1999

Saturday: I spent a sleepless night on the battlefield. Traci and I arrived late last night, and I chose to camp with the civilians. We finished setting up our tents after midnight, visited a couple of sutlers, and turned in around 1 am. Even with my greatcoat, uniform and wool blanket, I was cold. I finally climbed out of the dog tent at 6:30 to find frost on the ground and a dense fog enshrouding the camp. In the distance, I saw low, dark objects which I mistook as clouds until the fog cleared and the gorgeous landscape was revealed in the sunlight. We had been deceived by the flat terrain of the battlefield: mountains dominated the horizon several miles away. Traci awoke to the same sight, and later said that she never felt closer to being in the 1860s than she did this morning.

After a morning spent with other members from our unit and a delicious breakfast prepared by the company cook, we wandered about the field and looked at the rows of sutlers. Although is was our seventh event of the year, we are both impressed with the size of the camp, the number of spectators and the array of vendors on the field.

We fell in with a mixed company after lunch, and prepared for the day's battle. Our battalion was assigned skirmish duty, and we deployed on the hill behind the Heater House and waited for the Rebs to hit us. Captain Tom played some patriotic airs on the fife, and a few of us joined in, humming or singing along.

The Rebs came out of the woods before us in good order and drove us back, over the hill and down into the valley. We retired in somewhat good order, but it was clear that we we outflanked, and units started to crumble. We eventually formed on the hill above the Heater house, in the cemetery, and caught our breaths. Other units rallied as well, and we soon counterattacked, driving the Rebs off the field.

Last night, Traci and I went to the period dance at Belle Grove, then returned to our camp and crashed. Both of us bought smoking caps that day to fight the chill, and they helped immensely. I was so tired, I slept through the early morning tactical.

Sunday: We were caught off guard by the attack on camp. Most of the men in our battalion were without coats, a few emerged from their tents dressed in their underwear. We held for a couple of minutes before someone cried "Run for your lives!" and we fled like quail down the hill toward the small ravine. Other units seemed to hold their cohesion a little better, but we stood little chance of repulsing our attackers. Our battalion fell back to the battery that was engaging the rebels cannons across the gully, while we watched the greybacks ascend the hill and swarm around the Heater House. A few Southern troopers managed to creep around in back of us and threaten the guns, but the cannon continued to contest the field.

We heard more horses arriving, but instead of Rebel Cavaliers emerging through the gun smoke, we saw Phil Sheridan riding past the long blue lines, exhorting us to retake our camps. Reinvigorated, we drove forward, down the hill, over the gully (losing most of our color guard in the gully) and up the hill. As we charged toward a rebel battery, I got a little too far ahead of the Sargent, but the unit held its cohesion and we forced the guns off the field.

Assessment: This was the best event we attended this year. Despite its size (around 3,000-4,000 participants) it was well organized, friendly and safely run, in spite of the enormous veins of rock which caused those of us who were wearing brogans to slip. We had some problems finding the civilian camp when we came in on Friday night, but that was to be expected, given the darkness and the size of the field. The only other grievance we had was the relative lack of activities for civilians, although Traci wasn't bored during the event. We're looking forward to the 135th anniversary next year.

Philippi, West Virginia. June 4-6, 1999

Traci and I went as orphans to this event, as the 11th was at the Saltsburg Canal Days. This was our first event of the year, and both of us were a little anxious about participating in an event without other members of Company K. We arrived shortly after dusk, and a group next to us immediately invited us to camp by them. Our companions were a mixture of Ohio troops, and our ersatz camp was next to the 7th West Virginia. I forgot my cap, but the 7th's captain was kind enough to lend me his slouch for the weekend.

Saturday: We walked across the covered bridge into the town this morning and explored the various vendors, craft areas and tents. Traci went to a morning tea at a local mansion and received a tea cup, while we prepared for the day's battle. We were graced with President Lincoln's presence, as he inspected the troops and told stories which inspired the troops.

