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A Tactical Decision

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  • A Tactical Decision

    Fairly early on, one of the questions that was asked was "How do we visually record a moving event in a Howling Wilderness"

    While the first answer is "Wetplate, of course"--well, that is not always easy or fair. Our wetplate fellers in this hobby have to make a living too. There was a bang-bang shoot-em-up Shiloh Not at Shiloh Not On the Date of Shiloh held at Miche, Tennessee on the same date as this event.

    We regarded it as unfair for us to ask these fine dedicated men to forego a much possible larger income to feed and support their families, in order to record an army that was here, gone, as quickly as smoke. Then there was the additional burden of hauling delicate equipment through rough territory.

    Our first fall back was our own Mr. Morgan, who years ago set a modern high speed camera inside a period box and legs, and could go through all the motions of making a wet plate, without the delicacy of work, and could still also take a high speed or panoramic photograph without being obtrusive. Sudden life-threatening illness necessitated 2 surgeries in the weeks just before the event. We thank Kind Providence that he is now believed to be whole and healthy.

    And thus, the fall back left two choices--make do, do without.

    We'd seen the saddness of absolutely no images existing of Brown's Stand three years ago, and wanted to avoid that in a week long event.

    The only solution was modern cameras, used as unobtusively as possible. I believe it worked well, though I arrived home with the sure knowledge that I took exactly one picture, and have 5 unsued rolls of film in my case.

    I continue to take pictures with my mind, reinforcing them, strong and true, turning them over in the night when old bones will not let me sleep. But those images cannot show others what we have seen.

    Here, then are some of them.
    Attached Files
    Terre Hood Biederman
    Yassir, I used to be Mrs. Lawson. I still run period dyepots, knit stuff, and cause trouble.

    sigpic
    Wearing Grossly Out of Fashion Clothing Since 1958.

    ADVENTURE CALLS. Can you hear it? Come ON.

  • #2
    Re: A Tactical Decision

    Mrs. Lawson,

    By the looks of this, we have confirmed evidence that you people were abetting the Secesh trash which followed on the heels of the Federal army.

    Knowing this, future encounters with Uncle Sam's boys will likely be more severe.
    Fred Baker

    "You may call a Texian anything but a gentleman or a coward." Zachary Taylor

    Comment


    • #3
      Re: A Tactical Decision

      Diva is quite the photogenic dawg. Any shots of that other mighty canine, perhaps thought to be born of a Mastiff or Irish Wolf Hound...or maybe even a Great Dane...you know....Tad?
      [B]Charles Heath[/B]
      [EMAIL="heath9999@aol.com"]heath9999@aol.com[/EMAIL]

      [URL="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Spanglers_Spring_Living_History/"]12 - 14 Jun 09 Hoosiers at Gettysburg[/URL]

      [EMAIL="heath9999@aol.com"]17-19 Jul 09 Mumford/GCV Carpe Eventum [/EMAIL]

      [EMAIL="beatlefans1@verizon.net"]31 Jul - 2 Aug 09 Texans at Gettysburg [/EMAIL]

      [EMAIL="JDO@npmhu.org"] 11-13 Sep 09 Fortress Monroe [/EMAIL]

      [URL="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Elmira_Death_March/?yguid=25647636"]2-4 Oct 09 Death March XI - Corduroy[/URL]

      [EMAIL="oldsoldier51@yahoo.com"] G'burg Memorial March [/EMAIL]

      Comment


      • #4
        Re: A Tactical Decision

        The great red oxen, named for the four Kings of England that Gerry hates the most.

        Don't let him fool you on that one.

        Charles, James, George, (oh gracious, who was the fourth?:o ) Get up!
        Attached Files
        Terre Hood Biederman
        Yassir, I used to be Mrs. Lawson. I still run period dyepots, knit stuff, and cause trouble.

        sigpic
        Wearing Grossly Out of Fashion Clothing Since 1958.

        ADVENTURE CALLS. Can you hear it? Come ON.

