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Last edited by Kiev Thomason; 03-17-2009, 01:14 PM.Kiev Thomason
a.k.a. King Corn:baring_te
WIG
Armory Guards
Forest Park Lodge #399
Forest Park GA.
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Re: Into The Piney Woods AAR
Lengthy and Utterly Boring First Person Event Summary or The REMF AAR: Part I of MCMXLVIX
(Not really)
The days begin to run together, or is that daze?
Our own carpools and vanpools kept getting rearranged until we had Johnny Lloyd arriving by air; Brian Luscombe and Joe Caridi sidelined due to real life, and that left Billy Birney, Will Tatum, Caleb Horton, Rob Carter, and myself in a Honda Ittybittythang and a Subaru wagon. Pete Berezuk slipped in from South Carolina, and Rob Murray probably arrived in a Cooper-Mini. Yeah, right. The reduction in gear was made with alacrity at every step. The girls arrived at The Bunker, ate whatever Bev had prepared for them in the form of sweet tomato hamburger pasta goodness, and commenced to sewing. Nine hours later, they were still sewing underpinnings, trouser stripes, and probably a corset or two. Okay, they passed out and slept past dawn. This was okay, as Uncle Tom and Fred had shifted their own arrival time until Monday morning.
We ventured down I-81 to US-40 and thence to Muffy's Burro by way of a Mexican restaurant in Rural Retreat, VA. Good place to eat. Rivals the one in New Market. Stone's River is an easy place to miss on those frequent E-W CW treks, but worth the visit, revisit, and then the consequent exploration of sites not adjacent to the VC. We saw the Wiard pieces, and noted how much they resembled Blakely pieces. We ate at the Bunganut Pig that night, and had a good snooze at a cheap motel. Rob Carter's musket case resembles a keyboard case, so we let it be that when folks asked.
Waffle House was the breakfast location the next morning, and we were off to Shiloh. Rob C's vehicle has a Tom-Tom, and listening to Miss Moneypenny's sultry voice got us in U-Turn and K-Turn heaven more than once. Shiloh was wonderful, and we had a good time at the Catfish Hotel for supper that night. A couple of our catfish "virgins" are no longer that way, so we accomplished something for the benefit of all mankind. After a drive down to Corinth and thence to some dark place via the Natchez Trace, we got up and headed to Kisatchie by way of Mizz Bertie's motel room. Andrew Grimm, her hubby Brooke, and Shawnra were there to supervise the washing of the hogs (us) before we went to the forest proper. Somehow or another we ate breakfast at the infamous Shoney's at LA 6 and I-49 and met the Brit/Scot/Welsh crowd. Fine fellows all.
When we left MD, we had snow on the ground. The redbuds, dogwoods, and wildflowers of Kisatchie were wonderful to see. Such a nice, warm, sunny, balmy place for an event. We were in heaven. Found Tom. Found Fred. Found bacon with coffee and sliced dried apples to come along later with the hardbread. Removed crapola from vehicles, got dressed, and didn't have to encourage people to get some sleep. People were already podding up in company goose eggs.
The bacon in 60 pound cardboard boxes from Scott's Hams needed to be decanted, and the packaging burned. The hardtack needed a good removal from the modern packaging (Rubbermaid Depot), and whole bunch of good things needed to happen with the apples. We repackaged the apples in the bacon paper (great fire starter, by the way) and believe it or not the modern packaging was still being burned at 3:30 a.m. Tuesday morning. The good news is we didn't need to go live until start of Civil Twilight Tuesday morning.
Based on pre-event numbers, we divided up the rations into four nice piles. Will rambled around to each company with the paperwork for the ration. The FS&O headcount moved from 15 to 16 to 21 in rapid fashion. Company numbers fluctuated slightly, but not greatly from the forecast headcount. Companies received a generous supply of bacon, coffee, cheese, dried apple rings, candles, hemp twine, and a few other items. Sugar was provided in an adequate amount, and hard crackers were a scant issue to prevent waste. That being said, we still found hard crackers tossed away trailside. Thanks to reading their pre-event commo, the 3rd sergeants were clued in to what they were about to receive for their companies. No one signed out the coffee grinder, although Caleb used it to grind the FS&O coffee beans, and only one company appeared to pre-cook their bacon by boiling. Although plainly stated as a flat haversack event, the bulging haversacks on Monday evening as participants arrived in camp sure could have fooled me....
A heck of a lot of nice people brought a heck of a lot of nice things for the commissariat and the quartermaster. The bulk of these were secured in the "red barn" aka the maroon van. Other items were secured in the "little green barn," which was Will's Subaru wagon. This proved to be a good arrangement.
We laid out the officer rations and had the ledger book handy. In the field, the officers pay for their rations if they draw them from the "gubbamint" stores, and at some point some of you may find a deduction in your pay at an upcoming pay call completely unrelated to this event. Officer rations consisted of delicious beef brisket boiled in vinegar and seasoned with salt and black pepper with generous portions of cheese, hardcrackers, and dried peach halves. Most of the officer rations sat around with no one to adopt them, even after putting them out for perusal a second time. That's okay, as enlisted folks eat beef, too.
