We had a delightful weekend with the 69th New York. You'll notice few pictures here. (None, actually. I'll post a picture of my dress later.) That's because I forgot my camera. I feel absolutely naked at Civil War without my camera!
On Friday morning we picked up Rose, who's been thoroughly bitten by the Civil War bug and asked to join us again. She's a lovely girl, easy to be with, and we were happy to have her along. Then we picked up Sgt Napier and all his stuff. The van and trailer were crammed full, but we managed to get it all in.
I worked on my new dress right up until the last minute. In fact, I asked Archie to drive while I finished a few seams. Claire made some lovely covered buttons for me that I had to sew on as well.
And my new dress totally worked! I did it! I sewed my first dress, and it fits!!! Once I trusted that the two New Jerseys would actually fit the stingray which would miraculously shape to my back, it was actually not that difficult. Best of all, now I have the confidence to try it again.
The Sound of Silence
I only wore the dress for a little while on Saturday night, and as it happens, I gave it a good breaking in. You can't bring anything to a Civil War reenactment that's too precious, not even a brand-new dress! At around dusk, the soldiers gathered for a night skirmish in the woods behind the battlefield, while we ladies brought lanterns, and when the battle was over, Hannah, Rose and I, and others, went into the woods to search for the dead and wounded. Apparently the colonel told the troops that their job was to make someone cry.
Our spirits were high as we entered the woods, trying to avoid brambles and the many logs and branches in our way. But the laughter soon died down as we began hearing the eerie cries of the wounded. By now it was very dark, and we really had to look hard to find the 69th. Our unit was a ways into the woods, and when we finally arrived, the sight was devastating. Ringed around a tree lay four of our soldiers, including Paddy and Mikey, all dead. Before I had a chance to even look at Paddy, a private from another unit called me over with a desperate plea to come save his dying Lieutenant. I ran quickly over, but with no medical training and nothing but a handkerchief on me, I felt absolutely helpless. I pressed my handkerchief to his chest to stop the bleeding, but with a last few gasping breaths he was gone.
I returned to Paddy's side. By now a group of us had gathered around. An artillery corporal was cracking jokes, but she eventually wandered off, and still the dead remained without moving. Mikey and Howard, who was next to him, stared vacantly into space, and never blinked. After a few moments, the chatter died down and we all just stared silently at them, wrapped in the feeling of the moment, letting it sink in and wash over us. It began to feel very real.
For several minutes, no one moved or spoke and the dead stared unblinking into space. Finally, Mikey sat bolt upright and said, "Ugh! I've had this rock poking my back for ten minutes." We all slowly walked back to the campfire with a sense of having felt, just for a moment, the harsher realities of our war games.
There's a Joke Here Somewhere and It's On Me* (*Dancing in the Dark, Bruce Springsteen)
Captain Kyle pulled the most splendid joke on me, and he could not possibly have gotten a better reaction. There's this game we play, that involves saying to each other, "I Lost" at regular intervals. So when Archie told me on Saturday night that he had a message for me from the Captain, I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly what it was. Archie said, "Well, I'm going to deliver it anyway, verbatim." He looked around at the assembled company, and said, "The Captain says that you may call on him at midnight any time you like." Huh? I stared at him, utterly mystified and no doubt blushing furiously. Heads turned.
Archie, enjoying every moment of my discomfiture, and wanting to be sure everyone in earshot was in on the joke, repeated the message. I stared in confusion, totally thrown off because I was so certain that Kyle would simply have said, "I lost." But "call on him at midnight?!"
Then I got it: back in May, when we arrived in camp late at night after working the school show all day, Kyle had very kindly helped me and Claire to set up our tent. All summer I wanted to repay his kindness, so at this event I brought him a batch of brownies. His response, superbly timed, was, "You may call on me at midnight any time you like." I absolutely love Kyle's sense of humor!
The funny thing is, I began to explain to those who heard this exchange what the message meant, but got sidetracked, so most people still don't know!
It rained for much of the weekend, on and off, on and off, on and off. I kept thinking, with relentless and ridiculous optimism, that the rain had ended. On Sunday afternoon, just as our soldiers were headed out to battle, I stopped to speak to Paddy and Archie for a minute. Spotting an inch of blue sky, I assured them that our evening looked promising. I had not gone ten steps up the road when the skies opened up and poured! Eventually I gave up my optimism and settled in to the firm conviction that we'd be soaked, and I was not disappointed.
