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Very much to my regret, I cannot attend Pickett’s Mill 2014. But, back in 2001 I took part in a Pickett’s Mill immersion event. I was an experienced backpacker and had done one strenuous Civil War reenacting campaign event in Fort Towson, Oklahoma the year before. I thought those experiences had me prepared emotionally, mentally, and physically. Wrong. So, after the event I wrote about it and sent the article to the Camp Chase Gazette magazine. The editor at the time was Nicky Hughes, and he was kind enough to publish my reflections. Here is a shortened version of the article. In reading it a dozen years later, it’s also somewhat surprising to see where the hobby has, and has not, followed the Pickett’s Mill model as I saw it.
Last June my pard Gary and I made a 15 hour drive to Georgia to spend 38 hours at the Pickett’s Mill “semi-immersion” event on the actual site of some real bloody fighting in 1864.
I went with an apprehensive attitude much like I used to get going into a college final exam for a course I really enjoyed, but in which the professor maintained high standards and had a reputation for killer exams. After all, this event was lauded on the Authentic Campaigner website as the event of the year. I had read message after message from “heavy hitters” in the hobby about arcane trivia relating to the units to be portrayed and the battle itself. In fact, as I approached the registration table on Friday, I almost felt like I needed to turn in my personal bibliography referencing everything I wore and carried.
As it turned out, I met some very congenial men and never was asked to show the designer labels of my gear and attire. On the other hand, I was expected to dive into the spirit of the event and live and fight like a veteran soldier of 1864. The final exam aspect of the event was real, and I think I passed. Therefore, I’m offering these top ten reasons why Pickett’s Mill 2001 should be a model for the future.
10. No cooking hardtack and bacon at home. The instructions were to trust the organizers and bring an empty haversack. I didn’t cheat, and I did put my trust in the organizers. We ate a lunch in Atlanta Friday afternoon before going to Pickett’s Mill State Historic Area. No supper. On Saturday morning about breakfast time a work detail carried in an iron kettle filled with cold boiled beef, three wooden crates filled with big round cornbread loaves, and a big sack of goobers. Each company sent an NCO and two privates with gum blankets to get one palm sized piece of beef per man and a similar size piece of cornbread per man, and one handful of peanuts per man. That was it for the Rebs for the weekend. Yes, I said for the weekend.
Most of us ate our boiled beef and crumbly cornbread immediately. I stashed the goobers in a poke sack and nibbled on them all day. By dusk I was real hungry. During the Saturday night candlelight “bayonet charge” staged for about 100 park visitors, I was able to liberate a couple of pieces of hardtack from the haversack of a dead yank. He protested in a whisper, but I reminded him he was dead, and I was real hungry. After sharing the broken crackers with my pards I had a bite or two left for little me. By Sunday morning I was used to being hungry and made it through the last hours of the event feeling good about how well I had kept going on short rations. It was durn near 48 hours on far, far less food than normal, with far, far more strenuous activity than normal, and it wasn’t incapacitating. I learned that we office-bound middle-aged reenactors can do this stuff. The right mind-set is more important than a full haversack.
9. No PortaCans, modern water faucets, or big plastic water tanks. The organizers promised “period” water stops. They did it. I don’t mean constantly available water for ever-full canteens. I mean a few “wells” of water were in place on the march-route. The wells were modern fifty-five gallon barrels covered by wooden boxes. Wooden buckets were provided at each well and a strict protocol was followed for what got dipped into what. Only the buckets went into the wells, and only clean personal dippers went into the buckets, and only then was water poured into canteens. Some men on both sides got loose bowels midway through the event. Most did not. Some blamed the water, most did not. The “wells” would not have been sufficient to provide water for a large event, but they reflected creative planning and one more facet in which effort was made to get it right and keep it in period.
8. No sutlers or food vendors. I didn’t realize what a difference their absence would make in the overall atmosphere of the weekend. Since it was just us, the time between marches and battles didn’t look like spending the day at the shopping mall. Instead it became a time for taking care of gear, catnaps and visiting with new company and battalion comrades from across the country.
