DISPATCHES FROM 140th
by Kevin O’Beirne
The CR participated with the Potomac Legion and the 3rd Battalion of the USV. Preservation fundraising was a part of the Potomac Legion’s efforts for the event, which resulted in approximately $1,300 in donations for the Save Historic Antietam Foundation.
The following article was
originally written for The Wild Geese Today (WGT), www.thewildgeese.com, which is an
online webzine devoted to chronicling the deeds of Irish soldiers throughout
history. WGT has provided “on the scenes
coverage” of Irish aspects of selected large Civil War reenactments over the
years. A couple weeks
before the 140th
It was “
As with many other
battles in the Civil War, Irishmen and Irish regiments played a major role in
the hellacious fighting of
For these and many other reasons, on September 13-15, 2002, over 12,000 Civil War reenactors will meet on a 900-acre farm just south of Hagerstown, Maryland, barely ten miles from the real Antietam battlefield, to attempt to re-create scenes from the battle of Antietam, which occurred almost to the day 140 years before.
Your Correspondent
Your correspondent is, in
a small way, a minor veteran of “war reporting”, having had the privilege of
having my dispatches from the 135th anniversary reenactment of the battle of
Most newspaper
correspondents of the Civil War were actually soldiers who wrote letters
intended for publication in their hometown newspapers. Accordingly, during the 140th
“Captains are the officers usually selected for Officer of the Day… The Officer of the Day has charge of the camp or garrison of the command in which he has been detailed. He receives the orders and instructions from the Commanding Officer, and transmits them to his subordinates. All the guards of the camp or post are under his general direction; … The Officer of the Day is responsible for the good order, cleanliness, and attention to the daily duties throughout the camp or garrison. He reports all matters of importance to the Commanding Officer, and receives such orders as he may deem necessary to give… Prisoners in the Guard-house are under the control of the Officer of the Day.” [from Customs of Service for Officers of the Army, by General August Kautz, 1865, pp. 260-261]
If the battalion is run in a manner consistent with period military procedures, the Officer of the Day is a busy person! That’s my job, in addition to keeping readers of The Wild Geese Today informed of the doings at “the front”.
The 29th
During the weekend, our
battalion will portray the 29th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry. That’s right — the Twenty-ninth
Massachusetts, not the Irish Brigade’s better-known Twenty-eighth
Massachusetts. At the time of the battle
of
The 29th
The 29th
The 29th made a very strong impression on the Sons of Erin, as recounted in one of the better-known histories of the Irish Brigade:
[In mid-June, 1862 the Irish Brigade] “received
a reinforcement — a whole new regiment, the 29th
While the above passage
plays on a lot of Irish stereotypes, it nevertheless provides a good flavor of
the relationship between Meagher’s three Irish
regiments: the 69th New York Volunteers, 88th
The 29th at the
At
In his official report
General Meagher described the Irish Brigade’s actions at
“The men having breakfasted, a sudden order came for the brigade to fall in under arms, and take up the line of march… Proceeding at a rapid pace, the brigade crossed the ford of the Antietam a mile or so to the right of the bivouac of that morning, and…under cover of the rising ground and depressions which intervened between us and the enemy, we arrived at a cornfield, where Major-General Richardson ordered that everything but cartouch-boxes [cartridge boxes and leather accoutrements] should be thrown off…
“Deploying from column into line of battle on the
edge of this cornfield, [the Irish Brigade] marched through it steadily and
displayed themselves in admirable regularity at the fence, a few hundred paces
from which the enemy were drawn up… Crossing this fence, which was a work slow
and embarrassed, owing to the pioneer corps of the several regiments of the
brigade having been reduced by their previous labors on the
“The enemy…with their battle-flag advanced and
defiantly flying in front, was at this time within 300
paces of our line... This movement was suddenly checked by the impetuous
advance of the Irish Brigade, which…drew up in line of battle within 50 paces
of the enemy, the Sixty-ninth and Twenty-ninth being on the right of the line,
and the Sixty-third and Eighty-eighth Regiments on the left. On coming into this close and fatal contact
with the enemy, the officers and men of the brigade waved their swords and hats
and gave the heartiest cheers for their general, George B. McClellan, and the
Army of the
“My orders were, that, after the first and second
volleys delivered in line of battle by the brigade, the brigade should charge
with fixed bayonets on the enemy. Seated
on my horse, close to the Sixty-ninth Regiment, I permitted them to deliver
their five or six volleys, and then personally ordered them to charge upon the
rebel columns, while at the very same moment I ordered [my aides]…to bring up
the Eighty-eighth and Sixty-third immediately to the charge. It was my
design…to push the enemy on both their fronts…and, relying on the impetuosity
and recklessness of Irish soldiers in a charge, felt confident that before such
a charge the rebel column would give way…
“Advancing…the brigade poured in an effective and powerful fire upon the [enemy] column… Despite a fire of musketry, which literally cut lanes through our approaching line, the brigade advanced under my personal command within 30 paces of the enemy, and at this point…the regiment halted. At the same time…the charge of bayonets I had ordered on the left was arrested, and thus the brigade, instead of advancing and dispersing the column with the bayonet, stood and delivered its fire, persistently and effectually maintaining every inch of the ground they occupied, until Brigadier-General Caldwell, bringing up his brigade, enabled my brigade, after having been reduced to 500 men, to retire to the second line of defense.”
One eyewitness to the
fighting wrote of the 29th
“The 29th
The regimental history of
the 29th
“An [half-]hour had nearly elapsed since the
front had been reached; several of the captains [of the 29th] reported that the
guns of their men were getting so hot that the rammers were leaping out of the
pipes at every discharge. The men had
already nearly expended their ammunition.
Several times during the battle the enemy had undertaken to come
forward, but as often as they attempted it, they were swept back by our
fire. Since General Meagher had been
disabled [by falling from his horse], there had been no general officer
present, each colonel acting upon his own responsibility. The enemy were well
covered and determined. Up to this time
neither regiment had known the fate of the others, nor
the extent of their respective losses. Colonel Barnes [of the 29th] now
hastened to the right of the 29th, for the purpose of taking a careful survey
of the field. To his dismay, he
perceived that the 69th, though holding on bravely, had lost nearly half their
number; the 63rd fared equally as hard, and the officers and men of both
regiments were striving to keep up their formation. The Colonel, feeling a deep responsibility,
saw at once that something must be done to prevent disaster; he knew, though he
had received no orders since entering the fight, that from necessity the
brigade would soon be relieved, and was every moment expecting to hear the
welcome shouts of fresh troops. Hastily
giving his idea to Major Charles Chipman, his brave
and worthy subordinate, he called upon the regiment for three cheers. The Major took the order to the left, and the
boys gave the cheers with a will.