The artillery began dueling over the river, and we crossed the bridge to deploy along the northern bank of the river, behind the Railroad station. It soon became evident that we were outnumbered, and the weight of fire soon began to tell on our company. We were driven back along the riverbank, while other Federal units attempted to hold the wall behind us. It was to no avail; our entire company went down, and the Yankees left on the bridge were soon driven off. Score one for the Rebs.

This evening, Traci and I went to a period wedding (actually, a renewing of vows) on a large lawn by the courthouse. We were looking for possible wedding sites and ideas, and this worked out to our advantage. The wedding was preceded by a concert featuring Acoustic Shadows, and they had a good turnout. Acoustic Shadows also played for the wedding and the dance the followed, and we had a great time. We danced the Virginia Reel for the second time, and generally held our own, although both of us recognize the need for some period dance lessons.

When we returned to camp, word had it that the Rebs were getting feistier than usual. We formed up, and split our ranks to counter any attempts the Confederates might make to ford the river. Our company moved behind a service station, although any hopes of surprising and flanking the Rebel bridgehead were spoiled by an 8 year old double agent. Sure enough, the artillery opened fire over the river, and before we knew it, we had a line of greybacks waiting for us as we descended the hill. We held our fire by the fuel pumps, but fortunately, the Secessionists retreated over the bridge. As our companies entered the lanes in the covered bridge, a call went out for skirmishers. I was one of the four chosen for our company, and we advanced carefully through the bridge.

By the time we crossed, a number of the enemy took up positions to our left behind trees, poles and shrubs. My pards and I got behind the stone wall and poured fire into them. The fighting along the front was hot as well, and the Reb commander eventually called for a truce to end the fighting.

Sunday: We walked through town again this morning. Today, we drove the rebels back through town, although they sprang a few surprises on us from side streets. Since we couldn't deploy in a normal company front, we advanced in a rolling motion, with the head of the column stepping off to the side and reloading after each shot. We would step back into line as the end of the column passed us. This way, we were able to keep a steady fire on the enemy while advancing through a narrow area. The Confederate commander once again called for a truce after falling back through town.

Assessment: Philippi is an event worth attending. There were about 200 reenactors present, a lot of activities for participants, and civilian activities as well. For a small fee, the civilians got tea cups (if they chose to attend the ladies tea), soldiers got mugs and a pound of powder, and everyone got a meal on Saturday night. These perks pale in comparison with the hospitality of the townspeople themselves, who center the festival around the reenactors and really do their best to make us feel welcome. How many places would tolerate a battle with artillery after midnight? There are too many events where reenactors exist serve as a sort of sideshow or curiosity, an added attraction to a community event. How refreshing to have an event centered around us.

Hershey, Pennsylvania. June 12-13, 1999

Traci took Friday off, so we got to set up our tents in the daylight, despite the 4 hour drive. The artillery came out in force for this one, with at least a dozen full size pieces. This was a free event, and the organizers gave participants free passes into the park and Chocolate world.

Saturday: We formed up around 9 this morning for dress parade, and then drilled. Unfortunately, it was a hot day, and the timing was such that we really didn't have a chance to get lunch before the battle. To make matters worse, our company was a hodgepodge of troops from the USVs, Mifflin Guards and several independent regiments, all of whom used different drill manuals. Compounding that was our lieutenant, who had us marching into a number in inanimate objects (admittedly, we managed to scare the heck out of several tents when we countermarched through an 8 foot wide company street).

The battle itself progressed fairly well. We were driven back past Hershey Station by the Rebs, and at one point, every member of the 11th went down simultaneously. However, the battle didn't seem quite as organized as it might have been, and we were deployed in a way that prevented spectators from seeing much of the action.

After the battle, I paid for not eating lunch on a hot day. I spent the remainder of the afternoon and part of the evening down with a headache, so Traci and I were unable to attend the dance.

