (as opposed to the BGA Gettysburg).  The battalion staff was then elected, with Col Julian being re-elected, Duane Clark being elected to the Lt Col position that he had been brevetted to after the departure of Gary Wade, and I was elected to major, filling the gap left when Lt Col Clark was brevetted.

Battalion formation for the battle was to be at 1:15, but at ten minutes to one, Col. Julian started rushing us to get ready.  I rushed over to his tent, confused as to such an early and rushed first call, only to find that the battery on the colonel’s watch had died at 12:10, and he had not realized that the hour hand was still on 12—he thought it was 1:10.  I showed him that it was only 12:50, and from that point on he made me the battalion’s official time-keeper, which proved to be a whole new problem, as I quickly learned that if I keep my watch in my vest pocket, I need to keep my frock unbuttoned.  I also learned that jute makes for a terrible substitute for a watch chain as at some point during the battle the string either broke or came untied from my vest buttonhole, causing me to lose the watch—leaving me at odds when asked the time.  Fortunately, Pvt Carte found my watch and returned it to me.

The battle was interesting to say least—and being on battalion staff puts a new perspective on the scenario.  Because of the unexpected victory yesterday, we had no idea if we were to win or lose today.  The time to start neared and Col Julian had not talked with Col Nick Medich—the overall Confederate commander—so did not know the details of the scenario for the battle, but Medich Battalion was no where to be found.  How could you hide a battalion in this park?  Col Julian even sent the Lt Colonel and myself out to find the other battalion, which we failed to do.  Col Medich finally did appear and provide Col Julian with his orders.

That's me, in the straw hat, taking my wing to flank
the Yankee hoards.
Courtesy Jackson Citizen-Patriot

Battle was again in two parts, and although the first part was exciting for me, there was not much that seemed memorable, other than we started with firing through the woods to make a bunch of noise and not be seen, then pushed the Yankees away from the captured batteries.

In the second half, we were to support Medich Battalion as they attempted to capture the Yankee artillery.  Medich Battalion ended up getting decimated and captured.  We were to retreat from the field in relative chaos.

As we closed in on the Yankees before our retreat, we lined up right at the edge of the artillery safety zone.  Artillery was firing and the captain of 3rd Company (14th South Carolina, and my entire wing) realized how unrealistic it was for there to be many survivors and so had his entire company go down at a cannon blast.  Somehow, however, one lone private of his did not quite get the message.  He was young, maybe as young as sixteen.  I told him, “You’re the only one left of your company.”  He looked around in surprise as he realized his situation.  I told him just to attach to color company, and then reported to the colonel that I no longer had a wing to command.

Getting pampered.

That heat wiped us out.  It has been a hot year, but perhaps that stagnate air wore us out more.  We returned to our camp, and Cpl Carte’s face was a red as a ripe tomato.   He usually gets pretty red after a battle, but I think he was a bit worse than usual.  The battalion’s fifer was camped with his wife next to our camp, and startled by his redness, she began pampering him with ice and wet clothes to cool him down.

Even though the battlefield at Jackson seems so terribly small for the four battalions, eight artillery pieces, and cavalry, it seems we are never at a loss for action and maneuvering.  Capt Sharp has said that he enjoys working in the tight area as it forces us to react and maneuver.  Being major I experienced what Capt Sharp meant, and I agree.  The tight area seemed to prevent the mere forward and back football maneuvering, and keeps the battle interesting for both reenactor and public.


Rising from private to major in a day is quite a change in perspective—but that is what makes this nation great.  Only in America—even if it is not Confederate.

News article of event
News article of event
Youtube video
Youtube video

The Yankee Hoards

Hale Farm
Bath Ohio

August 11-12, 2012

Most of the events we, the 1st Tennessee, go to seem to have a lack of jackets dyed in indigo.  We’ve been to events where a few of us have to change our gray over to blue so that we can have someone to shoot at.  I have wondered, “Where are all the Yankees?”

Well, I found them.

It seems they have all been hiding out in northeast Ohio. Hale Farm had them in droves.  I think we should have raced back to General Bragg to get reinforcements.