Colonel Barnes then gave the order, ‘forward!’ Instantly Sergeant
Francis M. Kingman, the dauntless color bearer, sprang to the front, the whole
regiment promptly following him. Above
the noise of battle were heard the answering shouts of the brave Irishmen of
the brigade, their warlike spirit gaining fresh impulse as they started forward
on the charge. The crisis was over now;
the bold forward movement had saved the brigade from even one blot upon its
bright record of fame. The shouts of our
men, and their sudden dash toward the sunken road, so startled the enemy that
their fire visibly slackened, their line wavered, and squads of two or three
began leaving the road and running into the corn. Now the rush of troops was heard in the rear;
now the air was rent with wild yells. It
was altogether too much of a shock for the enemy; they broke, and fled for the
corn field. The next moment,
The Men Portraying the 29th
Just who is portraying
the noble 29th
The Potomac Legion (PL)
is an organization of several reenactment groups that together attempt to form
a small, functional Civil War regiment.
The PL includes groups such as the re-created 122nd New York (from
Syracuse, N.Y.), 83rd Pennsylvania Co. K (Harrisburg, Pa.), and 1st Minnesota
Co. D (Maryland), and groups with “generic” names such as the Rowdy Pards (North Carolina), Nutmeg Mess (Connecticut), Living
History Guild (Elmira, N.Y.), and my own organization, the Columbia Rifles,
which hales from all over the Northeast.
For the
The thing that sets the Potomac Legion apart from many other living history organizations is the way it reenacts: a lot of folks seem to refer to the PL as “hardcores”. In other words, the PL attempts to reenact in a fashion closer to the way the men we portray did things. This includes attention to period military procedures, 24-hour guard duty, proper drill, issuing and consuming rations correct for the 29th Massachusetts in the 1862 Maryland Campaign, engaging in a good deal of “first-person impression” (i.e., acting and speaking like a soldier of the 29th Massachusetts), and wearing of museum-quality reproduction uniforms and gear. During the weekend we will attempt to keep the battalion intact even when not formed up for or engaged in “battles”, rather than allowing the men to run off hither and yon for much of the weekend as most other groups do. After all, real military units do not practically disband for most of each day, as do most reenactment groups in the field.
One thing to keep in mind
is that the Potomac Legion’s portrayal changes from event to event,
and the group does not portray the 29th
During the weekend the
Potomac Legion will cooperate and form a single regiment together with the fine
men of a new “campaigner” battalion known as the 3rd
Your
Correspondent began preparing for the
Because of the ambitious, detailed nature of the PL’s plans,
significant coordination with other groups and with the Federal “army” high
command was necessary. Charles Heath, a
PL member who lives in western
· Assembling a period ration issue of slab bacon, hardtack (which had to be made from scratch), coffee, sugar, and “foraged” ears of corn sufficient to feed 100 men for nearly three days.
· Organizing and coordinating battalion staff roles.
· Coordinating the battalion’s equipment (i.e., regimental flags, guide flags, horses, a limited amount of mess equipment, etc.).
· Attending site walks and meetings with other battalion commanders.
· Coordinating with the Federal army command structure.
· Coordinating with our comrades of the 3rd USV. Merging two battalion organizations, even for a weekend, takes a lot more effort than it may appear.
· Organizing the battalion’s several campsites, routes of march, and battle scenario portrayals.
· Communicating the battalion’s plans to all PL members and answering their questions.
· Overseeing the creation and updating of the PL’s event website.
· Coordinating the authenticity inspection of all battalion members upon their arrival on-site, including recruitment of inspectors and development of a detailed inspection checklist.
· Many other items!
If the PL’s
efforts at the
For all his
efforts, Charles will not wear rank during the event; rather, he will serve as
one of the battalion’s mounted couriers to ensure that logistical aspects of
the battalion’s plans happen properly.
Often, for something as ambitious as the PL’s plans for
Another aspect of our
preparations is mental. What can we
really expect from 140th
The preparations are as complete as they can be, and the event starts in just a couple days.
The uniforms, blanket
rolls, accoutrements, and muskets and swords are packed. The history lessons on what we are portraying
have been studied. The drill manuals and
Army Regulations have been reviewed several times. Soon the “soldiers” will journey to western
Onward to
Near
The leadership of the battalion
arrived on-site starting Wednesday evening, September 11. Your correspondent arrived in camp, fully
uniformed, around
Unfortunately it was also
along a path that ran directly from the reenactor parking field to the main
Federal camp and there was a lot of foot traffic touristing
through “
On Thursday
evening the bivouac was lightly populated, but the battalion’s leaders were in
place and that counted for something.
Thursday night was dry and somewhat cool, with temperatures hovering
around 50 degrees. Your Correspondent rolled
out his shelter half on the ground at the entrance to the small clearing that
served as battalion headquarters, rolled himself up in his wool blanket, and
spent a passable night under the stars.
Because tents were not erected by the real 29th
Throughout Friday the battalion’s numbers increased as more men arrived. In the morning many battalion members visited “vendor row” to peruse the offerings of vendors of reproduction equipment. Your Correspondent dropped an unexpectedly large amount of funds through impulse purchases of a sergeant’s tool for the 1853 Enfield rifle-musket (the weapon of the real 29th Massachusetts) and a 0.36 caliber Navy “pocket pistol” and holster.
Back in camp,
Your Correspondent attempted to bolster the formality of the guard detail as
the battalion’s numbers continued to increase.
In the early afternoon, I went with our battalion’s commander for the
weekend, Major Scot Buffington of
On Friday
afternoon about half the battalion participated in the battle reenactment of
the battle of Fox’s Gap, which was an engagement at
During the evening, Quartermaster Steve Hanzelman and Commissary Sergeant Glenn Klaus issued period-correct rations (including pumpkins — not many reenactors knew what to do with them, but the New England boys of the 28th Massachusetts Co. K sure did, and peeled them, boiled them down, applied sugar, and had a big feast) and whipped up a fine officers’ mess.
