M. A. Schaffner, bvt. Captain & AAG, AoV
Background - Before the Event
Full disclosure: I helped prepare for this event and worked with the leaders before and during the reenactment. This colors my view in two ways. First, I like Chris Anders and Kevin Air, believe they take a bold, imaginative approach to civil war reenacting, and personally do splendid jobs. Second, I was close enough to see – and bear responsibility for – a few things that got screwed up in what was, on the whole, a great time. But all this is just my opinion, as is everything that follows below.
Until it happened it was not at all clear to me that the event would succeed. As the Federal AAG I had participated in several planning meetings, helped select camp sites, enlisted my wife in preparing a period-looking version of the map, created unit rosters from the lists of registrants prepared by Laura Anders, set up a matrix of unit portrayals for the weekend, and tried to draft in advance, as much as possible, the special and general orders that Federal headquarters would need to issue over the weekend. But none of this would go entirely smoothly.
To begin with, the map, for example, only gave a general sense of roads and campsites. We selected campsites with the assigned units in mind, but could not be sure how many of their men would actually show up. Rosters were updated and forwarded to the commands several times as numbers changed – in the last week before pre-registration ended, Federal strength spiked from 383 to 471, and would change further over the weekend. The matrix had to show six different maneuver units playing different roles in each of three battle scenarios. Orders had to come from three headquarters and, though drafted in advance, would probably change on-site. Finally, the leadership of two of the four Federal battalions – the combined 1st and 2nd USV and the “composite battalion” of Mifflin Guard, National Regiment, and Vincent’s Brigade – could not be nailed down until a few days before we went live. This meant that nearly 40% of the Federal army only received their rosters and critical updates (including campsite changes) at the last minute, with little time for the information to filter down through the ranks.
Headquarters staff underwent changes too. Of the initial volunteers for clerking, three changed to line units and two simply couldn’t attend. To balance this we had last minute accessions in the form of five young men, aged 14 to 16, able to do copying and serve as runners. But on arrival, a little after 1:00 Friday, the AAG staff comprised only Kevin Kelley – captain of the Brady Sharpshooters, who agreed to serve as sergeant for the weekend – my close friend Bill Wilson, who I’d traveled with, and myself. I also found QM Sergeant Brian Whitaker and Geoff Golliver of Brady’s, who were busy setting up the field kitchen for head quarters.
Friday Afternoon, August 26th
Immediately Bill and I began off-loading the office, the equipment for which consisted of two small tables and desks, an A-tent, a small fly and a number of chairs. I also had a dog-tent to sleep in, the A-tent being for Bill and any equipment we needed to keep out of the rain. (Not that I expected any – the forecast called for clear weather with a high of around 80 and only about a 20% chance of showers.) I was looking forward to building on the period staff work Josh Mordin and I had done at McDowell.
I had not got far in setting up when an old Company I buddy, Frank Lilley came by to tell me that there was some confusion about the campsites. As the only – and thus senior – officer then at HQ, I went out to investigate. The plan had been for our Quartermaster, Captain Joel Hummel, to show up early with signs directing everyone to their appropriate camp. Since the entire responsibility had fallen on one person, it should have been expected that he would be unavoidably delayed. Should have been, but I hadn’t. HQ, the Christian Commission, Western Brigade, and the 3rd USV were all where they should have been, but elements of the 1/2 USV and Mifflin Guard had camped where the map showed they should be, but not where command had decided they should be a couple of weeks earlier when it became clear that their actual size called for them to switch places. Plus, a small band of galvanized Confederates had set up a large and heavy establishment where we’d planned to put the cavalry.
I will not try to detail how this got straightened out, except to say that it did, in large part due to the work and patience of an orderly sergeant of the Mifflin Guard (whose name I unfortunately forgot), Joey Bordonaro of the cavalry, Dave Childs of the USV, and, perhaps most of all, Frank Lilley. Frank helped figure out what adjustments we could make, volunteered to get and set up signs, and stood post for several hours to direct traffic and answer questions. On the whole, he saved me from crucifixion and the Federal army from degenerating into an amorphous mass of squabbling refugees. By the time the first elements of the National Regiment arrived and found next to no space in their relocated camp, Joel had appeared and was able to direct them to a back up site in the woods across the road from the rest of the composite battalion. One more crisis occurred when a number of fellows took the cavalry’s hay to use as nesting materials. Fortunately for the horses, Robert Small, CS Assistant Provost and event staff, drove up and made the offenders give it back.
