REENACTING A FORGOTTEN CAMPAIGNThe Payne’s Farm 2005 Battle Commemorationby Kevin O’Beirne
LOCUST GROVE, Va. - Learning about a lesser-known campaign is sometimes more appealing than reenacting well known battles time and again. In late October 2005, about 250 men were the first reenactors since the Civil War to march to and re-create on the original ground part of an obscure battle called Payne’s Farm. Pre-event research, planning, strict adherence to the historical record, and extremely good reenactors combined to make Payne’s Farm 2005 one of the most memorable and historically accurate reenactments of the year.
The Payne’s Farm event was held on the original battlefield two miles north of Locust Grove, Virginia (twenty-five miles west of Fredericksburg) on October 28-30, 2005, and was organized by the Stonewall Brigade on 685 acres owned by the Civil War Preservation Trust (CWPT).
Confederate participants portrayed the 2nd Virginia of the Stonewall Brigade, while Federals portrayed the 151st New York of the Third Corps. These regiments’ brigades battled each other at Payne’s Farm in 1863.
Payne’s Farm was the scene of the bloodiest fighting in the often-neglected Mine Run campaign (November 26-December 3, 1863). Because the campaign was in the late autumn in abysmally cold, miserable weather, and anti-climactically ended without a cataclysmic battle, it is rarely looked to by reenactment planners. Despite the campaign’s place in popular memory as one that had “no fighting”, 2,428 men became casualties during it—nearly two-thirds of who fell in Payne’s farm fields.
Historical Background
The autumn of 1863 was a season of active campaigning in northern Virginia without major battles. Since Gettysburg in July, the Lincoln Administration had pressed General George Meade to bring Robert E. Lee’s Confederate army to bay. The rapid-moving Bristoe campaign in mid-October and the small, indecisive Union victories at Kelly’s Ford and Rappahannock Station on November 7 had diminished Meade’s political stock. It was thus necessary for him to come to grips with Lee once more before going into winter quarters.
On November 26—the first nationally designated Thanksgiving Day—Meade set the Army of the Potomac in motion across the Rapidan River in multiple columns, seeking to turn Lee’s right (eastern) flank and bring on a battle. The Federals needed to move fast to get through a forbidding, tangled forest known as the Wilderness of Spotsylvania, where Joe Hooker had come to grief seven months earlier.
The Yankee Fifth and First Corps were to cross the river at Culpeper Mine Ford and proceed to Parker’s Store on the Orange Plank Road, then move to Orange Court House. The Second Corps was to cross at Germanna Ford and proceed on the Orange Turnpike to Robertson’s Tavern at Locust Grove. Simultaneously, William French’s Third Corps—with the 151st New York—was to cross the Rapidan at Jacob’s Ford1 followed by the Sixth Corps, and join with the Second Corps before advancing further westward. Meade’s plan was a good one and, if carried out in a timely manner, could well have successfully maneuvered Lee into a bad spot. Unfortunately, it was plagued by blunders by Meade’s subordinates from its outset.
The campaign started out poorly when “Blinky” French got the Third Corps underway hours later than planned. With all the troops on the road by late morning, a Sixth Corps staff officer recalled, “The season was not favorable. The weather was bitterly cold, and the roads were difficult.”2
When the Confederate signal station on Clark’s Mountain spotted marching columns of bluecoated infantry and Union wagon trains in motion, Lee started shifting his forces to attack Meade while the Federals were moving; Ewell’s Corps (under Jubal Early) was closest to the Yanks and would encounter them first.3
French’s corps crossed the Rapdian as darkness fell and continued beyond the river for three more miles. It was then discovered that the lead elements had taken the wrong road and two of French’s three divisions had to countermarch two miles before bivouacking for the night. The nighttime temperatures were freezing cold—probably in the teens or less.
Shortly after 7:00 a.m. on November 27, the Third Corps was again marching slowly southwestward, with Henry Prince’s division in the lead followed by Joseph Carr’s division (with the 151st New York), and David Birney’s division and the Sixth Corps behind.
The march came to a halt when General Prince realized he had gone the wrong way at a fork in the Jacob’s Mill Ford Road—going right when he should have gone left. While French and Prince squabbled while attempting to figure out which way to go, around midmorning, Prince’s skirmishers encountered Edward “Allegheny” Johnson’s Confederate division of Early’s corps in thick woods along the Raccoon Ford Road, near a farm owned by the Payne family. General Carr reported, “At 9.10 a.m. a few musket shots were heard in front. At 11.25 [a.m. the Third Division, with the 151st] halted on the edge of a field on the left of the road, and about 3 miles from Jacobs’ Mills. At 12.30 the firing in front became quite brisk.”4
“Allegheny” Johnson’s command had camped near the Rapidan that night and on November 27 their objective was to join Rodes’s and Early’s Divisions (under Hays) a mile west of Locust Grove and, instead, along the way they encountered French. By midmorning Johnson’s men were astride the road, blocking French from joining the Union Second Corps at Locust Grove two or three miles further south.5
After marching about three and a half miles from Jacob’s Ford, the 151st halted in the Wilderness around noon. The break lasted about three hours, while Generals Prince and French debated which road to take, and while the skirmishing between Prince’s vanguard and Johnson’s Confederates heated up.
About 2:30 p.m. Carr’s and Birney’s divisions, with the 151st in the lead, were ordered south along the Indiantown Road and then turned left off the road into a stretch of thick, tangled woods in an effort to get around the Johnson’s flank. Clawing its way out of the woods, the 151st New York was formed in line on the right of their division in a large field on Payne’s farm, with Birney’s division in support.
The 151st’s Company A, equipped with breech-loading Sharps rifles, was ordered out ahead in a skirmish line. They advanced across Payne’s farm into the far wood line, to the Raccoon Ford Road. Encountering grayclad troops on the road, Company A opened fire.
“Suddenly a part of our column was assailed on the flank by a Yankee skirmish line,” wrote one of Johnson’s men. “It was a complete surprise to us, since no one thought the enemy was in the vicinity. Regimental officers…formed… skirmishers right in the road and ordered them forward.”6
Increasing pressure forced the New Yorkers back toward their main line. After skirmishing for quite a while, Johnson’s graybacks moved forward into Payne’s Farm in line of battle around 4:00 p.m.
The Stonewall Brigade advanced through the thick woods. Upon reaching the field, they dressed their line and charged, and the battle became general as several brigades on both sides opened an extremely heavy fire across Payne’s farm.
For more than two hours the battle swung back and forth through the fields as the Rebels assaulted the strong Yankee line. The 151st and the Stonewall Brigade struggled in the late afternoon, as the New Yorkers turned back a half-dozen assaults while being repulsed themselves at least twice—once when flanked on their right. “Neither side seemed to gain any ground, or lose anything except men,” observed a Union soldier.7 It was the same for many other regiments up and down the line.
Around sundown Carr’s division was withdrawn to replenish its ammunition. Birney’s division continued the amazingly intense struggle for a while longer. “We fought until night brought an end to the battle,” recalled one Rebel. General Carr agreed: “Darkness coming on, however, the firing entirely ceased.”8 The battle ended in a standoff, with the opposing forces holding their ground on opposite sides of Payne’s farm, with neither being able to claim a clear victory.
Both sides threw out pickets, and stretcher parties entered the fields to remove the wounded in the frigid darkness. Around 10:00 p.m., Johnson’s Division withdrew and marched to join Lee’s new defensive line along the west bank of Mine Run—a north-running stream at the western edge of the Wilderness.9
The Confederates’ impetuous assault had been halted, but they had punished the Federals severely despite being the aggressors in most of the fight. When the firing stopped at dusk, French had lost 950 men to Johnson’s 545. The 151st New York suffered 53 casualties—fifteen percent of its 350 men. The 2nd Virginia lost 45 men in the battle out of 144 total casualties in the Stonewall Brigade.