Your Correspondent’s own supper was delayed somewhat because I had to deal with some very angry “civilian” reenactors who attempted to enter our camp, claiming that the 29th Massachusetts had stolen their horses, food, and chickens. When one irate lady attempted to smash an egg on Your Correspondent (all this was while remaining in 1860s character, which reenactors refer to as “first-person impression”), my patience snapped. I had the Sergeant of the Guard come at the double quick accompanied by three trusty lads with weapons tipped with steel (bayonets), and the protesting “hens” were physically “escorted” (forced) from the boundaries of the 29th’s camp. I ordered the Sergeant to see them to a point not less than 300 yards from the camp. In all seriousness, these “civilians” are good friends of the Potomac Legion and provided a fine, period-correct reminder that the Civil War had serious consequences for the civilians over who’s land the army’s campaigns swept.
At an 8:30 p.m. officers’ meeting Your Correspondent instructed the officers of the 29th Massachusetts on the battalion’s duties that evening: we were detailed to march to the cornfield and establish a line of pickets (guards) opposite a battalion of Confederate “campaigner” reenactors. I reminded the officers of the procedures for “grand guard” duty after which they left to ready their companies.
At 9:30 p.m. almost 200 men formed up in full marching order (i.e., all their packs and gear were on their backs). The battalion marched out past the main Federal camp to the wonderment of many reenactors; we were followed by many questions: “Who are you guys?” “Where are ya goin’?” “Aren’t those packs heavy?” “Why are you marching around at 10:00 at night?” and other questions. I marched with Major Buffington at the front of the column and, while he remained silent, I replied to several inquisitors, “Relax boys! The 29th Massachusetts is off to picket the cornfield all night for you. We’ll keep you and your camp safe from Johnny Reb!”
We arrived in the cornfield and set up our grand guard. Four companies were kept as a reserve and slept on their arms (i.e., without taking off accoutrements) with weapons stacked nearby ready for action, while three other companies, termed “supports”, were posted in the corn, which was about seven feet tall. Each “support” company furnished an officer or two, a sergeant, three corporals (one per relief) and at least eighteen men divided into three reliefs of six men each. At any given time throughout the night, eighteen men (six from each support) were actually posted in the corn as sentinels. Reliefs were made every hour and, every three hours, each support company was relieved in its entirety by a fresh company from the reserve.
The grand guard detail went very well and by the book to the greatest extent possible, and many participants later said that it was the highlight of the weekend.
At 12:30 a.m. Major Buffington and I, together with Sergeant Major Dom Regos and two enlisted men, made Grand Rounds to all the sentinels. It was eerie to rustle through the corn, under a brightly moonlit sky, and suddenly be challenged in a harsh whisper by one of our men: “Halt! Who comes there?!” After giving the countersign (“Chapultepec”, which was a battle in the 1846-1847 War with Mexico) we were allowed to approach each sentinel.
The sentinels reported that there were plenty of Rebs in the cornfield, and reports of rustling corn stalks, coughing in front of our lines, and sightings of Rebs (“Sir, I saw one stand up just nine rows of corn in front of me! His hat made him real visible in the moonlight!” one lad reported) were provided from nearly at all of the posts. Due to constraints placed on both the Confederates and us by the event sponsors and the army commanders, we were not allowed to exchange fire while on picket.
While we visited one post, the young lad on guard captured a Confederate picket who had strayed too far from his own lines. By 1:00 a.m. our boys had captured a total of four Rebels.
After our Grand Rounds, Major Buffington and I interrogated the prisoners. They were a motley lot and generally were not too bright (although they had excellent portrayals). Rather than keep our men awake to guard them, we decided to parole them (i.e., let them go upon their written pledge not to take up arms against the Union again until properly exchanged, which was quite common in the Civil War). In the moonlight they signed the parole forms in our camp, after which Sergeant Major Regos and I, together with a detail of one sergeant and two privates, took the prisoners up the re-created “Hagerstown Pike” to “parole” them. It turned out the Rebs never posted a guard on the “turnpike” through the cornfield and, despite the big white rag I tied to my sword as a flag of truce, we traipsed literally to the edge of their camp at the far side of the cornfield without ever being challenged. Incredibly, still no one noticed us and I finally had one of the prisoners holler, “Hey Major, come git us over heah!” After a few more minutes, we were finally greeted by a parole committee consisting of a lieutenant and a few sleepy-eyed enlisted men. We paroled the prisoners, and the Confederate lieutenant in the parole party refused to give me his name (I have no idea what that was all about), after which we returned to our camp.
Between Grand Rounds and other duties, Your Correspondent managed to catch a couple hours of sleep stretched out on the dirt just outside the corn, without blanket or cover. Fortunately, it was a dry, fairly warm (60 degrees) night.
The battalion remained on guard in the cornfield until after 4:00 a.m., after which we withdrew the pickets and supports and reformed the battalion for the coming “battle”. After we senselessly stumbled around for nearly three hours in full marching order in the same field where our reserve had bivouacked, the rest of the army was formed and some type of cockamamie weapons inspection was allegedly performed (although no one checked my side arm), after which the “battle of the cornfield” commenced.
Faithful readers, the cornfield battle was the worst travesty of history perpetrated at a reenactment that I had yet seen up to that time in my nine years of reenacting. Few Federal troops got into the corn; rather, the Rebs charged through the field and out onto “our” side, which is where most of the re-created battle, such as it was, occurred. Any attempt to represent the historical scenario for the thousands of paying spectators who arrived on-site as early as 4:30 a.m. to watch what they thought would be a depiction of Antietam’s cornfield went right out the window when someone in gray directed hundreds of Rebs to flank the Federal line, get in the Federal rear, and even get in amongst the Federal artillery. Such “cowboy-ism” is depressingly common nowadays amongst “mainstream” reenactors.
The “battle” went straight to hell in a handbasket. The two sides stood toe-to-toe less than thirty feet apart and blasted each other in the face with musketry, with relatively few “casualties” on either side. It was just plain awful. Our battalion never got anywhere near the cornfield during the “engagement”.
There was little for us to do, because our brigade commander gave his other battalions much more “trigger time” than us. We got off a few rounds, but not many. The men were increasingly disgusted by the affair and soon a small trickle of men began to depart from the left wing of the 29th Massachusetts, which turned into a platoon, then a company, and then three or more companies, all collapsing in rapid succession. Soon the battalion’s entire left wing had stampeded to the rear, which was a visual treat. Few reenactors are willing to “play the coward”, which was an all-too-common sight in the real Civil War. If the Potomac Legion couldn’t participate in a decent battle depiction, at least they could run away from it with style and in a period-correct fashion. Several comrades from Your Correspondent’s own company skedaddled to the trees behind the Federal artillery line, made a small campfire, and boiled coffee in the manner of Union Army skulkers throughout the Civil War.