7. No “arena” battle for spectators. The primary focus of Pickett’s Mill was to recreate the character of the battle being portrayed, and it was grand. We had 800 acres of the real battlefield that was mostly densely wooded and did not accommodate spectators very well at all. Rather than playing for them on a narrow stage, we fought on the actual ground of the real battle, off in the woods. But, it wasn’t a closed event. After all, the reenactment was in a public historic site owned by the state of Georgia. Therefore, during Saturday’s recreation of the 41st Ohio’s actual assault on the 6th-15th Consolidated Texas, we paused after the initial clash for a dozen park visitors to be led through the human carnage left after the first Federal uphill assault. The spectators did not have the chance to watch us perform, but they got to hear the battle and were treated to an immediate post-battle tour of the results.
6. No Bearded Tubby Guys. I don’t wear a beard, but I was likely the tubbiest among the CSA battalion, and that was good for the event. I did see at least two fellers who must have been older than my 51 years, and that’s good for them, bless’em. On the other hand, I got cowboy boots older than most of the lads who lined up around me in the ranks, and that’s real good for reenacting.
5. Invisible Yanks and Reb cavalry. Yanks and Rebs checked in at opposite sides of the park. The first time we saw the Federal battalion was as they swarmed up the ravine coming right at us with rifles blazing. We did not fraternize between the battles. We met as opponents on the field and were kept separated the rest of the weekend until after the last shot.
The Reb cavalry sought out the Yanks in the woods and skirmished. Then they withdrew to our defensive line and skirmished again while one in four held the reins of the horses behind the lines. Then they joined us on the flank and fought some more. I saw very few pistols among them and most were armed with infantry longarms.
4. Nineteenth century small-talk and a long dark sentry duty. During our first formation as things got cranked up, we were instructed to try to stay in period in our conversations all weekend. I think everyone tried and early in the weekend I heard a lot of introductions and small talk spoken in nineteenth century first person. But, after a while I heard more and more conversations without pretext of staying in-period. Nonetheless, the focus of most of the talk I heard on the marches and around the campsite was untypical of other reenacting experiences. Sometimes I felt like I was in a moving impromptu Civil War Roundtable seminar. In-period or not, the weekend became a learning time for me.
I got little sleep on Friday night because our company had sentry duty as soon as we arrived at our bivouac site around midnight. For three hours my pard “Yonder” and I stood quietly in the deep dark woods and stared into the shadows watching for movement. We whispered to each other and to the Corporal of the Guard who periodically checked on us. Afterwards, we literally collapsed on the ground and slept for the few hours until dawn fully dressed with arms and accoutrements at hand. The immersion had begun at 10 PM on Friday night and we began the main day already tired, damp, and wondering what was coming next. Contrast that to the typical reenactment as men arrive up until the first “scheduled” battle and the difference is striking.
3. Organizers who also commanded and talked to each other. While I never saw John Cleaveland and other organizers until the very end of the event, it was apparent that the key guys kept in touch throughout the event, despite the heavy woods and distances. Twice during the weekend I saw one of the event organizers who was serving on our Confederate battalion staff move off to the side, pull out a radio and quietly speak to someone. I assume he was coordinating movement with the federal opposition or our cavalry support or the park staff. Whatever they did, it worked. All weekend long things seemed to happen as they had been planned.
2. It really was hallowed ground. I can’t express this clearly enough. It matters when we are allowed to reenact on the same ground as the real battles were fought over. At its best, reenacting reflects a lot of thinking before we arrive at the location of the event. We read and talk and think about what the soldiers went through. Before we ever arrive at the event we have been mentally projecting ourselves into their shoes - their lives. Therefore, it’s logical that when we can march and camp and sleep and shadow-fight on the same turf as they did at the same time of year, we have our best chance to time travel for brief moments. We don’t destroy or desecrate the ground by our play-acting on the very ground where it happened for real, but it makes a tremendous difference in our attitude. I don’t know how many times I saw solitary reenactors wander off just looking at the steep ravines which dominate the park terrain. It didn’t take telepathy to know their thoughts were back in 1864 as they tried to connect with the horror of real battle. You just can’t do that from a rented pasture somewhere ‘close’ to the actual battleground.