While we had the FS&O vittles laid out, and I was wondering when and where the standard kick-off meeting would be held, the teamsters arrived with the news we had to pack up everthing within ten minutes and load it all on the wagons. This was news to us, and we managed to convince them to make a second trip over in the morning around 6:00 a.m., so we could place a few items on the wagons. We did a little box and bag triage, completely ignored a blatantly stupid order not to share rations with the teamsters (If you want a boat ride, then paying Charon is a good idea), and packed up the majority of the rations in the green wagon, and the inedibles in the black wagon. The color coding goes well with green meat and black kettles. Some individuals had their own personal boxes, bedrolls nigh on to the size of a Saturn V booster rocket diameter, and those who stood around in absolute disbelief that certain highly fragile personal luxury items weren't going on the wagons soon found out this was true. Ammunition was loaded as close to the tailgates as possible, just in case it would be needed in a hurry. The little mules said they were glad none of those ammunition boxes included lead to simulate weight. We were promised three board wagons and only had two board wagons, but a little improvisation, adaptation, and happy hoohah overcame that slight problem. The roosters rode proudly atop it all.
In the triage we kept Will's leather repair kit. This would be handy. We opted for the oilcloth instead of the mildewed, ancient and honorable handsewn fly. This decision would keep the ammunition dry Thursday night, and it also kept the bacon from becoming one with the rooster scat. One of the teamsters put the bacon into a tent fly bag, and between the oil cloth and that covering, the yardbirds were having a hard time hitting their intended target. This is a good thing.
Sgt. Maj. Hicks' "things to keep your butts in the game" speech was good. Bobo, well, is Bobo. Both deserve an A+, as usual. Bobo has a photograph of a flaming Shoney's on his business card. It's hard to top that.
We slept well, and were waiting for the teamsters to arrive at 6:00 a.m., and the day (Tuesday) started off about like any other....
(To Be Continued)[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]
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Re: Into The Piney Woods AAR
Originally posted by Charles Heath View PostSgt. Maj. Hicks' "things to keep your butts in the game" speech was good.
Safety first and that includes making sure the doctors in the emergency room have as much information access as they can get via ID, insurance records, emergency contact info and medical alerts.Joe Smotherman
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Re: Into The Piney Woods AAR
Charles if I would have known that you had more beef I would have eaten it. I only had a couple of meals from the commissary. The nice picnic (beef etc), Cabbage soup and that's it. I missed out on the split pea soup. Although I saw a couple of my privates eating it. Thank goodness that some of the boys don't like salt pork.
I liked the cabbage soup stuff. But then again I liked the fish soup we had at the Landing in 2007!Nathan Hellwig
AKA Harrison "Holler" Holloway
"It was the Union armies west of the Appalachians that struck the death knell of the Confederacy." Leslie Anders ,Preface, The Twenty-First Missouri
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Re: Into The Piney Woods AAR
Lengthy and Utterly Boring First Person Event Summary or The Quartermaster Perspective AAR: Part II of MCMXLVIX
(Not really this time, but you never know.)
Day 2: Kettle, kettle, which P.F.C. stole the kettle?
We slept well, and were waiting for the teamsters to arrive at 6:00 a.m., and the day (Tuesday) started off about like any other with the wagons loaded, the roosters crowing, and all manner of rich creamy goodness. After the usual morning dress parade stumble through, we noticed the trash in the camps had not been policed, and the campfires were still going. Company G had taken advantage of a pre-dug pig cooking pit, and I was kinda sorta hoping they had saved some of that BBQ'd hawg for me.
Well, fine. Be that way.
The morning's march was uneventful save for a knapsack repair or two. We tagged along at the rear (not realizing we would be the rear guard as none was posted) and soon had company. The longleaf pines looked good. Native was busy chattering about non-natives, Catholics, Irish, Germans, and the like, and getting his dander up whenever a foreign tongue was unleashed. I'm not sure if he realized the hand that fed him was German, but that's fine. He was keeping the Pete & Rob-C show riled up. Will had loaded and primed his Enfield just in case a Comanche sprang from behind a large fern or something. I'm wondering why the wagons had to depart at 6 a.m. if they were taking the much shorter road route to the Tuesday night camp, but figured that was all in the Grand Plan. One fellow needed to rearrange his gear. That would have been Sean Malis. I had not seen him in a while. Too long, IMHO.
Some shots were exchanged. No government property was damaged in the course of this mighty engagement.
Some of the nice civilian fellows on the flanks of the battalion were just nice Kabuki. This was no problem at all. We eventually came to place we named "The Fire Ant Field," and let it go even if fire ants are post war contributions to itching and scratching. Sean eventually caught up with me and remembered when last we'd been eating the same dust. He was one of the finest adjutants the hobby ever produced, and was enjoying this event not as a worker bee, but as a musket toter. Bully for him.
Someone asked the bugler for a "preliminary." I wasn't sure what that was and listened intently. I do believe the requestor meant "prelude," and the bugler did understand that term. The bugler got a little hot and bothered and winded at one point, but we gave him a dose of TLC in the form of explaining just how much the Bayou Yeti likes to eat pasty faced Easterners blowing shiny brass objects, so he came right along. Nice to see a bugler at a campaign event, and he mentioned he'd like to attend our COI in April.
