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Shiloh
An eerie and almost irreverent feeling gripped our
souls, as we trudged from the Shiloh Battlefield Park visitor’s center in
search of our camp. The midnight spring fog was so thick we’d clipped a deer
coming up the highway from Corinth. Coupled with the pitch-black darkness of a
moonless sky, it cloaked the battlefield’s historic monuments and markers with
a haunting aura as we silently walked along the Pittsburg Landing Road.
Seemingly out of nowhere , six imposing white shapes sprang out of the thick
fog. In one of them, the faint glow of a flickering candle transformed its
conical canvas shape into a giant lantern. “Sibley
tents… We’ve found them.”
Held on the park’s anniversary weekend
of April 8th-10th, 2005, at the invitation of the National Park Service and
before thousands of spectators, the Shiloh Federal Living History program was
planned by veteran re-enactors Jim Butler of Georgia, and Cal Kinzer of
Oklahoma. The weekend’s scenario called for the portrayal of a typical company
of Federal infantrymen, in fixed camp at Pittsburgh Landing in the days before
the battle. A small naval contingent was also present, setting up a booth near
the visitor’s center. Using props and drills pertinent to the time period, the
naval men portrayed a landing party of officers and sailors from the gunboats Lexington and Tyler.
“We had a grand time, and the park service estimates five thousand visitors on Saturday and three thousand on Sunday,” said Bob Dispenza of the Navy and Marine Living History Association. “I think we talked to two people who knew anything about the Navy at Shiloh,” he added dryly.
Honoring an
ancestor of Mr. Butler’s, the infantrymen would recreate Company I of the 8th
Illinois Volunteer Infantry Regiment, Hare’s Brigade, McClernand’s Division,
Army of the Tennessee. This was a veteran regiment by Shiloh standards. Having
mustering in for three years service in July of 1861, the regiment drilled
prodigiously and soon embarked on expeditions to Missouri and Kentucky. At the
Battle of Fort Henry the Illinois men were among the first through the fort’s
gates, and suffered fearful casualties in the reduction of Fort Donelson later
in the campaign. After the forts fall, the regiment embarked for Savannah on
the Tennessee River, and then a few days later for Pittsburg Landing. The
camping ground was excellent for drill, and the time was well occupied with
that and other duties.
Our company consisted of fifty-four veteran Civil War re-enactors from all over the country, hailing from various “messes” and living history organizations. The men took the impression to heart, with many outfitting themselves in the natty Illinois State Jackets that the original soldiers donned.
“Like many events where people come together from different groups, there needs to be cooperation and camaraderie for the thing to succeed, and I saw that spirit once again at Shiloh,” said Eric Tipton of Ohio, a participant of last year’s event.
The officers and NCO’s were outstanding in their roles. Longtime re-enacting veteran Cal Kinzer of the Union Rifles would serve as Captain, with Joe Smotherman of Tennessee and the famed Cleburnes Mess as 1st Lieutenant, and Jim Butler of the Salt River Rifles as 2nd Lieutenant. Both Smotherman and Butler regularly commanded companies of their own at events, and the level of instruction for the soldiers was thus ratcheted up significantly.
“I really enjoyed the way Cal Kinzer led us through the bayonet drill demos slowly, surely, and with good instruction for the troops and interpretation for the park visitors,” said Charles Heath of Maryland. “No one was made to feel like an idiot, as the movements were easy to understand and perform.”
There also exists a select upper tier of individuals in the hobby who excel in their portrayal of Non-Commissioned Officers. These men possess not only the expert knowledge, but also a verve and professionalism that place them apart from all others. Eric Emde of Fort Campbell, Kentucky was superb as the companies Orderly Sergeant, using his real life military background to hone an already outstanding Civil War soldier’s impression.
The weekend’s schedule was strict and precise, in the manner of military practice for the time period portrayed, and called for many activities typical of camp life for the men of the 8th Illinois Infantry. A commissary was formed, with the men issued rations such as salt pork, salt beef, fresh soft bread, onions, potatoes, fruit, and coffee. A sergeant was detailed to prepare the food, helped out by a seedy-looking private and an invalided soldier just recently discharged from a Nashville hospital. An unscrupulous rumor floated about camp claiming the new ‘civilian’ to be recovering from a venereal disease, and that apparently some nasty business at home kept him from returning. “Why else would he linger in the army?” laughed one soldier.