1. The Boys of 1864 Just Might Have Appreciated What We Did. I suspect the old vets in heaven haven’t needed to read the comics for the past 35 years. They can just look down at our reenactments when they want a good belly laugh. Except maybe for events like this one.
That’s the end of my article from 2001. One more note: Last year I published a novel about the Sixth Texas Infantry. The book is titled Whittled Away (it’s available on Amazon as a paperback and as a Kindle e-book download) and the battle at Pickett’s Mill is one of the strongest chapters.
Of the many southern soldier anecdotes I found about Pickett’s Mill, one that strikes me came from Captain Samuel Foster, a captain in the 24th Texas Dismounted Cavalry. He wrote in his diary (not a memoir based on a 20 or 30 year old memory, but a diary written at the time) about walking the battle ground the morning after the attack and seeing the many, many fallen Union soldiers, and noted how many were shot in the head with shattered skulls. Then Foster goes on to write:
“They all say the dead are strewn thicker on the ground than at any battle of the war … I feel sick every time I think of those mens brains.
“We were not permitted to sit down and reflect over it, but were ordered forw’d about an hour by sun, just our Reg’t. We advanced cautiously for about a mile through the wood when we saw them again, and opened fire upon them and soon have them on the retreat. …And here in these woods between their breastworks and where they went to fight us yesterday evening, we find three piles of Oil Clothes, piled up like, a big wagon load at each pile. Every man in our Reg’t got one and had several to pick over so he could get a good one….”
I used that anecdote in my novel since gum blankets or oil clothes were so scarce among Granbury’s Brigade. Now I wonder just what that little story really does mean: Had a regiment or more of Union soldiers worn oil clothes or gum blankets rolled over their shoulders as they went forward to attack, only to be ordered to drop them? Or, were they new, having just been delivered and still in piles from being unloaded from wagons? Whatever the cause, it was a big deal to Captain Foster and a treasure trove to his regiment. If anyone has seen any mention of such an event in primary sources from Union soldiers at Pickett’s Mill, I’d love to hear from you.
Phil McBride
Author: Whittled Away
Reb Private: Pickett's Mill 2001
Top Ten Reasons Why Pickett’s Mill Worked
And Is A Good A Model For the Future
And Is A Good A Model For the Future
Last June my pard Gary and I made a 15 hour drive to Georgia to spend 38 hours at the Pickett’s Mill “semi-immersion” event on the actual site of some real bloody fighting in 1864.
I went with an apprehensive attitude much like I used to get going into a college final exam for a course I really enjoyed, but in which the professor maintained high standards and had a reputation for killer exams. After all, this event was lauded on the Authentic Campaigner website as the event of the year. I had read message after message from “heavy hitters” in the hobby about arcane trivia relating to the units to be portrayed and the battle itself. In fact, as I approached the registration table on Friday, I almost felt like I needed to turn in my personal bibliography referencing everything I wore and carried.
As it turned out, I met some very congenial men and never was asked to show the designer labels of my gear and attire. On the other hand, I was expected to dive into the spirit of the event and live and fight like a veteran soldier of 1864. The final exam aspect of the event was real, and I think I passed. Therefore, I’m offering these top ten reasons why Pickett’s Mill 2001 should be a model for the future.
10. No cooking hardtack and bacon at home. The instructions were to trust the organizers and bring an empty haversack. I didn’t cheat, and I did put my trust in the organizers. We ate a lunch in Atlanta Friday afternoon before going to Pickett’s Mill State Historic Area. No supper. On Saturday morning about breakfast time a work detail carried in an iron kettle filled with cold boiled beef, three wooden crates filled with big round cornbread loaves, and a big sack of goobers. Each company sent an NCO and two privates with gum blankets to get one palm sized piece of beef per man and a similar size piece of cornbread per man, and one handful of peanuts per man. That was it for the Rebs for the weekend. Yes, I said for the weekend.