Some shots were fired. No stick forts were erected that we could see, but some deadfall provided nice cover and concealment.
We stopped for the mid-day halt near a stream with a number of small fish. Will was fascinated by the fish, as was Bobo. Some fellow had torn off the strap of his knapsack, and Will make a hasty repair. That leather repair kit was coming in handy. We made coffee, ate some dried plums from Fred (us old farts still call 'em prunes), and enjoyed the delicious boiled beef ration along with a hard cracker or two. We extinguished the fires, adjusted traps and drawers, and spread liquid joy around the woodlands.
As we moved out, we were told to stick by Cornbread and Bobo. Cornbread usually outmarches everyone, so we knew there was a problem here. He had leg cramps, was nauseated, and generally felt the US Army wasn't paying him enough to kill VC....no, wait, wrong war. Sorry about that. After the usually stories about flinging maggots all over the battalion via spinning amadillo (you had to be there), and the Champion Hill flag fight (yeah, you had to be there, too) and some other things, we realized Cornbread wasn't going anywhere just yet. Being the most crippled up, frail, and feeble, I volunteered to go get help. Hank-The-Dutchman was not far away, and he had a radio. More important, Hank-The-Dutchman had a banana. Fred sent help in the form of a few fellows to grab Hank's backboard (blue - color coordinated for the federals -- such planning!) and I hobbled along ground guiding Hank in his big SUV as far as the narrow bridge.
Taking the banana to Cornbread on Trip #2 was uneventful. As he was eating said potassium laden fruit, I did mention something to the effect: "I'm secure enough in my manhood to tell you that watching Cornbread eat a banana is almost as good as a pornographic image." Bobo needed to change his Depends after laughing at that line. Will was probably thinking: "this sho' ain't rev war." Between the banana joke and the threat of a half dozen young nubile Amazon women hauling his carcass from the Kisatchie triple canopy (work with me here, people) rainforest, the ol' boy finally got up, cussed a bit, shuffled around, and came on out of the wilderness. Trip #3 took us back down the trail (I'll be leading tours after the war) and into the general vicinity of a nice pair of log benches for us all to rest a tad.
One of the boys said he knew a way to get back to camp off the green trail, and we took it. Sure enough, it was right on the money. We said hello to Larry and Gerry and the Four Kings. After going down the trail a bit, and looking for a gas line (like I need more gas) we heard the cocks crow the call for "mid-afternoon dram of ram," and navigated on that sound beacon. The Teamsters had beaten us to camp by a couple of weeks, at least.
While Will, Bobo, some of the fine, strapping, lilac scented men of G Company, and myself were treating and mistreating Cornbread, the Visigoths, Huns, and Raiders of the Lost Beef Ration had visited the wagon park and left a scene not unlike Pearl Harbor on the afternoon of 7 December 1941. Those of you in attendance know I have another name for these raiders, but this is a family oriented forum, so hints at swine coitus by simians will have to make do. The good news is some of these same fellows ate until they resembled a pride of satiated Jabba The Hutt in CW uniforms. No sign of a scantily clad princess anywhere -- much to our utter disappointment.
Seeing how the Chimps were already fat, dumb, and happy for the evening, we didn't need to cook them any supper, so we issued the items slated for Day 2. These included hat brass (oh, my) for Companies B and F, some pencils, shoe strings, matches, dried fruit, soap, canned peaches, mustard, a pair of pepper sauces, Sanitary Commission towels, hemp twine, and a few other odds and ends. No one seemed to need blank books, tompions, cone picks, etc., so we let that sit a while longer. Some folks were figuring out the nesting kettles were ideal for heating up water for cleaning.
Fred and Tom dropped by for a little nosh. We had a good place to sleep, and the night went well. We made a trip over to Company G to listen to the singing. One of the companies did not appreciate the singing. A well meaning fellow came by to ask how to boil water in a tin pail for the purposes of weapons cleaning. We explained the tin pails were for water fetching and fire safety, and that nesting kettles are good for boiling. I'm glad we didn't have the brown pail this time around. That would have been yet another long story as to the function, lineage, and honors of a slop bucket.
The next morning we discovered one of the two extra small mess kettles had been stolen. One of the reasons we tote around a ledger book is to keep track of who has what and where it came from. It's like a hand receipt, but only in book form. Well, whichever P.F.C. has that kettle, I sincerely hope there is a special place for said individual in the afterlife where the Death of King Edward II is reenacted upon his tender anus on a regular (and frequent) basis. I hate thieves. 'Nuf said.
The detail hauling boxes through the sinks, into the woods, and up that ditch bank was pretty good. In the dark. You guys are to be commended.
A young man came by asking for a funnel. He also needed instruction as to how to remove water from a pail with a dipper. He then found this too complex, and asked for the funnel again. The USS Cairo had at least one funnel in her galley, but we left ours at home in the kitchen on the shelf above the kitchen sink. If you want a funnel, then John Crabb is your man. Chris Utley likely has one in stock, too.