A Loose Woman
I finally managed to find time to pay a call on the ladies of the Maryland Line, whom I met at Winter Quarters last year. I've been meaning to go over to their camp for awhile, especially as we were practically neighbors at Fort Stevens, but I was too busy to make it over. They're always understandably confused over my identity. They know me as Rebecca from the 69th New York, but I'm from Washington, not Oregon, and I often slip into a southern accent around them and sound more like Abigail from Alabama.
Hailey and I visited on Sunday, in the middle a small fashion show. One of the ladies explained that in the 1860's, only prostitutes went without a corset; hence the term, "a loose woman." Decent gentlemen who wanted to emphasize the respectability of their wives assured everyone that the ladies were "straight-laced" and "uptight" - haha!
Hardcore and Hypothermia Both Start with "H"
As has become our custom lately, a handful of us "hardcores" stayed over Sunday night - Captain Kyle, Donny, Lt McSweeney and a few others. I'm always amazed when I hear people wondering how soon they can bring their cars in after an event. I have to be dragged away, still wearing my corset!
We went to dinner at Olive Garden. I had stubbornly stayed in my Civil War clothes, but didn't realize until I sat down in the restaurant that I was thoroughly wet to well above the knees, and then after dinner we emerged into a torrential downpour! When we returned to camp, I absolutely had to change clothes, but still feeling in a summer mood, I had packed very little modern gear, and nothing warm. I ended up wearing my lacy CW drawers under Karl's wool Union uniform trousers, my very modern running shirt, and Karl's navy blue wool jacket. I no doubt made a very peculiar sight, but I was decently warm.
Which is a good thing, because it kept raining. Perhaps it was the rain, or maybe that this was the last battle event of the season, but I was feeling kind of punchy. R-e-a-l-l-y punchy. I don't remember what we said, or what was so funny, and I swear I was stone-cold sober, but Sunday night was one of the funniest nights of my life. We all laughed for hours, and when the sky eventually cleared up late at night, Archie and the girls and I wandered out into the field to watch a heavy mist roll in. It was kind of spooky, and the girls began seeing things and getting the heebie-jeebies until I told them not to get all worked up. With all the gentlemen sleeping all the way across the field from us, the last thing I wanted was a bunch of screaming girls to deal with! I love that going to Civil War events makes me sleep outside though. I've seen an awful lot of beautiful nights while enjoying the comfort of a spacious canvas tent!
We started talking about titles for this blog post and Archie suggested "Hardcore and Hypothermia Both Start with H", so I'm going with it. I thought about just making a list of blog titles to describe the weekend, but I can't remember all the ones I came up with, and I didn't write them down, so I've only got a few.
I do remember at one point Archie and I belting out some re-enactor songs from a cd he gave us: "Blah, Blah, Blah", "Rebels in the Swamp" and "Some Men Need," most of which, unbelievably, no one else had ever heard! All poke hilarious fun at re-enacting.
I think the after-party has become as much fun as the main event.
The Hungry Rancher
As is becoming our custom, we slept in a little on Monday morning. (Except me. After drinking endless cups of water on Sunday night, I was up at first light looking for the nearest cerulean blue "voting booth.") When we finally finished packing up and loading (in the rain, of course), it was after 11:00 so we hardcores went in search of breakfast. Paddy/Claire ordered a "Hungry Rancher" breakfast, with sincere assurances that she could eat it all. "Yeah, right," I thought, but since I was hoping to snitch a slice of bacon, I let her get it: 2 slices of ham, 2 slices of bacon, 2 sausage links, 3 eggs, a pile of hash browns and a biscuit. She ate it, all but a little ham and one bite of biscuit, much to the astonishment of the gentlemen in our company who were unable to keep up!
It's hard to believe it's been less than a year since we joined the 69th for the first time in the pumpkin patch last October. What a great bunch! I think I laugh more when we're all together than I've laughed since college. Civil War is a lot like college, or maybe summer camp. Shh...don't tell the other grown-ups that you can still have this much fun.