Most of us ate our boiled beef and crumbly cornbread immediately. I stashed the goobers in a poke sack and nibbled on them all day. By dusk I was real hungry. During the Saturday night candlelight “bayonet charge” staged for about 100 park visitors, I was able to liberate a couple of pieces of hardtack from the haversack of a dead yank. He protested in a whisper, but I reminded him he was dead, and I was real hungry. After sharing the broken crackers with my pards I had a bite or two left for little me. By Sunday morning I was used to being hungry and made it through the last hours of the event feeling good about how well I had kept going on short rations. It was durn near 48 hours on far, far less food than normal, with far, far more strenuous activity than normal, and it wasn’t incapacitating. I learned that we office-bound middle-aged reenactors can do this stuff. The right mind-set is more important than a full haversack.
9. No PortaCans, modern water faucets, or big plastic water tanks. The organizers promised “period” water stops. They did it. I don’t mean constantly available water for ever-full canteens. I mean a few “wells” of water were in place on the march-route. The wells were modern fifty-five gallon barrels covered by wooden boxes. Wooden buckets were provided at each well and a strict protocol was followed for what got dipped into what. Only the buckets went into the wells, and only clean personal dippers went into the buckets, and only then was water poured into canteens. Some men on both sides got loose bowels midway through the event. Most did not. Some blamed the water, most did not. The “wells” would not have been sufficient to provide water for a large event, but they reflected creative planning and one more facet in which effort was made to get it right and keep it in period.
8. No sutlers or food vendors. I didn’t realize what a difference their absence would make in the overall atmosphere of the weekend. Since it was just us, the time between marches and battles didn’t look like spending the day at the shopping mall. Instead it became a time for taking care of gear, catnaps and visiting with new company and battalion comrades from across the country.
7. No “arena” battle for spectators. The primary focus of Pickett’s Mill was to recreate the character of the battle being portrayed, and it was grand. We had 800 acres of the real battlefield that was mostly densely wooded and did not accommodate spectators very well at all. Rather than playing for them on a narrow stage, we fought on the actual ground of the real battle, off in the woods. But, it wasn’t a closed event. After all, the reenactment was in a public historic site owned by the state of Georgia. Therefore, during Saturday’s recreation of the 41st Ohio’s actual assault on the 6th-15th Consolidated Texas, we paused after the initial clash for a dozen park visitors to be led through the human carnage left after the first Federal uphill assault. The spectators did not have the chance to watch us perform, but they got to hear the battle and were treated to an immediate post-battle tour of the results.
6. No Bearded Tubby Guys. I don’t wear a beard, but I was likely the tubbiest among the CSA battalion, and that was good for the event. I did see at least two fellers who must have been older than my 51 years, and that’s good for them, bless’em. On the other hand, I got cowboy boots older than most of the lads who lined up around me in the ranks, and that’s real good for reenacting.
5. Invisible Yanks and Reb cavalry. Yanks and Rebs checked in at opposite sides of the park. The first time we saw the Federal battalion was as they swarmed up the ravine coming right at us with rifles blazing. We did not fraternize between the battles. We met as opponents on the field and were kept separated the rest of the weekend until after the last shot.
The Reb cavalry sought out the Yanks in the woods and skirmished. Then they withdrew to our defensive line and skirmished again while one in four held the reins of the horses behind the lines. Then they joined us on the flank and fought some more. I saw very few pistols among them and most were armed with infantry longarms.
4. Nineteenth century small-talk and a long dark sentry duty. During our first formation as things got cranked up, we were instructed to try to stay in period in our conversations all weekend. I think everyone tried and early in the weekend I heard a lot of introductions and small talk spoken in nineteenth century first person. But, after a while I heard more and more conversations without pretext of staying in-period. Nonetheless, the focus of most of the talk I heard on the marches and around the campsite was untypical of other reenacting experiences. Sometimes I felt like I was in a moving impromptu Civil War Roundtable seminar. In-period or not, the weekend became a learning time for me.
