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INTRODUCTION - A PROGRESSION
This is the third Liberty Rifles event I have attended in the last two years. Last year was Sailor's Creek, then Prelude to Invasion and this past weekend, it was Warlike Along the Rapidan. I have to say that Warlike topped the other two. The camp was once again outstanding. At Prelude, for the first time, we saw a full complement of handmade Confederate fly tents and wondered how that could be topped. Well, this time, we STARTED with the same fly tents for what looked to be another relaxing weekend sheltered from the elements. That was where the real twist made this year's event better than the last two, but I will get to that shortly.
FRIDAY - READY TO GO
Registration was easy. Parking was more than adequate. Seth Hancock and I made the journey to Virginia together and we arrived around 2:30 PM. Seth gathered some items he had purchased through the event Bully Buys and I picked up the trousers, belt and cap pouch that I borrowed from Mike Clarke. After loitering in the parking lot for a short while, we endeavored to catch the next shuttle to the camp site. We were told that the shuttle ride would be around five miles... which it was. I wondered aloud as we traveled down the road if we were going to walk back on Sunday or be shuttled back. "It would be quite a march." I thought.
Upon arriving at our destination, we sauntered down a grass trail and soon saw the fly tents through a row of trees up ahead. The forecast called for rain this weekend, so the tents were a welcome sight. We quickly set up with our tent mates of Company "H", the Winchester Boomerangs (LOVE the name). We would be commanded for the weekend by our good friend, Andrew Jerram, who was taking the place of another good friend, Tyler Underwood who wasn't able to make the event. Our First Sergeant was Johnny Lloyd who we had worked with several times before. William "Huck" Green would be our cook, so we knew we were in good hands there. Seth and I served as corporals for the weekend and the most difficult part of it was sewing the stripes on our jackets, which we were not used to since we typically portray Yankees. Besides, most of the boys in our company were experienced soldiers who had little need for overbearing care.
After a quick wood detail and getting good and comfortable inside our palatial residence, we were informed that our three tents were in the wrong location and would need to be moved IMMEDIATELY. As in NOW. We did our best disgruntled soldier impression, cursing the "powers that be" who would dare interrupt our late afternoon reverie, but did as told and soon our tents were in the proper position and all was right with the world again.
I kind of missed the first company formation as I was busy "assisting" Guy Musgrove and the teamsters. We talked about old times and old friends and gazed around the camp. Across the field, my company was formed up and I had to decide whether to crash it or stay away. I asked our colonel for a pass back to my company, which was politely declined. Soooo, I sat that one out and slinked back amongst my comrades at its conclusion.
Not long after that, I was summoned to the regimental commissary for a ration detail. Our old friend, and honorary Mess No. 1 member, Mark Susnis was running the commissary, as he does so well and wanted us to weigh the bacon and coffee ration to hand out to each company. We did so, with a period scale. Eight pounds of bacon for each company and two tin cup-fulls of ground coffee.
I laid down to snooze a bit and was rudely awakened as Jordan Ricketts "accidentally" tripped over my slumbering form. Our tent population was now set. Time to get a good night's sleep knowing that if the rains came, we would be lulled back to sleep by the soothing sounds of rain drops hitting the canvas without falling upon us, which is exactly what happened. I don't know what time it was, but I startled awake in the darkness and listened as a light shower passed through our camp. I smiled and rolled over to the other side, snug, warm and dry. THIS was going to be a relaxing weekend for sure.
SATURDAY - DRILL, DRILL, AND MORE DRILL
Saturday morning, Huck dutifully prepared our coffee, which is always welcome and soon, we formed our company and performed some manual of arms. This weekend, we were stacking arms using the "Kentucky Swing", which was great because the first two years or so of my living history "career" that is what we did. Even better, I was the front rank two, so I had the chance to practice my art. Very satisfying to properly swing that third rifle through to the front. I always like the swing. So smooth. After finishing our company drill, the rumors started to circulate that we might be moving at some point today. Participating in this exercise of speculation is a very period thing and I thought all of us did it quite well throughout the day. I may have even started some rumors myself. ;)
Not long after our manual-of-arms exercise, we broke into two platoons and practiced elementary movements. Right-face, left-face, wheels, stack arms, etc... etc. Gotta say that I have done my share of drill over the years. The last two years, I have probably done more drill at LR events than I have at all over events combined over that same period. You boys like your drill. Good thing. Lots of young faces at this event. Also a good thing.