Johnson’s attack proved costly for the Federals in another way because it convinced French that he faced overwhelming odds and kept him in place, despite the fact that French’s corps outnumbered Johnson’s lone division by three to one. French’s hesitation gave Lee sufficient time to withdraw Johnson without pursuit and complete his formidable fieldworks beyond Mine Run.
On November 28 the Army of the Potomac slowly advanced three miles to Mine Run and spread out in a miles-long line. Meade decided to turn Lee’s lightly defended southern flank in a dawn assault in November 30. That night the temperature dropped below zero, as fires were forbidden the men. Alerted to the presence of Meade’s 30,000-man flanking force, which included the 151st New York, Lee rushed elements of A.P. Hill’s Corps to the scene which spent the night entrenching. Dread filled the Union ranks as the sounds of fieldworks being erected atop a long, open slope beyond Mine Run continued throughout the night.
Daybreak revealed a seemingly impregnable Confederate position. On his own initiative, the commander of the Union flanking force, Gouverneur Warren, called off the assault. An infuriated Meade eventually agreed that slaughter would be the only result if the attack proceeded, and two days later the Army of the Potomac withdrew across the Rapidan into winter quarters. The 1863 Virginia campaigns were over.
“Alleghany” Johnson continued to be one of Lee’s most competent division commanders until he was captured at Spotsylvania’s Mule Shoe on May 12, 1864. The Federals’ lackluster performance at Mine Run reinforced Lincoln’s plan to bring U.S. Grant east to command all Federal armies from Virginia; Meade would never again exercise a totally independent command. “Blinky” French’s performance at Payne’s Farm and Mine Run led directly his being cashiered from the Federal army that winter. The Stonewall Brigade served valiantly in the Confederate Second Corps in the Overland, Shenandoah, Petersburg, and Appomattox campaigns, and the 151st New York—transferred to the Sixth Corps in April 1864—likewise saw hard campaigning until the end of the war in Virginia.
Preparation
The concept of the 2005 Payne’s Farm event was simple: re-create for a period of about thirty hours similar situations to those of the 151st New York and 2nd Virginia on November 27, 1863. The event included the two battalions marching to their collision on the battlefield, followed by historically documented post-battle activities. Simple in concept, maybe, but complex in execution.
Event coordinator Mike “Dusty” Chapman (27th Virginia, Stonewall Brigade) worked on the weekend-long reenactment for more than two years. Pre-event preparation work included obtaining land use permission from the CWPT and other local property owners; obtaining permits from governmental agencies; assembly of maps; selecting bivouac sites and march routes; securing a local water supply source; numerous pre-event site visits and work days; preparing an emergency response plan; preparing an extensive website with historical information and event information; “recruiting” of participants, and other things. Dusty approached this writer about being the Federal battalion commander in the early autumn of 2003—more than two years prior to the event.
A Federal “bulk purchase” of over twenty-five New York State jackets—worn by a large number of soldiers in the 151st New York—was organized by Mike Jolin (Columbia Rifles) through vendor Chris Daley. It was “a great excuse to buy a sharp-looking jacket,” as Joe Bordonaro (1st Pennsylvania Resreves/1st Maine Cavalry) put it. Rob Willis (Columbia Rifles) painstakingly made 120 blue Third Corps badges to be issued to the Federal participants.
Historical research for the event was detailed. I prepared a meticulous battle plan that closely conformed to the struggle of the Stonewall Brigade and 151st New York with a simple philosophy: what the history books said was to be re-created.
The Confederates’ Friday bivouac was adjacent to the ruins of the post-war Payne’s farmhouse on the south side of the CWPT site. The Confederate march route was about 2½ miles long and went more-or-less in a big circle around the CWPT/Payne’s Farm property. The final half-mile of the Confederate march route was along the Raccoon Ford Road, in the footsteps of the Stonewall Brigade’s route to Payne’s Farm.
The Federals’ Friday bivouac was in a woodlot several miles from Payne’s Farm. The Yanks’ march route was about five miles—almost all on gravel roads through woods and rolling fields. The final 2½ miles of the Federal route was identical to that trod by the 151st New York in 1863. On Saturday night, both the blue and gray camped on opposite sides of the battlefield in roughly the same places as the New Yorkers and Virginians on November 27-28, 1863.
Logistical planning was another significant undertaking, with purchases of period-style rations, verifying that sufficient firewood supplies were available at the bivouac sites, and providing adequate and unobtrusive water supplies and sanitary facilities. The event’s linear nature and separate bivouac sites for each battalion was a logistical challenge. This aspect of the event was carried off with flying colors by a dedicated crew of a dozen men who spent the weekend hauling water, flagging cross-county march routes, serving as guides, checking the campsites for residual trash and smoldering campfires after the troops departed, making openings in fences and repairing them after the troops passed, and numerous other behind-the-scenes jobs. The Federal battalion’s event support (“kabuki”) staff included CRs Charles Heath and Jeff “Sparky” Henion, and “Big Jim” Doyle (155th New York), and Jerry Todd and Dave Myrick (1st Maine Cavalry). It bears mentioning that the water tanks were Charles’s personal property donated for the event’s use, and “somehow” the water was always a convenient distance from the troops no matter where they marched—representing a lot of effort on that part of the “Kabuki Squad”.
Tom Craig (Columbia Rifles) noted, “Pre-event communication was handled chiefly by the website, but also through group emails from the Federal commanding officer. Participants were well educated on the goals, mission, and expectations for the event, and it showed.”
A major component of pre-event preparation was preservation fundraising by the participants. The beneficiary was the CWPT with the goal of raising $3,000 to establish a roadside interpretive marker at Payne’s Farm. This aspect of the event greatly exceeded the sponsors’ expectations because, between donations obtained by participants and excess registration income, $10,175 was raised—the majority of which was via excess registration funds. The CWPT was able to obtain matching grants of four-to-one, thus turning the participants’ efforts into a whopping $50,000 benefit for preservation.
The Participants
The re-created, 130-man 2nd Virginia was commanded by Tom Cummings and Kim Stidley, both of the modern-day Stonewall Brigade, with most of the Confederate staff likewise from the Stonewall Brigade.
The re-created, 110-man 151st New York was commanded by Lt. Col. Kevin O’Beirne (Columbia Rifles), Major Chris Piering (122nd NY/CR), Adjutant Dave Grieves (122nd NY/CR), Assistant Surgeon Noah Briggs (independent), Chaplain Mike “Mighty Roger” Peterson (CR), Sgt. Major Harry Connelly (CR), and Quartermaster Sergeant Dan “Brother Yoder” Hindman (CR). All performed extremely well, and Brother Yoder’s performance is particularly notable, because he did very well in the busy and demanding job of quartermaster sergeant, despite never having done it before and with only four weeks’ notice prior to the event.
The balance of the staff were wonderful musicians, including Bugler Dan Torrisi (independent) and Principal Musician Jari Villanueva (Federal City Brass Band), and five members of the Federal City Brass Band, who lent a different and professional air to the weekend’s music, while playing Civil War arrangements using original, period instruments. No one in reenacting is a better bugler than Dan Torrisi, and the Federal City Brass Band is unmatched in the hobby. Jari also recruited a number of fine field musicians (fifers and drummers) assigned to the companies.
The company commanders, subalterns, sergeants, and corporals all did very well in their demanding jobs. The Federal battalion included the following:
* Company A, comprised of sharpshooter impressionists and the 69th New York
Co. A from New York City, led by Captain Ron McGovern (69th NY/CR), Lt. Dan
Wambaugh (Randolph Mess), Orderly Sgt. Nathan Tingley (Midwestern sharpshooters),
and Sgt. Dave Dwyer (69th NY).
