I can barely breath: the air is that thick with gunsmoke. Ahead of me, I can see lines of blue, vanishing into the thick fog, a few metres in front. I can still hear their guns and cannons, but they are of little concern to us right now. Men are streaming in from all directions, all headed in the same direction - away. I glance around, looking desperately for those who but a few minutes ago I was in the lines with. Out of the fog, I spot a couple of officers from my company. I head towards them. We've eased off our retreat now, and despite the chaos people are rapidly trying to re-establish order. Units are being called together, reformed, and begin moving forward. More soldiers have rejoined my company, and before long we're advancing back into the low-hanging fog and smoke, eyes and lungs hurting from the powder in the air, but determined to push the Confederates back.

Every event has its moment, that instance where the artificiality of the hobby disappears and, bewilderingly, what is happening becomes real. The confusion of the Union rout during the early morning battle at the 150th Shiloh, of seeing endless streams of men disorderly running through impenetrable cloud, was one of those moments. I genuinely did not know if I had would ever find my company again, if we would ever stop running, if we would ever reassemble and re-attack, if the Confederates would continue to advance through the mist.

We had been up since before dawn. The bugle calls had been waking up each company in turn, and we had long been sipping our coffee and gnawing our hardtack when the distinctive notes of our prelude followed by the sound of 'reveille' were sounding out across our camp. Forming up in the dark, we began a long march across the site, passing other units making their advance, until, as the first faint gleams of daylight became visible we were lined up, facing the fog. The order came to build barricades - the officers must have wanted to keep the troops occupied. We started heaving branches, logs, and occasionally whole saplings, from a small copse and soon had a lengthy makeshift barrier between us and the as-yet-unseen enemy. To our right, we could hear cannons and musket fire, interspersed with distant voices calling orders. We knelt down and waited.

Sudden flashes of fire penetrated the thick morning fog. We rose and start firing. The flashes become more frequent, and from the white appeared the recognisable silhouettes of an entire line of infantry. We were ordered to resume kneeling. After a few moments, the light changed and our attackers vanished, only to remateralise in the same position, but with far more, a few moments later. We only ever saw their shadows, and were firing into nothing but fog and low-hanging gun smoke. Time slowed down as we went through the familiar procedures for loading and firing, sometimes by company, sometimes by file, sometimes because we felt we had little choice. Glancing to my right, I could dimly make out lines of Unionmen carrying out similar routines, lines which disappeared off into the mist, with only a musket flash or cannon flare to indicate their positions.

And then, suddenly, we broke. Whether it was a the result of an order, or just a feeling amongst the men that we had displayed the most defiance we could muster and it was time to leave, I can not remember. All I can picture is thousands of blue-clad men running into the thick white mists.

***


The Saturday morning battle was our second engagement that weekend. In the morning drizzle of the Friday, we had marched out of the site to join a long column of Union soldiers parading down the road to meet the Rebels at the site of the Fallen Timbers affair (which had taken place after Shiloh, and was about to be donated to the National Park Service, making it the first and last battle re-enactment to be held on that site). As the various Union regiments were forming up in column of companies, and we were marching to our position, I heard an officer call out 'hello Kern'. Recognising the voice as a friend from Gettysburg, I cheerily raised my hat, replying 'good to see you, sir'. I remember the battle itself being quite confused, and extremely damp, but the march there and back, being part of a seemingly-endless line of blue, more than made up for it. It helped that my pards and I had already traversed that route the day before, for as we were staying about three miles from the site, we had marched to the event in full kit (and would march that way on our triumphant return).



The first main, public battle was held on the Saturday afternoon, and was supposed to represent both the fighting at the Peach Orchard and the affair at the Hornet's Nest. Over 100 artillery pieces were lined up to represent Ruggle's battery, and it was impressive to hear them all going off in sequence. I use the word 'hear' because our regiment were right at the end of the Union line in the Peach Orchard, and held in a small gully so we had little view of the main events. We were, of course, distracted by the activities of the rebels facing us, once they eventually arrived. When the time came for me to take a hit (I was already burning through my powder at a faster than expected rate, and still had more battles to fight), I did have a great view of a cavalry battle, featuring far more horsemen then we're ever likely to get over here.

Although the battle lasted for about two hours, I had taken a hit about an hour into it, and several of us crept our way back to our camp. Despite missing out on participating in the centre of the action, I'm very glad I was able to finally watch a re-enactment after all these years. Seeing the long lines of Confederates advance and ensnare the men trapped in the Hornet's Nest was a great thing to have witnessed. But just when that part of the battle was over, in the distance I could see a long line of fresh men, bayonets glinting in the sunlight, march towards the Union encampment. The men of the 15th Iowa had completed their steamboat trip and after marching through the actual Shiloh battlefield had made it to the event. It was the first time I'd ever seen a full-size regiment, and watching each company march past our camp, all wearing full gear and looking extremely authentic, was deeply impressive.