After an all-too-brief period of "down time", we were back at it again. This time, it was drilling the entire battalion and thankfully, in our shirt sleeves in what was now a very hot day with the sun beating down on us. Now, as I said before, I generally know my drill. Done it in fourteen different states, three different theaters of war, portraying many different regiments... Hardees, Casey's and yes, even Scott's. But by gawd the LR's have mastered three sentence commands. You always know when the officers have dug deep into the manual when every command contains three sentences. And let's face it, most privates, if not most NCO's have an attention span of about a sentence or so when it comes to commands, but ya know, once we did it once I felt like the whole battalion nailed it. We move to-and-fro through the tall grass. Solid, straight lines. Sharp wheels. Company "H" was stellar. Seth and I were middle corporals and very little direction was necessary. It was clear that ALL of the companies came with their "A" game this weekend. And that... is where the sneezing began.
In what we then dubbed "Hay Fever Field", we were kicking up the pollen pretty good. You could literally see it floating through the air. At stops, it seemed as if half of the regiment was sneezing, blowing out or sucking down mucus and just generally in a miserable way. Never heard so much commotion in all of my years of living history. A few of the boys in our company were laughing so hard, I caught a giggle as well, and that is when the little itch started inside my nose. I soon joined the ranks of the sneezers and mucus-bearers. A good farmer blow cleared me out pretty good, but the cacophonous roar of the sneeze continued in Hay Fever Field for the remainder of the exercise.
We retired back to camp again. This time in a full-on, drenched down to the drawers sweat. The shade of the tent beckoned me inside. The open ends on either end offered a slight breeze. It was impossible not to doze off again... in our nice, comfortable abode. Ahhhhh.
I awoke to the sound of "fall-in" as the boys of Company "H" put on their traps to go out for another round of battalion drill. As before, the commands were each volumes of words unto themselves. I don't remember the exact commands, but for those of you who were not there, or not used to the more obscure or seldom-heard variety, it goes something like this, "on the left of columns to form companies to the right of the middle company into line, after the last company, march!" It's an exaggeration of course, but to those of us not among the echelon of well-bred and superior officers, that's about what it sounds like.
Once again, Hay Fever Field took its toll of casualties. Some of the fellows were gasping, hacking, coughing again, but we once again acquitted ourselves very well. After several iterations, Mr. Clarke was somewhat satisfied and said we would do it one more time, just to make sure we got it. After several more "one-times", we had it down. This pattern was repeated several times until it felt like we could do this stuff in the dark... if we had to...
Clouds were starting to roll in a bit at this point. Nothing ominous, but the hot sun was slowly being replaced by a cooler temperature with a nice breeze, so Seth and I decided to wander around the camp a bit to visit and find out if the rumors were true that we were going to move out soon. Certainly, they wouldn't take us away from our wonderfully-comfortable canvas barracks, right? After many inquiries, including a stop with the Liberty Rifles themselves, it was obvious that no one was going to give up the ghost. Whether we were going to move or not remained a mystery to us lowly soldiers.
Well, that changed at parade a little later on. This time, we went out in light marching order, looking smart in our matching jackets and variety of trousers. As a guy who typically does Federal, this wasn't too far off. I always say that every time I do Confederate, I feel like I woke up in the wrong camp. Not so much this weekend with the variety of blue and blue-gray Richmond Depot jackets, but I digress. Why talk gear when we need to get to the nub of the business at-hand?
Mr. Schneider read our orders and at long last, our destination was known. We would be breaking down our tents - our glorious, tents and horror of all horrors, we would be cutting some of them into squares! The camp came alive with activity as stakes were pulled, frames came down and canvas was folded with cookware in the middle. Each bundle was marked with charcoal from the fire and we hastened to take them to the wagons where they would apparently accompany us on our journey. Where, we weren't quite sure, but our camp was no more. When we were finished it looked like the sad remains of a once-thriving community. We didn't have long to mourn the loss of our adopted home. As dusk fell, we formed up and moved out - clouds blocking the light of the stars and the moon as the breeze began to pick up a bit. A nice night for a march!