Sunday: A repeat of the drilling fiasco, as F-troop made its reappearance on the field. We practiced our skirmish drill, although I was fortunate enough to be a part of the reserve, along with a man from the Iron Brigade. The Wisconsinite had little love for officers, but he knew what he was doing on the field. I did manage to grab some lunch though.

The day's battle went very well for us. The organizational mistakes of the previous day were rectified, and we managed to claim the day. Our company deployed as skirmishers before the occupied railroad station, where the Rebs were celebrating yesterday's victory. Our artillery disrupted their revelries, but they quickly formed into line of battle and brought up barriers as well. We fired for quite some time, before forming into a company front. A group of dismounted Southern cavalry appeared on our left flank, but a well executed charged by our mounted cavalry ended that threat. Once the Federal units were formed cohesively, the attack went well, and we broke through the Gray lines.

Assessment: We enjoyed this event, although there could have been more activities for Traci and the other civilians. Civilians put in as much time and energy as military reenactors, and it's unfortunate that they're often given lousy camp sites and few activities. In this case, Civilian camp was over-run with RVs and campers, although most Civilians camped with their units. In all fairness to Hershey, there were other modern activities, and it was nice to have modern bathroom facilities as well. The first day's battle was somewhat disorganized; I remember hearing someone asking if the battle was over on the radio. The battle was also scheduled for the early afternoon, which meant that we had little opportunity to eat between drill and the battle. However, the next day's battle was markedly improved, and much of the confusion I witnessed on Saturday was due to mixed regiments with differing drills.

Gettysburg I, Pennsylvania. July 2-4, 1999

Traci and I went to Gettysburg in the Fall of 1995, a year before we started dating. Both of us were excited about attending the event, and looking forward to traveling to South Mountain the day after the reenactment to explore more potential wedding sites. We arrived at the Ladies of the Blue & Gray on Friday night to Join our unit. Although both of us wondered why we were camped so far away from the Bushey Farm camp and battlefield, we soon appreciated our second event of the season with modern facilities.

Saturday: I got up at 6:30 to find the National Tower almost hidden by fog. It was already warm and humid, so we knew we were in trouble. We spent the morning talking and relaxing in anticipation of the main battle, which would be held that afternoon. We drove to the Bushey Farm around 1 in the afternoon, and eight members of the 11th fell in with a Brooklyn Zouave Regiment for the battle. I also ran into a couple of other fellow New Yorkers who fell in with us.

We were deployed as skirmishers about a quarter mile to the front of "Culp's Hill," where I was asked to run out ahead of the line to see where the Confederates were deployed. It was exciting to know that I was at the very head of the army, but the extra running soon took its toll. As it turns out, the Rebs were on the other side of the farm, almost directly next to us. Although they had to come around the out buildings, they had us virtually flanked from the moment we deployed. As a result, we became a loosely spaced firing line, whereas the Confederates deployed in a more compact formation. They charged, and we ran about 50 yards, where we turned to fire. The Zouaves maintained good order, but we were a bit more scattered. At this point, we should have withdrawn as skirmishers, rather than running over broken terrain, attempting to reform a firing line, and then retreating again.

We managed to gain the shelter of the breastworks with several casualties, but the Confederates launched a determined assault that came up to the works when the battle was halted; a man went down with heat exhaustion. When the fight restarted, our lined were breached, but the reserve manage to beat back the assault.

I don't believe that I have ever been so hot.

When we returned to the store, we were greeted with bowls of fruit, fresh bread and cold drinks courtesy of the the 11th's women. We soaked our feet in a tub full of ice, and later made our way to sutlers row. Most of the sutlers were closed by the time we got there, and it looked as if many were already pulling out. We could hear the music from the dance, but no one from our party particularly felt like dancing at that point.

