This is remarkable, truly telling, tragically sad and wonderfully magical.
Remember when that marching line of Black Hats just kept going and going and going? Didn't we all feel 9 feet tall that day?
We did indeed, at least until we had to high-tail it back into the woods!
I didn't get there. I went down with the color guard!
Our company was on the right flank, and there was a danged old 24pdr howitzer on the slope behind us firing over our heads. The concussion like'-to lifted the hats off our heads! Retreating into the woods was a more reasonable choice. I assumed it was to be a "historical" scenario where we would drive some rebels back, possibly capture their colonel, then be forced to retreat. How naive.
As I recall, the 2nd day scenario was broken pretty badly. We were pulled off the line and marched around to the back because some opposing Confederate commander had a habit of breaking scenarios and flanking. So we spent a while in like a reserve position. It did allow a cool 50 yard line view of the inside of the Federal line. I don't remember much besides a lot of dust and smoke, and a commander riding by on a white horse.
This is all a lot better than my perception of 80s reenactment has been - I for all I know, might be looking at the campaigners of '88 in these images, as you might be somewhat aware that 80s-90s reenactment now has a reputation for supposedly being very low quality and "farby" these days, at least among those of us who were not there to see it. All of these would, at least look better than any Mainstreamers today. Love all these pictures, especially the one you've posted here.
Right, this is the way I have understood it at the time. It's nice to be able to directly confirm that.
The difference at the time wasn't museum quality uniforms or the gnat's eyelash level of detail that characterizes the movement later on. Really the only thing separating a "hardcore" from everybody else back then was that we used the equipment the way it was designed to be used. We ate hardtack and fatback out of our haversacks. We drank the water in our canteens. We carried our stuff in our knapsacks or in bedrolls. I was using a bedroll at the time. Using the gear gives it an authenticity that can't be simulated.
In the early '80s the difference between those novices who claimed to be "Civil War reenactors" and those who strove for greater authenticity was already vast. Our unit was as authentic as possible in those days. Our captain, who had been reenacting since 1964, suggested we attend an event in southern Illinois to support a local unit which had joined us on occasion. They were striving for greater authenticity, but it was an uphill battle in their area. As a result we attended our first "farb fest." It was an eye opener to those of use who had never attended one. As an example, the "unit" that camped next to us consisted of two young men in cavalry uniforms -- the Umpti-Umpth Illinois Regiment. And they came equiped with a quarter-scale Parrott rifle which they were very proud of, since they knew that cavalry often had their own artillery. Of course they had no horses. They were likeable and very sincere, so we said nothing to burst their bubble, but they were typical (you should have seen the Confederates). The Rebs were also typical for the time; as soon as we pushed their line back in the "battle," their "wounded" played Possum and opened fire on us from behind. I'm sure today's "authentics" (we used to call them "stitch counters") would make fun of our humble beginnings in authenticity, but it was a start in the right direction.
Bringing the