AARs

[Kevin O'Beirne]

Re: AARs

This event cranks up some very real emotions, and that's one of the reasons why it's a great reenacting experience: it provides it's participants some insight into historical events that occured on that very site. I'm sorry I missed this one. For Pulaski's a special place, and probably my "all-time favorite fort".

I hope someone had some pre-event lunch at the Crab Shack on Tybee Island and, while doing so, said hello to my pards Quincy Gillmore, James Wilson, and Patrick O'Rorke.

[C.R. Henderson]

Re: AARs

Gents,
this was a truly moving and enlightening experience for me. I knew that we would have a great time but I didn't know that I would come away from it a changed person. Today I found myself eating less than I usually do and being grateful for every bite that I took. I ate a hamburger from McDonalds at work today and tasted that pickle in it and thoughts of "Crispy", Leroy, Capt. Mac, and Hempstead went through my head. Fitz resting and dying in his canvas shroud crossed my mind today as well as savoring every drop of my cup of coffee this morning. Even the ordeal of Lt. Cmdg. Hudgens losing both of his Columbus Depot gumcloths to confiscation made me chuckle. We depended on each other for everything this past weekend from support to food to the warmth of another individual through the night. Had it not been for the kindness, understanding, and compassion of certain members of the guard companies and officers, we certainly would have come out pickled! "Lt. Box" sure burns quick but he went hot and got our coffee ready in a hurry as well as the Parson's berry tea. Hopefully Lt. Crisp remembered to get the tea and sugar that we stashed. And I truly hope that all my brothers made it home safely. To the Federal officers and guards, thank you for making this a truly memorable experience- especially you Rick!

the ramblings of a former POW,
2Lt. A.J. Barton
Co. D 55th Georgia Vol. Inf.
until recently incarcerated at Ft. Pulaski, Ga.

[Andy Ackeret]

Re: AARs

I've been home for almost 24 hours now (flights back were both on time, unlike the flights out there that were delayed for a total of 5 hours and made me late for the CS officer meeting) but I haven't typed anything up yet because I'm still absorbing and am not sure I've reflected on it all yet.

First and foremost, I enjoyed the experience and found it educational and enlightening. I'm glad the first time I ever saw the interior of Ft. Pulaski was just as those men saw it in 1864, being marched in as a prisoner. Standing outside the fort, waiting, then hearing a bugle from inside was a chilling moment. Then being marched in, marched to a dark casemate, and scrambling for a bunk. My greatest fear in those moments was the potential that I would be seperated from friends and messmates in confinement.

The moments and experiences ran the spectrum of fear, cold, boredom, and juvenile humor, and could change from one to another with short notice.

Saturday seemed to be one of the longest days of my life. Balancing between having nothing to do, but yet having to deal with the prospect of a Federal officer appearing tearing the casemates apart. I quickly ate my food in the morning when it was issued / scrounged / mysteriously appeared. Others began to horde their food, which in the end didn't pay off for some. One prisoner, though, never seemed to lack any food, firewood, liquid comfort, ect. ect. ect.

The casemates were torn apart 3 times. I didn't lose any items in the raids. I did have contraband script, both US, and Southern state, tucked amongst my items, but it was always in place after each search. Most of the prisoners went to sleep fairly early. I woke with clattering of many feet, heard the door open, and then heard the shout to get outside. I slept with my shoes on just in case of this situation, stumbled down from the 2nd bunk, grabbed my cap, and was sure to be the first out of the door, and not have to be told a 2nd time to get out of the cell. Most of us were sure that the night inspection was in the wee hours of the AM until we were told differently. When I was later told it was 11 PM, I was shocked. I'm not even asleep most nights at 11, let alone so tired that I can barely stumble to where I'm instructed to go.

Listened to the guards stomp through their beats later that night. I later chuckled after the event when I was told who that was.

Services on Sunday were good, as was the scenario with "Fitz." I felt myself with the same feelings about him that the some of the original sources describe, being torn between feeling loathing and pity. Well done, Hank.