        Comment


        • #5
          Re: A Tactical Decision

          Fred,

          In a future day and time, with a more tightly controlled and known group of men, we'll let the ropes out far longer than they were this time. There was enough uncontrolled trash talk floating around that two or three old hands saw fit to caution me about men who were too new to this side of the hobby to know how to Play Well With Others While Running With Scissors.

          In another day and time, you'll get the opportunity to choke the life out of me, just like Guy Musgrove before you. I haven't gotten to play anything but Unionist in such a very long time.....

          Chawls,

          I imagine some images of Little Dawg will come on in--I'm just seeing the very first wave this morning, and it will be days, as most of the shots are on film cameras.

          When last I saw him, he had found his true calling--up to his ears, his muzzle sandy black, prying a mole from its hole, and daring me to take it from him with all the viciousness that 4 pounds of dog can muster.

          Too bad we didn't bring a film camera--I think if I had about an hour of Big Dawg and Little Dawg playing tag, you'd pay enough for it to finance another expedition.
          Terre Hood Biederman
          Yassir, I used to be Mrs. Lawson. I still run period dyepots, knit stuff, and cause trouble.

          sigpic
          Wearing Grossly Out of Fashion Clothing Since 1958.

          ADVENTURE CALLS. Can you hear it? Come ON.

          Comment


          • #6
            Re: A Tactical Decision

            Per Chawls request, images of Tad.

            Too bad their are no moving pictures of Big Dawg and Little Dawg and their endless game of tag.

            Nor of the negiotiated truce with Wagon Dawg, made under the kitchen table and signed like gentlemen, in the way that honest working dawgs do.

            More or less, well maybe.
            Attached Files
            Terre Hood Biederman
            Yassir, I used to be Mrs. Lawson. I still run period dyepots, knit stuff, and cause trouble.

            sigpic
            Wearing Grossly Out of Fashion Clothing Since 1958.

            ADVENTURE CALLS. Can you hear it? Come ON.

            Comment


            • #7
              Re: A Tactical Decision

              I have to think that William was the fourth. But, now I could be wrong.

              Regards,
              Emily Burns
              [FONT="Book Antiqua"]Kind regards,
              Emily Burns[/FONT]

              Comment


              • #8
                Re: A Tactical Decision

                For Doug Cooper:

                Anna with the Brown Eyes
                Attached Files
                Terre Hood Biederman
                Yassir, I used to be Mrs. Lawson. I still run period dyepots, knit stuff, and cause trouble.

                sigpic
                Wearing Grossly Out of Fashion Clothing Since 1958.

                ADVENTURE CALLS. Can you hear it? Come ON.

                Comment


                • #9
                  Re: A Tactical Decision

                  Our erstwhile companion, and owner of the little red wagon deposited his AAR over on some obscure location, only to be quoted here:

                  "Strolling through Louisiana, by Sephas J---

                  Me and my comrades in Company C, Philo and Bonaparte, had quite a
                  time of it in Louisiana. After our Reg, the 77th Illinois, got a
                  walloping at Sabine Cross Roads and returned the favor at Pleasant
                  Hill we got orders to guard the trains as we retreated back to the
                  Red River. Hard as we tried to stick with our comrades during this
                  time we lost some KEYS to the route we were taking and after a
                  thirty-hour march couldn't see any SIGNS of our army in the dark. So
                  being good veteran soldiers we slept and decided to pick our way
                  through the wilderness in the daylight.

                  Replacing our lost knapsacks with some we found stacked near a fine
                  fenced in house we proceeded in the direction of some campfires we
                  saw the night before. The flora and fauna of that fine southern
                  state kept us on our toes and we were hard charged by the largest
                  meanest snapping turtle we've ever witnessed. Phi and I held it off
                  at bayonet point while Boney crept around to secure the road for us.
                  It was sure close. Some of the people we met – or rather didn't
                  meet – along that way lacked the hospitality we were accustomed to
                  (but that was made up for later). At several houses our shouting and
                  banging our gun's butts on doors could not convince the residents to
                  appear and at one place where we stopped for water we were nearly
                  torn to pieces by dogs. But, again, that was made up for later.