* Company C (color company), comprised of individuals and small messes of various
groups, led by Captain Dennis Schank (151st NY), Lt. Bill O’Dea (149th
NY), Orderly Sgt. Scott Schotz (151st NY), and Sgt. Ron Roth (149th NY).
* Company I, comprised of the Palmetto Living History Association (PLHA), the
Potomac Legion’s Company I Mess, and other PL units, led by Captain Bill
Watson (Co. I Mess), Lt. Cory Pharr (PLHA), Orderly Sgt. James Owens (1st Minn.
Co. D), and Sgt. Ken Coanshock (Co. I Mess).
* Company B, comprised of the Columbia Rifles and 122nd New York, led by Captain
Garr Gast (CR/122nd NY), Lt. “Lanky” Pete Smith (CR), Orderly Sgt.
“Grumpy” Dave Towsen (CR), Sgt. Steve “Quiet Man” Tyler
(CR), and, as corporals, CRs Tom Craig, Nic “Bugs” Ellis, Mike “Spoons”
Jolin, and Rob “Goat” Willis.
A total of thirty-eight men registered for Company B, and twenty-five showed up. In addition, six CRs served on the field and staff and two more in event support roles, making the CR the largest single-unit contingent on either side at the event.
Payne’s Farm 2005: Friday
On October 28 participants gathered north of Locust Grove on a 50-degree sunny day. As late-afternoon darkness deepened, after browsing through several high quality vendors of reproduction wares who were set up in the parking field, participants were swiftly processed through registration check-in and a basic “authenticity”/weapons inspection. Chris Piering organized the Federal inspections and noted, “The registration and getting to the camp was smooth and rather easy, and the Federal inspections went well with few issues raised. Kudos to Dan Wambaugh for donating five cotton canteen straps to cover for several men who failed to read this particular requirement.” Bill Watson helped out with inspections for much of the afternoon.
After inspection, participants were shuttled several miles to the respective Union and Confederate bivouacs. In each camp, rations were distributed and cooked, and police guard details posted. The Federal police guard was initially “semi-formal”, which became more formal after the old Guard was relieved following guard mount at 8:00 p.m.
Steve Hartwick (PLHA) of Company I wrote, “Walking into the wooded 151st New York camp in the late afternoon on Friday and seeing authentically-clad soldiers hurriedly preparing bivouacs was a sight I’ll never forget. Receiving rations—1¼ lb of slab bacon, 8 pieces of hardtack, and coffee and sugar—and frying it up as quickly as possible was a crucial business.” Corporal Joe Bordonaro of Company I, a veteran campaigner, dealt with his rations like the boys of 1863: “After I finished cooking my pork ration I proceeded to eat most of it, figuring that it’d be easier to carry in my stomach than in my haversack.”
Orderly Sgt. Scott Schotz (151st NY) of Company C noted of Friday evening, “As I inspected our company’s ‘donation’ of men for Guard, I saw my ramrod full of bacon flare to a crisp and blithely asked, ‘Sgt Roth, will you be kind enough to extinguish my pork?’ Our company was a polyglot of men from various units but functioned very well. We had ninteen New York State jackets in our company, greatcoats neatly strapped on the packs, and a blue diamond corps badge on each man’s cap—it was a great-looking bunch.”
Several small “scenarios” spiced up the evening, from Company A’s sock-issue to guard mounting, so that the police guard could guide late arrivals into the darkened camp.
Corporal Rob Willis of Compnay B (CR) recalled, “Our Friday campsite was beyond beautiful. The usual rush to get the ‘rubber on the road’ went off well and, as the daylight disappeared and the chill set in, the atmosphere slowly morphed into 1863. First person was violated a little too often by the group (myself included) but was sustained easily, interestingly, and with good humor for hours at a stretch, adding an elusive and wonderful quality to the illusion. Friday evening saw a few little dramas, including a botched guard mount by Co. B that resulted in us getting extra fatigue duty.”
Company B’s Corporal Tom Craig noted, “Friday night was spent making small talk, mostly in first-person, and bitching about how cold it was going to be. There was one humorous incident when the Guard supernumerary for our company was completely unprepared for his post and got chewed out by Sgt. Major Connelly.”
Brian Luscombe of Company B (CR), participating in his first Civil War reenactment, noted, “When I entered the bivouac site on Friday evening and met Company B for the first time, passing other campfires and soldiers preparing for the coming night, I was struck by the feeling that I had done this before—albeit in the modern army in a patrol base setting where all people involved are professionals and know their business. It reminded me of that.”
Principal Musician Villanueva recalled, “I was extremely proud to act as Principal Musician and had 11 bandsmen and musicians serving in the massed music. The field musicians sounded and beat all the camp calls and the bugles, fifes, and drums did a wonderful job with the full Reveille in the 30-some degree weather. The brass band performed a Friday evening concert followed by a fife and drum Tattoo. As requested we ended with Home Sweet Home.”
Captain Bill Watson (Company I Mess) remembered the most haunting moment of the evening, “Friday night when Taps was played it was echoed by other buglers ‘in their regiments’. The bandsmen had taken their horns to nearby hillsides to create this illusion for the men. It wasn’t echoed sequentially—it was echoed when the first bugler was several bars into the music. The result, on a cold quiet night with no air stirring the trees, was breathtaking, very difficult to describe but eerie, impressive, sad, all come to mind. The melody laid on top itself, offset by several bars, became simultaneously discordant, wild, and more doleful than it is when played singly. Piling it on top of itself produced anguish rather than sadness.”
The men bedded down in night air that dipped into the mid-30s; the weekend was precipitation-free. Corporal Willis added, “We were cold and sleepless that night, but it was a spa compared to the events and conditions to come, little did we know.”
“I had a disturbing dream that night,” related Corporal Bordonaro,
“In which I ‘woke up’ and saw tombstones all over the place
and exclaimed, ‘We're sleeping in a graveyard, boys!’ One thing
was for sure: that place was definitely as cold as a graveyard! Little did I
know that the coldest night was yet to come.”
Saturday
“I woke up before Reveille but was glad to see the graying of the sky because I knew that the sun would be rising soon and warming us up,” shivered Corporal Bordonaro. Fifes and drums sounded the camp to life and Civil War military routine took over.
That morning the re-created 151st New York drilled in a large field near the bivouac site: 45 minutes of company drill, 30 minutes to practice a couple battalion maneuvers and a “bugle refresher course”, and 45 minutes of skirmish drill. Orderly Sgt. Dave Towsen (CR) of Company B enthused, “Many of the fellows thought the ‘bugle call refresher course’ was first rate. It took little time and added much to the experience for the rest of the weekend, and it sure beat hours of listening to that CD I have, and Dan Torrisi is a great bugler.”
The battalion packed up, and started on the march by 11:30 a.m. Company C’s Bob Mulheisen (Western Independent Grays) observed, “Marching out Saturday morning past an 1860s mill—although in ruins—while fifes tootled and drums beat cadence was a rare experience.”
Skies were partly cloudy and the air temperature was in the mid-40s. Because of the warm autumn, the trees were decidedly unauthentic—the battlefield and march routes were lined with green with just a hint of autumn color, while the Mine Run campaign of late November was conducted in a landscape devoid of foliage.
The march had only a few modern intrusions, including a several motor vehicles and a couple houses that were obviously modern. One participant noted, however, “A number of folks, and especially children, came running into their front lawns to watch the battalion pass. That must’ve been a surprise if they didn’t know we were coming!” Members of Company A even barked at dogs that came out to observe the passing column.
The Federals’ march was made easier by our excellent, five-piece brass band, which played numerous military airs that kept the men stepping along in a lively manner and kept hearts light—no kidding!