SATURDAY NIGHT - MOVING OUT
We moved as if Satan himself was at our heels. In a column of fours, we clambered over the rutted, dirt road. Every man with an occasional stumble and several with a trip or fall. We were either rushing toward or away from something. For those of us in the rank-and-file, we couldn't be sure which.
By our estimation, we arrived about two miles down the road at what was either our destination, or just a respite before continuing the march. To our surprise, a wagon was awaiting us and we were issued hardtack. I took a few pieces and fell back into line. We weren't there long. "Something is up ahead", I thought. "Wait, was that a rain drop?"
Well, as with most things over this weekend, I was dead wrong. Instead of moving forward, we turned and marched right back the direction we had just traversed. "Certainly, this is a mistake" I muttered out loud. Either we were lost, or the officers had gone stark raving mad. We weren't sure which.
This time, we went into a column of twos, which was much more manageable because we could each be in a rut on either side of the rise in the middle of the road. We moved just a little slower than we had when going the other direction until we arrived in... holy crap, it's Hay Fever Field!
All you could see were the black outlines of what looked like groups of soldiers, or maybe it was a tree line? We moved out into the field and somehow found the end of the line where we were supposed to be. I guess all of that drill paid off, almost like they planned this... hmmm. "Was that a rain drop?"
We stacked arms in the dark and waited to see what was going to happen. Would we stay here? Were there Yankees out in front of us? Were we going on picket? Captain Jerram came over to our group and proudly exclaimed that we would be kept in reserve for the time-being and were free to rest. Ah, now THAT was the order we had been waiting for since the sun went down. Certainly we would get a good night's rest now as it had cooled considerably and we were flat worn-out. We laid down right at the foot of the stacks. Seth and I shared a groundcloth and dutifully covered ourselves with our gum blankets just in case it rained. I made the decision to sleep on top of the blanket I had borrowed from Ken Cornett. Seth put his inside his knapsack. A minor decision at that point, but an important one later.
I don't know how long we slept, but eventually, I was awakened by a soft rain falling on my gum blanket. All of my gear was underneath my gum and I was curled up with all corners down. The rain fell harmlessly off of me and I smiled and fell back asleep, comforted with the knowledge that I was well-prepared for the night.
For those who were there, you know what happened next. I think it was around midnight when I was roused by a loud noise. Large rain drops were now falling, slowly at first, but definitely at a steadier pace than earlier, and then, the skies just plain opened up on us. It was as if a giant had poured a bucket on the entire regiment. The sound of the drops hitting my gum blanket was deafening. Eventually, they started splashing THROUGH the microscopic holes in the vulcanized rubber. Tiny droplets hit the side of my face, BUT I was still dry! I could hear the muffled anguish all around me. Every known curse was uttered. Misery abounded. Dry inside my cocoon, I began to giggle and couldn't stop. We were absolutely stuck. Our cars were miles away. There was no escape!
It was right about that moment that I felt a cold sensation start at my shoulder and continue down the left side of my body, which is the side I was sleeping on at the time the deluge began. Very quickly that entire side was saturated. And, goddamit, I was sleeping ON TOP of the blanket I had borrowed, which was now, quite certainly UNDER WATER! I don't know if the squall lasted five minutes, ten minutes or a half hour, but when it was done, it had wreaked its havoc. We were all, irrevocably soaked.
Slowly, all of us stood up to survey the damage. More curses were uttered. Some were despondent. Some were upset or chagrined and some were just plain mad. Fortunately, some industrious fellows got fires going, using some hay intended for the horses, I guess. There were three fires with a couple of dozen around each fire. Things were getting back into order, at least as much as they could. We DUMPED out the water from our ground cloth and then Stephen Pavey helped me WRING OUT Ken's blanket. Everyone stood around the fires and attempted to get their things dry. This went on for maybe an hour or more until Seth and I determined that we were going back to sleep, wet or not. We laid down on our still-soaked groundcloth, and I put the wet blanket over me with the wetter gum blanket on top. After a few minutes of cool wetness, everything at least transitioned to a warm wetness and we fell asleep.