Pay call, firing demonstrations, and all manner of a soldier’s regimen were the featured vignettes. However the mainstay of the event’s activities would focus on drill. The men drilled as a company, in squads, with bayonets, and on a skirmish line. In a genuine stroke of showmanship, a small musical band dubbed “The Tiger Band” played snappy martial tunes ten minutes prior to each hour of drill. This group featured our fearless Orderly Sergeant Emde on drums, who’d collared our civilian cook to pound sluggishly on a base drum, and another young lad to pipe along with a flute. The spirited little band drew raves from the boys in the ranks, though some would swear the 9:00 PM Friday night concert was at midnight…
On Saturday morning the park was engulfed in fog. The heavy mist swirled amongst our tents as well as the relic artillery pieces and regimental monuments that lined the Pittsburgh Landing Road. It was a majestic start to the weekend, and the fifty-four sleepy eyed soldiers formed a long blue line for the roll call. Fatigue parties stirred to life and breakfast was served by the commissary. This consisted of thrice boiled salt pork, a mush with ears floating in it (dried apples), and coffee laced with brown stuff (chicory) floating in the water to give it a nice Swanee River shade. Though the company cooks were ostracized throughout the event (“taste was sacrificed at the expense of expediency,” offered Commissary Private Jerry Gouge of the Georgia Regulars) most of the men wolfed down their rations in sharp fashion.
“I have to defend our cook,” said 1st Lieutenant Joe Smotherman. “At every meal I was warned that our meal was not edible, yet every meal was good…”
Along with the honor of re-enacting on a national battlefield come the strict rules and guidelines employed by the Shiloh National Park Service. Before the first demonstration, and long before any spectators arrived, the men dutifully formed ranks for inspection. Looking beside me, I noticed Corporal Eric Tipton wearing a wool mitten on one hand, but not the other. It turned out he had broken the middle finger of his left hand, and discovered that the applied splint cast off a rather offensive image… A business like park ranger then trooped the line, meticulously checking each weapon for safety and functionality. Orderly Sergeant Emde followed along behind, recording serial numbers and weapons type on a park safety form. All the while, the officers casually looked over the uniforms and kits of the company.
Never a man of many words, Captain Kinzer briefly introduced himself and laid out the plan for drill. With over fifty soldiers creating a rather large company the drill was cumbersome and ragged, yet the men were game. We knocked off the rust performing the manual of arms, a few flanking and wheeling movements, and then worked on switching from column to line formations. By the time we fell out for pay call, we had begun to draw a significant crowd of spectators. Most of us felt inclined to ignore the public, lounging around or sleeping, leaving small groups of men to alternately work with the park rangers on answering questions.
The company eagerly cued up for pay call, with the sergeants and corporals going first. Captain Kinzer, sporting a dress uniform complete with shoulder scales and ostrich feather, sat behind a desk and issued the script to the men. Each of us scratched out our mark on the pay sheet, using a period correct ink pen and well to do so while trying unsuccessfully not to tear the muster roll. The captain addressed us individually before payment, as to whether we owed the government money or had been reported involved with scrupulous dealings. I was accused of owing the regimental sutler money, but vehemently denied that to be the case. Nevertheless, I received a mere four yankee dollars in pay. I was not the only one, and word went through the ranks that the captain had some deep pockets…
“I received only four greenbacks, versus my regular pay, during pay call secondary to their report that my gum blanket was missing,” said Eric Grothaus of Ohio. “I could not convince them that it was stolen, and feel the Federal Army is holding back and using the money for their own pleasure…”
A few bold lads ventured to gamble with their newfound wealth and were drawn to an unscrupulous private who was running games of chance, using his ground cloth for a gaming table. Still others gathered around a group of civilians, whom the officers had allowed into camp to auction off their wares. Myself, I could care less and fell to sleep under a Parrot rifled artillery piece that guarded the approach to the Landing Road.
I awoke to the frumpy strains of the Tiger Band, which signaled the commencement of afternoon drill. The men fixed bayonets, and at extended intervals the captain ran us through a spirited demonstration. This seemed to be a crowd favorite, though some of the men were less than confident. “I only poked something like two guys in the arse cheeks, and one on the eye with that pointy thing on the end of the musket,” joked one soldier.
Meanwhile back in camp our fricassee challenged commissary squad was brewing up lunch for the company, no doubt following some decoction from Soyer’s or some other fancy recipe. Though the seasoning gave the stew a dirty dish water hue, the resulting boiled beef and cabbage soup actually turned out quite palatable. Obviously there are always those who disagree. This was evidenced by the flatulence later permeating the Sibley tents (something about Sibleys always encouraged the old soldiers to new levels of stink) and the aversion by some for the thrice-boiled beef.
“Can I have some more of that boiled cartridge box strap,” asked Private Charles Heath as he approached the cook. “Hey, he got a whole flap!”
Following an afternoon of firing demonstrations and more drilling, the men were released to their own whims for the evening. Most of the company went to cooking supper, with some heading down river for a local secesh catfish shack, and others to the Mense George cabin for a stew provided by John Beaver of the Homespun Living History Guild. I instead fell in with a group of lads from Mess #1 of the 6th Ohio, and went for an impromptu tour of the battlefield. Having never been to Shiloh before, enjoying the park itself was the highlight of my weekend. With all the attention given to preserving our Civil War battlefields, and with the ever-looming threat of urban sprawl encroaching upon them, it was refreshing to see Shiloh in such an undisturbed and pristine state.
