Free Lance writer Connor Ramey experienced the annual Civil War
Days reenactment for himself. Writes Ramey: ‘Staring down a rifle
in front of me was a daunting task. The man holding it aimed the
gun my way and there was no restraint in his face. He was ready to
shoot and he couldn’t care less.’ Read about his day of battle
here.
Staring down a rifle in front of me was a daunting task. The man holding it aimed the gun my way and there was no restraint in his face. He was ready to shoot and he couldn’t care less.
I looked to his right and left – and there was just more guns. I had no hope.
“Here it is,” I thought.
Then came the black smoke and loud bang. It happened so fast it was hard to tell what came first. I didn’t feel anything but I knew I was falling back.
My hat lifted off my head and blew in the wind. I grasped my rifle as I braced for the grass-cushioned ground – or at least had I hoped there was more grass than dirt in that area.
As I lay on the ground a warm, maybe semi-cold liquid filled up my side. Somehow, my back was soaked.
Luckily, though, it was only water and I fell to the ground on purpose. That gun – one of at least 10 pointing in my direction – was real but only shot a nice black smoke.
On Saturday, I was acting, or at least a form of it. It was a Civil War reenactment. And I was a Confederate and a member of the 14th Tennessee Volunteer Infantry– so I had to die that day.
As I lay there I could only think about my lost hat. Instead of a nice shade provided by the big-brimmed hat, the sun was beating down on my face.
Holding my hat during my death was one of the keys to dying, I was told. It actually was the second thing told to me about a successful reenactment. The first? Die memorably.
And because I lost the hat, I forgot to do anything special about my death. So I just fell.
Others around me groaned and yelped as they died. The crowd even cheered for the others, but my death seemed almost like an afterthought.
And trust me, dying sure is something to think about, when you know it’s staring you in the face. As I marched into battle as the first line of defense – I was told the newbies and fat guys are up front – all I could think about was how I was going to die.
This was my first reenactment, the first time I’ve held a gun, the first time I’ve worn wool and the first time I’ve worn two layers of clothing in 80-degree heat for 11 hours.
It was a day of firsts and, well, I had a lot of questions.
Do I fall face first? No, said a confederate soldier around my age who went by “Lee Damnit.”
For Lee, this was his second reenactment, so naturally I went to him for advice. The newbies need to stick together, I thought.
Looking after us was Jim Thompson – or as he was affectionately known, Jimbo. This wasn’t Thompson’s first reenactment. He actually didn’t even know the number of times he has put on this clothing and held a rifle. He could only tell me a year – 1983, when he first started, four years before I was born.
Thompson is a reenactment veteran, so I knew I was in the best of hands.
Most of the clothes I wore belonged to him. My bright yellow shirt, with a print full of small-multicolored flowers, dirtied wool pants and my hat all belonged to Jimbo.
But it wasn’t just the clothes. He was there to help with everything else.
So was a group of others that included the gray-bearded Anthony Lynn, who lent me an extra rifle and jacket, Pat McKenna, who slowly helped teach me the proper alignments for battle, Mike McKinsey, who looked on from afar, and Glenn Johnson, who helped me pull the cannon. Yes, the cannon.
They all were there to help me when I needed it.
I definitely needed all the help I could get. My confusing day started early during a morning review of steps and alignments that would help during the battle. During the hour of marching I was spinning in circles. I was tugged and pulled to keep with everyone else. To make matters worse, my rifle kept slipping out of my hands – because it was a lot heavier than I expected.
During my first battle, I was lost, just thinking too much. During my second battle, I survived but I spent most of my time running around pulling the cannon. The rest of the time, I was left confused and wondering, what do I do next?
Fortunately, everyone was there to assist. And it’s that reaction and helpfulness that I can see why reenacting is such a big draw for people.
For Johnson, it was the brotherhood. For Thompson it was the campfire discussion of history. For Mike McKinsey it was the friends. For Lee it was to stay sane.
Every person has a different reason to be there, but regardless, they all loved it the same.
As I walked around the camp, talking with as many people as I could, everyone seemed happy and easily opened up. They loved stepping away from everything we have today – from iPhones to cars, from frozen food to gas-powered stoves. These people wanted to live and experience something different.
Most of them came with their families. Kids no older than 5 ran around the park. Teenage girls wore overwhelmingly big dresses because “it’s fun,” they all repeated.
At a distance, it might seem like something most appropriate for people obsessed with history, but in the end it mostly becomes a platform for escapism.
It’s a perfect combination of multiple things. It’s acting, as I experienced first-hand when I helped raid a house. It’s dressing up in clothing that isn’t worn elsewhere. It’s camping. Most of all, it’s reliving history and telling a story to kids.
For me, I was there to learn about these reasons and to discover it for myself. It didn’t take long. Sitting around talking to the people and listening to their stories was what I enjoyed most. Those conversations are what I’ll take from the experience.
All of this turned my long Saturday at the Civil War Days down in Tres Pinos into a day I won’t forget it – because really, it’s not often you die and still live to talk about it.
The San Benito County Historical Society and the National Civil War Association hosted the Civil War Day event Saturday and Sunday at the historical park. Visitors could watch a military trial and shooting, authentic boarding house scenario, go to school in 1863, get conscripted into the Confederate army, help the Yanks spy on the Rebels, learn how to play 1863 card games, see an 1860s blacksmith demonstration and see a period rounders baseball game.