Score — Yahoos: 1. History: zero.
After this excuse of a “battle”, the army and the 29th reformed and marched back to camp; we returned to “Camp Adams” in the woods.
Throughout the morning, more rations were issued, a formal guard mounting ceremony was conducted, and the battalion had two hours of battalion drill. Things were going well, and the guards continued to provide excellent camp security.
Major Buffington, who had been awake nearly continuously since Wednesday morning, “hit the wall” on Saturday and fairly collapsed from exhaustion. For Saturday afternoon the battalion was led by Potomac Legion member Major Gordon Markewicz of Connecticut, with Your Correspondent being bumped up to “brevet Major” to command the left wing of the 29th Massachusetts.
By Saturday afternoon, the battalion was at its maximum strength and put approximately 270 men into line. It was a grand sight to see so many men in full marching order, standing proud and eliciting several favorable remarks from many other reenactors. Your Correspondent was extremely honored to be in direct command of five companies totaling approximately 150 men. We formed up at about 2:30 p.m. and marched from “Camp Adams” to the sunken road for the Bloody Lane “battle” scenario.
The march to the “battlefield” was approximately one mile and took over ninety minutes; it was a maneuver the men referred to as, “accordion by the right flank” and was the longest mile Your Correspondent ever marched. We finally reached the army’s staging area for the “fight”. Both the staging area and the “battlefield” were too small and the men were crammed in like sardines in a General’s ration can. During the coming “battle” the 29th Massachusetts again would not see much “trigger time”, being “squeezed out” of the fight by the mainstream units who appear to believe that the more rounds they fire off in a battle reenactment the better time they are having.
Before the “battle” Major Markewicz and his two wing commanders (including Your Correspondent) attended a meeting with our brigade commander to review the dispositions for the coming “battle”. Your Correspondent was shocked to see the depths of the brigade commander’s inability to communicate what turned out to be a very simple (some could easily say stupidly simple) brigade deployment. He finished our meeting with the words, “Once I give the word ‘Forward!’ you’re on your own for the rest of the battle.” Your Correspondent was beginning to see how the morning’s cornfield scenario went so awry: it appears that many higher-level commanders exert little or no control over their men once the engagement commences. No wonder why much of reenacting is in such a sorry state compared to the historical record.
The Bloody Lane “battle” started and soon the musketry was rattling, artillery was booming, and units were rushing forward into the fray to blast the Rebs and be blasted by them from the usual incredibly short distances. I saw the emerald banner of the Irish Brigade go forward and get lost in the smoke and confusion.
Soon our brigade commander ordered us into position. The three battalions of the brigade formed in their respective battle lines, and then moved into densely packed formations known as “double column closed in mass”. The bugle blew the charge and about 700 men in the brigade stepped off. Reflecting mainstream reenactor prejudice against “campaigners” such as the Potomac Legion, the 29th Massachusetts was again at the rear of the entire Union Army and was the last battalion to enter the battle; this was consistent throughout the weekend. Given mainstream reenactors’ emphasis on “trigger time”, the deliberate snub to the 29th Massachusetts did not go unnoticed by our rank and file.
The battalion marched forward and cleared a sparse line of trees and, per Major Markewicz’s shouted commands, deployed smoothly and flawlessly into a battle line that was nearly 100 yards in length. We went forward, but the area in front of the fences that demarked the sunken road was totally congested with other Union reenactors all looking to extend their “trigger time” and fire off as many rounds as possible from as short a range as possible. It was utter bedlam that had nothing to do with history
The Major and his wing commanders pushed the men forward and eventually most of the battalion reached the sunken road, which was, on this part of the field, practically devoid of Rebel “casualties”, in sharp contrast to all the period photographs. We got over the fence and fired a few rounds, took a lot of casualties, and soon the battle ended. Your Correspondent scared the bejesus out of a stray sergeant major that attempted to order me around, and I roared into his face, “THANK YOU for giving a wing commander orders on your own initiative, Sergeant Major! I’ll see to it that you’re immediately promoted to brigadier general!” He skulked off into the smoke, probably muttering something about crabby campaigners.
The “battle” ended soon, thankfully. It had been another historical travesty, although this time not quite as bad as the cornfield earlier that day. Needless to say, any resemblance to the real battle of the sunken road was sporadic, localized, and extremely coincidental. Nothing the Potomac Legion was able to do in this “battle” even faintly resembled what the real 29th Massachusetts did at Antietam.
Score Update — Yahoos: 2. History: zero.
After Saturday’s “battle” the 29th Massachusetts, with prior arrangement with the event sponsors and the Union Army commander, bivouacked in the sunken road. Your Correspondent had to send packing a battalion of Confederate Texans that was loitering in our campsite.
The bivouac site was excellent. It was removed from the main camps by almost a mile, was fairly devoid of modern “light pollution” from nearby highways and land development, and offered us an unbelievable amount of fence rails (from the fences used to demark the sunken road) with which to build shelters. A strong wind came up and the weather forecast for the evening included a strong possibility of rain, so the battalion fell to with a will to rig up “shebangs” made of rails, lightweight canvas shelter halves, and rubber blankets for protection from the supposed elements. As twilight drew on, Your Correspondent toured each company’s camp and marveled at the engineering achievements (or lack thereof) for each small group of men.
Battalion headquarters was established in a substantial “fortification” of rails constructed by our Assistant Surgeon Nicky Hughes (who is the editor of Camp Chase Gazette, a leading reenactor magazine), Major Markewicz, Adjutant Harry Connelly, and Your Correspondent. We had four-foot high rail “walls” on three sides of our shelter, with a roof of shelter halves buttoned together and supported by rail rafters. We stuck one of the battalion’s guide flags in the ground next to our shelter to demark it as headquarters. One wag likened our “fortress” to a modern residence in a subdivision and dubbed it “No. 1 Bloody Lane”, and so it was named for the next twelve hours. We later constructed a small addition on the side of No. 1 Bloody Lane to accommodate Major Buffington (who had returned to the battalion while the sunken road “battle” was in progress) and Captain (Acting Major) Jerry Grehl.
It was fortunate that we camped at the remote location on Saturday evening. Back in the main Federal and Confederate camps, untrue rumors of torrential rain and near-universal disgust with the event and blown “battle” scenarios combined to create immense dissatisfaction amongst the mainstream participants. By twilight, a mass exodus of participants was underway, and the main camps literally filled with automobiles as reenactors began the laborious process of tearing down their canvas palaces, packing their cars, and leaving early. Thank Goodness the 29th Massachusetts was a LONG way from that scene.
