Back in the shade of some trees, I found Captain Munson and Lieutenant Mosher relaxing smoking a cigar and sipping some grog. Captain Munson explained that only the officers were permitted a drink in camp. I don’t know what was in the brown bottle but they sure found it refreshing. It turns out that Lieutenant D. Mosher was a field artist himself. He went in his tent and pulled out a hand drawn map he has made of the battle field, so the Generals would have a good idea of the lay of the land. The map was drawn with ink and watercolor very similar to how I execute these sketches. Then lieutenant gave me a color copy of the map. I have no idea where he found a color copier in the 1860s.
A 21st century father and son wandered by curious as to what I was sketching. The captain took some time to share information with the boy about what life was like during the Civil War. He pulled out his saber and offered it to the boy to hold. The 10 year old had trouble holding the weight of the saber but he was thrilled. Then officers has a fire pit set up but they could not light it since they would have to suffer a $200 fine if they did.
Union Camp
My next order of business at Crystal River was to march across to the Union camp. The Union camp didn’t have as much shade as the Confederate camp. Again the environment was totally calm with row after row of canvas tents. The Union troops on first inspection seemed to be outnumbered by at least 5 to 1.
Camp fires could only be lit in designated areas since it had not rained in weeks and it was feared that any fire would spread fast through the dry grass. Some women were still cooking over the few fires that were allowed. Officers seemed to be camped in the prime spots back by the shady trees. Everyone was aware that a battle would likely take place that day and they were preparing for the worst. One man was walking around the camp trying to sell life insurance to the soldiers who were about to go on the battle filed.
Preparing the Charges
In the Confederate camp I ran across this group who were packing gunpowder into small white paper cylinders. The fellow sitting in the center was always working an angle. For instance he wanted to charge me for the right to do the sketch. He would run the same scam any time any other 21st century tourist would wander by with a camera. He wanted to charge me more than he was charging people for photos since “We have to pose so much longer for you”. I mentioned that no one was actually posing, everyone was moving about as usual, just doing their thing. He never did collect any money, besides my currency would have been useless in the Confederated States.
A suspicion I have about reenactors is that they never die until they run out of ammunition. If you are going to take all this care to pack your charges, well then you had better get the pleasure of firing them all off.
Confederate Musicians in Camp
Wandering through the Confederate camp at Narcoossee Mill I was drawn to the impromptu music being performed. I became interested in reenactments from a small newspaper ad that I found in a local paper calling for recruits for the 2nd Florida Volunteer Infantry, Company E, The Hammock Guards, 5th Company, Florida Battalion. From that ad I contacted a Captain Clay Kearney and told him of my desire to draw the troops. He enthusiastically informed me where the next engagements were to be found.
Well after finishing this sketch and showing it around, someone said “Hey Clay that looks just like you!” I discovered that I had just drawn the good Captain without having ever seen him, or been introduced to him in person. He is the fellow in the red checkered shirt. It is very strange that among the hundreds of solders milling around camp, that I should sit down and immediately sketch the very man I intended to try and find that day. Artist’s instinct I suppose. After much talk about outfitting myself with period clothing, I am one step closer to becoming a true civil war correspondent.
Confederate Camp Crystal River
I traveled to Crystal River to witness the Civil War re enactment held there. My first order of business was to wander into the confederate camp to execute my first field sketch documenting the days events. Walking through the lines of canvas tents I immediately felt out of place with my 21st century jeans and shirt. I found a large shady tree in the center of camp and set up my chair at a polite southern distance. Men were discussing orders being waged for the upcoming battle and the difficulties of the constant drilling being done. I was almost finished with the sketch before anyone walked up to me and asked me if I was a northern spy. I if course denied the charge stating that I was working for Harper’s Weekly, the Journal of Civilization. I was asked about the brush I was using they had never seen the brightly colored material that it was made of. That material of course was plastic.
Life slows down the second you walk into camp. Camp fires were still burning and the simple choirs of cleaning dishes were still an ongoing task. I can feel myself being pulled back in time.
The Fallen
I decided to take a hike in the wooded area just north of Mathew’s hill. The woods were quiet and peaceful. I noticed a quick moving shadow on the forest floor, and when I looked up I saw a falcon soaring overhead. New growth was sprouting up everywhere. Yet for some reason there were a large number of up rooted trees like the one in this drawing. These fallen trees would often be supported by the trees around it as if they were trying to prop it back up. To me these fallen were the only symbols of the violent struggles that took place in these woods more than 140 years ago.