We started off at Fraley Field where the opening shots were fired by the skirmishers, working our way back through stages of the battle’s early action. Some of the boys had brought written accounts of the fighting, and were soberly reading aloud, describing the fierce fighting. Trudging through Rea Field, where the raw Ohio recruits of Sherman’s Division saw the elephant for the first time, I came upon a worse-for-wear camp marker of the 53rd Ohio Volunteer Infantry Regiment, of Hildebrand’s Brigade. This was a rookie unit who’s panicky colonel continuously shrilled the alarm prior to the battle, with Sherman telling him to “take his damn regiment back to Ohio.” We noticed the oblong-shaped steel plaque was cracked and held together by a shoddy spot-weld. I reflected on the terror that must’ve gripped those boys as they stood in the very spot I did facing a terrible death. As we read the plaque which narrated the regiment’s plight, Mark Susnis of The Southern Guard recounted how the 53rd Ohio had fought heroically, helping to maul two of Patrick Cleburne’s regiments before it’s colonel became unraveled and precipitated a rout. Looking at the damaged marker, we all agreed that brave men deserved better in memory…
With the sun setting over Duncan Field we walked amongst the guns of Ruggle’s grand battery which had blasted the Federal salient in the Sunken Road. One could almost hear ghostly screams and cries as we entered the Hornet’s Nest, where the fighting was so hot in front of Hickenlooper’s 5th Ohio Battery that wounded soldiers from both sides were roasted alive in the burning thickets. Nightfall found us near the Peach Orchard, where modern wire bundles surrounded newly planted peach trees, protecting them from the denizens that roamed the park in abundance. We sat in the cool darkness at the Bloody Pond while listening to the croaking of frogs, and recalled how wounded men of both sides crawled to the pond’s edge for succor, turning its murky water red with their blood. Finally we ventured back down to Pittsburg Landing itself, where the Federal reinforcements spilled from transports stacked off the Tennessee River. Somebody commented on what the sight thousands of blue-coated stragglers and skulkers must have presented to the troops of Buell’s Army of the Ohio, as they reinforced Grant’s men that bloody night with all hell breaking loose in the wilderness beyond. Listening to the quiet swirl of the river, with the owls, coyotes and creatures of all makes howling in the woods, lent a historic specter to the moment.
Sunday morning brought a bone-weary chill as our camp stirred for the day’s activities. Some men had long and exhausting drives ahead, and beat an early retreat. Others participated in a staff ride conducted by the park rangers, retracing the scenes of action for the 8th Illinois. I again joined my Ohio comrades, and returned to the Hornet’s Nest in full gear for some stirring photos taken by Mess #1 member Mike Stretch.
Our return to duties saw more drill and firing demonstrations, along with plenty of interaction with the considerable crowd of spectators that flowed through our camp all morning. The coup de grace for the event was one of Cal Kinzer’s legendary knapsack inspections, performed by the book with white gloves and all. As a regular member of Cal’s Trans-Mississippi based Union Rifles company, I’ve endured many of these checks. I will say that with such a large and curious group of onlookers present, he did not dig too eagerly in search of distasteful contraband that may have embarrassed the men…
“I hope that all had as good a time as I did,” stated Cal. “My only regret is that when ‘ossifering’ with such a big company, and with such a busy schedule of programs, I don’t have as much time to spend with my pards as I like.”
Around noon, we formed up ranks, stacked arms, and looked on with pride as Jim Butler presented Park Ranger Joe Davis with a preservation grant from the company. Over $800 had been raised and donated by the re-enactors of the 8th Illinois, and as Mr. Davis accepted the money I thought he was seriously going to begin weeping. “This money will go to good use,” he promised solemnly. I immediately thought of the camp marker for the 53rd Ohio, sitting out at Rea Field in disrepair.
“We had fifty-four officers and men this year, which more than triples the head count from last year,” said 1st Sergeant Eric Emde. “I am especially grateful to those who drove from Illinois, Ohio, Maryland, Florida, and other distant places to be with us this weekend, including Mess #1, which brought down ten rifles. Well, actually nine and a half if you count the Dutchman…”
Progressive re-enacting, or what some call authentic campaigning, can actually be a rough and physically demanding hobby. For myself, I tend to judge the success of a civil war re-enactment or living history with what I personally bring out of the event. At the weekend’s Federal Living History at Shiloh, notwithstanding the money we had raised for the park or the thousands of citizens we enlivened by briefly providing them with a glimpse through time, I smilingly realized that I ‘d simply had fun. As the company left the park many of the men were already circling next years event on their calendars, which led Mark Krausz of Illinois to comment, “So this is what a good event is like…”