As the sun set over the sunken road, the men kindled small fires and cooked their issued rations, and the officers enjoyed a light libation from Dr. Hughes’s medical kit “for medicinal purposes only”. Eventually, a hot supper was provided for the officers’ mess by Commissary Sergeant Klaus and a fine detail of tired but willing enlisted men who had to trek all the way to “Camp Adams” to fetch it.
Earlier in the season, Adjutant Connelly had encountered our friend David Murphy of Florida (a columnist for The Civil War News) who attended the event with a man named Zimmerman. At the Adjutant’s invitation, Murphy and Zimmerman visited the 29th’s camp on Saturday evening with their brand-new traveling “minstrel” act, which portrays two singing hucksters who sell snake-oil and other shoddy goods to soldiers. Among Zimmerman & Murphy’s offerings were products such as “Wizard Oil”, “erasive soap” (“guaranteed to clean just about anything” including grimy army issue shirts), and “bulletproof” woolen waistcoats lined with sheet iron, all of which were demonstrated to us and were supposedly available, “at Zimmerman & Murphy’s fine sutlery located in the main camp just across from General Burnside’s headquarters” (which they reminded us in every song they sang). Their show, which lasted more than an hour, was truly first rate and was both period correct, hilarious, and extremely entertaining. The hobby of living history needs more such innovative impressions and we look forward to seeing Zimmerman & Murphy at more “campaigner” events in the future.
Zimmerman & Murphy’s show ended at about 9:30 p.m. Within fifteen minutes, the entire camp was filled with snores from the exhausted men. In deference to the long drives home faced by most of the men and the near-exhaustion of the Officer of the Day, no guards were posted. Our resident organizer and workhorse, Charles Heath, bivouacked near No. 1 Bloody Lane with his horse, “Major”, and kept an eye or two open throughout the night to ward off thieves, other reenactors, and evil spirits.
On Sunday morning the 29th was up in the pre-dawn gloom. By 6:30 a.m. blanket rolls were tied, knapsacks packed, company rolls had been called, and the battalion was in line. With Major Buffington again at its head, the 29th Massachusetts marched toward the main Federal camp.
We were headed there because all reenactors were under orders to participate in a Grand Review that was to commence at 8:00 a.m. With over 4,000 troops in the “Union Army” (before the Saturday evening exodus), orders were for the brigade to form around 7:00 a.m., hence our early start.
Shortly after we awoke, some misty precipitation started that lasted on and off for the rest of the day. This was hardly the feared torrential rain that partially caused the Exodus. Your Correspondent is no fan of being wet, yet the precipitation was so light that I did not bother to get out my rubber blanket.
We marched to a point a few hundred yards from the Federal camp and there we halted, stacked arms, and waited while Major Buffington went ahead to find out what was happening relative to the Grand Review. He was gone a long time and when he came back it was after 7:30 a.m. and he immediately had Officers’ Call sounded. We were informed that the entire Grand Review had been canceled, ostensibly due to a water supply problem in the Confederate camp; this reason was later found to be totally untrue. Sadly, after the event it became public that certain Confederates objected to the Grand Review for some reason and the entire Confederate force refused to attend which, incredibly, resulted in the cancellation of the whole affair. Your Correspondent and many others in the 29th Massachusetts were left to ponder why the Union Army did not conduct a Grand Review on its own, because the real Army of the Potomac held corps-sized reviews often and was not usually in the habit of inviting the Confederates.
The cancellation of the Grand Review left a “hole” in the day’s schedule several hours long and went off like a bomb in the ranks of the 29th Massachusetts. With many participants facing extremely long drives home – some as long as fifteen hours – the cancellation of the Review initiated an exodus from the event by the Federal campaigners. By 10:00 a.m., the 29th was down to approximately 100 men.
With little else to do, the battalion returned to familiar “Camp Adams” in the woods near the main Federal camp. The men rested while the officers worked on some necessary consolidation plans. The battalion was reduced for four companies, with some officers leaving and others voluntarily reducing themselves to the ranks (many “campaigner” officers attend events with a private’s uniform and kit in the “wagon park” just in case). In the end, the 29th Massachusetts wound up being either the same size or even larger than the other Federal battalions remaining at the event. Some battalions had left to the last man. All told, on Sunday the Union Army appeared to number no more than 1,500 men of the 4,000-plus who were at the event in indigo blue the afternoon before.
The battalion formed up at 12:30 p.m. for the final “battle” of the weekend, which was supposed to portray the counterattack of Confederate General A.P. Hill on the Union Ninth Corps late in the real battle of Antietam.
For this scenario, the battalion was to portray the 8th Connecticut Volunteers; indeed, the battalion’s color guard was comprised of reenactors from the re-created 8th Connecticut and, of course, an accurate portrayal of the original regiment’s actions in this engagement was very important to these men. We were told that concrete plans for an accurate portrayal of the 8th’s movements and actions were firm and that the Confederates would play along. The historical record called for us to deploy skirmishers who would advance up the sloping ridge that comprised the “battlefield” all the way to the Rebel artillery, followed by the rest of the battalion. A Rebel line would come out of the woods to our left, hit us with flanking fire that would inflict heavy casualties, after which we would change our front to “fight” them, and finally make a “fighting” retreat from the field. We were to be the first ones committed to the action and the first ones off the field; all told it was supposed to take no more than fifteen minutes, after which the rest of the blue and gray could get all the “trigger time” they wanted from each other.
It didn’t turn out that way. In fact, the A.P. Hill’s counterattack scenario was, if anything, worse than Saturday’s cornfield “battle”.
First off, various high-ranking Union officers attempted to get the 29th Massachusetts to move from its position so that other troops could occupy the same spot. Intending to stick to our portrayal, Major Buffington refused all comers. Your Correspondent could only take these attempts to wreck our 8th Connecticut portrayal as more efforts to deliberately snub the “campaigner” reenactors of our battalion.
Then there were the abominations perpetrated by the Rebs. It started with Confederate skirmishers deploying into the field across our path more than thirty minutes before the battle was to start, but we figured we could just brush them aside.
Then a couple small grayclad battalions advanced in a line of battle right into our planned attack route. Wait a minute…THAT wasn’t supposed to happen! A few minutes later, the balance of the whole Confederate “army” (now reduced to less than 1,500 men), which was supposed to remain behind the ridge until the Union troops were most of the way up the slope and then counterattack (the scenario was called, “A.P. Hill’s counterattack”, right?), advanced in line of battle to a position more than half way to the Union lines at the bottom of the slope.