First person had good moments and moments where it got forgotten. I honestly can't say I was always paying attention to others. I was pretty into the here and now of myself at multiple times, whether pacing the casemates, doing a little bit of writing, sitting on the sill staring at the water of the moat. During my research for the event, I found a transcription of a writing that the officer I portrayed while he was in captivity at Camp Chase. I copied that writing, carried it with me, and kept his words in mind while I was imprisoned.

The parts I felt where I felt the most despair was having to deal with the guards who I already knew. My friends on the oposite side of the bars did their jobs well, and looking to familiar faces I've fallen in with many times before (and will many times again) and deep down I didn't know who I could try to trust and who I couldn't. I even wrote up a letter to home, and was thinking to try and offer it to a guard with a Green Back bribe in order to get it sent home. But, I was never assured that the one-time friendly faces would not just pocket the money and leave me to my fate.

All said and done, I enjoyed the event tremendously, and will look back with fond memories.

Portraying,
Capt. James K. P. Lytle, 23d Tenn, Co. F.

P.S. Thanks again to Steve Ewing for the ride to the airport on Sunday, and for the offer of the ride on Friday Jason and I would have taken you up on if the airline didn't keep bumping flights.

[Ken Cornett]

Re: AARs

Kevin,

As a matter of fact, Mess No. 1 did eat at the Crab Shack directly after the event. Not sure we met any of your friends. The event was excellent. John and Rick did a darn good job of covering all the bases. Hats off to the Yankee staff. Pat, Art, Brian, and Tripp made it happen for us Feds!

[Michael Comer]

Re: AARs

My dearest wife,

It occurred to me that I have not really told you what my life has been like since we transferred here to Ft. Pulaski. I thought I would give you some details so that you might have an idea of how miserable this kind of soldiering can be.

I am in Company A and am in the 1st section of the 1st platoon. The men around me are good soldiers who are determined to do their duty. The fort seems to be a decent place although it is located on salt marshes near the ocean. I fear that when the weather warms we will find that this is not a very healthful place to be. Already large groups of gnats come out in the evening hours and are quite pestiferous clouding around one’s face and eyes. I can only imagine what kind of insects we will have to deal with if we are still here when summer comes.

We are guarding prisoners here. They are a mixed bunch – officers, mostly lieutenants and captains from what I can see but I have noticed a sergeant major and a major in the mix. I also saw a naval officer although I have no idea how he got here. I assume they are wearing their own uniform coats. It can be hard to tell since they have such a mix of clothing on. Some are in what looks to be new uniforms while others are in rags and old civilian clothing. Some of these rebels seem to be rather gentlemanly while others are rather crude and probably quite untrustworthy.

We are kept busy here but it is the same thing over and over. To give you an idea of how the routine goes I will tell you what the last few days have been like.

We are assigned details according to platoons and those are broken down and assigned to sections. That way everything is covered for an entire 24-hour period. My section drew guard mount from 11 PM to 3am last Friday night. This was pretty quiet since the prisoners were asleep. I was assigned to post #1, which was at the guard shack on the parade ground. I basically stand there for a while and then walk a beat for a while. It is rather boring all in all and time can pass very slowly. We were allowed about 3-hour sleep before we were awakened for another day of duty. We went to breakfast first before we had to do other details. There is a group of civilians here that have been doing the cooking. They are women mostly but I have noticed a civilian fellow at the mess hall who seems to have something to do with all this. The cooking has been first-rate and the amount of food and quality has been much better than what we get when on campaign. That is one good thing about this garrison duty. I am afraid we will all get fat and lazy before we are able to leave here and won’t be worth much as soldiers if we have to go back on the march.