Still haunted by his vision the night before, a creeped-out Corporal Bordonaro noted, “About two-thirds of the way through the march we passed a graveyard that had some old stones in it that looked eerily like the ones I had seen in my dream.” Around this point the reenactors’ march route had merged with that of the historical 151st New York on its way to the battlefield.
Three-and-a-quarter miles into the march, the battalion rested for two hours in a field about a half-mile from the original 151st’s break site. “We were all relieved when we turned into a farm field and were given a rest,” admitted Corporal Bordonaro. “We un-slung our packs and fell out for a long rest. We later learned that we were reenacting a long break occasioned by an argument between two generals who disagreed about the best route to take—in this case, historical accuracy was pretty great! I finished off the rest of my pork ration and glumly faced the prospect of another twenty hours of so with only hardtack crackers to eat. At least I had a good supply of coffee remaining.”
Here a sealed “fate card”—written as individual, period-style “Special Orders”—was issued to each man. Each contained information on a soldier of the historical 151st, his fate, and detailed instructions on the participant’s required actions in the coming “battle”. The battalion was ordered to carry but not open the Special Orders until ordered, and to keep the contents confidential.
Each “casualty” represented a soldier actually wounded at Payne’s Farm, and the fate cards specified when and where each “casualty” was to be “hit”, how he was to behave, and how he would get off the field to the bandaging station. The “wounds” ran the gamut from a man with a part of his finger shot off to fatal head wounds, and a myriad in between, reflecting historical variety in the type and severity of battle injuries. Corporal Bordonaro mused, “The ‘Special Orders’ reflected a lot of research and hard work on the part of Kevin O’Beirne and would add tremendously to the accuracy of the upcoming depiction of the battle of Payne’s Farm.”
The Federals resumed the march and eventually turned off the Indiantown Road into the woods bordering Payne’s farm—in the footsteps of the real 151st. The path, scouted by the redoubtable Kabuki Squad earlier in the day, was a good one, and for good measure one of the uniformed kabukis, Dave Myrick, personally guided the battalion through the woods to make sure the re-created 151st New York didn’t get lost. “It wasn’t at all hard to do a little time-tripping here, as it were, and imagine yourself back in 1863, and the column moved along at a surprisingly quick pace through the woods,” remembered Corporal Bordonaro.
Clearing the woods, the battalion entered Payne’s farm. “We went
up a rise that was quickly named ‘Dead Cow Hill’ in honor of the
bovine who’s remains, particularly its stretched-out skin, were scattered
near our path,” recalled one reenactor. In another third of a mile the
Yanks formed in line behind a hedgerow on the northeast side of a large field.
Here the Special Orders were opened and each man learned his “fate”
for the evening. The field and staff officers disappeared through the hedgerow
for a few minutes of reconnoitering and, when they returned, they began barking
orders. The “music before the ball” was starting.
The Skirmish
At 4:45 p.m. Company A—including a platoon of men armed with breech-loading Sharps rifles representing the original 151st’s Company A—reinforced by a platoon from Company B, was sent out in full marching order under the command of Major Piering to locate the enemy. The skirmishers moved out across the 500-yard-wide field and into the 300-yard-wide belt of trees beyond. The skirmishers were deployed a half-mile from the main line and controlled by the bugle.
As the re-created 2nd Virginia trudged along the Raccoon Ford Road, they were attacked by the 151st’s skirmishers, corresponding to actions on the same ground 141 years earlier.
Almost a half-mile away, the balance of the Yanks heard “the ball open” as a spattering of distant firing broke the silence as the sun moved toward the western tree line. Soon the firing became more general and the tone of Union and Confederate bugles told distant listeners who was advancing and who was retreating.
On the skirmish line, Brian White of Company A wrote, “One highlight was the really long skirmish in full marching order that seemed to cover over a mile of ground, then the frantic retreat back through the woods into the open. What a hike! And my Sharps rifle actually worked well for the first time in four years!”
Major Piering reported, “Captain McGovern and Lt. Wambaugh responded to my screeches and shouts on the skirmish line with alacrity and zeal. As we fell back, a Confederate attempt to gain our flank was refused by Captain Gast and the reserve platoon of Company B.”
“That skirmish in the woods was pretty hot and conducted properly that I could see,” added Glenn Milner (Rowdy Pards), who participated as a Confederate. “I really enjoyed that and fired 20-plus rounds in there. The opposing U.S. skirmishers did a nice job.”
Bret Sumner (4th Va., Stonewall Brigade) who served as a Confederate sergeant wrote, “As in 1863, we deployed and advanced rapidly in skirmish order, pushing hard—we did not even take time to drop packs. We kept extending to our right to push the Federals’ left flank, but you fellows did a tremendous job of keeping from being cut off. The heavy woods and terrain were an incredible benefit and hinderance at the same time. The actions and reactions of both sets of skirmish lines in the woods were just textbook perfect. We maintained accurate distances between skirmish lines and in turn, our skirmish lines were a correct distance from the main bodies. It could not have gone any better. I honestly cannot put the entire experience into words—it was such a fluid, ‘real’ situation and I was so ‘in the moment’ at the time.”
Opposite Sgt. Sumner, Corporal Willis saw it this way, “The skirmish was astonishingly physical, exhausting, and very, very realistic, made all the more so because of the nearly crippling presence of knapsacks on our backs. Truly, the retreat was a series of 40-yard dashes punctuated by frantic yelling, firing, confusion and more sprinting. Anyone who saw me returning to battalion afterward, honking like a goose in my blown condition can testify that this was a ‘character-building’ engagement. It was brilliant, just brilliant—what an experience!”
To distant listeners the firing audibly rolled back through the trees toward the Union line and, fifteen minutes after the opening shots, the first Federal skirmishers re-entered the field. The Yanks rallied and made a stand on a shallow rise mid-field but, being outnumbered by the Confederates, eventually retired. “They were hotly engaged with the enemy and perhaps didn’t want to actually run, so the Colonel had to yell out to them to ‘Assemble on the battalion!’ They did so, falling back in some disorder, and rejoining the battalion,” observed Corporal Bordonaro.
It was forty-five minutes from the time the blueclad skirmishers went forward until they rejoined the battalion, reflecting the slower pace of Civil War battles that were fought over generally much longer distances than most reenactments.
Orderly Sgt. Towsen noted, “I was glad to get back to the battalion. Don’t you believe for a minute that the Orderly Sergeant didn’t fire in those self-preservation situations, because I sure did fire my gun. That was a one-mile long ‘moment’, in full marching order, while being pursued with malice by the Confederate skirmishers.”
The Battle
The Federal battalion fired a couple volleys through the hedgerow to drive off the Rebel skirmishers, and then charged into the field by the left flank to confront the advancing main line of the 2nd Virginia. Deploying into a column of companies and then deploying into line, the Yanks advanced toward the Rebs. Several men in Company C prayed the “Hail Mary” together as the re-created 151st New York advanced into battle.
Conforming closely to the original action between the Stonewall Brigade and the 151st New York, the Federals made two charges into the field each ending in retreat—one after being flanked by a Confederate company—and the Confederates charged the Yanks six times over a forty-minute period. During the course of the battle the sun edged behind the western trees behind the gray troops and dusk closed in.
The “battle” was intense and probably about as realistic as such an affair can be without flying lead. The two sides never got closer than 100 yards and usually fired at distances of 150 to 200 yards. The dimming daylight, lingering gunsmoke, and distant enemy line, combined with how each side skillfully used the undulations in the field to their advantage, lent a realistic feel to things.
Doug Cooper (CHAPS) served as a Confederate and recalled, “We clearly saw the Stars and Stripes above the steel of Yankee guns as they moved toward us and, at 200 yards or more, we commenced trading volleys before firing by file. We advanced with the rebel yell and the Yanks fell back leaving many of their number sprawled in the pasture. We advanced and retreated alternately like two waves upon the sea but neither could gain advantage. We had little to shoot at most of the time, as the Yanks stayed down in a swale with only their heads and shoulders visible.”