I had worked out ahead of time with Captain Greg Van Wey of the 5th Texas Company A to fall in with them so that we could guarantee we would not end up with the 7th Battalion of the Army of Northern Virginia—the battalion that left us a bad taste at Zoar last year.  He is a great captain and his unit has a lot of similarity to the 1st Tennessee, so we were a good fit.  The 5th Kentucky was also there from a last minute decision—they also were reluctant to come due to the ANV, but the corporal of the 5th Texas convinced them the ANV would not be an issue.

We love blue targets—there are not enough blue targets on the west side of Ohio where most of our events are, but at Hale Farm, we were outnumbered about four to one.

The event was on grounds that reminded us of the historic village at Sharon Woods—only on a larger scale.  There were a lot more grounds and a much larger battlefield.  We were a single battalion of four companies (which included the 5th Kentucky) against what appeared to be two full Federal battalions, not to mention too many cavalry to count, and a solid artillery force.

The morning tactical was interesting, and left me with the impression that the indigo dye must have some strange affect on the brain.  The Yankee objective for the tactical was to get at least one Yankee in the village.   We, as the Confederate defenders, had to keep every Yankee out.

Being a private for the weekend, my focus was to burn powder through my musket, but I had a good view over the unmowed battlefield.  There were several ways the Federals could take to progress to the village.  The most obvious was through the center of the large field, or they could have marched along one edge—or even found a way around the field through the woods.

Remember—they outnumbered us greatly.  They only needed to get one Yankee through.  There were a number of tactics they could have employed to get to the village—and afterwards we thought of how they could have done it.  They could have taken a platoon off around our flank along the far side of the battlefield, and there would have been nothing we could have done to stop them since we were fully occupied by the tremendous hoards of blue.

But somehow, that little concept escaped them—they simply continued a direct assault on our lines, which meant that our force blocked their path to the village, and in the end the tactical ended in a Confederate victory, although we would be pretty much decimated.  We achieved our objective in the time we had and kept the Yankees out of the village.

Christine—my musket—was not happy about the drizzle, however.  Most of Saturday morning was spent getting sneezed on by the overcast sky, and Christine had never been in that kind of weather during a battle, before.  It took a few misfires for her to get going—and she would be fine for awhile.  Then we would have to stop to maneuver, and she would get upset all over again.  I would have to coax her into getting that blackpowder to burn.

Hale Farm was a terrific event, and definitely outsized Reynoldsburg’s claim as the largest event in Ohio.  My only complaint for Hale Farm was that the battlefield was highly uneven—there were a lot of gopher holes and other ruts that we had to be careful marching through.  The coordinators might want to find a way to deal with this issue to keep someone from getting hurt.  The field was left unmowed—grass was taller than our knees.  Being very wet, I left the field soaked to the bone over all my trousers.  But tall grass is not an issue—in my opinion it makes the event more authentic, though it does make marching at the double-quick difficult.

But the event went the distance otherwise—trenches were dug for us to take cover in.  There were even a few rifle pits.  Had it not been for the lengthy and heavy recent rains, and the drizzle that lasted all of Saturday morning, we might have been more willing to dive in and make full use of those pits.    We did use the trenches for the Saturday afternoon battle, but the mud did give a bit of difficulty, though many were looking at the positive side by commenting on the patina that was added to their uniforms for the Maryland, My Maryland event coming next month.  Sunday was much dryer, so we made heavy use of those pits and trenches then.

Somehow the 5th Texas managed to significantly increase their numbers for the Sunday battle.  With three of us from the 1st Tennessee, there were a total of 24 rifles in their ranks.  It is not often you see a company that large—I do not think I have ever seen the 1st Tennessee with that many on the field at once.

Something we rarely see is a band that we can march to.  The Yankees had the Camp Chase Fife and Drums, while we had a small band with a fife and a couple of drums.  This was the first time I had experienced marching out into battle with this.  There had been the occasional young drummer boy beating cadence for us—and we were usually lucky if he had a somewhat regular tempo.  This band at Hale Farm was experienced—they did an excellent job with a series of Southern tunes.

During Sunday battalion drill, we got to experience something else that was completely new to me.  Although I have drilled forming a box around officers and defending against cavalry, I had never actually had cavalry to defend against—it was just something we drilled.  But during the drill, the Yankee cav came out to play with us—charging us at full gallop while we were in a defend against cavalry stance, stopping just five yards from us.