After breakfast on Saturday morning we drew fatigue duty which can be any number of work projects assigned. My section was given the task of replenishing the woodpiles around the fort so everyone would have sufficient heating and cooking fuel. We were given four hours to do a job that would only take about 30 minutes if we put our back into it. So, the main object of the duty was to make a 30-minute task take 4 hours. I and two of my section mates were successful in this for the most part and kept busy if not overly industrious for the allotted time. After this duty we were set to drill. We did some basic things that we always do, the sergeant went over some things with us from the drill manual and then we were given the chance to train on an artillery piece. I was excited about this since I have never attended such training and was eager to learn something new if only to break the monotony of regular duties. However, before we really got into this, the rebels decided to pull some tricks that made the officers have us fall in and stand guard while they were emptied out of their casemate. Evidently, there had been some sort of smuggling going on. The prisoners have been put on very limited rations of cornbread and pickled onions by order of General Foster. It was discovered that some of them were eating much better than intended and they were taken outside while their quarters were searched for any contraband. This is just a little game of cat and mouse that we play with the prisoners. I do not blame them for trying to get better foodstuffs and would probably do the same. But I am under orders to guard them and make sure they abide by the rules and I have undertaken to do that to the best of my ability.

Guarding these fellows during the search took up the rest of our drill and classtime and then it was time for us to be on guard once again from 3 PM to 7 that night. I was posted in the casemate by the end of the cell. The prisoners like to heckle the guards and see if they can get a rise from them. They also like to try and trade items for food and such to make their life a little better. I knew that I could be in a great deal of trouble if I traded with them and made it a point not to. I also was determined that they would not effect me with their taunts or attempts to engage me in conversation and usually met their entreaties with silent looks or I ignored them completely. Some of the other fellows on guard were of less sturdy stuff I suppose and some even traded food with the prisoners. I was not willing to take that chance and felt that these men were our enemies and would do us harm if they had the opportunity. In fact, we may have previously faced some of these men in battle when they were intent on killing me and others in my outfit. I could not get that thought from my mind and while I was willing to treat them with the respect a fellow soldier is due, I was not willing to become friendly and submit myself to discipline from the officers or even bodily harm from the prisoners.

During our turn at guard, the prisoners were found once again to have things they should not and they were turned out into the yard under guard while we searched their quarters. Several items were found but it seems that no matter how often we search and find things, they manage to get items from people just the same. We suspect that some of the women within the fort have smuggled some goods to them and, of course, some of our own men have done the same whether it be from a sense of pity or in an attempt for self gain the result is the same – the prisoners are given things they should not have and we have to pay the price by standing for long periods of time while searches are made over and over.

We were fortunate to not have duty for a 12 hour period after this guard was over but it did not last as we were roused from our beds in the middle of the night and, once again, lined up to guard prisoners as they were counted. A boat had disappeared from the dock and it was feared that an escape had been made.

My Sabbath began with being on guard once again from 7 to 11 in the morning. The routine gets quite monotonous, as I am sure you can imagine. While I was on guard, I heard a strange sound from the prisoners’ cell as if something were frying. Several of the prisoners were singing hymns as a preparation for divine services but I think it was a cover to keep me from hearing the noise that I did hear. I began to walk over to the bars to see what I could see. An officer, their senior officer I believe, started to make some small talk to me which heightened by suspicion. He asked me where I was from. They all know we are New Yorkers so there was no reason for that. As I drew closer he asked me when I had been home last. I saw several prisoners huddled around the window with their backs toward me. Some looked over their shoulders. They were up to no good it was obvious but I could not see what they were doing. I began to move to the door with the officer still asking me things like when I thought I would be home again. As I reached the door, I heard him tell his men to put things away. I called for the corporal of the guard who was approaching my post with the relief guard. I reported the incident to him and later to one of the lieutenants but do not know the outcome. Evidently nothing was done since we were not called out again to search their quarters. This will give you an idea of the kind of game we are always playing. While it seems like it might be frustrating, it does serve to break the monotony and can be somewhat challenging as both sides try to outsmart the other.

A prisoner died on Sunday morning and several of the rebel officers were allowed, under guard of course, to carry his body out of the fort to be buried. I was off duty at the time but watched as an interested spectator and doffed my cap out of respect as they carried him past where I was.

I do not know how much longer we will be here. We do not enjoy this duty but we have freedom to move about and have fairly comfortable quarters unlike what the prisoners have. So, even though this duty is something none of us desire we are fortunate that we are not locked up every day and all day.