Uh-oh. It looked like the whole scenario was just blown to hell.
It was.
Then it got worse.
The Confederates commenced catcalling to the Union troops below, after which they started to loudly sing “Dixie”. Not to be outdone, the Union reenactors returned the catcalls (some of which were pretty rude) and commenced singing their own songs. The “sing-off” quickly went beyond the ridiculous. Then some of the Rebel troops commenced — so help me I’m not making this up — dropping their drawers and “mooning” the Union men. Overall it was a bizarre and sick combination of a modern sporting match, a fraternity party run amok, and the scene in the film Casablanca where the Germans and Frenchmen sing opposing songs inside Humphrey Bogart’s nightclub. Regardless of what it sort-of resembled, it was NOT Civil War history or the battle of Antietam Creek.
The disciplined men of the 29th Massachusetts/8th Connecticut were horrified. We remained silent in our ranks. Your Correspondent literally saw tears in the eyes of the color guard.
Major Buffington stomped off to complain to General Heim, who got on a walkie-talkie to get the Rebel commander to move his men. General Heim did his best but the Rebel troops barely moved.
Suddenly, the “battle” commenced. The artillery batteries boomed, musketry started, and the opposing lines, which started the battle in the wrong positions for the portrayal, marched toward each other.
Major Buffington, to his immense credit in the eyes of Your Correspondent, ordered the battalion to “order arms” and remain in place. He declared, “We’re not going anywhere until this mess stops!” Supported by the men of the color guard and the rest of the battalion, he would rather sit out the farcical display in front of us rather than participate in a frontal assault on history.
At this point, Your Correspondent’s carpool compatriots had had enough. One or two men from the battalion had already walked off in disgust. My carpool compatriots demanded likewise and I agreed. I went to Major Buffington and resigned my commission, which he understandingly accepted. As we walked off, we saw General Heim and his staff officers attempting to order the “campaigner” battalion in, and Major Buffington refusing to advance.
Afterward, I learned that Major Buffington finally did “go in” but in a unique way. The battalion advanced at shoulder arms and unloaded. When it encountered the Rebels, it simply halted and stood in place until the Rebel line parted before it. Often the Major had to brandish his sword and inform the Confederates “Get out of the way or we’ll kill you for real!” Their point made, the re-created 8th Connecticut advanced up the slope with the battle raging behind them. They pulled off their portrayal and closely mimicked the movements of the real 8th Connecticut, and then they proudly marched off the field, their honor intact.
Out in the reenactor parking field, Your Correspondent heard the bugle sound “Taps” at the end of the “battle”. One of my compatriots, Jeff Henion, reached into his pocket and pulled out the souvenir medallion that each reenactor had been given when they registered. The image on it included a goofy caricature of a Civil War soldier and the words, “Antietam: Changing Destiny”.
The theme of the event printed on that medallion seemed very appropriate. The 140th anniversary reenactment had provided a vastly different depiction of the events of September 17, 1862 than that given in history books.
Jeff snorted, “Changing destiny for sure! Here’s what I think of THAT!” He threw the medallion on the ground, stomped it into the mud with his heel, and then further expressed his displeasure by gracing it with a stream of fluid.
We were soon on the way home and did not look back.
Final Score — Yahoos: 3.5. History: zero.
The 140th anniversary reenactment of the battle of Antietam Creek received a nearly unanimous overall response from the majority of its participants: hardly anyone enjoyed it. When the reenactment was over, the Hagerstown newspapers featured a lot of spin doctoring by the event committee, which the participants knew was lies.
Compared to the “mainstream” participants, overall, the re-created 29th Massachusetts had a pretty good time…while we were away from the rest of the event (Confederate “campaigners” in the cornfield excepted). When we interacted with the rest of the “Union Army”, the majority of the Confederates, and the main event, however, things were not very enjoyable or educational (in a positive way).
Like other recent Civil War “mega-events” in the East (i.e., “Grant vs. Lee” 1999, 135th Cedar Creek, Chancellorsville 2000, 140th First Bull Run, etc.), 140th Antietam aptly demonstrated that something is terribly wrong with the bulk of Civil War living history. Events that occur like epic disasters, such as the 140th Antietam travesty, are increasingly common and feature a distressing amount of cowboy-ism, terrible impressions (for example, there was a loincloth-clad Indian who brandished a tomahawk at 2001’s 140th First Bull Run reenactment; at 140th Antietam Your Correspondent observed a 300-lb. Zouave captain on Saturday afternoon), and what appears to this writer to be a nearly-complete lack of control or ability above the battalion level.
Folks, this ain’t depicting history.
Further, the foul treatment that the re-created 29th Massachusetts received at the hand of many mainstream officers of higher rank, General Heim excepted, was uncalled for and should not be tolerated in the future. It is quite possible that a total boycott of Eastern “mega-events” by “campaigner” reenactors is the only viable alternative.
Did Your Correspondent find any Irish aspects to this event?
The answer is complex because most histories of Irish in the American Civil War, coupled with much of what is written by reenactors who portray Irishmen, is full of Irish stereotypes and exaggerations. After all, Irishmen have always been known for their ability to tell a tall tale. Reports of reenactors experiencing “hot fighting” at the sunken road side-by-side with the ghosts of the men of the Irish Brigade make nice copy but, needless to say, fall far short of reality.
Fact is, no living history event can allow its participants even a faint glimpse of what the soldiers of the Irish Brigade encountered before the Bloody Lane on that awful September afternoon in 1862. Our sham battles have no bullets, no blood, no death, and no fear. Thank God. Because of this, they will always inherently be the worst, least accurate, and goofiest part of any Civil War event.
You, the readers, can absorb all you want about the glory of the green flags going forward into the enemy’s artillery and musketry. You can be fed all you can consume about reenactors “fighting” in the shoes of the Irish Brigade and other brave Irish regiments. It’s all presented with flash and dash that mimics the flowery speeches of Thomas Francis Meagher, who was long on rhetoric and Irish patriotism and short on battlefield presence while in full command of his faculties.
What the average Irishman experienced at Antietam, other than a short period of horrific bloodshed, was more common, more subtle, and a hell of a lot less “sexy” than the average writer would like you to believe.