The battle over, various regiments began marching off the field - some keeping in excellent order, others behaving more like the tired and defeated mob they were. Slowly crossing the field, heading our direction, was the recognisable shape of our company's sergeant, alone and devoid of any men to command, suggesting our defeat had been greater than we could have imagined.

Muskets were cleaned, food was cooked, and my little mess headed up to the sutlers to watch the formal ball. After being ordered by the sergeant to ask a girl to dance, I plucked up the courage and enjoyed a fast gallop with a charming lady from Nashville but spent most of the time trying to avoid tripping over the large hoop skirts that were being worn. I soon returned to just watching, before spotting some old friends and chatting to them instead.

One member of our mess suggested we head over to the civilian area. We had been repeatedly warned that this was not a place for soldiers, so after removing our jackets and brass we sneaked around the back, and entered the large saloon tent. Four dollars got us a lemonade each, and after signing the visitors' book and being shown a magic trick by a rather merry civilian, we settled down and drank in the atmosphere. Everyone present - civilians and military - was having a good time and it was one of the highlights of the event for me.

Sunday came, and after taking a trip to the sutlers to collect our tintypes from the photographer, we formed up for the last battle. Our regiment was placed near the end of the Union line, and as we marched past the long snaking ranks of the Union regiments, taking up the whole of the width of the field, rising and falling with the gradients, it seemed like we were never going to reach our allocated spot. We must have numbered over 2,000 men (total numbers at the event were 6,200 re-enactors, with about 2,500 of them being Union). Looking out over the lines we had just passed I determined to remember the scene perfectly, for no camera could do it justice. To our right were some of the 15th Iowa, and it was a pleasure to fight alongside them during the heated battle that ensued. With the rebels defeated, we marched back to camp and were addressed by our colonel for the last time before being dismissed.

Canteens filled, and our farewells made, the four of us, led by our trusty sergeant, marched off the field, across Fallen Timbers, through the woods, and back up to the house and the 21st Century. A perfect and appropriate way to end a fascinating and fun four days.



I would like to thank the officers and men of the Western Federal Blues for being such an excellent group of re-enactors to fall in with.

My photos are on sinister Facebook here (registration possibly not required)

There are some great ones on this page, including some of the special troop train that ran from Kansas City, Missouri, to Memphis, Tennessee before the event.

A pretty awesome shot of the men of the 15th Iowa is on Flickr

That tintype is awesome

Do you take your own muskets etc. abroad or do they provide equipment for you? If the former, do you have much trouble with customs at either end?

*Chokes on jealousy*

Great stuff Kern! Did you display extrahordinarhy viggah?

Thanks. We had another one done too, with two seated and two standing (see sinister Facebook). It's pretty cool when after posing for what seems like forever the photographer takes the plate out, drops it into a mysterious liquid and your image appears.



To avoid faff, I was using my yank friend's spare, and the other two were leant muskets by the group we were with. I have heard of people who have taken their own to events in the US, but normally it seems that the airlines will have the lost the notifications and arrangements that had been set up etc. Apparently they have fewer problems at the US end.

Most groups are willing to loan kit when needed, but I had taken all my stuff with me.

You do realise I'm going to be casually dropping it in the conversation at every possible opportunity during the next few Soskan events I attend, don't you?



Aye! We licked 'em.

That looks thoroughly splendid all round. The tintype looks fabbo - what are the chances of an historian finding it in 100 years and getting it mixed up with a real one?




Is a US regiment what we'd call a battalion? That must have been quite a sight.

I was once talking with my yank friend about his great-great grandfather who had been in a New York regiment. After showing me some records of his service from the National Archives, and his GAR (Grand Army of the Republic, the main veteran's organisation) pin, he pulled out a tintype of a young Union soldier and asked if I could 'see the family resemblance'. I agreed. A while later, my friend admitted that it was him in the picture, not his ancestor.



On paper at least, a Union regiment would have been composed of 1000 men in ten companies of a hundred men each (82 privates, 13 NCOs, and 5 officers). But in reality they would never reach that number. I can never remember the difference between a battalion and a regiment, but I think it relates to the former being fewer than 10 companies. So, yes, at the event it was quite something to witness.