I long for the day when this war will be over. From the news we get this shall surely be soon. At least I pray to a kind Providence that it will be. Kiss the children for me and remember me in your prayers.

Your loving husband,
Michael

[Hank Trent]

Re: AARs

Well, as before five years ago, this is one of my favorite events, and it always exceeds expectations. The dedication and hard work of all the organizers and the participants show clearly and pay off in an amazing experience. I love an event where there seems to be no upper limit to what's expected. This was my first time portraying Fitz, but if the event ever happens again, I'd love to do the same thing again, trying to do better at all the things I know I needed improvement on this time.

Everyone treated Fitz just as was reported, not sharing too much, not offering too much companionship, with just the right balance of occasional pity and sympathy, to make the experience seem real. This event definitely sets my personal record for "most time spent alone staring into space drunk/high/sick, while being ignored," and that was just what I was hoping for. :)

Once when I was whining yet again to poor Capt. Blue (who did an excellent job in a challenging role) that I hadn't been approved to take the oath yet, he stared at me and just said, quietly, "Is this documented? Because I never read anything like this..." It cracked me up, because it so perfectly summed up poor Fitz's life. If they'd known to phrase it like that in the 1860s, they surely would have, and it was certainly a fair question before being led into some reenactor's made-up drama. I just paused, nodded to reassure him, and went on rambling. But for a bit more reassurance, here's the letter in the ORs instructing General Foster to refuse Fitz's latest request to take the oath just before he was sent to Ft. Pulaski. (last letter on the page) http://cdl.library.cornell.edu/cgi-b...3DANU4519-0120 And the rest of the story: http://cw186165.homestead.com/fitz.html

I suspected that one of the prisoners would probably die before it was over, as had happened last time, but had absolutely no idea it would be Fitz until the officers approached me Sunday morning and asked me if I wanted to do it in a few hours. I'd already gone to the cemetery before the event and stood near where Fitz's unmarked grave was and hoped to do him justice, and it was a humbling and amazing experience to be nailed in the coffin and carried out there.

And now that I'm safely 500 miles away, I can make a confession: All that rum that Fitz was begging and buying Saturday night, had to go to waste. I felt bad about it, but Fitz would have killed for it, and I figured that each of us portraying our prisoners as accurately as possible was the priority. Because I'm too sensitive to alcohol to drink at events, I had to sneak each cupful into the sink bucket and only pretend that Fitz was drinking it. Thank god somebody finally figured to water it down and save the real stuff for those who really wanted it!

Hank Trent
hanktrent@voyager.net

[Will Eichler]

Re: AARs

Let me add my thanks to Rick and John for the amazing job they did setting up this event and to Steve and Joe for keeping our section and platoon in line. It was sure a long haul to make the 911 miles from Michigan down but it was one of the best events I've attended and if it goes again, I'll be back.

Thanks to all the members of the community who participated to make this a great experience.

Regards,

Will

[Matt Woodburn]

Re: AARs

Every now and then you find yourself in a place and set of circumstances that creates a wonderful lifetime memory for you. Fort Pulaski is now that for me. So first I want to thank the event organizers, Rick Joslyn and John Cleveland, for the hard work and many hours prior to my arrival that made this event a great success. Also my thanks go to all of the other unsung heros who had a hand in making this event so memorable.

In no particular order, I'll recall some of the interesting events that I enjoyed as I portrayed Capt. Leroy Carson, 35th Tenn. Infty.

On Friday night after everyone had gone to bed, I noticed a Federal bringing in water buckets. I was pretty thirsty since I'd not had anything to drink for several hours. I got up, grabbed my dipper and followed the Yankee through the casemates for some water. And then his smooth actions to provide me some relief were so well executed that even I didn't notice. He left the cells, and I went back to bed. But while candlelit images of what I just saw, him entering with water and then leaving ran through my mind, something didn't add up. Then it hit me. He was wearing an overcoat when he came in. He only had on his uniform coat when he left. I got up, went to where he set the water down and there was my first black market gift, a warm overcoat.