Reynoldsburg did outdo Hale Farm on the sutlers—but there were still a good number at Hale Farm, including a gunsmith I happened to need when my gun sight got knocked off when fixing bayonets.

Much of the spare time we had we spent trading our reenacting stories.  I had never met the 5th Texas before, and they did not know much about the 1st Tennessee.  Cpl Jeff Carte and Private Sean Swart joined me, and I was later surprised by the arrival of Pvt Tim Ellifrit for Saturday.

One way or another Hale Farm will be an event I will return to.  Having made friends with the 5th Texas, we know we will be welcome with them.  In many ways they were like the 1st Tennessee—well drilled and aggressive on the field.  I was right at home with them.  I hope I can get more of the 1st Tennessee to join us for next year.

Local TV News story
Aurora Advocate New Article

Can I Pet the Horse?

Greenville, OH
July 28-29,2012

The horse was called Norman.

I arrived at my usual time Friday evening at the Garst Museum in Greenville, Ohio.  Being the first to arrive and the contact for the unit with the event coordinators, I met with the blacksmith, who (with one other) was the living history organizer for the event.

Since this was a timeline event and the Civil War needed to be kept together, he took me to the 4th Indiana Light Artillery.  Since we represented the opposing side in our War of Northern Aggression, he suggested a nice little corner under the shade near the artillery unit.  Between us was a small space where a horse was going to be hitched.

I made sure to give a wide berth to the area so the horse would not be trampling my tent. Cpl Carte and Sgt Nyman camped beside me.

The timeline event had reenactors all the way from the French and Indian War to the American Civil War.  Numbers were small, but that is generally to be expected at an event in its second year.  The horse belonged to an old friend of my from my days in Revolutionary War reenacting—one Cindy Jackson.

The horse was fine overall—my only complaint was that it must have thought it was a rooster as it decided to make a 4:30 am wake-up call.

Besides our living history area, the event also had a festival of sorts across the street from us where various vendors and artisans sold their modern wares.  They even had a Beatles tribute band play for a while at 7 pm Saturday evening.  None of this was an issue for us as it was completely separated from the living history area, and the noise was not noticeable.

“Can I pet the horse?”

Before the event I kept in communication with Rob Frost, commander of the 4th Indiana Light Artillery.  We gave some ideas of our numbers and sketched out some rough scenarios we could have for a skirmish.  Since his was the only Union unit there, and we were the only Confederate unit, and we were infantry and his was artillery, we discussed the possibility of some of us galvanizing Federal to provide infantry support, and he galvanizing a cannon to give us artillery support.  But neither of us had quite the turn-out we were hoping, so we worked it out that we would each stay with our units, and the 1st Tennessee would attack a gun.  Since we had about 10 for Saturday and would be losing a lot for Sunday, we decided the 1st would win on Saturday, and then all die a glorious and dramatic death on Sunday. Some of 4th seemed reluctant to play due to the low turnout, but we could make something happen.  I never turn down an opportunity to burn powder.

“Can I pet the horse?”

I saw many of Rev War guys I knew—I was surprised to learn that the Mad River Light Artillery works closely with 4th Indiana—many members of both units.  Some of the Mad River Light Artillery were old friends of mine—I even was their powder monkey once at a battle at the Fair at New Boston.

“Can I pet the horse?”

Since our unit only infantry unit there, and since I was the one to organize getting infantry unit there, I somehow ended up Confederate commander.  Sgt Mott came without stripes (intentionally), and Sgt Nyman, Cpl Carte, and Cpl Kletzli all conceded command to me.  My rule of thumb at auxiliary events such as this is this (those not voted on by the company at the Regimental Meeting), is that all officers and NCOs attending the event keep their rank, with highest rank in attendance holding command.  All have the option to relinquish their rank for the event—as it is sometimes more relaxing not to worry about the responsibility of the rank.  As private, I am last in line for command on these auxiliary events, although since I organize them, I am first in line among the privates.  Sgt Mott suggested that since I am shooting for Major on the Independent Guard Battalion, I should have the experience—so after ensuring all NCOs agreed, I took command for Saturday.

It was good experience.

“Can I pet the horse?”