Corporal Willis discovered something new: “The fight was intense, realistic, well handled, and inconclusive. I was delighted to discover how identifiable the Confederate battle flag is at great distances—that’s one of those little mental details that stays with you forever.”
“When people when down, the ‘bullet’ came from an impersonal enemy from a great distance, and you knew the man didn’t see it coming,” wrote Patrick Furey (Fighting Boys Mess) of Company C.
Major Piering recalled, “One thing that made the battle so good was the fate cards. Creating them was no doubt a huge task that Kevin handled. The casualties were taken with seriousness and some downright good first person by the men.”
The “wounded” stumbled out of line and collapsed in “shock” or yelled defiance at the enemy, while officers bellowed orders. The fate cards directed numerous men to portray bullets passing through clothing and gear, and others to be “hit by a spent bullet”, contributing to the battle scenario’s realism.
Company A’s Corporal Brian White recalled trying to help a ‘wounded soldier’ during the battle: “It was pretty intense trying to remove John Cleveland from the field after his wounding, then yelling at him to, ‘Stay the hell down,’ while he floundered in the grass in the distance. That experience made me shiver.”
Chad Fuller (Randolph Mess) of Company A agreed, “Lt. Wambaugh and several of the other guys started screaming for Cleaveland to ‘get down’, lest he be hit again. From what they tell me, his portrayal of the wound, and then having to leave him on the field as darkness fell was a ‘moment’ for several guys. I was taking my own wound at the moment, feigning a shattered right wrist from a Confederate ball. From what he told me, Cleaveland even pulled his trousers down nearly around his thighs so as to look as though he was searching for his wound. He lay like that in the field until well past dark, and then realized that no one would notice him like that anyway, so he hoisted his trousers and lay there until the detail came to pick him up. The company didn’t see him again until the next morning.”
Ley Watson of Company C noted, “My Special Order had me instantly killed on the second Confederate volley. Lying in the field as the sun went down, with John Cleveland and Dave Eggleston in pain, was scary. The colder it became, despair actually set in that no one was coming for us. None of us broke scenario. I have no idea how long it took to get us off the field.”
Company I’s Charles Kibler was one of the wounded: “Shortly before the battle, upon reading my ‘fate card’, I found that I was to portray the soldier who received a painful wound in the shoulder. After barely noticing the ball ‘striking’ me, I fell forward into the wet grass, faint from loss of blood as the battlalion was preparing to fire a volley. I recovered consciousness after a few moments, tried to stand with the help from a buddy, but could not. The battalion was ordered to pull back and I was left, but I heard one fellow shout, ‘We’ll be back soon to get you!’ Both sides subsequently retired from the field, abandoning me & several other wounded. I screamed for water, for mother, and cursed my bad luck.”
Company I’s Corporal Bordonaro observed, “One poor fellow was evidently ‘gut-shot’. His screams echoed through the field as he tried to struggle to his feet. We yelled at him to lie down but he apparently was ‘overwhelmed with pain’ and didn't listen to us. An enemy volley thundered across the field and put an ‘end to the fellow’s misery’.”
“I portrayed a soldier who’d joined up to help free the slaves,” related Rob Grandchamp (Columbia Rifles) of Company B. “On the march I kept talking about my thoughts on freedom, which were greeted with laughs from the men. In the battle Sgt. Tyler fell mortally wounded, and Corporal Craig pulled me out of line and brought me to the sergeant and kept asking, ‘Is this worth their freedom?’ As our boys in the company began to tumble with wounds, several men started to swear at me, asking me if this was the price of slaves’ freedom. After a while it really got to me and made me think about it quite a bit—what a ‘moment’!”
“I never got close enough to pick out individual rebels; I just saw their formations from a distance of about a hundred yards or more. And the way we used terrain features was pretty realistic—this attention to authenticity made a big difference for me,” recalled Randy Valle of Company I.
Steve Hartwick of Company I noted, “The battle was an authentic experience. The Colonel, expertly appreciating a slight swell in the field, had the boys kneel to escape the Confederate lead. Fortunately most of the enemy’s volleys were fired high of their mark.”
“As the battle drew to a close Saturday and twilight began to fall, the Confederate battle line, 200 or more yards away—as close as the Rebs got to us—became covered in the hanging smoke of the battle, only visible by the flashes of their muskets through the smoke,” related Orderly Sgt. Towsen of Company B. “This combined with the excited orders shouted by our officers made for quite a ‘moment’.”
As twilight arrived, both sides eventually withdrew, leaving the majority of the “casualties” lying in the grass. Losses were determined via roll calls in the deepening gloom. Orderly Sgt. Schotz of Company C noted, “Taking roll call after the battle felt kind of strange, with many sad emotions with each unanswered name.”
Joseph Caridi (POC’R Boys Mess) was rudely shocked at Company C’s roll call: “Sgt. Schotz started calling the roll. As he called the names I began to look around for my comrades—and I saw none of them. There was no reply when he called their names: ‘Corporal Peter McCarthy...David Eggelston....Ley Watson…’ I then realized that none of my friends made it through the battle. During the battle I thought I saw one or two of them go down, but we were falling back so fast I couldn’t be sure until the roll was called.”
The Fight’s Aftermath
As night came and the air temperature dropped rapidly, priorities were numerous: organize a picket detail to protect the battalion’s front, collect the wounded from the battlefield, locate firewood before it was too dark to see, and establish the bivouac. It was a frustrating and trying hour or so, coupled with the men being very tired and hungry—and wondering at the “fate” of those missing from the ranks. Later, most of the participants realized it was a unique experience that provided insight into how it may have been in the aftermath of the fighting at Payne’s Farm and other battles.
Private Hartwick shivered, “With darkness fast approaching, the boys scrambled to make camp and scavenge for firewood on a wooded hill. Rations were meager and it was really cold.”
“A staff officer was seeking soldiers to go on a wood detail and was not getting any volunteers,” remembered a tired Corporal Bordonaro. “I tried to wish myself into invisibility, hoping I wouldn’t be selected for the detail. I overheard a soldier in a nearby company firmly refuse to go on the detail. Probably figuring it would be easier to seek men elsewhere, the officer moved off. This underlines our complete exhaustion at this point because, earlier in the day and on Friday, all orders had been obeyed with alacrity.”
Assistant Surgeon Briggs, Quartermaster Sergeant Hindman, and others set up a bandaging station designated as a “first-person zone” for the night.
As soon as the pickets were posted, parties of bandsmen, field musicians, and comrades of the “missing” ventured into the near-darkness with improvised stretchers (blankets wrapped around saplings or muskets) to find the “casualties”—some of whom had been lying in the field for over an hour.
Participants’ experiences that night were many and varied. From the frustrations of hunting for wounded comrades on a dark battlefield with enemy pickets nearby, to the encroaching cold—air temperatures that night were in the mid-20s—to hunger with nearly-empty haversacks, to helping comrades with blankets and food at the bandaging station, to scrounging firewood in the darkness.
Major Piering recalled, “Seeing the casualties carried in blankets to the surgeon as darkness hemmed us in was a real ‘moment’ for me, that I’d never felt before now. Steve Tyler’s portrayal of a sergeant shot through the head, who lived for three hours, was actually nauseating, because Steve is an EMT, he portrayed an upper motor neuron lesion very well. To be honest, recognizing his portrayal’s realistism, I nearly lost the contents of my stomach.”
“The long and short of my event was poor Sergeant John Moronel,” wrote Steve Tyler afterward. “I didn’t know I was going to portray him until I read my fate card and it all came down to being him, suffering a seizure on a cold, damp field, and finally dying not long after in the bandaging station.