SUNDAY MORNING - LET'S GO!
Suddenly, we were awakened by the sounds of shouting. "We are moving out!" "Get up!" The shock of suddenly waking up was only surpassed by the feeling of wetness that remained. As we packed up our things, it was obvious that it was going to weigh roughly twice as much as it did the night before. Lovely. Just lovely. Captain Jerram informed us that we were headed out. There was a hard rain coming at around 7:00 AM and they wanted to get everyone on their way home. A very, very good call by the organizers in my opinion. I don't know what was planned for the morning, but I do know that everyone to a man agreed that it was time to skedaddle.
OK, here is the last little surprise. All the while, we were TWO FIELDS away from our cars! The five miles we traveled on the shuttle were simply a mirage. Apparently, we went in a circle. Brilliant! Absolutely, freakin' BRILLIANT! As an event organizer and frequent participant at EBUFU events, one of my pet peeves in recent years has been the tendency for events to end on Saturday night. The fact that they made the decision to keep us overnight to Sunday was the right decision, rainstorm or not. We all stuck it out. Maybe we would have anyway, but thinking that our cars were miles away did the trick and hell, the best memories are made with moments like that storm. Whenever we all get rained on again, the new bar for being soaked will be Warlike.
When we arrived back at the parking area, the LR's gave an abbreviated speech and basically told us to get the hell out of there, to which we happily obliged, because the rain had started again and would continue in the area for the next few hours. By 8:00 AM, Seth and I had checked into the Courtyard Marriot in Fredericksburg and after a shower and littering our room with wet gear, we were able to enjoy the view of the rain along the Rappahannock River as we sat comfortably inside, drank coffee and wolfed down an excellent brunch.
CONCLUSION
Warlike Along the Rapidan was an excellent event. As with each of the LR events I have personally attended, it was well-planned and obviously based very accurately on the history. They took great pains to recreate everything - the wagons, tents, camp set-ups, stretchers, ambulance corps, camp layout, schedule, and rations, everything that you could imagine an EBUFU event to be. All of this was first-rate.
The scenario was also very well-conceived. As someone who has written and researched for events, I know that it sounds easy to just write down what happened, but it is about finding the details and executing those details where great events are made and this is truly the case for Warlike. On top of that, they kept the scenario under wraps and that kept us on our toes all weekend. I will confess that when I am an attendee at an event, I often intentionally read everything that is put out up to the point that the event begins. I try to get the background, but don't want to know exactly what is going to happen, because let's face it, the originals didn't know either. Most times, all they knew were rumors, half-truths and whatever was right in front of them. So, in my opinion, the scenario was also excellent. They took something that is really pretty simple on paper and maximized the experience.
OK, I have to say something at least constructively critical, right? Only one thing. Just one. I think the pre-event correspondence could have been reduced by about half. Between FB messages, e-mails, text messages, etc, it got a little overwhelming leading up to the event, especially when I was busy at work and my phone is going off as my boss wonders if it is business related, or "that Civil War" stuff. I fully-realize that a TON of preparation was done and it was certainly disseminated, but less is more sometimes and this is probably the case on this point. So, in terms of overall preparation - A+++++. But, just remember that we all have real lives too, k?
Overall, Warlike Along the Rapidan was just outstanding. I don't hesitate to say that the Liberty Rifles have certainly made a huge impact to the EBUFU Event schedule over the last couple of years. Between the LR's and all of the events the Independent Rifles have done recently, there is a solid foundation. Additionally, many others have stepped up with some regional efforts that show promise for bigger things to come.
And lastly, I would be remiss if I didn't say that that Mess No. 1 and the Governor Guards will do our damnest to finish off this year with a bang. 2019 is really turning into a great year for all of us in the Authentic Community. I am somewhat concerned that 2020 can top it. Please prove me wrong and contact me to let me know what is happening for next year and the AC will once again trumpet your events to the fullest extent possible. Let’s continue our momentum and kick ass and grow!