Incidentaly, here's the other tintype we had done:

Found this photo online. I think this is my unit charging forward. Looks like the 15th Iowa moving to position whilst some of my unit's officers look on. Gives you an idea of the scale of the event.

Likewise. I grew up just as the famous PBS documentary about the Civil War came to air, and since then it's fascinated me. The cartoon nature of (Les Tuniques Bleus) North And South didn't bother me in the least... this was my chance to re-enact the fantastic battles I'd read and heard about. The silly knife-throwing fort sieges and train robberies seemed, to me 11 year old self, entirely appropriate to the air of classical heroism our ten year old selves imagined.

I suppose from a historical perspective it's placed just right: recognizable factions (industrial north vs agricultural south) set in the time of the Wild West and with enough recognizable figures (Lincoln!) and technology (railroads! telegraph! automatic weapons) to be the start of a mesmerizing area of combat that ended at the end of World War 1. It's something that the stuff we learned about in school (the War of 1812) beats in romanticism but can't match in sheer mystique.

I can feel my heart stirring just imagining the cannons boom and the bugles order a charge, as you raise your rifle, bayonet fixed, and charge, screaming, at the enemy across the soft grass.

Thanks for sharing it with us. You lucky SOB.

Aye - it sometimes feels really distant and yet at other times surprisingly close. The technology is recognisable, especially the use of railways, telegraph, and photography. I sometimes like to point out that the last Civil War veteran pensions ceased paying out only a few years ago (although that was due to young women marrying 80 year olds in the 1920s).

Also, unlike, say, WW1 it's a big, political conflict, dealing with big issues that played out not just on the battlefields but in political conversation and debate both before, during, and (with the tragedy of the collapse of Reconstruction), after the war. Slavery had be bedevilling the US since its foundation and had caused so many crises throughout the young republic's history that it was never going to be settled peacefully, and the conflict was a more case of when rather than if. In one of my favourite soldier memoirs, Leander Stilwell's 'Sergeant Stilwell', he writes that he was glad it happened in the 1860s, rather than bursting out with the weapos around when he was writing in 1917.

Moreover, the civil rights period in the 1950s and 60s really makes more sense in the context of how the US struggled with such issues during and after the war, so its impact comes directly to our own time.



With the added bonus, of course, of knowing that I will be going home the next day with only a few tickbites and a slightly sunburnt face



We should raise a BeeXBattalion for the 150th Gettysburg next summer....

National Geographic have a big section about this.

http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2012/ ... hotography

Malc

Well about civil war re-enactment any way.

Malc

Thanks for the link.

Nice shot of the portaloos:

http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2012/ ... ography#/4

Whilst photographing modern stuff with wetplate could be amusing, and I get the artist's point about the intrusion of modernity and farby stuff at re-enactments, I don't think those pictures work as 'art'. Trying to use the technology to get an authentic shot would, in my view, have been more interesting. This one of units at 1st Bull Run last year is probably the best of the batch, not only because the wayleaves aren't too prominent, but because it shows why there are almost no photographs of battles - just too much movement for the camera.

The piece on Battlefield sketches has some good ones (I've seen the engraving from Water Oaks pond at Shiloh several times, but not the sketch it is based on).

This one was the G'burg I was at last year. I knew it was a small one (about 900 in all), but hadn't really considered how noticeable the lack so numbers must have looked been from the audience's perspective.

Just come across this clip of the artillery firing off in sequence during the battle of the Saturday. Would have been impressive to have seen it, but the noise was loud enough, even through my ear plugs!



Been looking for other video clips on Youtube - there are quiet a few, but nothing can quite give a feeling of what it was like or of the size of the event.

This one is of slight interest, if only because it's a shot of my unit 'at work':



(Spot the Kern...)

A film company were shooting at the event to use the footage in a documentary on the battle. They've just released a trailer which, annoying music aside, has some shots giving an idea of the scale of the event.



I haven't spotted anyone I know in these clips, sadly.

Even three months after the event I still can't get over how mind-blowingly awesome it was.

(Yeah, I know, £1 and all that)

Just come across some footage of the event from the air - and I thought the view from the ranks was impressive enough.




What an amazing weekend.

Cripes - such smoke! I'm always amused by landlubber old paintings of famous sea battles where you can see every ship. I was particularily impressed by the Southern charge on the Union right melting away against heavy fire in the longer video.

Aye! Also a common error in many war films (that and the sanitised nature of PG films) . I remember one of my first 'period rushes' - that moment when time slips away - occurred at an event when the rebels were close, we both fired, and they disappeared behind a thick cloud of smoke.