Sunday: After yesterday's jaunt, few of us were in any mood to fall in. I was planning on joining the defense against Pickett's Charge, but common sense prevailed, Our company covered more ground than any other the previous day, and as I would be the sole representative of the 11th, I decided not to fall in. Instead, Traci and I spent much of the day wandering through town and enjoying ourselves. We watched Pickett's charge that afternoon (very well done), headed to Boonsborough, drove through the Antietam battlefield, slept at a campground on the Appalachian trail on Turner's gap, and made our way to Middletown, Virginia the next day.

Assessment: We were more than a little disconcerted to find a $15 fee for walk ons. Other than the dog tags, there were few perks for reenactors (although we didn't stay in the main camp, so it's difficult to say what was going on). Somehow, I got the sense that we were packaged meat. When Traci and I tried to park near the field on Sunday, we were asked for another $5, on top of the $30 we shelled out for registration. The people in the audience fared even worse; $14 a ticket, $5 for parking, and another $7 to get a good seat in the stands. About 50,000 spectators attended (half of last year's) but only 3,500 reenactors. Considering that over 20,000 reenactors attended last year's event, this should say something.

I have seen this sort of thing happen before: a group of diehard people with a sincere interest in history start an organization or event. They spent years of their lives and thousands of their dollars to bring history to the people in a new and colorful way. The event grows, the organization attracts new members, and the profits start rolling in. The diehards realize that they need help managing their cash-flow, so they bring in "impartial" outsiders who may have little real interest in history, but an overwhelming love for cash. The two work side by side briefly, but then the new business partners manage to wrest control of the groups' assets and activities away from the founders, and profit, not history, reverence or education becomes the motivating factor. This is not some grim prognosis, or another voice lamenting the direction our hobby is going: a warplane museum near my parent's home was effectively destroyed this way, and the same potential exists at Greedysburg. I would have few reservations about shelling out $15 if I knew that I would be well treated and that at least 80% was going toward preservation, but I fear that there are individuals involved with this event who couldn't care less about history of any kind, as long as King Cash reigns supreme. They are charging us a lot of money to attract people who will pay even more money. If there is any doubt about the widespread nature of the greed at this event, one might consider the fact that hotels that might normally charge $60-80 a night were running well over $100 this weekend.

A reenactment is a spectacle by nature. However, we are entitled to see that the huge sums of money people spend to see us goes toward preserving the memories and events we attempt to cherish and keep alive, not toward the pocketbooks or egos of a select few who treat us like chattel by playing on a name that has particular reverence to our community. We are willing to give the event one more chance: I can only hope that Gettysburg II has a more reenactor-friendly atmosphere. If not, then it may be time to seriously look at competing events created by the reenactment community for the reenactment community on the weekends around July 4th and September 25th.

Monocacy, Maryland. July 10-11, 1999

We slept under the stars after arriving at 1:30 in the morning. Our directions specified the Mt. Zion road exit, but not the highway you were to exit from. The two men at the registration desk were quite helpful, though, and our registration packets had some useful and interesting items.

Saturday: Continuing our marital reconnaissance, we watched today's staged period wedding. The troops were in line by the time we got back, so we watched the battlefrom the hillside. The first day's battle was marked by the burning of a makeshift barn set up on the premises. Although considerably cooler than the previous weekend, a brief shower in the morning couldn't keep the reddish-brown dust from permeating everything.

Traci and I camped with the 27th Indiana, a gregarious company from central Maryland. Although I missed the first day's battle, the Rebs weren't through with us yet; shortly before dusk, we heard heavy fire from the opposite end of camp. A few of us grabbed our equipment and ran out to meet the greybacks, who were moving in a skirmish line toward our camp. A lieutenant from Berdan's regiment came out to help direct the resistance, but we were boxed in before we ever formed up. One of the 27th and I took refuge behind a tree with another Yank and the three of us managed to pick off several of our assailants before we took hits. My Springfield somehow landed on my left elbow, leaving me with a large bruise. The fighting was called off shortly afterwards, but not before our artillery crew dropped a squad coming in on our left. We ended the evening with a visit to the 5th Virginia in the Confederate camp.