The breakfast both days held a good choice of donuts with coffee, but I also fried my bacon and eggs.

There were a few sutlers, though more geared for the Rev War period, but the blacksmith had a good choice of items.  The Annie Oakley Festival also in town same weekend (on the fairgrounds on the opposite end of town), so we got lots of public from festival coming here.

“Can I pet the horse?”

Which brings me to the main problem with camping next to a horse.

“Can I pet the horse?”

Every member of the public, and I do mean every, seemed very interested in that horse.  Every time someone passed by our camp, which was very frequently since we were right on the main footpath, they would stop at the horse and ask us if they could pet it—or perhaps ask some other question about the horse.

“Can I pet the horse?”

So, for every time we were asked that question, we had to give the same answer.

“It’s not our horse.”

It gave me an endearing sympathy for the cavalry units.  We were always nice enough to direct them to Cindy, who finally told us that anyone could pet the horse—they just needed to watch that the horse didn’t step on them.

“Can I pet the horse?”

The Cannon demonstrations started at 10am for every two hours, with the one at 2pm scheduled the same time as our skirmish.  So we planned to take to the field and attack at the end of that demonstration.

“Can I pet the horse?”

We drilled twice for about ten minutes each before the skirmish, blowing some powder to show off a little to public. I realized halfway through I never called a single manual of arms—then started calling the shoulder arms part.

“Can I pet the horse?”

The time came for the skirmish and we marched to our start.  I asked Sgt/Pvt Mott to sing a tune on way.  I had prepared him ahead of time if he could do one—and he was ready only for either “Eliza Jane” or “Pick a Bail of Cotton”. I told him to choose based on how much he wished to annoy Cpl Kletzli.  Apparently he had a high desire for annoyance—he chose “Pick a Bail of Cotton”.

“Can I pet the horse?”

At the far end of the battlefield, Kletzli and Mott found a trail that led to the flank of the artillery, so they took Pvt Mercer down trail to wait for us and provide a nice surprise.

We advanced on field, swinging to opposite flank in a skirmish line.  I made mistake of putting Pvt Jackson Nyman on left end of my line.  To shift to left side of field, several times I ordered “to the left flank, by files right, march”.  But each time I got this strange look from Pvt Nyman as if he were asking, “You want me to do WHAT?”  I’ll have to remember that each end of the line must have a skilled private, if I don’t have an NCO to put there.

“Can I pet the horse?”
Other than a few minor difficulties, the battle went well—they moved the small mountain howitzer into position to fight us. The howitzer misfired a few times, and I was trying to drag things out, so I took my time advancing my line.  At the appointed time, Mott’s crew advanced onto the field from the opposite flank, and we had them in a good crossfire.  One of the Rev War regulars from the 6-pound Rev cannon assisted the Howizter by firing his flintlock at us, which had only slightly better reliability than that howitzer.

When I finally thought that the battle had dragged on long enough (I really have no idea how long we went), I waited for a final successful shot from the cannon and then ordered and advance at the double-quick to take the gun.  Pvt Ellifrit’s only disappointment was that he could not take a hit since he never had anyone shooting at him.

“Can I pet the horse?”

We lost all but four of us after the skirmish.  No supper was provided, but vendors on the grounds across the street did have a good selection.  I had a pork chop sandwich.  Cpl Carte had a buffalo burger.  One of the organizers allowed us into the museum to explore a bit—which was good to see.  Overall the organizers were great—free ice, showers, and porcelain.

“Can I pet the horse?”

As there were only four of us Sunday, I carried a rifle for the battle and gave Sgt Nyman the command.  We knew we would lose, so Sgt Nyman, Cpl Carte, and I all made a devious little plan for Pvt Nyman (Sgt Nyman’s son).  We decided that at the right time, we would all die, and not tell Pvt Nyman.  Basically, Pvt Nyman was to be the last man standing.  I don’t think any of us had any real idea what he might do.

“Can I pet the horse?”