Thanks to Frank and then Joel, I was able to get back to the office and help Bill and Sergt. Kelley get things set up. When Kevin Air arrived we had a wall tent and fly to raise, but his ADC, Doug Dobbs, had showed and brought with him three young men – Isaac Shelton, Jason Usher, and Andy Knox – who provided priceless assistance. Also on staff as assistant to the Quartermaster was our esteemed friend Guy “Frenchy” LaFrance, who immediately pitched in with whatever needed doing.
We soon issued a special order directing senior officers to the activities tent at 7:00 for a meeting with their Confederate counterparts, and all officers to HQ at 8:00 for a brief reception. In addition we sent a general order noting the times of reveille (7 a.m.), lights out (11 p.m.), and the hour by which we expected morning reports from the battalions, troop, and battery (9 a.m.). I delivered a few copies myself, but Sergt. Kelley, Bill, and the boys got most of the copying and courier duties done. A final special order detailed Brady’s recruit Jonathan Burnham to Company I, with the sole stipulation that he report back to HQ for breakfast and supper.
About 6 o’clock we had a delicious bean and bacon stew prepared by Mssrs. Whitaker and Golliver, after which it was time to prepare for the staff meeting. I broke out my black cravat and a paper collar and, for the next twenty minutes, Bill and I worked to get both around my neck. Ultimately we succeeded, but my posture remained quite formal for the next several hours as I was afraid that the slightest false move would send the whole contraption sailing into the stratosphere, taking my head with it.
The meeting in the activities tent was a genial kumbaya session with both commanders introducing their key staff and promising us the best event ever, etc. etc. It was good to see old friends, shake hands, and get to know who we’d be working with. Sutler row looked promising but I didn’t have time to shop and thought I’d come back the following evening. Back at HQ Brian and Geoff had laid out a spread of crackers, cheese, and ham, with quantities of coffee, lemonade, port, and sherry to wash it down with. This contributed greatly to the conviviality of the officers’ meeting, at which I read, at General Air’s direction, a special order directing him to command part of Pope’s Army of Virginia for the weekend. I signed it from Halleck; the name of the U.S. Army’s Adjutant General in August, 1862 slipped my mind, so I signed it by an AAG named Friedrich Engels. Well, perhaps not that Friedrich Engels – maybe a cousin.
Before the meeting portion of the soiree broke up, I made a point of repeating the hours for reveille, lights out, cars out of camp, and morning reports, adding a special plea that folks quiet down after lights out. That done I introduced the members of my home unit, the Brady Sharpshooters. Many people look down on sharpshooters for a lack of authenticity, not without justification, some of which I’ve personally provided. Even now Brady’s is quite capable of representing the full spectrum of farb to hardcore, often in the same person. But in any case, it’s my outfit and I’m proud of it. As I told the assembled officers, Brady’s prides itself on long-range killing, fine dining, and penmanship. And until someone else does a better job at those, I’ll stay a Brady.
Just before the event we’d attempted to organize a camp guard for Friday and Saturday night, with five posts and duties including directing traffic and securing the exit against vehicles trying to enter. But this didn’t happen: it was over-ambitious and there had been push-back from the troops against the idea of being dragooned into event support roles. I thought they had a point, and if anything like that is tried in the future it probably ought to be confined to volunteers organized well in advance.
I don’t know when the soiree ultimately broke up, but I’d returned to the office. We’d long since relieved Frank and had a couple of fellows out on the road directing new comers, mainly Frenchy and Bill. About a quarter to 11, Confederate Provost Skip Koontz and AIG Tom Piston showed up to gently and politely remind folks about the cars in camp rule. I joined them on their rounds. We found a total of six, all of which the owners promised to move.