The boys left the fires burning in camp, and had trash strewn about, too. Sigh. Hey, at least Smokey Da Bear had a clean up crew. The Teamsters had a tough ditch to cross and used the mules to get the wagons out by rope. Where one man had just about been killed the day before, another man would get his feet hung in the spokes. Yeah, ya had to be there to understand. Will and I spent some time with Gerry and the Four Kings. Larry patched up Will's feet.
Knowing we had at least one thief in our midst, we opted to stick with the wagons even though they were taking a longer route. Most of the gear on those wagons belonged to other individuals (even folks who weren't at ITPW) and those items deserved some protection. Will enjoyed his wagon ride. I enjoyed being on the road somewhere between the mule wagons and the oxen. The load for the draft animals was getting lighter with each passing day, and Day #3 would be the second of two ration issues. We sure had a lot of rooster and bacon to eliminate.
The road trip on Wednesday was a good one. The Teamsters fixed a good noon halt meal, and even the ox handlers were able to partake. The Teamsters eat some interesting foods. I'll leave it at that, but the sausage was most excellent. I added some boiled beef to this Mulligan Hash, and felt bad that was all we had to offer. For those of you doing the math, the FS&O Mess had now grown to 25. If we added the four mules, four oxen, and one horse that would be 34. The poultry had their own feed and watering system. Of this I shan't divulge.
(To Be Continued)[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]
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Re: Into The Piney Woods AAR
"The detail hauling boxes through the sinks, into the woods, and up that ditch bank was pretty good. In the dark. You guys are to be commended. "
Sort of like cooking bacon in the dark, but with more walking. Not the first time I've stepped in poo before. Just wanted to get the boxes from point A to Point B as quickly as possible. It was fun being a trailblazer. The coffee sip was a good thanks.Herb Coats
Armory Guards &
WIG
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Re: Into The Piney Woods AAR
I am happy to have been with you second time and I hope that will still have there other numerous opportunities, the event participants as Texans and the Louisianers this time as last time, are always so friendly, I hope to see again you all very fast and if you come in France, indicate...
The time go so fast and the event by his end premature but necessary sight two days of ceaseless rains who followed, leave certainly a sadness, but it is the life, that will not prevent me from returning...
Still thanks to all.
And as said La Plume to Fred, if you can organize that in Florida in July the next time... :) :) :)
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Re: Into The Piney Woods AAR
Horribly Boring First Person Event Summary or The Commissary Perspective AAR: Part III of MCMXLVIX
(Even the mules were grinning and giggling.)
Day 3: Jesus wept...profusely.
I saw discarded hardtack on the side of the trail today and was not pleased. That was a sign we were issuing way too much hard bread.
The last little bit of the trip into the Camp of the Captured Confederates was a bit downhill. So much downhill that the wagons would need a good push the next day. Yep, there is a reason the real players used six mules instead of just two.
The Teamsters took a spell to situate the wagons, since a drive thru is better than a back up and cuss situation. Will and I found a nice little knoll by the water supply, and prepared to issue the next set of rations (2.5 days), fix a delicious, nutritious, and definitely tasty hot meal for the FS&O Mess, and get the mail ready to rumble. Yes, we even sort mail. By the way, the mail was in a burlap sack, and a good rain would have....well...you know.
Due to the various and sundry casualties, the companies were about even in number at this point. Having not seen a strength report since the event began -- other than what Sgt. Maj. Hicks provided (thank you) early in the event, we winged the rations in three relatively even piles. One company had a little trouble getting their paperwork together, but they were fed anyway. Plenty of crackers, bacon, dried fruit, candles, and assorted goodies went forth. I'm not sure all the lads knew what to do with desiccated potatoes, but some really did know and jumped right on them as if chickens on fat and sassy June bugs. We had a lot of candles thanks to some from the unidentified Californios (great box) and the dried fruit was a good counter to the crackers. We sorted the mail as best we could. A few pieces were unidentified, and we were going to have those dropped off at HQs to the adjutant, but no one seemed to know where he was that afternoon, so those letters are now here at the bunker. I asked the mules, and they didn't know those people either. The instructions to hand in mail with the ammunition were straightforward enough. Some folks started thrusting mail in my general direction before we reached Hagewood or Provencal, and I'm not sure those letters arrived in the hands of their intended victims.
While the boys were reading mail, the rebs decided to pay us a visit. Will and I paid them no mind until Will asked if he could blow the whistle he'd found. We knew the rebs operated on a whistle signal plan of action, and three short blasts were enough to encourage the right wing to advance unsupported. While the Rebbanese Liberation Army did not completely over run the firebase, er, um, camp, at least Co. G and Co. B found a reason to change their drawers. The confederates dispute the effectiveness of the faux whistle signals, as a fine and dandy ruse approved by Scipio the Younger, and detested by Hannibal (Hasdrubal would have hated it too, but he'd already lost his head), but we noticed a whole bunch of jeancloth clad hineys sitting across the creek from us in a dejected circle in short order. That, and Billy tried to surrender early just to end the shame of it all, and get a bite to eat.
Sum'n like that.