Saturday morning I was determined to have a cup of coffee somehow. I and many of my fellow Casemate 18 residents were starting to get headaches so it was off to figure out how to get a fire going. A stump was being used as a chair, so we took that and put a group together cutting firewood from it with knives. No easy task. Not wanting to damage the wood floor in my area and needing to clean up the ashes from the guards, we build a fire on a plate for our cooking. In short time, Capt. Carson's Kitchen was open serving coffee. We served coffee black while Lt. Crisp in Casemate 19 served sweetened coffee. Crisp was always a gentleman and had a warm cup for me when my kitchen was closed.

I didn't know going into this event that I'd end up running the black market supply line. Everytime a cell tossing would come, I'd lose some precious items. A dear brother on the outside brought me some relief in the form of a generous ham and cheese sandwich. I didn't have it but 45 seconds when the next shakedown came. I hid the food but lost it as fast as I'd gained it. It was a sad moment as I knew how many of us could have received a mouthful of real food. So goes prison life.

We lost all the kindling from the stump in the first shakedown and the stump was removed to a point fifteen feet outside of the prison bars. So it was time to find a new fuel source. I spied a crackerbox table and commented to some fellows that a table could stand with three legs. Lt. A.J. Barton said we could shave part of each leg down and get even more firewood. With that superior idea, Lt. Barton began chopping wood. I informed my bunkmate and able assistant, Lt. Paul Earles, that Capt. Carson's Kitchen was back in business. Through the day I spent my time trading for food and received distress relief from the outside. By supper, we were going to have more than cornmeal and pickled onions. Lt. Earle and I worked on cutting up food and preparing the fire. To cover our kitchen activities we hung a blanket from the top bunk to make a wall, placed some of our Casemate 18 residents with smoking pipes to "cover" the fire smoke, and placed lit candles on the iron bars by our fire to "mask the fire flicker." Now our activity was blanketed from discovery. Actually Sunday morning we were frying meat and the sizzle became quite loud. By now the seasoned inmates knew how to cover about anything and began an immediate choir practice and sang hymns loudly to cover the sizzle noise. Saturday nights fare was "Casemate Stew" consisting of sweet potatoes, tomatoes, sausage, onions, and pork liquor. The kindest compliment I received during the weekend came from Lt. Dunlap when he said, "The only thing Capt. Carson's Kitchen doesn't have is a written menu." My assistant, Lt. Earles, quickly wrote out a menu and placed it on the iron bars by our bunk much to my amusement. Sunday morning after serving pan fried sausages and bread to 14 inmates, I confessed that there was actually a basement under our casemate where I had Mammy and four darkeys working on a full stove.

Hank Trent brought to life evething I'd read about "Fitz." His convincing portrayal was ever present, but really hit home with me when he came to me with half of a dirty egg. He wanted to trade it for opium. I told him I had none, but might be able to get him some alcohol. His addict face lit up and he insisted I take his half dirty egg which he presented to me held by both hands. We sealed the deal with a handshake. Little did I know how badly an addict needs a fix. Fitz came by regularly to inquire, "Is it time yet?" This was during the time I'm trying to get dinner items. On the fourth pestering inquiry, I also needed a drink. I got Fitz his alcohol and that was it. He wanted more. I decided it was time for everyone's rum ration and I didn't know how many more cell tossings it would take to uncover my contraband rum. I found out that my container was actually handled and inspected more than once, but the liter of rum just couldn't be found. Some took it straight while some made grog. For an hour it was high times in Casemate 18. In the middle of the night, Fitz returned and woke me from a dead sleep. He asked if there was any more alcohol. I yelled NO and told him to go back to bed. What an addict!