“On November 27, 1863 John Moronel probably was carried off to the surgeons by his comrades when they saw him drop from his wound. In my remembrance of him I had a slightly different if not equally unsettling experience, laying there on the now abandoned battlefield with the other wounded waiting for aid, any aid, watching the light fade and feeling the air grow cold. It was at least three quarters of an hour before the musicians and others made their way to fetch the dead and wounded. I was carried off the field on the back of a caring friend I had never met. I was set down gently in front of the surgeon who declared my wound mortal, and then I was again gently moved to an area away from the more needy wounded men. And there, after an hour, I let John Moronel pass again from this world, not so far, I believe, from where he left it just shy 142 year before. It’s not the sort of feeling that can be expressed very well, and I’ve been haunted by it since.”
Private Caridi of Company C tried to cope with the “loss” of all his messmates: “After roll call we went into the woods to camp, and I was alone. I looked in my haversack to realize my other mates had the rest of the pork, and all I had were a few pieces of hardtack and some coffee beans. As night fell, I settled into my shelter-half with my little fire all alone, not knowing the fate of my friends. Then Sgt. Schotz came over and gave me news from the bandaging station that hit me like a brick: ‘Corporal McCarthy has a chest wound and probably won’t live the night. Eggelston is shot but is okay, and Watson was killed in battle.’ Then he left, and I sat there dumbfounded at the news of my friends. I made my way to the bandaging station where I visited my friends. I talked with Eggelston some and tried to make him laugh. I then went to see McCarthy; he was in bad shape, and we said a prayer together. I patted his head, and then went back to my fire.
“This was my ‘moment’. I felt really alone, and that my friends were no longer with me. The pain in my stomach, however, was not fake—that was real. This all lent it self to my experience at this event. I can now understand what some of these men went through—and all I wanted to do that night was leave and find my way home, as all of my friends were gone.”
Private Kibler contiued his experience, “About dusk—a half hour after the battle ended?—stretcher bearers began to appear. Someone found me and helped me stagger to the Federal bandaging station in the woods. Shortly after being laid on the cold ground under canvas at the bandaging station I was again groaning in agony—but an orderly gave me some much-needed water and an ‘opium’ pill to ease the pain until the surgeon could attend my wound. The chaplain came by to comfort me, and even said my cussin' was understandable under the circumstances. The young lad lying on his belly next to me had been shot in his posterior, and he assured me he was not a coward. It must have been 30 or 40 minutes until the doc finally got around to tending my wound. I was ‘put to sleep” for the operation. Awakening shortly afterwards, I was very glad to see that my right arm was still attached.
“My shivering body was then taken to be laid out along side some other fellows, wounded boys from another company,” continued Private Kibler. “I was much relieved to see I was not being laid out among the dead & dying! The chaplain came by and covered me with a greatcoat. That, and the presence of warm bodies to either side, helped relieve the cold and suffering. Later that evening my mess mate Joe Bordonaro came searching for me. He greatly helped to relieve my suffering by cooking up some pork I was still carrying in my haversack.”
Corporal Bordonaro related, “Arriving at the bandaging station, I asked if any Company I men were there. In fact, my friend Charlie Kibler had received a severe wound to the shoulder. I really felt badly about Charlie, especially as he seemed to be in great pain. In talking to him he indicated that, although hurting badly, he was also hungry. I fetched my skillet and cooked up his remaining pork—mine was all gone—at the hospital’s campfire. He accepted the food gratefully and it did my heart good to see that I was able to offer him some comfort. After eating, he seemed to be able to rest more easily, so after a while I returned to my company area. This was the first time that I had helped a ‘wounded’ comrade in the setting of a bandaging station or field hospital. I found it to be a very sobering experience and it brought home the reality of the post-battle experience that is so infrequently portrayed at reenactments.”
“Surgeon Noah Briggs and his orderly [Hank Trent] did an excellent job of re-creating a bandaging station. Just laying there and witnessing the injured and dead really hit home,” recalled Sean Willard of Company C (151st NY). “Somehow re-creating the chaos of the bandaging station brought me to a new realization of what a wounded soldier went through. Watching the preacher administering the last rites and praying with the injured stirred up a lot of emotion in me.”
It was a busy evening for Orderly Sgt. Schotz of Company C: “We took coffee to our company’s wounded at the bandaging station, and had our company clerk write a last letter home at the hospital for Corporal Pete McCarthy who was dying from a chest wound. Corporal O’Connor rooted around the quartermaster’s area and found some sweet potatoes that we promplty cooked. It was eerie listening to the band playing that evening on the battlefield in that cold, dark night.”
Spencer Waldron of Company I recalled, “There was very little or no breaking of first-person—everyone stayed with it virtually the whole time. It was creepy and sad to be around the fire Saturday evening, and not all of us were there any more. It seemed all too real, and really drove the point home.”
The Nighttime Pickets
Captain Watson remembered that the night had, “No moon, the ground was pitch black, and there was a distant but bright coating of stars across the heavens.” Corporal Bordonaro agreed, “While gathering firewood we saw a meteor burning through the clear night sky.”
The pickets of both sides, separated by about 150 yards, were as tired and cold as everyone else—in the case of those who’d been on the skirmish line, even more so—but did their duty. The Federal picket was commanded by Captain Watson, Lt. Pete Smith, and Corporal Rob Willis. The Captain wrote, “The Guard took everything thrown at them without whining, despite blisters, cold, fatigue, hunger, and a bum knee or ankle here or there. All of us were on the threshold of crankiness, and the Guard had to be created, organized, and capable as the first order of business following the march and a long fight. There is nothing like thinking the day is over and you can get up a fire, sit down, and see about arranging some hot food for yourself, and then suddenly finding you are not only on picket duty, but you are on picket duty before the sweat has dried from the day’s exertions, and there’s a real expectation of enemy action, and you really, really, really don’t want to get captured and maybe separated from the meager but vital stuff in your haversack and knapsack.”
According to Captain Watson, Corporal Willis—acting as Sergeant of the Guard for the pickets—was a virtual den mother seeig to the men’s welfare throughout the night, and, “When dawn broke on Sunday, Rob had the last scraped-together remnants of coffee, made with the last drops of water in the canteens before a water detail, delivered hot to the men at their sentinel posts.”
Lt. John Stillwagon (Southern Guard) was on the Confederate picket line and recalled, “On Saturday night, I was placing Confederate pickets in the treeline. It was dark, cold, and getting colder, and I could hear the Federal band’s music drifting over the field. I was reminded of the dozens of references to such things from diaries and letters and I was struck by the power of the moment, and found it quite moving.” The main Federal camp, where the band was playing, was nearly a half-mile from the Confederate picket line, proving that sound travels far in still, cold night air. Doug Cooper, who portrayed a Confederate, added, “The tune that caught us all up short was when the Yank bugler began to play Taps, the most beautiful and haunting refrain we’d ever heard. In the darkness I imagined a tear or two stained the men’s cheeks.”
That night, Federal pickets inadvertently “shot” one of their own. Corporal Willis noted how it started: “A gunshot drifted over from the position of Post #4, followed by frantic calls for support. Gathering Corporal Nic Ellis and his four men, we hastily formed a squad-sized skirmish line and disappeared into the inky blackness of the night, blind and scared, and then we encountered someone standing at Post #1.”