We continued to cook in spite of it all. The mules received the treat of a half a carrot each. Some feller came screaming across the ford looking for ammunition. He didn't seem to want a carrot at that instance. Ammunition was in the green boxes over by the black wagon. The black wagon was the one that didn't have food in it. Both wagons had roosters that were far more tender than the average barn owl when boiled. Some of the fellows like poultry.
Will managed to turn a head of cabbage, some carrots, raisins, canned tomatoes, bacon, and a fair amount of desiccated potatoes into a right smart stew. Some of the officers came on down and ate. Some rattled around in a box of broken hardtack looking for food, and others asked for some bacon to sustain them for the next few days. Some just wanted a cup of coffee. We had a vile brown liquid that seemed to suffice. One officer was seen eating tree bark. The mules were astounded to know one of their own could be promoted that far with a little hard work and flatulence.
Not to let food go to waste, we decided the supplement the hardtack crumbles with a thinned out version of the stew meant for the officers, field, staff, teamsters, sports announcers, contrabands, and most anyone who happened our way. Hungry? Where's your dipper? Need coffee? Share this. Horny? Here's some butter -- go find a musician. I noticed Will was too tired to repair a canteen strap. His battery was about worn out, but he did a mighty fine sawmill impression later that evening. His practice run at making a feeble shelter half extension off the mighty Teamster tent fly would prove to be a warm up for the next night.
With watered down cabbage soup, a box of crumbled crackers, and some coffee we fed the reb prisoners. Cups, plates, hats, hands, canteens, and whathaveyou were filled, but mostly gullets were filled with something. Proof that hunger is the best sauce. Those jokers needed a hot meal as they were (allegedly) going to spend the night with one blanket per two men, and we all know how a campsite by a creek bottom can be damp. Johnny Lloyd gave them a generous supply of good army bacon. Silas had some of the watered down cabbage soup just before we took it to the prisoners, and Kiev had the dregs of the kettle. About that time the prisoners wanted to take the oath of allegiance, and Silas and Kiev were ready to take French leave. There may be a connection.
This was a good night. The Teamsters fed us some leftovers, and had cobbler. This was the second peach cobbler of the voyage, and believe me when I say Will and I were proud to be the vanguard of the army in taste testing this cobbler. I do believe Johnny Lloyd grabbed a little bit when we were back in the Camp of the Pilfered Kettle. Johnny was in the real army and knows if you hang around food long enough either somebody will feed your starving self or toss a bucket of scalding hot water on you. We weren't wasting any boiled water, so he had to make do with cobbler. War is Hell.
The company boxes were working well. Not perfect, but well. We still had some odd boxes on the wagons, and wondered what they may contain. One was a field desk. One was a personal box that we inspected, and made sure the owner knew we had peeked inside. None contained spirits, and believe me when I say even the mules wanted a ration of rock softener at this point. Their green anti-gall cream was being used on man and beast.
We bedded down with the Teamsters. The language in that Taj Mahal of Shebangery was not fit for some of the young ears within listening distance, but they have to learn the fine art of sarcasm, cynicism, and tomfoolery somewhere. After all, not every young lad comes by a complete collection of Ambrose Bierce's works at the age of 10. This was the best night's sleep of the week, although not very deep. Will said, "this ain't rev war."
Where was the coffee and sugar? Sounds of "That #@&%!!! Heath is witholding our rations!" were heard from some folks.
The Teamsters were already making plans to exit the way they entered the campsite. They would trust the devil they knew and not the one they didn't. Gerry and the oxen would go out the opposite direction.
Yeah. I had fun. How about you?
(To be continued.)[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]
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Re: Into The Piney Woods AAR
Got back this morning at 12:15 AM our time. Long trip but well worth it. Thanks Tom and Fred for the most authentic experience I have ever encountered. Will write AAR later when I'm not so bone tired. On the way home, had lots of family from Houston to El Paso giving us warm beds, meals and a big pat on the back for what we accomplished.[FONT=Book Antiqua][/FONT][COLOR=Navy]Barb McCreary (also known as Bertie)
Herbal Folk Healer, Weaver and Maker of Fine Lye Soap[/COLOR]
[url]www.winstontown.com[/url]
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Re: Into The Piney Woods AAR
I finally made it home after spending last night in Phillip’s Ranch, almost does not count for going home. Unloading my gear, and looking for my diary to post an edited version here.
I think Tom and Fred pulled of a great event. The Cart Crew had a few surprises that the weather kept hidden.Andrew Grim
The Monte Mounted Rifles, Monte Bh'oys
Burbank #406 F&AM
x-PBC, Co-Chairman of the Most Important Committee
Peter Lebeck #1866, The Ancient and Honorable Order of E Clampus Vitus
Billy Holcomb #1069, Order of Vituscan Missionaries
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Re: Into The Piney Woods AAR
After BGR, and after arriving home, all I could do is take time to digest everything experienced. I began to jot down notes as the mulitude of thoughts, memories and lessons continued to bubble to the surface. This went on for weeks, at traffic lights, in the shower, in the middle of the night or random daydreams. As such it was weeks, and I never ended up posting an AAR/thoughts/memories. I figure now, it is better to post multiple things rather than wait for the 'buck n ball' volley post.