Tormenting the guards became a sport. One guard wanted to trade for a pipe. I didn't have one, but told him I'd make it happen for him. Then it was off to find or make a pipe. My bunkmate reminded me about his broken black clay pipe. So I got it and tried to make a stem from straw, but to no success. So I did the next best thing. I whitled a matchstick down to fit in the bowl and then the broken off stem. I got a little ash from our kitchen fire, rubbed it on the matchstick so it wouldn't be seen holding the stem to the bowl. I knew the guard couldn't smoke on duty so was fairly confident he wouldn't know what was up until it was too late. I made the trade, took my food item and quickly disappeared into the sea of Confederates. He found out and was instantly mad and wanted to see me. If I went to him I would have only explained that he should take up the matter with his commanding officer. Oh wait, that's illegal trading with prisoners which would have landed him in a cell. Rube! (OK, whoever it was that I traded with, if you want your poke sack back, let me know.) I then decided it was time to have more fun with the guards. I wrote a note, borrowed an envelop and showed my fellow inmates what I was about to do. I went to the bars and yelled, "Hey guard! Mail call!" The guard took the mail opened it and read the note. His frown produced the most delightful laughter from all the inmates. The note said, "Your sister is a whore in Richmond." That's it. There's your mail. You frown, we laugh. The guards would give the mail back so we played that with every changing of the guard.

There were so many more things we did, but I've taken enough time. It was a pleasure to meet so many guys that I'd only read their posts on the AC, see old friends and take home an experience of how we all worked together to make everything around us useful. This post is in memory of Capt. Leroy Carson. He went back to Fort Delaware with the rest of the Immortal 600. He went into the hospital there with pneumonia, got out for a week, went back into the hospital and died eight weeks after leaving Fort Pulaski. Leroy Carson didn't make it home.

[Birddog]

Re: AARs

Well I for one had a great time. It was a bit hard not knowing anyone when I arrived, but met so many people that I felt I knew off the forums. Meeting Joey on Friday night and helping him made me feel a lot more comfortable.

I would like to thank the organizers, job well done! I would also like to thank the one young Federal guard; I remember he was wearing a red shirt. Never got his name but the interaction I had with him was the best all weekend As well as the ginger snap cookies, well cookie as I shared the second one with my casemate. Letting them through the door with ham was the best thing you could have ever done for us. I hope you survived your conscripted time.

Interacting with Capt. Carson, the Lt Commander, and Fitz were some of the highlights of the weekend for me.

I feel we all bonded together at Fitz’s death. A magic moment if there ever was one. As well as one of the saddest moments in reenacting I can remember.

It was funny watching the movement of people, as soon as something happened or someone got an item from the outside we all rushed together like penguins heading for the water!

My thanks to all, especially the fellows who were so concerned that the cripple got a share of all things going around, since I “needed” it more than most, as I was so often told.

Last but not least Captain Mack did a dang fine job! I know it was more work than he had bargained for, but he stepped up to the plate and took real good care of all of us junior officers.

If this event happens again in a few years I’ll be there. Besides March in Georgia is a heck of a lot better than in the Great White North, even if you are locked in a cool casemate.

My crutch is going into moth balls until the next time I get sent to Fort Pulaski!

2nd Lieutenant Benjamin Grant, Company F, 42nd Mississippi Infantry

[Michael Comer]

Re: AARs

Actually Sunday morning we were frying meat and the sizzle became quite loud. By now the seasoned inmates knew how to cover about anything and began an immediate choir practice and sang hymns loudly to cover the sizzle noise.

I knew I heard frying in that cell and I came to figure out the singing was a coverup. What fun!

[C.R. Henderson]

Re: AARs

Even "Lt. Box" gave some so that we had fire! He still resides in the prison of Ft. Pulaski with the signatures of the "600" if you are ever visiting there. For those who don't know, "Lt. Box" is the cracker box that I took that was used as a chess table, storage, stool, step for looking out the crack in the door, cornbread rationing and concealment, and the pulpit for Sunday's service. What a brave soldier!
A.J.

[Ken Cornett]

Re: AARs

Matt,

I now know why you were picking up the wood at the sinks. Yeah, you were gonna whitle. ;)

[Kevin O'Beirne]

Re: AARs

Just for the heck of it, does anyone else know my pards Quincy Gillmore, James Wilson, and Pat O'Rorke? They were at Fort Pulaski too... anyone know them?

[Rmhisteach]

Re: AARs

I portrayed Edmund Irby Mastin from Ala.