INTRODUCTION - A PROGRESSION
This is the third Liberty Rifles event I have attended in the last two years. Last year was Sailor's Creek, then Prelude to Invasion and this past weekend, it was Warlike Along the Rapidan. I have to say that Warlike topped the other two. The camp was once again outstanding. At Prelude, for the first time, we saw a full complement of handmade Confederate fly tents and wondered how that could be topped. Well, this time, we STARTED with the same fly tents for what looked to be another relaxing weekend sheltered from the elements. That was where the real twist made this year's event better than the last two, but I will get to that shortly.
FRIDAY - READY TO GO
Registration was easy. Parking was more than adequate. Seth Hancock and I made the journey to Virginia together and we arrived around 2:30 PM. Seth gathered some items he had purchased through the event Bully Buys and I picked up the trousers, belt and cap pouch that I borrowed from Mike Clarke. After loitering in the parking lot for a short while, we endeavored to catch the next shuttle to the camp site. We were told that the shuttle ride would be around five miles... which it was. I wondered aloud as we traveled down the road if we were going to walk back on Sunday or be shuttled back. "It would be quite a march." I thought.
Upon arriving at our destination, we sauntered down a grass trail and soon saw the fly tents through a row of trees up ahead. The forecast called for rain this weekend, so the tents were a welcome sight. We quickly set up with our tent mates of Company "H", the Winchester Boomerangs (LOVE the name). We would be commanded for the weekend by our good friend, Andrew Jerram, who was taking the place of another good friend, Tyler Underwood who wasn't able to make the event. Our First Sergeant was Johnny Lloyd who we had worked with several times before. William "Huck" Green would be our cook, so we knew we were in good hands there. Seth and I served as corporals for the weekend and the most difficult part of it was sewing the stripes on our jackets, which we were not used to since we typically portray Yankees. Besides, most of the boys in our company were experienced soldiers who had little need for overbearing care.
After a quick wood detail and getting good and comfortable inside our palatial residence, we were informed that our three tents were in the wrong location and would need to be moved IMMEDIATELY. As in NOW. We did our best disgruntled soldier impression, cursing the "powers that be" who would dare interrupt our late afternoon reverie, but did as told and soon our tents were in the proper position and all was right with the world again.
I kind of missed the first company formation as I was busy "assisting" Guy Musgrove and the teamsters. We talked about old times and old friends and gazed around the camp. Across the field, my company was formed up and I had to decide whether to crash it or stay away. I asked our colonel for a pass back to my company, which was politely declined. Soooo, I sat that one out and slinked back amongst my comrades at its conclusion.
Not long after that, I was summoned to the regimental commissary for a ration detail. Our old friend, and honorary Mess No. 1 member, Mark Susnis was running the commissary, as he does so well and wanted us to weigh the bacon and coffee ration to hand out to each company. We did so, with a period scale. Eight pounds of bacon for each company and two tin cup-fulls of ground coffee.
I laid down to snooze a bit and was rudely awakened as Jordan Ricketts "accidentally" tripped over my slumbering form. Our tent population was now set. Time to get a good night's sleep knowing that if the rains came, we would be lulled back to sleep by the soothing sounds of rain drops hitting the canvas without falling upon us, which is exactly what happened. I don't know what time it was, but I startled awake in the darkness and listened as a light shower passed through our camp. I smiled and rolled over to the other side, snug, warm and dry. THIS was going to be a relaxing weekend for sure.
SATURDAY - DRILL, DRILL, AND MORE DRILL
Saturday morning, Huck dutifully prepared our coffee, which is always welcome and soon, we formed our company and performed some manual of arms. This weekend, we were stacking arms using the "Kentucky Swing", which was great because the first two years or so of my living history "career" that is what we did. Even better, I was the front rank two, so I had the chance to practice my art. Very satisfying to properly swing that third rifle through to the front. I always like the swing. So smooth. After finishing our company drill, the rumors started to circulate that we might be moving at some point today. Participating in this exercise of speculation is a very period thing and I thought all of us did it quite well throughout the day. I may have even started some rumors myself. ;)
Not long after our manual-of-arms exercise, we broke into two platoons and practiced elementary movements. Right-face, left-face, wheels, stack arms, etc... etc. Gotta say that I have done my share of drill over the years. The last two years, I have probably done more drill at LR events than I have at all over events combined over that same period. You boys like your drill. Good thing. Lots of young faces at this event. Also a good thing.