Indeed, Your Correspondent saw the green flags of the Irish Brigade go toward the Bloody Lane on this past Saturday afternoon. However, in an incredible display of pompousness, the “Irish” 69th Pennsylvania reenactors also marched that day under their green flag. The Pennsylvanians were not portraying the Irish Brigade as were the modern-day amalgamation of the Irish Volunteers/Western Brigade battalion, yet they marched under a green banner anyway. Why was this? For showmanship? An effort to divert attention from the Irish Volunteers/Western Brigade portrayal? Or just plain ignorance? Who knows?
Reenactors who portray Irishmen of the Civil War era do not necessarily portray them to the best extent possible. Following the lead of WGT Editor Joe Gannon, starting in 1995 Your Correspondent has attempted with little success to get “Irish” reenactors to remove from their uniforms and kit the excessive display of Irish symbolism (brass harps, shamrocks, embroidered Irish patches, etc.) that almost always seems to attend this impression, and the use of fake “Lucky Charms” Irish accents that are so rampant within the hobby. At least none of the “Irish” units observed by this writer had bagpipers last weekend! Not all “Irish” impressions are poor, but the things listed in this paragraph are common enough to be almost stereotypical in reenacting.
With Your Correspondent offering so many negative opinions on the 140th Antietam event, the inappropriate display of green flags by some organizations, and commentary on the poor Irish impressions by many reenactors, was there anything gained by either you, the readers, or even Your Correspondent in attempting to learn more about the experience of Irishmen in the 1862 battle of Antietam Creek?
Unequivocally, YES.
You’re probably thinking, “Okay ‘Mr. Faithful Correspondent’, explain yourself, and fast.”
The principal thing that is missing from many depictions and viewpoints on Irish soldiers in the American Civil War is that they were U.S. soldiers who happened to be foreign-born. They did not wear Irish symbolism, they did not attempt to “stand out” (other than marching under green flags if they happened to be among the 20 percent of Irish-Americans in the army who were members of an ethnic regiment), and they were good fighters when the only other alternative was death. Otherwise their experiences in the field in 1861-1865 were very similar to those of “native born” American soldiers.
What did the re-created 29th Massachusetts do at the Antietam reenactment that shed light on my interpretation of the experience of Irish soldiers at the front? The answers are many:
· I learned what it was like to be on grand guard duty, standing picket throughout the night in a mature cornfield with “enemy” troops within 100 yards or less. Irish troops of the Civil War experienced this or similar types of guard duty scores of times during 1861-1865.
· I slept under the stars like many an Irish soldier on campaign.
· I ate field rations that were a combination of army-issued food and items foraged from local farms by the officers’ mess cook, including salty, hard ham, cabbage, pumpkins, corn, and small, hard apples. The rations were prepared and issued in a manner just like they were to commissioned officers of Meagher’s Irish Brigade.
· We encountered prejudice from our fellow “soldiers” in the Union Army. Much as the men of the Irish Brigade were looked down upon for their Catholic faith and foreignness, the re-created 29th Massachusetts was looked down upon and constantly placed at the rear of the column because of our “hardcore” philosophies on how we interpret and portray the life of the common Civil War soldier. Just as the Irish Brigade was cheered for its fighting prowess and steadiness in battle, during the event the Potomac Legion was vocally cheered by some for its slightly better-than-average portrayal.
· Because the Potomac Legion was set apart from the rest of the reenactors by our impression and “remote” campsites, this writer believes we had more esprit de corps than other battalions at the event, much like the Irish Brigade of 1862.
· The Potomac Legion shared good times, camaraderie, and conviviality around its campfires, just like the Irish Brigade. In particular, on Saturday evening at the event our camp was filled the sounds of music and merriment courtesy of Mssrs. Zimmerman & Murphy.
· The Potomac Legion marched and went into “battle” in full marching order, just like Irish troops of the Civil War. Exceedingly few blueclad reenactors at the 140th Antietam reenactment experienced this.
· The men of the Potomac Legion engaged in a good deal of “first person impression”, including carrying out fatigue details, guard mounting and guard duty, complaining about their officers, complaining about other units, complaining about their Generals, talking of home, and wondering what stunts the “enemy” would pull next. One can well imagine the boys of 1862 discussing the very same topics at the halts in their marches and around their campfires.
· And other aspects that Your Correspondent is leaving out of this lengthy account!
In conclusion, the Potomac Legion saw, heard, and experienced a good deal that was similar to the experiences of the Irishmen in the ranks at the real battle of Antietam and other Civil War campaigns. While these experiences were more subtle than overt activities such as marching under emerald banners, wearing Irish symbolism, speaking with a fake brogue, singing “The Irish Volunteer”, “fighting” in “battles”, and doing imitations of imagined secret Fenian handshakes, they were nevertheless extremely typical of what the average Irishman (and Massachusetts man) in the ranks saw, ate, heard, felt, and experienced each day of the war.
Learning about what the REAL men in the ranks of the Civil War army experienced, rather than leading charges in poorly executed sham battles that don’t even faintly resemble the historical record, is what living history should be about. To that end, Your Correspondent believes that the efforts of the re-created 29th Massachusetts at the 140th Antietam event were fairly successful, if somewhat trying at times.
Until the next time the Columbia Rifles and Potomac Legion take the field…
Your Faithful Correspondent
Kevin O’Beirne
Late Captain
29th Massachusetts Vols (re-created)
Columbia Rifles/Potomac Legion
COMMENTS ON 140th ANTIETAM
BY THE
COLUMBIA RIFLES’ COMPANY
COMMANDER
by John Tobey
I don’t like to write event reports mainly because I usually don’t
remember enough details from an entire event to put together something
comprehensive and detail-oriented.
However, on the other hand, I do have some fairly clear “mental
pictures” from the 140th Antietam event that I figured I’d offer up.
1. We needed more regimental music. A
battalion of nearly 300 men, which is about what we had at A140, would have had
at least five drummers, etc. More musicians would have given Assistant
Surgeon Hughes more to do as
well—musicians make first-rate stretcher-bearers.
2. The regimental staff should have been
mounted. Not for the battles, mind you, but having the staff officers
mounted would have been sweet.
3. Regimental transport is something that can be
improved upon. If we’d had animals, the transport situation could have
been at either end of the historical spectrum or anywhere in between: from a
wagon to a mule a la John Billings. Optimally we could have had the
officer’s mess and ordnance supplied transported with us, which would have been
a big help at Saturday night’s campsite at the sunken road. This is
probably not practical at the present time but it’s a cool goal to keep in mind
for future events. In Hardtack and Coffee Billings said you could
tell where a regiment began and ended: it began with an officer on a horse and
ended with a pack mule.