Dan and I arrived sunday afternoon and hit N-town, down along the waterfront. Took in some local fare, had a brew with some of the other early birds, and then headed out to the site and dressed out. Although, we do this for all the major events, we are able, we couldn't wait for this one.
Memorable moments:
-(thurs)Unloading the ox wagon, attaching a rope to the lower leftside and then having the company pull the rope over the top as the oxen pulled it through a tight, sloped rut. The rope kept the wagon from turning over.
We then carried every piece of cargo uphill a quarter mile and reloaded the wagon.
-A half mile later, due to the slope of the path, the wagon was unloaded again. The tongue of the wagon would have broke off on the steep grade, so the oxen were unhooked and led up the road. The same roped was then wrapped around the front tongue, and with a platoon on each end of the rope, we side-by-side pulled in up the hill.
And then reloaded it. We were very concerned the Federals would approach before the labors could be completed.
This was a period experience I never expected and one more common than we might first assume. I could only imagine Price/Van Dorn enroute to Pea Ridge, Hindman's retreat from Prairie Grove or Bragg to/from the Kentucky campaign over the mountains in TN.
-Lying in wait in the woods across a broad field on Tuesday morning. The position was advantageous as the Federals would have to cross a large open field. I had the honor of posting on the far left wing and being the 'spotter.' From my position I could see the Federals coming down through the forest some 400 yards away.
-Lunch on Tuesday. The taste of the first coffee in days. Pvt Yeatman had some of the raw cane sugar with rations, and although in reality I prefer black coffee, this was incredible.
-Tuesday afternoon after we had stopped for the day, basking in the warm weather. It was the only idle time we had all week. Spent the time watching Dan sketch a Yank picket from across the creek. I tried to chat with him or score some peaches, but he would have none of it. Dan and I later slipped up the road trying to score some whiskey or something other than water. We ran into some civilian refugees (Hank and Amos) and had a nice fp conversation. I mostly listened rather than force in.
-the commotion that evening involving Dell. In fact there was some sort of commotion or activity wherever Dell went. Seeing him underneath the hay in a wagon that was about to bust and axle or tip over was a surprise I'll never forget. Dell- thank you for coming and taking on the persona you did. We are always worried how someone will accept such a historical impression, but I can't tell you how much it added to the event.
-Being asked to take a handful of men on wednesday afternoon, to delay the Federal advance up the valley while the rest of the battalion fortified on a large hill. Due to the lay of the land it was decided to get the federals venturing off to their right as much as possible using the presence of the creek to delay them, since the ford was on their far left. Due to stumps and errosion, we found the terrain with ready rifle pits. A loose choreograph of who and where the fire would progress from, worked splendidly to draw the Federals in the wrong direction and to delay them enough so we could fall back across the creek spread out like an armed mob.
-The attacks on the Reb fortification. The position was excellent. Thick forest on one side, the creek on the other. Several Federals went down while trying to assault which was an impressive sight from up top. A truce allowed them to check on and retrieve the casualties. There was jawing back and forth, and the heat of the moment got to me. I yelled out a barb and Sgt Major Hicks, and the composure and dead stare he returned, was incredible FP. Same with Preston Todd. Even an expression can be the most intense FP.
I was later asked to take about 8 men and probe the enemies right, and we hugged the creek edge, some dropping down where cover was provided. This allowed the other two companies to move through the woods and become involved in the fog of war. This left us shorthanded with only our company, the boys from Co. G Winn Parish left to defend the fort. Pinned down, we fell back. Federal companies approached us from the front and another had crossed the creek attempting to flank us. The fighting was frenzied and we continually had to redeploy and move resources around. A couple of us went down with obvious hits. Things looked tenous, and then a lull. We were very low on ammo and Capt. Tucker quickly fetched our ammo crate and all were issued several new bundles. Good fortune saved the day and it was a very stressful period moment. We were very close to being unable to repel the advances.
To be continued...Jay Stevens
Tater Mess
Independent Volunteers
Iron Man Mess
Reenactor Preservation Coalition
Friends of Historic Lone Jack
Wyandotte Lodge # 03, AF&AM
Into The Piney Woods, March 2009
Lost Tribes, October 2009
Bummers, November 2009
Backwaters, March 12-14 2010
The Fight For Crampton's Gap July 2010
In the Van, August 2010
Before The Breakout Sept 2010
"If You Want To Call Yourself A Campaigner, You Attend True Campaign Events" -B. Johnson
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Re: Into The Piney Woods AAR
Okay- back like a heart attack and just as suddenly.
I do believe Johnny Lloyd grabbed a little bit when we were back in the Camp of the Pilfered Kettle. Johnny was in the real army and knows if you hang around food long enough either somebody will feed your starving self or toss a bucket of scalding hot water on you. We weren't wasting any boiled water, so he had to make do with cobbler.
I was in a Quartermaster Battalion in the Army in an actual war zone and I know that the supply guy can either be your friend or your worst nightmare if you 'abuse the supply'. If you want to feed hungry troops, use what is already made and then, if necessary, make your own food but DON'T WASTE A THING.