After an all-too-brief period of "down time", we were back at it again. This time, it was drilling the entire battalion and thankfully, in our shirt sleeves in what was now a very hot day with the sun beating down on us. Now, as I said before, I generally know my drill. Done it in fourteen different states, three different theaters of war, portraying many different regiments... Hardees, Casey's and yes, even Scott's. But by gawd the LR's have mastered three sentence commands. You always know when the officers have dug deep into the manual when every command contains three sentences. And let's face it, most privates, if not most NCO's have an attention span of about a sentence or so when it comes to commands, but ya know, once we did it once I felt like the whole battalion nailed it. We move to-and-fro through the tall grass. Solid, straight lines. Sharp wheels. Company "H" was stellar. Seth and I were middle corporals and very little direction was necessary. It was clear that ALL of the companies came with their "A" game this weekend. And that... is where the sneezing began.
In what we then dubbed "Hay Fever Field", we were kicking up the pollen pretty good. You could literally see it floating through the air. At stops, it seemed as if half of the regiment was sneezing, blowing out or sucking down mucus and just generally in a miserable way. Never heard so much commotion in all of my years of living history. A few of the boys in our company were laughing so hard, I caught a giggle as well, and that is when the little itch started inside my nose. I soon joined the ranks of the sneezers and mucus-bearers. A good farmer blow cleared me out pretty good, but the cacophonous roar of the sneeze continued in Hay Fever Field for the remainder of the exercise.
We retired back to camp again. This time in a full-on, drenched down to the drawers sweat. The shade of the tent beckoned me inside. The open ends on either end offered a slight breeze. It was impossible not to doze off again... in our nice, comfortable abode. Ahhhhh.
I awoke to the sound of "fall-in" as the boys of Company "H" put on their traps to go out for another round of battalion drill. As before, the commands were each volumes of words unto themselves. I don't remember the exact commands, but for those of you who were not there, or not used to the more obscure or seldom-heard variety, it goes something like this, "on the left of columns to form companies to the right of the middle company into line, after the last company, march!" It's an exaggeration of course, but to those of us not among the echelon of well-bred and superior officers, that's about what it sounds like.
Once again, Hay Fever Field took its toll of casualties. Some of the fellows were gasping, hacking, coughing again, but we once again acquitted ourselves very well. After several iterations, Mr. Clarke was somewhat satisfied and said we would do it one more time, just to make sure we got it. After several more "one-times", we had it down. This pattern was repeated several times until it felt like we could do this stuff in the dark... if we had to...
Clouds were starting to roll in a bit at this point. Nothing ominous, but the hot sun was slowly being replaced by a cooler temperature with a nice breeze, so Seth and I decided to wander around the camp a bit to visit and find out if the rumors were true that we were going to move out soon. Certainly, they wouldn't take us away from our wonderfully-comfortable canvas barracks, right? After many inquiries, including a stop with the Liberty Rifles themselves, it was obvious that no one was going to give up the ghost. Whether we were going to move or not remained a mystery to us lowly soldiers.
Well, that changed at parade a little later on. This time, we went out in light marching order, looking smart in our matching jackets and variety of trousers. As a guy who typically does Federal, this wasn't too far off. I always say that every time I do Confederate, I feel like I woke up in the wrong camp. Not so much this weekend with the variety of blue and blue-gray Richmond Depot jackets, but I digress. Why talk gear when we need to get to the nub of the business at-hand?
Mr. Schneider read our orders and at long last, our destination was known. We would be breaking down our tents - our glorious, tents and horror of all horrors, we would be cutting some of them into squares! The camp came alive with activity as stakes were pulled, frames came down and canvas was folded with cookware in the middle. Each bundle was marked with charcoal from the fire and we hastened to take them to the wagons where they would apparently accompany us on our journey. Where, we weren't quite sure, but our camp was no more. When we were finished it looked like the sad remains of a once-thriving community. We didn't have long to mourn the loss of our adopted home. As dusk fell, we formed up and moved out - clouds blocking the light of the stars and the moon as the breeze began to pick up a bit. A nice night for a march!