Private Neil Randolph (1st West Virginia) of Company I, shivering on picket at Post #1, picks up the story: “I saw Corporals Willis’s and Ellis’s Rounds leave the Federal picket outpost and come up over the hill. When they saw me, I stopped to watch them come further. They all finally saw me and deployed in a line, which advanced, so I challenged. Receiving the reply, ‘Friends,’ I replied, ‘Advance one with the countersign,’ when the left flank man and the right flank man both advanced, I yelled, ‘Halt!’, and they stopped. I challenged again, and then they asked me for the countersign. Not thinking that it was the sentinel’s job to give a countersign to an approaching party, even though they were obviously Federals, I asked for the correct countersign. They replied, ‘Identify yourself, or we will shoot!’ One of the men in the party [CR member Dave “Nolan” Berndt] then fired, and I went down. It was a lesson I won’t forget and certainly made the event even more memorable!”
Corporal Willis summed it up, “The entire affair was, in the end, precipitated by a case of the nerves, and soon the situation returned to normal, i.e., rapidly deteriorating temperatures.”
Around 9:00 p.m. Captain Schank (officer of the day) and I trudged out to the outpost for Grand Rounds, accompanied by several privates and Chaplain Peterson. The number of cow pies in the field was astounding and the air was piercingly cold. Stopping at the outpost, Grand Rounds proceeded to the sentinels—stationed in a shallow swale in the field—where Captain Schank obsessed with demanding that each man to repeat his orders, while I nervously kept asking about enemy activity to the front.
Company C’s Bill Birney recalled, “I actually fell asleep on picket duty on Saturday night, and woke up just before Grand Rounds came upon my position. Being asked what my orders were, I hemmed and hawed, and finally admitted, ‘Well, hell, Sir, just tell me what my orders are. I’m half asleep...’”
At 9:30 p.m. the Confederate pickets pulled back a ways to simulate the withdrawal of Johnson’s division from Payne’s farm during the night, and the Union pickets conducted a “sweep” forward to verify that the Rebels were “gone”.
Bill Watson recalled leading the patrol back to the outpost, “The rest of the picket support was near the bottom of a swale—not the dead bottom, to avoid the coldest air that pools there, but definitely with a hill between them and the enemy position. When we crested the hill, the absolute blackness was broken first by almost a ray of golden light from the outpost campfire, going up against the tree line that, as we neared, expanded to a small pool of warm firelight with men clustered around it. The blackness in every other direction was enormous: no moon, no light pollution. Just one small group of men around a fire, surrounded by gloom. It was an image I’ll cherish for a long time.”
Private Randolph related from the picket outpost, “Boy, was I tired. I put on all clothing still in my pack, rolled up in my blanket and shelter half, and hoped to hell the sun would rise soon! You can actually sleep while simultaneously having your butt frozen!”
Corporal Willis recalled, “The long night only got longer, and everyone involved has their own impressions of played-out, freezing, hungry men huddling around the only hope for their survival, a few gaily dancing flames. It was, by about four o'clock in the morning, very surreal.”
Sunday
Before dawn on Sunday, the Confederate bugle sounded the graybacks to their formations, and the Federal pickets—who had been ordered to stand down for most of the night—were reposted in the field. Art Stone (13th NJ) of Company I recalled from the outpost, “On Sunday morning I felt like a soldier in the Army of the Potomac—man, was that ground cold!” Corporal Mike Jolin (CR) of Company B offered, “I've never scraped frost off of my cartridge box before but I guess there are firsts for everything.”
Corporal Willis was up and seeing to the welfare of the men when he had another ‘moment’: “On Sunday morning, our pickets were thrown out again, and one of the poor lads had no greatcoat. I told him to take his blanket out and stay warm with that. Corporal Ellis and I went out later with hot coffee for the lads, and the picture was perfect: The sun was just cresting over the summit of that little rise in the field, the long grass coated with snow—not frost, it was snow—and glimmering, and that teenager standing proud, swallowed up in an Abe Thomas blanket, musket off of the ground, frozen breath painting a cloud in front of his hidden face. Seriously: it made me stop and stare. It was beyond real.”
After sunrise Bugler Torrisi called the 151st New York to fall in for roll call; it was almost moot because everyone was up by that time. To warm the spirits, Principal Musician Villanueva had the perky band launch into some tunes. Confederate George Walters (27th Va., Stonewall Brigade) wrote, “One notable moment for me was hearing strains of the National Anthem being played by the Federal band shortly after dawn on Sunday morning, coming through the woods in the far distance.”
Coming off picket, Lt. Smith made a happy discovery in the main camp: “Who ever made the pickled eggs and left them in the Federal camp, THANK YOU! They were like eating heaven on Sunday morning after being at the outpost all night.” Who says vinegar can’t perk up a man?
Daylight Savings Time ended overnight and, after learning on Sunday morning that the Confederates were still on “Confederate Daylight Savings Time”, plans for a Federal dress parade were scrapped and the battalion was packed up, fires doused, and in formation, ready to march, in less than twenty minutes. The two sides were to assemble on the battlefield for a joint memorial ceremony to commemorate the dead and wounded of the two historic regiments.
The re-created 151st New York marched through an opening in a hedgerow and saw our counterparts already in line nearly a quarter-mile away. Ever wonder what the other side thinks when you’re approaching them?
From the gray line, Doug Cooper noted, “The sight of the Federals marching toward us for the ceremony was moving: they had flags flying, bayonets glistening in the rising sun, and their band playing. As they drew closer, we saw the 151st New York brought to life in New York State jackets, overcoats rolled atop knapsacks, etc. Well done!” It was the first time during the weekend that the two sides got a close-up look at each other.
The ceremony was fairly quick and to the point, and included reading aloud the names of the casualties of the Union and Confederate regiments portrayed; Dennis Schank and Scott Schotz read the names of the 151st New York men who had bled in that same field. “It was a very solemn moment and made me feel as though being there had been worth the weekend’s effort and discomfort,” remembered Corporal Bordonaro. An emotional Corporal Willis noted, “The ceremony made me cry. Stop doing that stuff, dammit, or bring some tissues next time.” Doug Cooper recalled, “The single most moving moment of the weekend was reading the list of casualties of the 2nd Virginia and the 151st New York. There weren’t many dry eyes in the ranks.” Dave Towsen observed, “It was one of those ‘not a dry eye in the house’ moments.”
After the names were read aloud, “There followed a rendition of Amazing Grace by the band,” wrote Tom Craig. “Then was a brief prayer by Chaplain Peterson, and some information on several upcoming events. After that, Kevin O’B provided a brief but detailed explanation of the events that had occurred in the field that were had just marched across—where the ‘battle’ was the day before—it was where the real 151st New York fought and bled 142 years ago.”
Afterward, the battalions marched a half-mile to the participant parking area. The Confederate field music played well, and I asked our Principal Musician, “Mr. Villanueva, can your bandsmen play louder than those Rebels?” “Oh yes!” he replied with a grin, and the band struck up a tune. Jari later wrote, “Perhaps one of our best moments was playing as we marched out of the woods Out of the Wilderness and playing and singing Battle Hymn of the Republic as we approached the final departure area. I noticed the troops really picked up the step and raised their rifles a bit higher than usual despite the weariness from the weekend!”
The 151st New York followed the 2nd Virginia into the participant parking
area, where the final dismissal was given, a preservation raffle held, backs
slapped and farewells said and, finally, the men headed for home.
Reflections
“The organizers and event staff provided us with an enormous blank canvas and plenty of supplies with which to create a masterpiece,” wrote Rob Willis. “From where I stood, the Federal battalion took up the challenge in rare style and the result was something so metaphysical it is hard to describe.”
Garr Gast summed up Company B’s performance, “Our work was made easy by the boys in the company. Very little shirking occurred and it seemed the men were under the right mindset to work together. I was impressed that we did not have one man drop out during the weekend, even though we had one man toss his lunch on Saturday—probably due to cooking pork in the dark.”