We followed the trail around the field Kletzli and Mott found on Saturday and awaited for the demonstration artillery fire, then took the field.  Spread out as skirmishers, the four of us advanced quickly as we fired.  The artillery fired once from the six-pounder Napolean gun, and we advanced some more.  Then the Revolutionary War cannon gave us a surprised as they joined the fight with a blast from their six-pounder.  Two shots—the third was when we were supposed to die.  The Civil War gun prepared their second shot, and I and Cpl Carte drifted toward Sgt Nyman so the cannon could make a good kill shot (oops—the Rev War gun wasn’t supposed to count).  The three of us went down at the gun’s blast, leaving Pvt Nyman, in a state of total confusion.  I heard a good applause from the crowd—they liked our dramatic deaths.  Pvt Nyman at least did not give up any ground—he scrambled to the edge of the woods and continued with some pot shots at the artillery.  The Civil War Napolean turned toward Nyman and made a final blast, taking the private down.

“Can I pet the horse?”

It was a good event—we had a great time. Simple breakfast was the only provided food, but as long as we know in advance, I am okay with that.  Our starving private suggested they add a Saturday meal—they were unaware that is the standard for most events, so they said they would consider it for next year.  I know we will be back.

And yes, you can pet the horse—his name is Norman.  Just watch that you don’t let it step on you.

Local article about event

Analysis of Wingless Dynamit Nobel Caps

Performed at Fort Wayne, Indiana

July 15, 2012

At the Fort Wayne event Zack Carte and I tested out the Dynamit Nobel wingless percussion caps that can commonly be found at sutlers.  They have the appeal of being significantly cheaper than the normal RWS or CCI caps, so several of us have been curious to try them out to see if they could be used as an alternative.

The price of the wingless caps are between $5 and $6, about half the cost of the RWS and CCI 4 wing caps.  However, these are probably not period correct, as all photos I have seen of dug up caps have wings.

Our examination as a possible alternative is for infantry only—for other purposes this review does not apply.  For example, if you are cavalry and considering using these caps for your weapons, please ignore this review since the issues noted may not apply.  This review is to take into consideration having men standing immediately next to you, on either side, and being affected by what you do. Cavalry, for example, is not likely to have someone in close proximity, unless dismounted.

We fired about 10 caps with no powder.  Their behavior was similar to the 4 wing RWS.  With one exception there was no tearing and no evidence these would fragment.  In a control test we ran a few 4 wing RWS caps through the same testing and got nearly identical results—only one exception to no tearing or evidence of a risk of fragmentation.  We then proceeded to fire 2 rounds double charged (about 130-140 grain) with no issue.

Our control tests included the 4 wing RWS caps, the 4 wing CCI caps and the 4 wing Navy Arms caps.  As expected, and consistent with previous testing, the RWS and CCI caps had no issue, but the Navy arms caps showed tearing.  The Navy Arms cap wrapped one wing around the hammer, tearing nearly in half.

From the perspective of risk of fragmentation, the caps are safe.  However, they sparked brightly, like having a sparkler light up on the nipple.  Zack reported others using these wingless caps in battle lines and getting sparks hitting his face, and based on the amount of sparking it is obvious how dangerous they can be to the eyes of all nearby.  The biggest risk would be to a soldier in the front rank when fired from a soldier in the rear.

I personally test-fired a series in battle at Sharon Woods.  I was at right end of line, so was in a safe position in relation to other soldiers.  They are quite small and a bit difficult to manage, but that bright sparking was disruptive and disturbing.  I supposed one could get used to it, but I do not like it.  It was like having a firecracker at your face.

That sparking into the eyes of someone is enough to say that these caps should NEVER be used in infantry battle lines.  If you always fight in skirmish lines only, or are not infantry—there is no issue.  There is no fragmentation so they are safe from injury in that perspective, but sparking in close infantry lines is not something that should be risked.  Any captain reading this should take the responsibility to pass this information on to his men to not use these caps out of consideration for the eyesight of his comrades.

Review of musket caps tests:

4 Wing CCI caps: acceptable.  No fragmentation.  Cost is about 20% less than the 4-Wing RWS caps.  Regular use over time showed a bit of residue over the nipple after firing, which could potentially cause blockage if your nipple hole was small.  My nipple hole is large and I have never encountered a problem.  Reliability does seem to be a bit less than the RWS 4-wing caps.  I have encountered about 1 per 100 that are outright duds (they were nothing but copper).

4 Wing RWS caps:  best choice, but the most expensive.  Did experience fragmentation one time during battle from the soldier next to me, though I feel this was a fluke.