At eleven Ray Gromis of the 6th New Hampshire, USV blew lights out (not Taps, which was still largely a 5th Corps call). This did nothing to quiet the singing and string band playing in the 1/2 USV’s camp, the wash tub base carrying with particular effectiveness. The rain that had threatened spittingly for some time became heavier and more persistent, but this proved only a temporary palliative and the music blared again after the band found shelter under a large fly. Young Dylan Schuler, who’d accompanied Brian and Geoff to help with the kitchen was up with a bad cough and further helped me stay awake. About twenty to one I made another round, but only to the USV’s camp, where I found a white panel truck and the party still in full swing. I asked them to move the vehicle and quiet down, then returned to HQ and tried to get some sleep. Earlier in the day I’d prepared a comfortable bed by cutting some cedar boughs and laying them out on the ground in the dog tent. This not only made a springy mattress but gave off a pleasant odor. But I’d had a cup of coffee earlier, the music continued at some volume, and I couldn’t stretch out because of the rain, so I didn’t sleep much at all. Still, I was glad I was at HQ and not bivouacking with the campaigners.
Saturday Morning and the Battle of Cedar Mountain
Morning brought a series of reveilles from various camps and biscuits with sausage gravy from Brian and Geoff. I got to work as soon as I could copying orders for the morning walk-through and assembly for the Cedar Mountain scenario. Captain Herzog of the 28th MA brought young Austin Harris to help out; he copied a number of orders while Bill wrote out headers and closes for the next series, which I planned to fill when I got the times for the afternoon walk-through and assembly for Brawner’s Farm. At about twenty to eight Joel Hummel and I conducted a cursory inspection of camps and found everything pretty well squared away, which surprised me, given what I had seen in the wee hours, but clearly everyone was trying their best to play along.
Most of the morning reports came in before the nine o’clock deadline and were compiled on the consolidated return by Bill Wilson.
At that time our army numbered:
Unit |
Officers |
Enlisted |
Aggregate |
1st Bn (3rd USV) |
11 |
84 |
95 |
2nd Bn (Western Brigade) |
13 |
88 |
101 |
3rd Bn (MG/NR/VB) |
10 |
72 |
82 |
4th Bn (1/2 USV) |
5 |
32 |
37 |
Cavalry |
1 |
10 |
11 |
Artillery |
1 |
5 |
6 |
Staff |
4 |
8 |
12 |
Total |
45 |
299 |
344 |
It is interesting to compare this with the last count of aggregate strength after pre-registration:
HQ Staff - 13
Cavalry - 12
Artillery - 7
1st Bn. 3rd USV - 105
2nd Bn. Western Bge. - 135
3rd Bn. MG/NR/VB - 125 (43 Mifflin, 25 NR, 52 Vincent’s, 5 misc.)
4th Bn. 1&2 USV - 77
The cavalry, HQ, and 3rd USV suffered the least attrition. Given the distances the men had to travel, the Western Brigade had done well. The more mainstream units had greater challenges in mustering their men, but more would in fact report later in the morning, before the battle.
The first meeting before the Cedar Mountain battle would occur at 11:45, so the orders and other paperwork (including as much advance scribbling as we could on the passes and loyalty oaths needed for visiting civilians) had to be done with alacrity under somewhat trying conditions. These included the normal bustle of a camp in the morning, complicated by dampness and dripping canvas. For those interested, the work was done largely with Gillott’s 404 nibs and oak gall ink. The orders were written on half sheets of a lined note paper that looked like something you’d pick up at a drugstore but was a French brand meant for fountain pen use (Rhodia, No. 18); the passes were pre-printed on ivory resume paper. The paper and ink cost a bit more than most alternatives, but they work much better and in the end I spent no more on stationery than I ordinarily would as a rifleman on cartridge paper and powder. Between these exercises, Korey Tighe, a young soldier of the 28th Mass. reported for duty on staff and we decided to take him into the field carrying the hospital flag, though first I believe we had him running orders.
After Joel and I returned from another walkabout, QM Sergt. Whitaker provided a lunch of broiled bacon, bread, cheese, apples, peanuts, and lemonade. I grabbed some bread and cheese and got my traps on for the battle. In the meantime a few civilians reported for passes, but not the crowd we expected, probably due to the intermittent 20% showers we kept getting. Some mail arrived from the civilian camp, which Dobbs and the couriers sorted and delivered. No out-going mail came through HQ all weekend.