                  We soon found signs that we were BEHIND the Rebel lines. We
                  conferenced and stroked our beards for a bit and decided it would be
                  wiser to try to take a round about route and fall in behind our army
                  rather than fight through the Rebs who would just gobble us up as we
                  almost were at Sabine Cross Roads and send us off to godforsaken
                  Texas. Hitching up our socks we followed a road heading east. We
                  could tell we weren't the first as there was hardtack along the way
                  and signs of a wagon gone before. In fact, a wagon of fleeing
                  contraband happened along and offered to take us all to a crossroads
                  that would meet with the road to Grand Ecore. Getting to that point
                  we came across a local Baptist deacon or preacher who claimed to
                  have seen the "invading" army aiming for the direction of the cross
                  roads but as "salvation" in the form of the Rebels was some ways off
                  he was heading back to tend to his flock and jugs. We didn't know
                  whether to believe him or not, but all sources told us this was the
                  place to be so we set down there and waited for friends to catch up
                  with us. Boney headed down the road toward the army to see what
                  trouble he could stir up while Phi and me laid low and kept an eye
                  out for Reb cav. After some hours Boney came back saying he didn't
                  see any army, only a dead armadiller (burp). Night came on with
                  still no sight or sound of anyone and we slept without a fire in the
                  hopes that if friends didn't come we'd at least get passed by
                  unnoticed by the Rebs.

                  At first light we found ourselves still alone and after stroking our
                  beards again and staring down the road in an attempt to conjure up
                  someone, even Bank's damned pets, we realized that wasn't getting us
                  any closer to Grande Ecore. Going towards the army would just mean
                  double the marching, so we turned in the direction of the gunboats
                  and once again took up our lonesome journey. The road was lacking
                  modern improvements and made its way though every ravine and bottom
                  between here and there. We couldn't see how the trains would make it
                  along them and felt sore bad for our comrades that would follow. It
                  eventually leveled some and kept towards a high ground where we came
                  to another cross roads. Phi watched the way we had come while I went
                  one way and Boney went the other to see what trouble lay ahead. I
                  found none, but Boney came across water at a cabin and three
                  colorful specimens of the local fauna. Through gestures and secret
                  handshakes Boney discovered that one of the women was looking for a
                  man somehow related who apparently lived there and was guiding
                  the "invading Yankees" back across Louisiana. We concluded this
                  loyal son of a Louisianan was the reason for all the delay on the
                  road to Grand Ecore. Not caring for delay ourselves we filled our
                  canteens and put some distance between us and the cabin. From this
                  point on the route passed through a burned and barren land and we
                  couldn't help but wonder if worse lay ahead. Towards noon we found
                  the answer.

                  Coming up out of a small swale we were suddenly met by the old
                  Baptist minister we had talked with earlier. He greeted us warmly
                  and spilled that we were ahead of the Rebs and our rear guard by two
                  day's march, the distance between the Rebs and us probably
                  accounting for the warmth of his greeting. We weren't but a short
                  walk from a tent city of the local populace who had fled their homes
                  to avoid the war. I'll tell you that entering that place was like
                  finding Eden, Goshen, and the Happy Land of Canaan all rolled up
                  into one. The women when they saw us marching in flocked to us with
                  hot coffee (the real kind) and victuals, the children gathered
                  around us in awe, the men skulked away to grumble, and the chickens
                  volunteered for the pots. Boney was an especial favorite with the
                  women as apparently the 77th had preceded us and left behind tales
                  of his finer attributes. We weren't quick to let our guard down, but
                  we soon helped with some chores and were fed yet more and plied with
                  the local replacement for water. The goodness of the people there
                  can not be overstated. They had quite a town and we were much
                  entertained to see an old fashioned drover move his oxen through the
                  place at one point sounding as much like an army teamster and
                  reminding us of what we were missing not being up with our comrades
                  with the trains.