Woe be to the lowly gun bunny that thinks he is obligated to be the recipient of said supplies of any type. The Quartermaster has to give you stuff, but if you piss him off, then you might not like the quality of stuff he might (or might not) give you.
"We're in a firefight and I'm outta rounds, Festus... hey- supply guy, you need to gimme more rounds...
Hey rifle queen... get 'em yer own damned self... they were back at the wagon when I told you to come get them an hour ago, jackass."
Sadly, I've seen this kind of scenario played-out in a real war zone too. History might change, but human mentalities in that historic scenario sure don't. :(
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Yet, I digress- now for my AAR:
Well, I have to admit, without getting picky beyond reasoning, I really thought this event was well-laid out. This is a big compliment: I've seen field excercises in the real Army more jacked-up and with much less common sense used in there design. BIG TREMENDOUS kudos to the event organizers that seemed to have a plan upon a plan for each possible bugbear that arose. I really felt that the event organizers had great amounts of common sense and were not afraid to pull-the-plug rightfully on the event when real danger seemed too close. The last thing our hobby needs is someone to get seriously/negligently hurt, it leak-out to the media, and wrongfully discredit all of our passions and dedication to the hobby. I can't say enought thanks here. Bravo.
Charles, the food was very tasty, regardless of what was in the stuff. I loved the fresh chicken and the pea soup- we truly ate well and in period fashion. The hardtack was good too. I had nibbles of the officer's food and that was not too bad at all.
I cannot think of anything I'd say 'improve' to other than the weather. The 'sustain' side of things really outweighs it all for me.
Memorable moments-
-Hot/dry, then cold/wet... jeez, what weird weather we're having.
-And Jesus wept... and blew his horn too.
- A contraband??? Jeez. Suprised the hell outta me. I fed him my oatmeal that I brought since the boys weren't going to eat it. 'Slavery is a scourge to the American republic' anyway... don't let' em catch you!
- Was that the 1Sgt lifting shift at the sinks or was the bugler warming-up? What? The bugler was in the hospital already? ... Oh. Nasty... :confused_
- "There once was a corporal that brought too much stuff and Bo Bo was his name-oh..." Ha! I'm still laughing about that. :D
- Troy Groves, myself and Cpl. Gansz, BoBo were the only ones in-camp the second night cleaning/preparing a chicken while the other boys were at the front popping shots at the thought-to-be-distant rebels. Troy yells to me as I am un-accoutred and walking with a bucket down to the creek to get water for soup: "Hurry! Grab a musket!!!". Lo-and-behold about 20 greybacks (I think it was the "Foreign Legion" boys and Mr. Billy Birney, their ringleader... LOL) were coming at our camp's left flank as I yell to the front lines to get troops back to refuse our flank. Damn, that was a little too real for a second... we almost lost Company G's dinner to filthy, hungry rebels (a redundant term there).
-Moving a wagon up a hill. 'Nuff said there... :tounge_sm
Thanks to the indominable Company G spirit that was a joy to be a part of. WELL worth the loss of my bottle of whiskey for and the time and effort in getting to the event.
Thanks again to all that made it happen!
All the best and at your service- Johnny Lloyd :wink_smilLast edited by Johnny Lloyd; 03-17-2009, 10:16 PM. Reason: Hey... I made the CCG! Is this an honor? I dunno...Johnny Lloyd
John "Johnny" Lloyd
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"Without history, there can be no research standards.
Without research standards, there can be no authenticity.
Without the attempt at authenticity, all is just a fantasy.
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Re: Into The Piney Woods AAR
Some Kind of Rambling Event Summary or The Never Ending AAR: Part IV of MCMXLVIX
Was that field music off key by that much, or did Smotherman fart that loud?
Day 4: Battle of Pea Soup Ridge
Getting out of that valley took the efforts of Company G to shove the wagons up the sandy hill. Not many reenactors can say they've been wagon dogs not once but twice in the same few minutes. The little mules were giving all that they had. The two legged mules wearing indigo coats did well, too.
Tom and Fred mentioned two years ago that the land north of the paved road was far more hilly than the swampy area south of the paved road. Mentally, we used this black strip of asphalt as our 3:00 to 9:00 band to navigate. There was no doubt as to location when we hit that road. Before striking the road we did ease into the area of the BGR civilian camp and sit a spell. The rebs needed to get around us, lest we pile up right in the middle of their activities. Water points being neutral zones, this was just fine and dandy. We'd planned to offload the empty wooden boxes at that time and place, and Phil's pickup truck was handy. This was a good way to reduce cubes, and make space for those inexplicable things that end up on a wagon the last couple of days of an event. You don't know what they are, but you do know they are coming. This worked out well. That campsite seemed sadly quiet without the civilians.