Garr continued, “The Corporals knew their roles and got the men assigned to all tasks. Steve and Grumpy Dave did most of the work getting the company organized; I just got to borrow them for a while during drill and the battle. ‘Lanky’ Pete did his usual topnotch job of supporting everything I needed (including warmth on Friday night) and took the men out on picket Saturday. I was a bit relieved that Grumpy is losing his rain curse, because we only had heavy dew/frost. I didn’t know much about the Mine Run campaign prior to this event. Many thanks to Kevin for helping to set up such a good weekend and setting the time and place for great memories to be had. We even raised $10K on top of the good times!”
Joe Korber (119th NY) of Company C wrote, “It was by far the toughest and most rewarding event I have ever attended, but it was a great time. I extend my thanks to the organizers for providing the oppurtunity.”
Arthur Stone recalled, “It was an awesome event! It was the most authentic event of the year. My hat is off to the organizers and the lads who attended. Job well done!”
Confederate impressoinist Paul Herring (Liberty Hall Fife and Drums) wrote, “During events certain things stand out: when you get that feeling that you are almost ‘there’. These are the moments you recounts in discussions when talking about the event many years from now. Payne’s Farm had many such moments.”
Brian White noted, “Payne's Farm was not only one of the best events I’ve attended this year, but was the best I’ve attended since Pickett’s Mill 2004. I really hope to make it out East more often!”
Bill Watson wrote, “This one gets my vote for best event of the year.”
“Payne's Farm was, by far, the most memorable event of the year,” averred Charles Kibler. “It was a pleasure to serve in Bill Watson’s Co. I, and a grand tip of the forage cap to Kevin O’Beirne, Dusty Chapman, and the others that helped to organize this wonderful event.”
Davis Wright (1st USSS, Co. B) of Company A said simply, “It was the best experience I've had as a reenactor.”
Brian Luscombe, in his first outing with the Columbia Rifles, recalled, “From Friday afternoon to Sunday morning, through cold to heat and rest to exertion, I have not known a better time, or served with better men.”
Rich Pisarski (119th NY) of Company C wrote, “I would like to thank everyone involved in organizing and having this incredible event. The leadership was second to none on Federal side—particularly in the color company.”
The CR’s Dave Towsen noted, “I believe Payne’s Farm will be the event against which others will be measured for quite some time. For now, it’s the best event I’ve ever attended. Before this I’d never come home from an event where I worked so hard, physically and mentally, and felt like I’d just had 5 cups of coffee. Guard Mount, skirmishing, the battle, the fate cards, the bandaging station, a first rate bugler, the band—oh the wonderful band. And it didn't rain.”
Bob Mulheisen (WIG) thought, “I have to say it was the best event I attended all year. What with the many Easterners who had headed West over the last couple of years, our mess agreed it was time to head East.”
Spencer Waldron discvered a new experience: “Afterward, driving home, I was wondering why I did not have any particular ‘moments’, it was all good but there was not a whole lot that stood out. That intrigued me because I have been ‘hardcore’ reenacting a long time and have had many ‘moments’. Then it dawned on me: The whole darned event was one big moment! It never stopped. I was with comrades, none of whom I had actually met before, doing what we should be doing—how and where we should be doing it—and I just plain felt at home. I was finally ‘there’…the whole time. This was a whole new kind of reenactment experience for me; not moments, but rather a continious soft buzz of ‘being there’ that never really stopped. The only thing I want to know is, when do we do it again?”
“Moose” Caridi observed, “This was an event that was eye opening because it really gave a lot of glimpses into the lives of the actual Civil War soldier. What made this even more realistic for me was the fact that I have been close friends with the men in my mess for almost six years, and Corporal McCarthy and I have been close buddies for that long. Payne’s Farm just gave me a different look at the hobby and the real reason I do this—to but to be a ‘messenger’ of sorts to the next generations from those who have gone before us “
“I keep daydreaming and remembering various scenes from Payne’s Farm 2005,” wrote Neil Randolph. “I told my wife, ‘If that was the last event I ever went to, I’d be happy with its memories!’ A week after the event, I am more and more pleased with the organizational aspects and the totally unintended and surprising moments that took place at Payne’s Farm. I find myself drifting back to the event constantly and thinking how lucky I was to be there with such a great group of guys. Those mild hardships we all endured will always bind the participants together and give more meaning to the phrase I read from someone this week: ‘I served in the ranks at Payne's Farm!’”
Company A’s Bill Skillman (Randolph Mess) perhaps put it most eloquently:
“Payne Farm was the most challenging event I’ve ever attended. It
will be the benchmark that I will measure living history events against, both
past and future. My physical, emotional and educational state was constantly
challenged from the moment I arrived in camp until the moment we marched back
to the parking lot. When I returned home I immediately pulled out my books and
letters written by Federal soldiers about the Mine Run campaign. In the past
I used to think, ‘How’d they do that and survive?’ Now I found
myself musing, ‘Yep, I’ve been there, I now have an idea of what
you guys went through!’ The cold, the anxiety on picket, the foraging
for firewood to keep warm, the
camaraderie among strangers who become your friends, the excitement of the skirmish
and battle, the deep fatigue and depression of leaving some of those friends
on the field of battle, the thrill of hearing a brass band play under the stars,
the pride of shouting/singing The Battle Cry of Freedom while marching through
mud puddles knowing the Rebels were listening. The hushed reverence of standing
on a field of battle on a Sunday morn to hear the names of men who gave their
last measure of devotion read on a cool breeze. These are some of the priceless
memories that the event hosts have made possible for me and others who attended
Payne’s Farm 2005. I know that my comrades will recall these cherished
memories around many a campfire for years to come. Payne’s Farm will be
a source of great pride for all who attended.”
My Personal Note
It seems that, as the organizers, we set up the situations for the men to take full advantage of, and they did so to what seems practically the fullest extent possible. We can now read of men falling asleep on picket coming awake just as Grand Rounds came around and reacting appropriately; of Confederate pickets listening to the Federal band play after the battle and then hearing Taps in the distance on a dark, frigid night; of guys “connecting” with the real 151st New York soldier they were assigned to portray in ways I’d never have imagined when writing up the fate cards/”Special Orders”; of guys experiencing and thinking things during the “battle” that no one could have planned for them; of guys approaching their physical limits and seeing what it was like to march in full pack, run their butt off in a skirmish that took place a full half-mile from their own main line, go through a “battle” that lasted for nearly an hour, and then go out on picket in sub-freezing temperatures, and then afterward say he “had the best time of any event all year”.
We could have had whining, griping, complaining, refusal to follow orders, and other negative things. Instead, everyone survivied—except for poor Ley Watson breaking his foot in a posthole on Saturday night at the “campfire of the dead guys”—and hopefully be able to carry away from this event memories of “real soldier experiences” (or something kind of like it) that they’ll remember for a long time. Virtually everyone in both battalions had their best attitude on hand and, boy, did it show. The organizers pitched a fast ball to the man in the ranks—keep in mind that this was not an easy event to particpate in—and the man in the ranks hit it out of the ballpark.
This event, along with a few others over the years, confirmed an axiom John
Cleaveland said to me years ago about how to plan an event: “Hold it on
the real ground, make it physically strenous, and do something so the participant
can really connect with the history he’s portraying.” What a simple,
winning formula.
Coda
A month after the event one participant summed it up thus, “I still can’t get some images from Payne’s Farm out of my head—it’s almost like we really fought there and, like real veterans, it’s pretty useless to try to explain it to anyone who ‘wasn’t there’.”
Payne’s Farm 2005 clearly met its goals of raising funds for preservation, and providing a historically-accurate weekend with creative planning that resulted in opportunities for unique experiences for its participants, while educating them in a neglected campaign that nevertheless saw extreme suffering and valor on both sides. It’s difficult to go wrong when an event is planned using history as its script.
Kevin O’Beirne is a member of the Columbia Rifles from western New York State who commanded the Federal battalion at Payne’s Farm 2005