I find that it is hard to put my expierence into words. Yesterday I thought that was because of my lack of sleep but, I truely find it difficult to put into words.

I guess for the living historian you may want the word " Awesome"

Memories include;
1. scrambling to find pards on Friday night.
2. The feeling of uncertainity of what would happen to us.( food, Barracks search, Inspections etc.)
3. Hiding our items so the yanks could not find it. We saw Cleveland at KFC on the way home and felt like hiding our Chicken.
4. All of Leroy's cooking. I helped him out and he took care of me . The casemate stew was a pleasent suprise.
5. Fitz- I tried to get to know you little buddy but you were so strange. I did learn the latin word for opium.
6. A very memorable church service, you all gave me a great honor to be able to lead you in this . The reflections from the moat creating a shimmering look on the wall was awesome!
7. Good Pards taking care of each other.
8. Onion Pickles- in the top ten most disusting food ever
9. We have Coffee and you have three minutes.
10. All of the great interactions and discussions in the casemate.
11. Touring Savannah before the event and eating at the Crab Shack.
12. A monster long drive about 14 hours from Our part of Illinois

Thanks to all that helped pull it off. Thanks to all who took time to research and make this event a truely special one

Your pard
Rod

[Coon Dawg]

Re: AARs

Gentleman ~

What can I say that has not already been said? I too want to thank all those who planned this event. What a unique experience. What an honor. I am certain much hard work went into pulling this off.

Initially, I had brought and extra pair of socks, tobacco, a sleeping hat, blanket, small poke sack of coffee as well as a few other comforts; however, after Capt. Blue’s speech on Friday night beforehand I went to the car and ditched it all. The only thing I carried in was a haversack, fork knife spoon combo, canteen half, a candle and the cloths on my back. No blanket. Needless to say, several hours in the event I woke up very cold and exhausted from lack of sleep. I had this strong desire to build a fire and became quite upset that someone else had complete control over my destiny. I tried to warm myself with the candle, which by the way worked very well, until of course another strong desire, sleep, kicked in.

However, luckily in the wee hours I was saved by 2nd Lieutenant, Benjamin Grant, 42nd Mississippi a man whom I had never met. I owe you big time for that brother. I will never forget you my friend.

A special thanks also goes out to the Georgia boys some of whom I have fought with and have not had the chance to really get to know and some who I feel I have know all my life even though I have only marched with them only a few times including 2 Lt. "Crispy" Crisp the "The Admiral" and the other 2 Lt. A.J. Barton. I especially liked Crispy’s coffee even though it did have a little extra zing to it for some unknown reason and who doesn’t love to here stories about adventures on the high seas.

I would also like to thank the boys from up North who drove so far including 1st Lt. Eugene Jeffers, 61st Georgia Infantry and the infamous Captain Leroy Carson, 35th Tennessee. Leroy kept me warm the second night by sharing his blockade blanket and the boys from up North keep me entertained with their antics and great first person. It would not been the same without you guys.

And lastly, I would like to thank the Federals for their stellar portal. The way they would quickly march in and catch us by surprise. Their great first person portrays. My hat is off to you guys. They are the ones who made it REAL for me.

In closing, even though I carried virtually nothing in with me I was able to survive. Even though food was scare, coffee was scarce, warm clothes/blankets were scarce, tobacco was scarce and I had nothing yet I had everything. It was comradeship that kept me going and I think I realized that after the event was over. Just in that short amount of time, I got to know so much about the men I was with that I came to believe that we could have survived anything together much like brave souls who we shared the same casemates with so many years ago.

If y’all have chance to do this again, count me in.

Capt. John Jackson Henderson Jr.
61st Georgia Volunteer Infantry
Company A - Irwin Cowboys
He was moved to Charleston, SC on 20 August 1864, to Fort Pulaski, GA on 21October 1864, then to Hilton Head SC 19 November-February 1865. He was returned to Ft. Delaware and released on 16 June 1865, several months after the war ended.

Joel Phillips
The Flatlander's Mess

http://flatlandersmess.googlepages.com