At 11:45 officers and NCOs met at headquarters where we distributed handouts on the Cedar Mountain scenario. A word about the Anders-Air Reenactment Methodology (AARM): Chris and Kevin combine a good deal of common-sense, historical knowledge, appreciation of unit capability, and lay psychology to choreograph highly creditable reconstructions of civil war battles. A certain amount of stylization goes into the process – there are company-sized battalions and battalion-sized brigades, and not every unit in a fight can be portrayed, but the general course of the battle is captured, and the movements broken down in a way that is understandable to the participants yet challenging to execute, especially in conjunction with the enemy. It beats hell out of the clashing phalanxes and tedious, inconclusive firefights that bedevil most mainstream reenactments.
The two keys to making this system work are the schematics and the walk-through. The schematics comprise, for each scenario, some 8 to 12 pages of diagrams vaguely reminiscent of the picture books by which 19th century missionaries taught key elements of Christian doctrine to South Sea cannibals. It works pretty well in this application. Then the walk-throughs: first Chris and Kevin explain the overall course of the action to their cadre at their respective headquarters, then we all join on the actual field, where Chris and Kevin again explain, this time pointing out the actual terrain features and approach routes, and singling out the commanders involved in each stage, and introducing those who would have to encounter each other.
This last practice puts the capstone on the whole – suddenly Union and Confederate commanders become partners in accurately portraying history, and compete only in trying to outdo each other in performing their roles. It completely changes the dynamic of the re-enactment and virtually eradicates yahoo behavior. To a large extent it accounts for the good feelings on both sides after Chris & Kevin productions, and the few complaints about scenario busting.
With all that in mind, I will not try to describe the entire Cedar Mountain scenario. My role was to carry a little radio and accompany Scott Buffington as he positioned the 3rd USV for an attack on the rear of the Confederate left flank about midway through, creating the crisis of the battle. His men were to slice through one Confederate line, fight hand-to-hand for the standard of a Virginia regiment, then flee in disorder after being flanked in turn by Confederate reinforcements. Shortly after, Tom Craig’s cavalry, reinforced by galvanized Confederate quick-change artists, would make a final charge to stem the Confederate pursuit. Between signalling each attack after a call from Kevin Air, I was to lead a small band of provost guards consisting of Sergt. Kelley, Bill Wilson, and three of our young copyist-couriers. (Well, Sergt. Kelley would actually lead them, but I had the sword.)
If you’ve been in many reenactments before, just this part of the scenario will sound insanely complicated, and dangerous – especially the hand-to-hand fighting over the flag. But everything was carefully explained and the two companies involved in the melee were introduced to each other. I also got to meet the commander of the company that would surrender, who turned out to be Tim Kirk, a man I had first met on this very field, at “Fire on the Mountain” in 2001, when he was a galvanized campaigner and I was a sharpshooter in a fuzzy coat with a turkey feather in my hat. We shook hands and talked about how we would handle the surrender. We agreed to hustle his men off the field in the direction we’d come, to a water tank in the woods away from the spectators, where they could top off their canteens and then filter back to camp by way of a road well behind the onlookers, there to rest or rejoin their comrades as they wished.
But not all worked perfectly. We’d talked so long that when the meeting finally broke there was little time for the 3rd US to get back to their camp and assemble on the parade ground. While they mustered, I was at headquarters putting on my own traps and learning, more or less, to use the radio. General Air had remained on the field and, for a moment, I was panicked at the thought that the 3rd had already left their bivouac by a back route. It would have been one thing to lose a radio, but a whole battalion... In any case, after some small bit of marching, I found myself with the 3rd and Sergt. Kelley and the provost guard on the right flank of the union army. With the radio I could monitor how the rest of the deployments were going and, after walking the route down to the staging area with Major Scott Buffington, I asked and received permission to advance the 3rd. Once in their staging area they stacked arms and filled their canteens.
A word about the radio. I hated the thing, felt silly carrying it, and became more and more convinced that 99% of the traffic could have been better handled by the bugle using unit preludes and a fraction of the standard calls. Except for medical emergencies and a few communications directly between the commanders to avoid scenario breakdowns, it was really overkill. But having it, I used it, and monitored the traffic to alert Scott to get ready before the actual order to attack.
