Re: Casualties
Never underestimate power of casualties on your own experience. I remember a few years back at Pickett's Mill when everyone received "fate" cards, the experience was nothing short of magical. Since everyone (at least on the Federal side) knew their fate prior to the battle and was forbidden to communicate it to their pards, the effect was striking. Casualties were formed into a separate "dead" company and did lantern tours for the public for the remainder of the day. They were not seen until the following day.
My soldier was slightly wounded during the battle, but survived the battle and the war (lucky him). I was in a mess of about ten men made up of our mess and some old 'Sills. After the battle there were three of us left, me and two other 'Sills (Jimmy Rapais and Jeff Dewey). Everybody else was gone and it was a lonely and somber night that night. Camp was very quiet. You couldn't help but feel kind of lucky, but not exactly. My favorite moment was when a younger soldier who had survived complained to the sergeant "but my pard has all our mess gear," and got a wry smile for his efforts. No soup for him that night.
Find me a way to duplicate that and I'm all for it.
Never underestimate power of casualties on your own experience. I remember a few years back at Pickett's Mill when everyone received "fate" cards, the experience was nothing short of magical. Since everyone (at least on the Federal side) knew their fate prior to the battle and was forbidden to communicate it to their pards, the effect was striking. Casualties were formed into a separate "dead" company and did lantern tours for the public for the remainder of the day. They were not seen until the following day.
My soldier was slightly wounded during the battle, but survived the battle and the war (lucky him). I was in a mess of about ten men made up of our mess and some old 'Sills. After the battle there were three of us left, me and two other 'Sills (Jimmy Rapais and Jeff Dewey). Everybody else was gone and it was a lonely and somber night that night. Camp was very quiet. You couldn't help but feel kind of lucky, but not exactly. My favorite moment was when a younger soldier who had survived complained to the sergeant "but my pard has all our mess gear," and got a wry smile for his efforts. No soup for him that night.
Find me a way to duplicate that and I'm all for it.
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