Traci and I called it a night shortly afterward.

Sunday: A gorgeous day. At the 27th's request, Traci carried the flag into battle today. It was quite an experience for her, but she did a great job and had fun in the process. We took up position behind a rail fence, and waited while the Reb guns battered us and their skirmish lines pushed our dismounted cavalry back. We opened a withering fire on them, forcing part of the main body to halt long enough for us to counterattack. We began to push them back, but their numbers and artillery began to take a toll, and we withdrew through the bridge shortly before it went up in flames, along with the blockhouse. The pyrotechnicians were a little overzealous, as I saw a wounded man from our company scramble up the hillside to surrender to the enemy rather than face the heat from the fire. We exchanged a few more volleys from the field before taps blew, and the battle drew to a close.

Assessment: Three cheers for Hugh Warner. This was a great event, well organized and friendly. Some of my faith in event organizers has been restored. Aside from the incomplete directions, this event went very smoothly. Spectators paid with 5 cans of food for the Salvation Army or $5 which went to help defer the cost of the event. Parking was not the nightmare one would expect for an event with 1,500 people plus several thousand spectators, and the attendants were courteous and helpful. It's nice to see that people can host a fairly good sized event without scamming reenactors or the public, and the atmosphere created by the organizers permeated the event. There was a sense of camaraderie among most of the units, and Hugh himself was standing by the driveway as we departed at the end of the event, reminding us to pick up our 135th anniversary medallion (we actually received three; Antietam, Gettysburg and Monocacy). You really got a sense that people at this event cared about you and your contributions to living history. It's great when people with an interest in history run an event.

Lisbon, Ohio. August 28-29, 1999

This was the closest event we attended this year (other than a parade in Ligonier, Pennsylvania). We pulled in to Lisbon around 8 in the evening, and thanks to the directions we received from the event organizer, we found the park without much of a problem. The camp was easily accessible, and there were drinks, cookies and snacks for the reenactors at the registration pavilion. Traci and I set up with the 7th West Virginia, and enjoyed a dinner at a steel café that evening.

Saturday: Considering the relatively small size of the event, there were quite a few cannon on the field during today's battle . . . somewhere in the neighborhood of a dozen. The battle took place in a field across the road from the park, a short march away from our camp. The scenario featured a meeting between two "brothers" who fell on opposite sides of the political fence, followed by an attack by the Union forces. Although we easily outnumbered the rebels by a 2 to 1 margin, they were firmly entrenched behind breastworks, and repelled our attacks with ease. At one stage, we crested a hill only to face a line of opposing rifles and artillery, prompting our commanding officer to issue the order "By company, DUCK!" I have yet to find that command in Hardee's or Casey's.

After dinner that evening, we listened to the Acoustic Shadows and attended the ball before turning in for the night.

Sunday: The 7th fell in with an Ohio unit late in the morning and ran through a bayonet drill. Drilling isn't as painful as it used to be, now that I have a better sense of the orders, and this was actually quite interesting.

Today's battle followed the same scenario as yesterday's. We were deployed on the far right of the Union assault, where we were able to take advantage of the terrain as cover. The other units fared much worse, with one company taking 100 percent casualties after an ill-fated rush to the Rebel lines. We had an opportunity to flank the Confederate line and take the guns, but our officers kept to the battle plan.

Assessment A very pleasant event in a remote area. Some of the proceeds from the event went to preserving Battlefield monuments. A registration fee of $5 ($3, if mailed in earlier) included refreshments on Friday night, a meal on Saturday night and a huge breakfast ration for each unit on Sunday morning. The setting was rustic (the country boy in me appreciated the park), although the tent worms were doing quite a number on the foliage. The battles themselves seemed disorganized at times, but this is nothing new, unusual or unauthentic. I would estimate several hundred spectators attended each day's battle, although Saturday saw the larger attendance. There was a ladies tea on Saturday afternoon, which seems to be the norm at events. Overall, a very good smaller event.