8th Georgia Infantry under the command of Lt. Col. W. N. Gardner
“Away we went straight into the teeth of the murderous fire. We entered a thicket and were within 100 yards of the enemy. Yet not a gun of ours was fired until the command ‘commence firing’ was given. Most of the men were cool as cucumbers – each would load, pick his man, and take deliberate aim. We stood the fire in that wood for 30 minutes, and had the order not been given to retire, not a man would have left his post.”
– Pvt Robert Grant July 21, 1861
11:00 AM 2nd Brigade (Bartow)
I am feeling a bit uprooted myself, as I pack up to head back to Orlando.
Old Stone House
Built in 1820 this stone house stood right in the middle of the Manassas battlefield at the intersection of 2 large supply roads. When the Union General McDowell swept his forces down Mathews Hill, he set up headquarters right behind this stone house which would be in the foreground of this sketch. The building was used as a field hospital and the floor boards became soaked with blood. It seems amazing that the building does not have a single bullet hole to scar its facade. The h0use on the hill, the Henry House, was riddled with bullet and artillery fire damage. That home saw the only civilian fatality of the battle. Judith Carter Henry, 85 years old and bedridden refused to leave her upstairs bedroom as the battle raged on in the fields around her home. Confederate snipers were using the house. Judith was killed by a Union bullet meant for one of those snipers. She is buried in the front yard and a headstone marks the spot.
Stonewall Jackson fighting at first Manassas
With the sun finally out, I decided to skip out on farm living and instead drove to the Manassas Battlefield, commonly known as the Battle of Bull Run. The battlefields were still muddy, but I walked for miles following the military drama that unfolded here on July 21, 1861.
The Federal General McDowell had the Confederate troops outnumbered, and falling back from Mathew’s Hill, at a fast retreat. Confederate units had fallen out of line and were milling about in confusion feeling they had lost the battle. Confederate Generals Johnston, Beauregard and Bee quickly reformed the troops to make a final stand. Just then Confederate re enforcements appeared from the woods behind them. It was Jackson’s infamous Virginia Infantry. Brig. Gen. Barnard E. Bee, exhorted his own troops to re-form by shouting, “There is Jackson standing like a stone wall. Let us determine to die here, and we will conquer. Follow me.” General Bee was then shot dead. This stand with the unexpected re enforcements turned the battle, and earned Jackson a lasting name in history.
Hooves
I will admit I was fascinated by the Farrier. He worked with amazing speed, I could tell I was watching a true craftsman. It also takes quite a bit of trust to grasp a horses hoof between your legs like that. This large white horse was the only one with attitude. He resisted every step of the way. Dick warned me to watch out cause this is the one horse that might kick. He had to lean into the horse forcing him up against the stall doors to keep the horse off balance and under control. Also watching was Caroline and her two grandchildren Caylee and Bailey. Apparently the kids take care of virtual horses online, but this was their first experience on a real horse farm. They got to shovel the real thing, and this was the first time either had ridden a horse. They did great, very serious and determined.
The Farrier
We woke up to cloudy, cold rain once again. Terry was exhausted and needed to sleep in. I knew the Farrier was coming to check the horses hooves, so I braved the cold and rain and made my way down to the barn. A truck backed up to the barn door and set up shop. Dick Bickel quickly got to work first trimming and filing the horses hooves then fixing any cracks or imperfections with acrylic resin. In all he worked on the hooves of five or six horses in quick succession. The last horse was the greatest challenge since he needed to rework the horse shoes. In the back of the truck was a furnace and an anvil to pound the shoes into shape. Once in a while he would hold up the red hot shoe to the horses hoof to check it for size. Sometimes he even pressed the shoe up against the hoof causing it to burst into flames in the cold morning air. I was amazed at how calm the horse remained through the whole process. Dick explained that he used to shape all his shoes from a straight bar, but with so many shoe manufacturers, that didn’t make sense anymore. I asked if his was a lost art and he said, “No there are many training opportunities for the next generation.” Debbie the owner of the bed and breakfast, also claims that Dick is something of a horse whisperer. He is able to train horses that are considered to dangerous to ride.