The order did not come quite as soon as we expected. A small case of premature escalation occurred when one Federal battalion entered the field early, which they quickly corrected. A further delay of perhaps ten minutes resulted when one of the elements of another Federal battalion got their blood up, engaged in a fire fight with the Confederates, and refused the first several orders to pull back. Or at least that’s how I’m reconstructing Chris and Kevin’s radio narration, which would not make suitable public broadcasting material. Despite these hang-ups the battle went on and the order eventually came for the 3rd to go in.
Scott formed the battalion in a column of divisions and advanced. Sergt. Kelley and I took our little group to the rear so as not to get in the way of the real soldiers. We hoped to get to the surrendering Confederates no more than a few seconds after they were overrun. As it was, the column went into line and we found ourselves ten or twenty yards behind the company that overran Kirk’s. We ran forward, but there were, it seemed, several embarrassing seconds in which the Confederate POWs were just standing with reversed arms. Once we got to them I think we all did a fairly credible job in our roles as stunned POWs and scared provosts. I had assured Kirk that we would be respectful of his men and gear and would indulge in no trash talk. This vow the HQ paper-collars kept, but, once we got to the woods where the galvanized CS cavalry were, the horse soldiers let them have it with both barrels and the captured soldiers gamely bantered back. All in fun, though. I think.
I shook hands with Tim again and left him with his men while my own detachment headed back onto the field. We’d not gotten far when the Confederate counter-attack began and men of the 3rd began streaming back in disorder. I made a show of trying to stop this, but not for long. As the crowd grew my lot and I went back with it, though we did try to direct them to the right of the road from the woods in order to keep a clear path in front of the cavalry. Once back a second time, I retrieved my radio from my haversack. I asked Captain Craig how he expected to get the signal for his charge and he said that ADC Dobbs was to deliver it, but I thought that it would be rather a long run for Doug so I contacted General Air and let him know where I was. At length the word came and Craig’s troop, reinforced to some twenty men, charged out in a final glorious attempt to salvage the battle for the Union. A great flurry of gunfire met them and they soon came trotting back, leading two riderless horses.
Now that was alarming. I’d never seen a mounted cavalryman take a hit, so I was certain there had been a terrible accident. Turns out they’d practiced this, and the two horsemen were fine. It was one more amazing stunt to end a spectacular little battle.
Saturday Afternoon and Evening: The Battle of Brawner’s Farm
The day had been cool and intermittently drizzly, but we marched back dripping with sweat and looking forward to a little down time. QM Sergt. Whitaker had the remnants of lunch set out, along with watermelon, more lemonade, and ginger snaps. I dropped my traps, grabbed some of the cookies, and prepared to rest, then realized that it was now well past three and, with the next officers’ meeting coming up at 5:15, I needed to get out the next round of orders.
The 20% chance of rain that had spattered us off and on since the night before now became general, though broken by periods of slight dripping. Between and during showers we held the afternoon meeting and walk-through for Brawner’s Farm over a large rolling pasture covered with thigh high wildflowers and broken by a few copses. From the field one could see nothing of this century, not even power lines.
The battle of Brawner’s Farm – the birth of the Iron Brigade – was the simplest of our scenarios, which was a wise move given that it would take place at dusk, and dusk was likely to come earlier than anticipated because of the clouds and rain. The Union army would form next to the woods on one side of the field, the Confederates in the woods across the way. One Confederate gun on each flank would simulate the batteries that opened the ball; our section of guns would reply from our extreme right flank. The Western Brigade would advance behind a skirmish line from behind our guns toward the CS gun in the distance on the left. They would encounter CS infantry, at which point the 1/2 USV would advance to support them on their left. After some additional slugging, CS infantry would advance on our right, to be met by an advance of the composite battalion. There would be a large gap in the center of our line which, at the crisis of the battle, would be filled by the advance of our last battalion, the 3rd USV. Simple.
Assembly was at 7:00 but General Air verbally changed this to 7:15, given that we were only about five minutes from the field. Once back in our camps the rain went from intermittently light, to light and intermittently moderate, to moderate and heavy. Brian and Geoff served up a fine supper of lobscouse but we had not been back at HQ long when I noticed, through a gap in the brush, troops forming on the parade ground. It was about 6:40. I put on my gum blanket and went to see what was going on. It was the Western Brigade having dress parade. Then the 3rd USV marched up for dress parade and I saw movement in the streets of the 1/2 USV and the composite battalion.