Boonsboro, Maryland. Fire on the Mountain: September 11-12, 1999

We're becoming somewhat accustomed to arriving at events well after dark. Lisbon and Hershey were exceptions, although we drove to Hershey early in the day. We found the 27th Indiana when we arrived, and they were kind enough to provide us with a tent, sparing us the task of setting our tents up in the dark. It was a chilly night on the ground in a dog tent, and neither of us slept well.

Saturday: There were two battles today. We marched through the woods, and stayed there and waited . . . and waited. It was as if the command staff forgot they had an entire battalion in the woods. Over 300 of us spent an hour in the woods, until we were finally ordered to sweep out of the woods and attack the remnants of the Confederate forces. Our wait wasn't entirely uneventful; at one point, we were attacked by cavalry, who came so close we were unable to fire. The colonel more than made up for any lack of firepower when he saw the close proximity of the rebel horsemen.

The second battle went a bit better. We simply overwhelmed the Rebels, driving them from their breastworks, which we then occupied. Unfortunately, we were close to an enemy battery, and the 27th went down in short order. I went down almost immediately afterward as we ran across a battery front.

We took some time after the battle to film a couple of spots for the Antietam Cable Company, my first such experience.

We didn't attend the evening's ball, although Traci assure's me that she attended one of the best ladies tea held at an event. There were a number of speakers at the pavilion, covering a range of issues from the story of the Battle of South Mountain to period clothing. There was a prolonged evening skirmish, with the Rebels thumping us thoroughly. The night firing made for an eerie backdrop as we walked back from Sutlers row. Traci turned in early, but I chatted a good portion of the evening away.

Sunday: Today's battle followed the same pattern as the previous two. We charged, the Rebels broke. Victory was probably more disorganizing than rout, as our lines lost all semblance of order in the headlong rush for the Confederate lines.

Assessment Although the weekend's first battle was unusually ragged, this was a great event. Our camp was some distance from most of the non military activities, which discouraged some people from taking advantage of the excellent range of speakers at the pavilion. In addition to the usual ladies tea, there were a number of activities for civilians, which is unfortunately all too rare at most events. The scenery was spectacular, and the campaigners marched from Burkettsville to the park to raise money for historic presentation (no Blair witch sightings reported, although the beleaguered residents of that small town must have shuddered when they saw the lines of marchers passing through, fearing yet another deluge of deluded teenagers). Although the event lacked some of the amenities seen at Philippi and Lisbon, the $10 fee went towards preserving the battlefield, and I have no complaints about the lack of meals or medals so long as the bulk of my money goes to preservation.

Cedar Creek, Virginia. October 14-17, 1999

This year's trip was as much about reconnaissance as it was about attending the event. We are in the throes of planning a wedding at Belle Grove next year, and this was an excellent opportunity for us to take care of some of the basics a year in advance. However, our early arrival on Thursday allowed us more breathing room than the typical late night trip we've become so familiar with this year. Unfortunately, meetings and prenuptial scheming kept me out of Friday's march and battle.

Saturday: The sea of lanterns visible over the field on Friday night announced a large reenactor presence, and that was confirmed today. This was probably the best battle I have ever been in. On the way over to the USV camp to fall in with the 11th, I counted 18 cannon on the Confederate side, and I could make out a similar number on our side of the valley.

The booming of the cannon heralded the Rebel assault, and the noise quickly built up to a crescendo as our guns answered. A quintet of brass Napoleons behind us spoke with particular authority, setting off at least one car alarm in the distance. We were in the 11th company, positioned behind and to the left of the Heater House. We gradually worked our way to the crest of the hill, where we repelled a fierce assault. An enemy unit moved into the small creek bed below us, and we were soon engaged in an intense fire fight. The company next to us was decimated by artillery fire, and some of the Rebel "wounded" taunted us as we held our ground.