SATURDAY NIGHT - MOVING OUT
We moved as if Satan himself was at our heels. In a column of fours, we clambered over the rutted, dirt road. Every man with an occasional stumble and several with a trip or fall. We were either rushing toward or away from something. For those of us in the rank-and-file, we couldn't be sure which.
By our estimation, we arrived about two miles down the road at what was either our destination, or just a respite before continuing the march. To our surprise, a wagon was awaiting us and we were issued hardtack. I took a few pieces and fell back into line. We weren't there long. "Something is up ahead", I thought. "Wait, was that a rain drop?"
Well, as with most things over this weekend, I was dead wrong. Instead of moving forward, we turned and marched right back the direction we had just traversed. "Certainly, this is a mistake" I muttered out loud. Either we were lost, or the officers had gone stark raving mad. We weren't sure which.
This time, we went into a column of twos, which was much more manageable because we could each be in a rut on either side of the rise in the middle of the road. We moved just a little slower than we had when going the other direction until we arrived in... holy crap, it's Hay Fever Field!
All you could see were the black outlines of what looked like groups of soldiers, or maybe it was a tree line? We moved out into the field and somehow found the end of the line where we were supposed to be. I guess all of that drill paid off, almost like they planned this... hmmm. "Was that a rain drop?"
We stacked arms in the dark and waited to see what was going to happen. Would we stay here? Were there Yankees out in front of us? Were we going on picket? Captain Jerram came over to our group and proudly exclaimed that we would be kept in reserve for the time-being and were free to rest. Ah, now THAT was the order we had been waiting for since the sun went down. Certainly we would get a good night's rest now as it had cooled considerably and we were flat worn-out. We laid down right at the foot of the stacks. Seth and I shared a groundcloth and dutifully covered ourselves with our gum blankets just in case it rained. I made the decision to sleep on top of the blanket I had borrowed from Ken Cornett. Seth put his inside his knapsack. A minor decision at that point, but an important one later.
I don't know how long we slept, but eventually, I was awakened by a soft rain falling on my gum blanket. All of my gear was underneath my gum and I was curled up with all corners down. The rain fell harmlessly off of me and I smiled and fell back asleep, comforted with the knowledge that I was well-prepared for the night.
For those who were there, you know what happened next. I think it was around midnight when I was roused by a loud noise. Large rain drops were now falling, slowly at first, but definitely at a steadier pace than earlier, and then, the skies just plain opened up on us. It was as if a giant had poured a bucket on the entire regiment. The sound of the drops hitting my gum blanket was deafening. Eventually, they started splashing THROUGH the microscopic holes in the vulcanized rubber. Tiny droplets hit the side of my face, BUT I was still dry! I could hear the muffled anguish all around me. Every known curse was uttered. Misery abounded. Dry inside my cocoon, I began to giggle and couldn't stop. We were absolutely stuck. Our cars were miles away. There was no escape!
It was right about that moment that I felt a cold sensation start at my shoulder and continue down the left side of my body, which is the side I was sleeping on at the time the deluge began. Very quickly that entire side was saturated. And, goddamit, I was sleeping ON TOP of the blanket I had borrowed, which was now, quite certainly UNDER WATER! I don't know if the squall lasted five minutes, ten minutes or a half hour, but when it was done, it had wreaked its havoc. We were all, irrevocably soaked.
Slowly, all of us stood up to survey the damage. More curses were uttered. Some were despondent. Some were upset or chagrined and some were just plain mad. Fortunately, some industrious fellows got fires going, using some hay intended for the horses, I guess. There were three fires with a couple of dozen around each fire. Things were getting back into order, at least as much as they could. We DUMPED out the water from our ground cloth and then Stephen Pavey helped me WRING OUT Ken's blanket. Everyone stood around the fires and attempted to get their things dry. This went on for maybe an hour or more until Seth and I determined that we were going back to sleep, wet or not. We laid down on our still-soaked groundcloth, and I put the wet blanket over me with the wetter gum blanket on top. After a few minutes of cool wetness, everything at least transitioned to a warm wetness and we fell asleep.