4 Wing Navy Arms caps: wings on the caps showed tearing after every firing, regardless of load, suggesting an unacceptable risk of fragmentation.  Every double-charged load caused fragmentation.  Price was comparable to the 4-Wing CCI caps, but they are difficult to find (at least here in Ohio).

Dynamit Noble Wingless caps:  least expensive and reliable, but had a much brighter flash when fired that could be disconcerting until the soldier gets used to it.  Also a risk of sparking in the eyes of soldiers on either side. Avoid if in infantry lines to prevent eye injury. If authenticity is important, you will need to pass on these anyhow as 4-wing caps are the period-correct choice.

6 Wing CCI caps:  fired hot and loud.  Price is nearly as inexpensive as the wingless caps.  Almost don't need a powder load when firing one of these.  Have not tested for fragmentation, but rumor has it that these are prone to fragment like the Navy Arms caps, though my experience suggest otherwise.  I find these acceptable, but only if the entire unit is using them as you will stand out due to how much louder they are.   They also have a bit more flash to them, but not as bad as the wingless Dynamit Noble caps.  If authenticity is important, you will need to pass on these as 4-wing caps are the period-correct choice.

Where's the Park?

Fort Wayne, IN

July 14-15, 2012

We had never been to this event in Fort Wayne, known as the Camp Allen Muster.  I stumbled across this one by accident looking for alternative events last year.  It was scheduled the same time as our usual event at McConnelsville, OH, but when it came up for a vote at our Regimental meeting, somehow Fort Wayne won out.  Capt Sharp had his concerns, since we knew nothing about the event.  All we really knew of it was that there were picture’s on the park’s website of members of the 19th Virginia from past events.  I had looked at the satellite view of the park from Google Maps, and the site looked of reasonable size.

But that Google Maps thing can really be deceiving.

The 1st TN attacking the fort. Nearly the entire park is in view.

I arrived Friday.  I drove up Spy Run Drive where the park was located and could see some of the fort buildings, so I knew I was at the site.  I saw what looked like some kind of private access road into the park with red wooden barricades, so thought the main entrance was perhaps up a bit.  I drove all the way up to the next streetlight, and there was nothing.  I turned to go around where the park was and passed by a gravel driveway at a trailhead, but nothing to indicate an entrance to the park.  I drove all the way around the park and came back to that access road.  I did not know what else to do, so I turned down the road.  About fifty feet down I came to a stop and asked a couple setting up an apparent sutler tent about registration and who I need to talk to, to which they pointed me in the right direction.  I looked around at the park—at the fort which took about one third of the panorama, the access road, which was really a large walkway, that went along a river on the left side, forking in front of my car to lead directly to the fort about one hundred feet in front of me, and I noted two buildings beside me.  It looked neat, but I kept wondering where the rest of the park was.  I could not imagine where I would even park my car, much less where some tents might be set up.

Except—that was the entire park.  Okay, we had complained about the small battlefield at Jackson, Michigan.  Four battalions fight on that battlefield and barely have room to maneuver.  Well, this entire park in Fort Wayne, Indiana, would fit in that battlefield in Michigan.  We figured this was probably about the size of the park we have to work with at the Durbin Bean Bake.

About sixteen (eleven rifles) of 1st Tennessee showed up.  The 50th Virginia was also there, although they had no privates arrive—all were NCOs or officers.  I guess they ended up demoting a few of them.  Major Duane (last name) of the Independent Guard was there, falling in the 50th VA, his old unit.  The Federal force was the 44th Indiana, who I do not think I had ever met before.  In total, there were about twenty soldiers per side. Col Julian of the Independent Guard was also there.  Col Julian did ask if I was going to join him on the battalion staff, but Capt Sharp needed the rifles, so I informed him I would be a private under JR this weekend.

Col Julian asked if he could play captain over the combined Confederate force, as a company, and asked Capt Sharp if he would play Lieutenant.  JR was rather reluctant, but he agreed in order to please his colonel.

We drilled for a bit on Saturday as a combined company.  Capt Sharp did not think Col. Julian had ever been a captain of a company, to which I replied that perhaps he was using this event as an excuse to try out being a captain.  It is a bit different from being colonel, and I know that in reenacting it is always enjoyable to experience something new.