Finally, the order to advance was passed through the lines, and we swept over the dead and wounded, driving the foe before us. As we crossed the creek bed, we noticed that the 5th Virginia was directly ahead of us. I vividly recalled being gunned down by their captain at a small event last year, so I wanted to exact some revenge. Someone else dropped him before I could get a bead, but I managed to drop at least one of their men.

The assault moved up the opposite hill, which was crowned with Confederate guns. I went down in the hand to hand battle that ensued, but the guns were taken.

The evening ball was held in a tent close to sutlers row, a change from last year's setting at Belle Grove. With many of the reenactment's some 6,000 participants crowding into the dance, the tent was literally filled to the breaking point, which made dancing a difficult proposition. With so many people talking on the sidelines, it was often difficult to hear the announcer, and Traci and I chose to retire at the intermission.

Sunday: I couldn't find the 11th, so I fell in with the 54th Pennsylvania, another USV regiment. Our formation was massive; there were more people present in the USV units than there were in most of the other events we've attended this year. The shear numbers inspired a sense of awe, but I wasn't prepared for what happened when the battle actually began. With 40 cannon on the field, the fire was as constant as it was deafening, and the wave of Gray troops approaching us on the opposite hill was spectacular. Our unit was to participate in a filming by the Heater house, where we were to fire a few rounds, and then break in confusion. Theoretically, we would then form up with our main battalion and fight out the rest of the battle.

The first half of the plan worked to perfection. We marched out before the camera, fired several volleys, and then fell back in haste. Our retreat brought us in front of two guns, a Union Parrot rifle and Ordinance rifle, and we had to detour before we were shredded. In the meantime, units to our right opened a constant fire, and for the first time, I really began to imagine what it might have sounded like on this very same field, 135 years ago.

We came back on line fairly quickly, and turned to form up with the battalion when Sheridan himself rode up with his staff. He implored us to turn around and save the guns from the gray hordes who were rapidly approaching. We turned, came up to the guns, fired a single volley that dropped a number of our assailants, and were promptly (and quite literally) overrun. I didn't fall, I was literally pushed onto my back by three Confederates. Only our lieutenant survived, and he was whisked off to the other side of the field as a prisoner. Although I considered falling in with a passing unit when the Confederates were finally repulsed, I stayed where I was and watched as the blue swarms enveloped the Rebel lines, before they surged up the hill to take the enemy's cannon.

Assessment With about 6,000 participants, this was the biggest event we've attended. The organizers wisely mailed our registration materials weeks in advance, which did away with the bottlenecks commonly found at large events. For the most part, the event staff was courteous and knowledgeable, and the security, while visible, did nothing to hinder or interfere with reenactors. Both days drew very large crowds, and, as with South Mountain, the money was earmarked toward preserving the battlefield.

Because of the events size, the camps were rather widely scattered. I stayed with Traci in the civilian camp, which proved to be a smart move not only in terms of the camp's close proximity to the event tent and sutlers, but also because we could share blankets. There was frost on the ground in two of the three mornings, but the rain held off.

Unfortunately, there was a hassle when it came to getting cars into the camp. Although organizers eventually opened a second gate to let those of us in the civilian camp get our cars in on Sunday afternoon, it took some persuasion on the part of disgruntled participants for this compromise to be put into effect. I can understand the opinion held by some that too many reenactors pack their bags far too early, but when someone faces a four, seven or even ten hour drive from a national event, people need to give us some leeway. Most of the affiliated military reenactors were able to access their cars without a problem. This however was a relatively minor problem, one that was easily fixed when the second gate was opened. It does beg the question of why no one thought of this sooner, but it was all in all a relatively minor glitch in what was otherwise a very smoothly run event. The only other complaint we might register would be the lack of activities for civilians.