                  Fat and happy we determined to catch up with the 77th and after dark
                  when the camp fell silent we packed up and moved out by the
                  starlight. We marched until we couldn't and then spooned together in
                  a flat spot beside the road where we dreamt of wolves and icebergs
                  and riding the railroad until dawn broke and we could march on. It
                  wasn't long before we got to where we needed to be, looking back on
                  our time away from the army with wonder and fondness."
                  Tad vs an armadillo would have been a right fair match up.
                  [B]Charles Heath[/B]
                  [EMAIL="heath9999@aol.com"]heath9999@aol.com[/EMAIL]

                  [URL="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Spanglers_Spring_Living_History/"]12 - 14 Jun 09 Hoosiers at Gettysburg[/URL]

                  [EMAIL="heath9999@aol.com"]17-19 Jul 09 Mumford/GCV Carpe Eventum [/EMAIL]

                  [EMAIL="beatlefans1@verizon.net"]31 Jul - 2 Aug 09 Texans at Gettysburg [/EMAIL]

                  [EMAIL="JDO@npmhu.org"] 11-13 Sep 09 Fortress Monroe [/EMAIL]

                  [URL="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Elmira_Death_March/?yguid=25647636"]2-4 Oct 09 Death March XI - Corduroy[/URL]

                  [EMAIL="oldsoldier51@yahoo.com"] G'burg Memorial March [/EMAIL]

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    Re: A Tactical Decision

                    Mrs. Lawson,

                    Thank you for your posts describing your experiences from the BGR event and the pics you have provided. For those who wished they gone but were unable, enjoy what is being posted here as obviously this was quite a special event as evident by Mrs. Lawson and others who have contributed their time and effort to give us a glimpse into the Trans-Miss. experience.

                    For those from California, may you all come back in one piece comrades! :D
                    [FONT=Georgia][/FONT][SIZE="3"][FONT="Georgia"]Dan Biggs[/FONT][/SIZE]


                    -Member of the Southwest Volunteers Mess

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      Re: A Tactical Decision

                      Tad didn't fare very well against the poultry in the yard. I can't imagine he would have done any better against the armadillo. Unfortunately, the little dog's bark is much worse than his bite, as is usually the case with littler specimens.
                      [FONT="Book Antiqua"]Kind regards,
                      Emily Burns[/FONT]

                      Comment


                      • #12
                        Re: A Tactical Decision

                        Having a short first person conversation with that cute little girl in the pictures (I think it was that girl) was one of the highlights of the event for me. She could not have looked more excited to see the Louisiana script that I handed her in exchange for the chicken she was holding, and didn't bat an eye when I took it away to kill it.

                        -Craig Schneider
                        Craig Schneider

                        Comment


                        • #13
                          Re: A Tactical Decision

                          That would have been Cami, I think. She was the chicken girl. I watched her negotiate for her chickens with the confederate fellows. That child may well be born to haggle.

                          I hear that she surprised everybody by stealing the chickens back from the federals down on the trail. Gracefully, like she'd done it every day of her life, she walked up and tucked one chicken under one arm and another chicken under the other arm. It was quite a feat as the first time she'd ever picked one of them up was just a few hours before.
                          Last edited by Emily Burns; 03-20-2007, 01:12 PM. Reason: deleted photo that didn't load correctly
                          [FONT="Book Antiqua"]Kind regards,
                          Emily Burns[/FONT]

                          Comment


                          • #14
                            Re: A Tactical Decision

                            Sarah on the left, With Cami

                            Part of the Chicken Flock

                            Cami on the left, then Sarah and Anna, on mules
                            Attached Files
                            Terre Hood Biederman
                            Yassir, I used to be Mrs. Lawson. I still run period dyepots, knit stuff, and cause trouble.

                            sigpic
                            Wearing Grossly Out of Fashion Clothing Since 1958.

                            ADVENTURE CALLS. Can you hear it? Come ON.

                            Comment


                            • #15
                              Re: A Tactical Decision

                              Sarah was the belle of the ball in my opinion. I reckon that we all had a personal favorite among those youngsters.

                              Cordially,
                              Fred Baker

                              "You may call a Texian anything but a gentleman or a coward." Zachary Taylor

                              Comment

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