Our drill soon turned into a skirmish as the Federals decided to intrude on our drill.  It was certainly refreshing seeing blue coats itching to play with us.

The main battle started not long after our drill.   There is not much to say about what happened, since the area is so small to work in.  The Federals pushed out from fort.  We pushed back—the rebels won.

JR took us through a lot of drill later, but we needed it, and it was good.  We worked out a few more kinks.

A fire ban provided an unfortunate experience.  Due to the drought we have been experiencing, we were not allowed a campfire. This meant no hot water for coffee or cleaning guns, and no bacon and eggs for breakfast (which is a staple for me).  The fire ban was not the fault of the park—it is just something that happens.  They were kind enough to provide coffee and a continental breakfast for us.  Some of us used the hose to flush cold water through their guns.  The park officials allowed us access to hot faucet water, and suggested possibly running water through the coffee makers to get near boiling water, which I think a few of us did.  I simply used my fallback method of using nothing but blackpowder solvent when hot water is not available—takes a bit longer and uses a lot more cleaning patches, but mine comes out the cleanest gun.  I had even bet Capt Sharp that he could not get a mark on my hand from rubbing the ramrod end into the breach of my rifle—a bet I won.

Saturday supper was catered fried and baked chicken, with the reenactors providing potluck sides.  It was a good meal.

Cpl Moore (Girth) and Pvt Springer (Mercer) spent some time that evening with the Federals that stationed in the fort.  When they returned some time after dark, they were excited about the 44th Indiana.  “These are like the best Federals ever!” they said.  They even said that if they had not liked JR and 1st Tennessee so much, they would be Federal with the 44th.  The fort had fans, TVs refrigerators—all the modern conveniences.  The 44th were enjoying pizza.  Girth and Mercer were harping on how cool all that was—this coming from the guys who always campaign next to the campfire every night.

Capt Sharp with Little Pud, his prize from the festival.

One major negative of this event is that occurred during some kind of major festival of some sort.  This festival, which had a rock concert every evening (which at least ended by 11 pm).  The festival was tolerable even though it was across the river from us, but it would have been nice if was not there.  An air boat gave rides down the river, which was not tolerable—every time air boat came past he opened up the throttle and drowned out all other sounds, even our own thoughts.  However, the coordinators did say they were looking at rescheduling the event for the end of October in 2013.  We gave the some tips on how to avoid conflicts with our schedule and with significant events.

There were some issues of parking cars—they had us park either across the street or around the corner, both of which competed against the festival.  One car vandalized, so they allowed us to park cars within the park, which was patrolled.  I would strongly recommend parking within the park during the night—if they continue to allow that—and then parking in one of the lots in the morning.

The public walked through the park, following the trail all day, starting at daybreak, going to late at night, never trying closing.  The security was there to prevent any issues.

Sunday was much more laid back.  No morning drill, and nothing planned until the battalion—er company drill—at 1 pm.  The drill was little more than marching around the park and firing at the fort.  The battle started shortly after.  It started with us in possession of the fort and the Federals trying to drive us out.  The final objective was for us to take their artillery piece.  One thing is for sure—the 44th Indiana does like to play.  We sometimes have a hard time finding blue targets that like to give us a challenge.  I hope we run into the 44th again.

Although the park was small—you really could not have more than 40 or so reenactors—it was an excellent event.  There is no hope to see cavalry there due to it’s small size.  The festival was a problem, along with the airboat rides that stormed up and down the river, but the coordinators are looking at changing the date of the event to late October in 2013, so the festival and other noise issues should not be around.  It is located just north of downtown Fort Wayne, so security is a bit important.  They let us park our cars on the grounds (right by our tents) overnight where a security guard patrolled, and I would strongly recommend doing so, and the relocating the cars back to the parking lot in the morning.  This event was opposite McConnelsville, which is what we usually do on this date, so I asked Capt Sharp which event he thought was better—he gave his vote for Fort Wayne.  A powder bounty was also given to us, much to our surprise, which equated to about a third of a pound each.

I think we all had a good time at this event.  The big events with something planned every hour have their place and are enjoyable, but these small events give us time to spend together.  I am sure Fort Wayne is an event we will attend again.