SUNDAY MORNING - LET'S GO!
Suddenly, we were awakened by the sounds of shouting. "We are moving out!" "Get up!" The shock of suddenly waking up was only surpassed by the feeling of wetness that remained. As we packed up our things, it was obvious that it was going to weigh roughly twice as much as it did the night before. Lovely. Just lovely. Captain Jerram informed us that we were headed out. There was a hard rain coming at around 7:00 AM and they wanted to get everyone on their way home. A very, very good call by the organizers in my opinion. I don't know what was planned for the morning, but I do know that everyone to a man agreed that it was time to skedaddle.
OK, here is the last little surprise. All the while, we were TWO FIELDS away from our cars! The five miles we traveled on the shuttle were simply a mirage. Apparently, we went in a circle. Brilliant! Absolutely, freakin' BRILLIANT! As an event organizer and frequent participant at EBUFU events, one of my pet peeves in recent years has been the tendency for events to end on Saturday night. The fact that they made the decision to keep us overnight to Sunday was the right decision, rainstorm or not. We all stuck it out. Maybe we would have anyway, but thinking that our cars were miles away did the trick and hell, the best memories are made with moments like that storm. Whenever we all get rained on again, the new bar for being soaked will be Warlike.
When we arrived back at the parking area, the LR's gave an abbreviated speech and basically told us to get the hell out of there, to which we happily obliged, because the rain had started again and would continue in the area for the next few hours. By 8:00 AM, Seth and I had checked into the Courtyard Marriot in Fredericksburg and after a shower and littering our room with wet gear, we were able to enjoy the view of the rain along the Rappahannock River as we sat comfortably inside, drank coffee and wolfed down an excellent brunch.
CONCLUSION
Warlike Along the Rapidan was an excellent event. As with each of the LR events I have personally attended, it was well-planned and obviously based very accurately on the history. They took great pains to recreate everything - the wagons, tents, camp set-ups, stretchers, ambulance corps, camp layout, schedule, and rations, everything that you could imagine an EBUFU event to be. All of this was first-rate.
The scenario was also very well-conceived. As someone who has written and researched for events, I know that it sounds easy to just write down what happened, but it is about finding the details and executing those details where great events are made and this is truly the case for Warlike. On top of that, they kept the scenario under wraps and that kept us on our toes all weekend. I will confess that when I am an attendee at an event, I often intentionally read everything that is put out up to the point that the event begins. I try to get the background, but don't want to know exactly what is going to happen, because let's face it, the originals didn't know either. Most times, all they knew were rumors, half-truths and whatever was right in front of them. So, in my opinion, the scenario was also excellent. They took something that is really pretty simple on paper and maximized the experience.
OK, I have to say something at least constructively critical, right? Only one thing. Just one. I think the pre-event correspondence could have been reduced by about half. Between FB messages, e-mails, text messages, etc, it got a little overwhelming leading up to the event, especially when I was busy at work and my phone is going off as my boss wonders if it is business related, or "that Civil War" stuff. I fully-realize that a TON of preparation was done and it was certainly disseminated, but less is more sometimes and this is probably the case on this point. So, in terms of overall preparation - A+++++. But, just remember that we all have real lives too, k?
Overall, Warlike Along the Rapidan was just outstanding. I don't hesitate to say that the Liberty Rifles have certainly made a huge impact to the EBUFU Event schedule over the last couple of years. Between the LR's and all of the events the Independent Rifles have done recently, there is a solid foundation. Additionally, many others have stepped up with some regional efforts that show promise for bigger things to come.
And lastly, I would be remiss if I didn't say that that Mess No. 1 and the Governor Guards will do our damnest to finish off this year with a bang. 2019 is really turning into a great year for all of us in the Authentic Community. I am somewhat concerned that 2020 can top it. Please prove me wrong and contact me to let me know what is happening for next year and the AC will once again trumpet your events to the fullest extent possible. Let’s continue our momentum and kick ass and grow!
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