I reported back to HQ, got the order of march (I should have known this) and returned. The Western Brigade marched to the woods en route to the battlefield where there would be some shelter from the rain. As the 3rd completed their parade and checked weapons, the 1/2 USV marched past to take position behind the Western Brigade. Then the composite battalion and finally the 3rd. My role for this fight was to again take up the accursed radio. Once the battalions were on the start line, General Air would lead the Western Brigade half way to its position. On his command I would send the next battalion on to him and he would direct it to its position, and so on for the remaining two. I was to accompany the 3rd forward and then report for further orders.
In the meantime we waited in the rain. Despite the weather, everyone had come out – no one in any of the battalions remained behind. I think I was the only one on the field in a gum blanket, but there might have been a handful of others. Fortunately the rain soon stopped. The field lay glistening in several shades of green and brown, all made richer by the coming twilight. The woods across the way looked beautiful and mysterious, the shadows under the trees deepening with each passing minute. Overhead the sky was a pale gunmetal flecked by circling swifts. The artillery opened and the troops took a knee, only half in play. Our guns seemed to take forever to respond, but when they did it was a tight salvo of two. Far to the left across the field I saw a bright orange flash, followed soon by a boom, then a rolling cloud that revealed the Confederate gun crew as silhouettes in the smoke of their own shot. It was an amazing scene.
The cannon played for a time, then Lavis’s battalion deployed a company as skirmishers (by the left flank) and went forward in line of battle and seemingly perfect order. General Air and the staff accompanied them a couple hundred yards, then halted. We all watched with suspense as the skirmishers got closer and closer to the opposite tree line, becoming nearly lost in the shadows before the entire scene was illuminated by the musketry of a Confederate force. All the fighting followed to plan, much as expected, but no one could expect how sublimely beautiful and, in some ways, terrifying it all looked. With no modern intrusions (including spectators – this was for the reenactors alone), there were more 19th century moments than 21st, and in the distance with the lights growing dim, every single soldier looked rather more authentic than you would wish. The Confederate lines were scarcely visible – variegated smears of ochre and earth tones punctuated by muzzle flashes and unearthly screams, while our own lines looked blacker and blacker, with fewer and fewer standing.
The message came for the 3rd. Major Buffington formed close column on the first company and advanced. I went with them. As we approached the gap in the line, General Air drew his sword and, cheering, the 3rd went in, left half-wheeling into line at the double quick and opening fire by company as each came onto line. The AAG cheered them on, drawing his sword and waving it in his excitement. Then I put it back – who was I kidding? The fight continued for awhile; my subsequent duties took me to the left flank, then to each battalion in turn to direct them to fall back, taking their wounded with them so that we wouldn’t leave anyone behind in the dark.
The last fellows I approached, just after the cease-fire blew, were a group of Vincent’s on the far right who alternated between protesting with some emotion that the Confederates were the ones who ought to fall back, and claiming that they had used the cover of the smoke to hold back an entire Confederate battalion. I hadn’t the heart to tell them that, smoke or no smoke, the flashes from their muskets would have told the Confederates how few they were – it would have ruined their moment.
We all made it safely back to camp, but in a high level of excitement over what was universally acclaimed as one of the best – if not the best – reenactment the participants had ever seen.
I was exhausted. The rain, which had stopped for most of the battle, now grew heavy again. I passed some time with the General and other staff officers. We heard in the distance the music from the 1/2 USV, but agreed that there was no point in asking them to stop – fatigue and the rain would do that (it would, but not for several hours). I had intended to see “Our American Cousin” at the activities tent, but stayed instead in the office under the now saturated and dripping fly.
Bill, Frenchy, and Kevin Kelley were there. Josh Mordin and Mark Maranto – fellow Brady Sharpshooters and Captain and 1st sergeant of Company I respectively – joined us. Kevin had a half-empty magnum of port left over from the officers’ soiree from the previous night and poured us all a dram or two in our tin cups. He then proposed a toast: “To the Brady Sharpshooters.” We’ve come a long way from our days of justifiable pariah-hood, and though we will always, as everyone, have some distance yet to go, we felt good to be not just attendees, but a pretty creditable part of this event.
