The Dogs of Reenactment II – Seeing the Elephant

Colonel Wilson gave the 4th Virginia a final inspection before Lieutenant Reynolds marched us off to face the enemy. The Colonel’s eyes singled me out in the front rank immediately. It wasn’t hard. Emerald green around the gills with an exhausted, anxious look in my eye. Lt. Reynolds had been drilling our company all day – “Order Arms, Shoulder Arms, Right Face, March.” – and I felt ready to drop before the fight even started. The Colonel must have seen this a thousand times before. He fixed his eyes in mine and smiled slightly. “You ready to see the elephant, private?””Yes, sir.” My words came out without even thinking.Colonel Wilson nodded, grinned and continued moving down the front ranks.

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I arrived at the Confederate camp behind the Lake County Historical Center in Painesville around 7:00PM. Within half an hour, I’d be exchanging my Oxford button-down and Dockers for muslin drawers, wool socks, gray wool pants, checked cotton shirt and cadet-gray kersey. With my Kepi, haversack, canteen and other period-correct accouterments, I now blended into the scenery, able to walk through the camp without the soldiers and civilians instantly marking me as an outsider, or worse yet a “farb.” I’d begun my day balancing spreadsheets and emailing commercial documents for international shipments, firmly entrenched in the hustle and bustle of the 21st Century. Now forty five miles and forty-five minutes removed from my day job, I found myself one-hundred-and-fifty years back in time.

I first came up with the backdrop of my new novel, Stalking Mule, two years ago after seeing an episode of Storage Wars. Upon finding some Civil War artifacts in an abandoned storage locker, Jarrod visited some reenactors to price his haul. Suddenly, in my mind’s eye, I saw history buff Chris Telamon, the quintessential 21st-century everyman, being forced to solve a mystery at a Civil War reenactment using only what would be available to someone in the 1860s. That was all I had, just that single simple idea. So a few days later, I started writing the sequel to Cat & Cat just to see what my next book would actually be about.

Three-hundred-plus pages later, after revisiting the Telamon family, Wormwood, Manny, Ryan Leach and introducing a whole new cast of characters, I’ve finally come to the pivotal scene, the big battle. Problem is even after digesting countless books & articles about the Civil War and reenacting, visiting reenactments and interviewing reenactors, I was still missing the real story. All along I’ve known the inevitable. I’d never really own Stalking Muleuntil I actually put on a uniform and lived the reality of living history. With the encouragement of Lieutenant Phil Reynolds of the 4th Virginia, I finally bit the bullet this weekend and enlisted in the Confederate Army for an exhausting, exhilarating and ultimately eye-opening experience.

I’m so tempted right now to transfer every detail from the last two days into this blog post. But I won’t. The sights, sounds, smells and sensations of The Battle of Painesville must be ruminated upon and ultimately recreated in the pages of Stalking Mule. I can share some snatches and rebel yell outs, however.

1)  My ever-lasting gratitude to the aforementioned Lieutenant Phil Reynolds, drill master, raconteur, and a man who has forgotten more about the Civil War and the life of the Confederate soldier than I’ll ever know.

2) My humble thanks to Colonel Skip Wilson, Captain Wayne Unger, Mike Lawson, the two Tonys, Andy, Bob, Brandon and everyone else in the 4th Virginia for hauling my green ass through two of the hardest, yet most rewarding days of my life.

3)  Coming to the realization after five minutes of drilling that a) I am out of shape & b) a 10 lb. musket is f—ing HEAVY.

4)  Twisting my ankle with a loaded weapon while marching into position BEFORE the fighting even began. Yeah, I know it’s just gunpowder and a percussion cap, but it was still scary as hell. The adrenaline ended up blocking out the pain about a minute later, and I stayed on my feet for forty-five agonizing minutes.

5)  Trying to load my Enfield behind a tree with Yankees advancing on our flank and Captain Unger yelling “Load, Private. LOAD. They are upon us. LOAD your —– weapon.”

6)  Asking Lt. Reynolds for “permission to die” after about fifteen minutes of fighting through treacherous ground, prickers and blazing sunlight. “Permission denied, private.”

7)  Cleaning my musket after the battle, every muscle, bone & joint ACHING, and simply being in the moment.

If you want to know the rest, you’ll just have to read the book.

VIRGINIA!

You’re listening to Sarah Wilfong’s “Premonition.” Enjoy!