4. The officer’s mess was very cool, as was as
the rest of the commissary. There was first rate cooking and period impedimentia; it was all very well done; kudos to
Commissary Sergeant Glenn Klaus and Quartermaster Steve Hanzelman. I won’t sing the praises of the mess too much
because I know it will be rightly and roundly lauded by others.
5. The battles sucked, but that’s not news so I
won’t dwell on it here. I do begin to wonder, however, where the
breakdown occurs that makes the battles so bad. Where does the chain of
command turn rogue? Some of the cowboy Reb
units seemed to be as small as individual companies, so does the scenario get
trashed at the company level? We’ll
probably never know.
6. The bivouac at the sunken road was cool. I even got to try out John Mead Gould’s plan
for building a fence rail shebang.
7. The Friday night Grand Guard experience in
the cornfield was great. There are environments where reenactors seldom
get to have unfettered playtime, and active agricultural sites like large
cornfields are one. Rail fences are another. We got to trample and
camp in the corn and, the next night, dismantle the rail fence. Sometimes
the museum environment is constraining to a reenactor—museums seem to want you
to “be there” without doing anything to show you’ve been there.
Not so at A140, and the condition of the cornfield and the fence rails along
the “sunken road” after we left those places showed it.
8. The coffee coolers were, for me, the coolest
part of the cornfield scenario. A large portion of Co. K (Columbia
Rifles) ran off when the battle got really bad and hid behind a little brush
lot in the rear of the Federal left. We found some deadfall, and built a
little fire and made a half-dozen cups of coffee while the battle raged.
9. The paperwork was great. This isn’t
seen often at most events, but there was a bunch of it in the battalion at
A140. This was cool beans and really made me wish that I had an officer’s
haversack, some ink, and a proper pen.
10. The Sunday meltdown was terrible. At
least two-thirds of the battalion left by mid-morning on Sunday. I don’t
know what the solution is to campaigner battalions bugging out early, but
hopefully someone will find it soon.
It’s embarrassing to have a battalion of over 250 shrink to less than
100 men by noon on Sunday.
11. The sergeant major was less than
satisfactory, and seemed to be a non-person. Who was he and where was he?
12. I met a lot of great folks. After all
the character assassination that results from Internet-warfare, certain guys
actually turned out to be first-rate fellows.
These are just
some random thoughts, and no overt criticism or other harm is intended.
Respectfully,
John Tobey
Late Captain
Company K, 29th Massachusetts Vols.
140th Antietam
MY MISSION TO MARYLAND
by Nicky Hughes
Editor’s Note:
This article was published in Camp Chase Gazette magazine
(Vol. XXIX, No. 10, October, 2002) and is reprinted here with permission of the author.
In my new role as editor of this fine periodical, I felt an obligation to attend the recent 140th annivrsary Antietam event. It promised to be the “big event” of 2002 in the East, just as Perryville promised to be this year’s “big event” out West. Since I live less than an hour away from Perryville, it was pretty obvious that I would be there. It seemed fair that I go to the Antietam event as well – we wouldn’t want the Gazette to be accuse of Western bias, you know…
I sought – and found – an unusual perspective from which to view the event. I was kindly permitted to fall in with the Union campaigner battalion organized for this event by the Potomac Legion and the United States Volunteers. I assumed the role of battalion assistant surgeon. This provided a grandstand seat and officer perquisites but few actual responsibilities.
Readers may find it curious to learn that the things I enjoyed most about this big event were little details. I saw some things done as well or better than I have ever seen them done before.
The commissary and quartermaster arrangements in this battalion were superb – both as re-creations of historic practice and as function services to the men in the battalion. The battalion supply area was a delightful clutter of properly constructed and stenciled wooden crates, canvas sacks, and piles of victuals. Hardtack, bacon, and other foodstuffs were issued to the battalion companies in quantity. The gentlemen responsible for this operation had even done research into the foods purchased by the Army of the Potomac specifically for the 1862 Antietam campaign – and there in our camp were the pumpkins, apples (heirloom varieties, I think), and other foodstuffs to prove it.
The kitchen for the officers’ mess was busy just about all the time during the event. It was equipped with accurately produced sheet iron mess kettles, mess pans, coffee pots, and other cooking vessels and utensils. There was no cumbersome iron grate or even a tripod – the cook knew how to cook over coals, and the contents of the various pots bubbled vigorously or simmered quietly as appropriate. So far as I could tell, our kitchen used no wood supplied by the event – all our fuel was deadfall gathered from the woods in which we camped. There was not a cooler in sight – or out of sight, for that matter. The meals were comprised of raw materials preserved by period means or that needed no preservation. So far as I know, all the officers ate bountiful, tasty, but simple and wholly historically accurate meals, and nobody suffered any ill effects whatsoever – quite the contrary!
Also particularly enjoyable were our accommodations on Saturday evening. After all the troops had left the “Bloody Lane” battlefield, our battalion remained behind and camped out there. We used a resource available in abundance there for shelter – fence rails that lined the lane. Using rails, shelter halves, gum blankets, ropes, and considerable ingenuity, the troops improvised all manner of shebangs, lean-tos, and other temporary residences on that field. The gentlemen of the battalion headquarters were particularly pleased and proud of their cozy little tent-roofed cabin – erected under the supervision of a certain guest from Kentucky – a state to the inhabitants of which log cabin building seems to come naturally. The evening was made especially pleasant by a medicine show – complete with music and cornball humor – put on by a traveling troupe of Wizard Oil salesmen.
The battalion officers attempted to re-create several aspects of Civil War army life often neglected at reenactments. Paperwork bordered on the burdensome. The officer-of-the-day supervised a full-blown guard mount ceremony, and guards remained on duty around the camp nearly all the time. A highlight for the men of the battalion was the re-creation of a grand guard over one whole night between the camps in the site’s cornfield. They even managed to capture a few unwary Confederates. Ever been awakened in the middle of the night by a nearby, impromptu prisoner interrogation? I have been now.
I’ll let other folks grouse about water and wood and blown scenarios and cars in camp – what else is new? I lived a few little snippets of the Civil War with a fine group of gentlemen that weekend in Maryland while smelling the smoke of some large-scale battles – and that’s plenty for me.
Nicky Hughes is
the Editor of Camp Chase Gazette and the founder of The Watchdog. He is a friend of the Columbia Rifles who
lives in central Kentucky