The rain continued. The little party ended. Josh and Mark returned to their dog tent in the mud and I, facing another possibly sleepless night, moved my bedding from the dog tent into the A-tent. Without my cedar-twig mattress the ground was harder, but I could at least stretch out without worrying about the rain. After some time, despite the pounding of the USV’s washtub bass, I went to sleep.
Sunday Morning: Kearny’s Attack
Morning came with bacon, flapjacks, and eggs from the establishment of Whitaker and Golliver. Then the sun, promising, hope against hope, to dry our canvas before we had to go home. I prepared another set of orders announcing a 9:45 pre-walk-through meeting and an 11:00 a.m. assembly for the noon battle. Actually, I just did one or two copies – Bill did the rest while Sergt. Kelley prepared receipts for the enlisted couriers. It seemed to go pretty quickly, and felt like we were getting this HQ thing down pretty well.
A few people came by to ask us about church services. We told them that they’d come across a nest of free-thinkers and atheists. Fortunately Joel saved the day by arranging a nondenominational service with the Christian Commission, scheduled to start at 9:15 so as not to encroach on the bloody business of the army.
I sent off the couriers, asking each to remind the adjutants to have their reports in by 9. The first of these, coming from the very worthy Daniel Shoun, adjutant of the Western Brigade, arrived by eight, with Kim Perlotto’s report from the 3rd following not long after. Bill prepared the consolidated return while Sergt. Kelley drilled the clerks. Our count Sunday morning was interesting:
Unit |
Officers |
Enlisted |
Aggregate |
1st Bn (3rd USV) |
9 |
68 |
77 |
2nd Bn (Western Brigade) |
12 |
71 |
83 |
3rd Bn (MG/NR/VB) |
6 |
87 |
93 |
4th Bn (1/2 USV) |
4 |
38 |
42 |
Cavalry |
1 |
10 |
11 |
Artillery |
1 |
6 |
7 |
Staff |
4 |
7 |
11 |
Total |
37 |
287 |
324 |
The army as a whole had shrunk, but the composite battalion and 1/2 USV had actually grown, which probably reflects additional arrivals Saturday. We at HQ had lost one courier Saturday night. After the return went in we picked up a replacement: Private Aubrey Scanlan of Vincent’s Brigade, Signal Corps, arrived. Our desk work was done and the General did not require another attendant in the coming battle, but I was happy to take on Scanlan as an aide, figuring that I might be able to use a courier at my side should God ever decide to smile on me and smite the damned radio.
With the sun out and the temperature rising, the General asked that I send another order requesting participants in the walk-through to leave their coats in camp. There was no time to write this so I gathered the clerks from drill, told them the message, asked each to repeat it, then sent them on their way. I was a bit concerned when most of the officers showed up fully dressed, but it turned out that the 3rd USV and Western Brigade had had a morning dress parade and others had gone to service – when queried, all acknowledged receiving the verbal orders. Bully boys, our couriers.
The final scenario, Kearny’s Attack, would have the Confederates defending the same tree line the Union started at in Brawner’s Farm while we would attack from their position of the previous evening. The 3rd USV would assault on the left, then the 1/2 USV on the right, then the composite battalion under Colonel Andy Siganuk would punch through the center, followed by the Western Brigade. The 1/2 USV would advance parallel with them, through the Confederate line, then all three battalions would wheel left and hit another line of Confederates, only to be driven off by a counter-attack. Buffington’s battalion would make repeated, futile attacks, separated from the main action by a large copse of woods.
I would send off each battalion again, then go to the far right where Sergt. Kelley would again lead our clerks as a provost detachment. This time the prisoners would be from Dave Pridgeon’s brigade, with Colonel Pridgeon himself coming with them. We spoke together at the walk-through and I pointed out the copse where I thought I’d take them and leave them, out of sight of the spectators, to await their fellows to catch up with them during the counterattack. This seemed agreeable.
The sun grew hot as we marched out and I was happy to get to the shade on the other side of the field and take my place with Buffington’s battalion. I finally had a chance to say hello to some of the boys in Company I and got some gentle ribbing from Josh and Mark about interfering in their company – my first act in the morning had been to write out a Special Order commending Frank Lilley for gallantry and grace in straightening out the camps on Friday. And promoting him to sergeant. It seemed the least I could do.