We were itching to get up the road and into camp that night, as the lowery skies were just barely starting to tell a tale of wet weather to come. Will, now on foot, and I traced the wheel tracks in the soil and on the gravel roads, as well as the white strike marks the steel tires make on asphalt. We had no trouble following the wagons until we ran into grass. The grass was pushed down, and we followed along. Soon, we found one of the pre-positioned piles of hay, and knew we were near the Thursday night camp. The Teamsters had been told to camp at a specific site in reference to their BGR campsite at the same location. At that time, the federals were headed in the opposite direction. In any case, they made camp precisely where they were told to camp. We unloaded our boxes and equipment, and started a fire near the wagons.
By this time, the net weight of the provisions were well reduced from the load we had Monday night. The ammunition was about the same, and they were just blanks anyway. Real lead would have been very heavy, and a true burden on the animals. As Will started the fire, I started getting some wood. We were fortunate to be in a location with a large amount of standing, dead, well seasoned, dry wood of substantial diameter. Harvesting required but a little pushing. This was very good. The water was but a few feet away. It was clear and moving well.
Will borrowed some coals from the Teamsters. A "Mother Fire" can get a dozen blazes going in no time. We needed to get some coffee going for the boys, and it needed to be ready when they arrived. When it rains -- make coffee. It's a morale booster, and hot coffee will keep people warm for a while. We had an ideal set up. Good water. Great wood. Plenty of time. The coffee was going in no time. We could then concentrate on the pea soup for the FS&O Mess.
We had some unexpected guests arrive, but had been warned the CS troops would also use this road. The tip from the Teamsters was excellent, as Frankenfriends showed up about 90 minutes into our cookery session. If they'd captured us and stayed put for a while, they'd have been fed, too. Having a surplus of dried apples, I handed some to a reb at random, and that turned out to be Russ Stanley. Some feller thought we were sutlers, and weren't too happy we weren't.
Most people won't eat pea soup unless they are starving. We had some potatoes, onions, dried apples, and a few other odds and ends to make the soup a little less boring. The mules already had the carrots that didn't go into the cabbage stew the night before. Marvin had returned from the rebs and wanted to cook a chicken. This was fine by us. Marvin fit right in with the rest of us, and was a good fellow to have around the mess fire. Will took a nap. He needed one.
With the coffee ready, and the rebs across the creek, and the pea soup gurgling a bright green in al dente fashion, the federals showed up ready to party. Once the battle began (with us in the middle of it down in the lowland) I could hear the rebs and feds chanting something. It went like this:
Rebs: You eat it.
Yanks: No, YOU eat it.
Rebs: We ain't eatin' that cookin'.
Yanks: It tastes bad.
Rebs: Ain't filling.
Yanks: Tastes bad.
True, they were fighting over the food, but not in the normal manner. Thanks guys. If I'd tossed a bag of Doritos between the lines, a riot would have ensued. You know this to be true.
As soon as we had unloaed the ammunition, we took the time to cover it up with a gum blanket. The food was covered by an old bacon soaked oilcloth, and our little bit of gear was under another gum blanket. Between the gear gum blanket and the fire was something on the ground. Will, awake by now, had noticed a small snake. Will said it was a snake. I grabbed the hatchet and said it's a dead snake. Could have been a copperhead. We didn't exchange family trees to find out.
I'm not sure where Marvin/Del was supposed to sleep that night, but we made it plain he was sleeping with us. We weren't being generous, it's just that we wanted his body heat.
People, smart people, starting taking hits around the mess fire. Cups were produced and the gravely wounded were just able to get a nice cup of coffee. Eventually, each company came down the hill to get their mess kettle of coffee. That was part of their coffee and sugar ration. The rest of their ration was under cover in the green wagon. Unfortunately, one company never drew the rest of their coffee and sugar rations. I won't say which one, but those guys do like a cuppa Joe. One company reboiled their coffee grounds in the mess kettle. You read often about the old boys reboiling coffee grounds, and this was an event where that was made possible. Some folks got it. Some folks didn't.
Some of the officers were able to find food. Some weren't. Eventually, we watered down the pea soup and sent it uphill with a company. The kettle came back licked clean. They were hungry enough to eat my cooking. That says something. Even Fred and Tom ate some, and they usually have good sense.
We gathered up the gear, and covered it. Will had already built the extension on the big Teamster shebang. We were down to enough bacon to fit into one small pine box, so the bacon grease covered oilcloth was used to cover the ammunition. I can't say if it stayed totally dry, but it was less wet than it would have been without the oilcloth. I spoke to the mules for a while, and they said they would be glad to finally get home to their own pasture when this long cruel war was over, and asked why didn't I bring more carrots this time. Even the little mules were beyatching about the food. Well, fine.
Ammunition secure. Hardtack was probably going to get wet. People secure.
Curling up with Marvin, Will, and Fred "under the big top" was a good move, even if we were on the drip edge. Will got cold, and we reminded him we would be better off than a heck of a lot of other folks, even if the tentage only delayed our soaking by an hour or so. I put on my blue wool shirt before going to bed. That was a big help. Marvin had an extra wool blanket from the Teamsters. Fred had that patented "this could get ugly before morning" look on his face. He was right. It did get ugly, and the long night's journey into day was just starting and the emphasis was about to shift from Civil War playtime to some hefty real world weather related issues.
Then there was the jocularity atop the hill....
(To be continued.)[B]Charles Heath[/B]
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