I got little sleep on Friday night because our company had sentry duty as soon as we arrived at our bivouac site around midnight. For three hours my pard “Yonder” and I stood quietly in the deep dark woods and stared into the shadows watching for movement. We whispered to each other and to the Corporal of the Guard who periodically checked on us. Afterwards, we literally collapsed on the ground and slept for the few hours until dawn fully dressed with arms and accoutrements at hand. The immersion had begun at 10 PM on Friday night and we began the main day already tired, damp, and wondering what was coming next. Contrast that to the typical reenactment as men arrive up until the first “scheduled” battle and the difference is striking.
3. Organizers who also commanded and talked to each other. While I never saw John Cleaveland and other organizers until the very end of the event, it was apparent that the key guys kept in touch throughout the event, despite the heavy woods and distances. Twice during the weekend I saw one of the event organizers who was serving on our Confederate battalion staff move off to the side, pull out a radio and quietly speak to someone. I assume he was coordinating movement with the federal opposition or our cavalry support or the park staff. Whatever they did, it worked. All weekend long things seemed to happen as they had been planned.
2. It really was hallowed ground. I can’t express this clearly enough. It matters when we are allowed to reenact on the same ground as the real battles were fought over. At its best, reenacting reflects a lot of thinking before we arrive at the location of the event. We read and talk and think about what the soldiers went through. Before we ever arrive at the event we have been mentally projecting ourselves into their shoes - their lives. Therefore, it’s logical that when we can march and camp and sleep and shadow-fight on the same turf as they did at the same time of year, we have our best chance to time travel for brief moments. We don’t destroy or desecrate the ground by our play-acting on the very ground where it happened for real, but it makes a tremendous difference in our attitude. I don’t know how many times I saw solitary reenactors wander off just looking at the steep ravines which dominate the park terrain. It didn’t take telepathy to know their thoughts were back in 1864 as they tried to connect with the horror of real battle. You just can’t do that from a rented pasture somewhere ‘close’ to the actual battleground.
1. The Boys of 1864 Just Might Have Appreciated What We Did. I suspect the old vets in heaven haven’t needed to read the comics for the past 35 years. They can just look down at our reenactments when they want a good belly laugh. Except maybe for events like this one.
That’s the end of my article from 2001. One more note: Last year I published a novel about the Sixth Texas Infantry. The book is titled Whittled Away (it’s available on Amazon as a paperback and as a Kindle e-book download) and the battle at Pickett’s Mill is one of the strongest chapters.
Of the many southern soldier anecdotes I found about Pickett’s Mill, one that strikes me came from Captain Samuel Foster, a captain in the 24th Texas Dismounted Cavalry. He wrote in his diary (not a memoir based on a 20 or 30 year old memory, but a diary written at the time) about walking the battle ground the morning after the attack and seeing the many, many fallen Union soldiers, and noted how many were shot in the head with shattered skulls. Then Foster goes on to write:
“They all say the dead are strewn thicker on the ground than at any battle of the war … I feel sick every time I think of those mens brains.
“We were not permitted to sit down and reflect over it, but were ordered forw’d about an hour by sun, just our Reg’t. We advanced cautiously for about a mile through the wood when we saw them again, and opened fire upon them and soon have them on the retreat. …And here in these woods between their breastworks and where they went to fight us yesterday evening, we find three piles of Oil Clothes, piled up like, a big wagon load at each pile. Every man in our Reg’t got one and had several to pick over so he could get a good one….”
I used that anecdote in my novel since gum blankets or oil clothes were so scarce among Granbury’s Brigade. Now I wonder just what that little story really does mean: Had a regiment or more of Union soldiers worn oil clothes or gum blankets rolled over their shoulders as they went forward to attack, only to be ordered to drop them? Or, were they new, having just been delivered and still in piles from being unloaded from wagons? Whatever the cause, it was a big deal to Captain Foster and a treasure trove to his regiment. If anyone has seen any mention of such an event in primary sources from Union soldiers at Pickett’s Mill, I’d love to hear from you.
Phil McBride
Author: Whittled Away
Reb Private: Pickett's Mill 2001
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