While listening to the usual pre-battle chatter, nearly all of it from the Confederates, I asked Signalman Scanlan to run up to HQ and make sure I had the right channel for my radio. Shortly after Scanlan’s return with confirmation that I did, Captain Craig’s cavalry rode out to reconnoiter the enemy position. Originally they had no place in the scenario, but they were game for further action, so they got the job of discovering the enemy’s position, then patrolling the field and guarding the rear of our forces.
Craig’s men and horses went out, did their usual fine job, and returned. I got the order to send in the 3rd. I did, Buffington had the men fall in, right wheel by company, and march off in column again, the 28th Massachusetts in the lead. I saluted with my sword (having just learned from Scott the right way to do it) and hurried off to General Air where I received directions to the 1/2 USV. It was another couple of hundred yards further on. Sergt. Kelley and the provosts followed. I introduced him to Captain Childs and explained why they were there, then stayed till they received the order to advance and got going. I went back to HQ and beyond, to where Major Siganuk waited in front of his command. When the order arrived I conveyed it and the composite battalion stepped off in fine style, the Western Brigade right behind.
Now back to the right flank. For a moment it seemed that the center column would beat the right to the Confederate line, and prisoners, and perhaps they did, but the melee was general at the fence line. Scanlan and I hurried up as best we could, with the provosts and various other Union troops around. I relieved the latter as quickly as I could and began rounding up the surrendered CS but didn’t see Pridgeon at first. Then I noticed a group of men around a fallen yankee. Someone was hurt; I collected Dave and his staff, but they were reluctant to go till they first assured themselves that the man down was OK. Colonel Pridgeon was that concerned for his welfare, and that we understand that none of his men had injured the fellow. Indeed, later we found out that the casualty had tripped while negotiating the fence and his glasses had cut him as he went down. There was a bit of blood, but no serious injury.
The provosts and I got the POWs away but instead of going around the copse as I originally planned, we headed into it and found a nice shady spot. Lieutenant Bonardi of the 28th, AQM for the 3rd USV was there and I turned the prisoners over to him. “But I’m dead,” he protested. “It’s the perfect job, then,” said I, and returned to the fray.
I got as far as the fence line. The Union troops had moved on, but a group of rebels had closed in behind them, just a bit out of position as they were almost cutting off the route of retreat. The fence was covered with casualties, and the provost guard was quite willing to go to ground there while I waved my hankie and got the attention of first a sergeant major, and then an officer named Darren. I explained my concern and they obligingly halted their advance. I then jumped the fence and ran off to find General Air and report. I pointed out the flanking party, then returned, ducking as they took shots at me. Soon enough the party of Confederates fell back into the woods and the Union retreat commenced.
Suddenly, one of the wounded on the fence just in front of me said hello. He turned out to be a fellow student at the NCO school, Waverly Adcock. We shook hands and I fell back as the General approached. Sergt. Kelley drew my attention to the far left. The field where the 3rd had repeatedly attacked was covered in blue and their fellows were moving among them looking for survivors. Not a pretty sight.
The battle lasted perhaps another five minutes till we were well pushed back. When the cease fire sounded the armies cheered, both for themselves and each other. The Western Brigade gave General Air three cheers (hurrah!) and a tiger (aaargh!), and then a Wisconsin tiger (moo!). We marched off.
Epilog
Back at Headquarters I could scarcely believe it was over. I sat for perhaps ten minutes drinking water and catching my breath before I could start packing. I began with the desk, nibs and ink pots being about all I could lift for a bit. Bill went straightaway to help Brian and Geoff with the kitchen equipment. Sergt. Kelley went to get his car. Joel passed around a few beers. Doug’s wife came by as the couriers changed back to their street clothes. Frenchy told stories.
I had a chance to say good-bye to a number of friends as they rode or marched past HQ on their way out or to the Confederate camp, but there were many more I left without seeing again. Of them, my strongest, most recent memory will for some time be that of soldiers in battle, but a strange sort of battle where no bullets ever hurt and no foemen are ever really enemies.
I cannot believe that the real soldiers would have wanted it any other way.
Plus, the canvas had dried.
