They’d turned off the main highway and into a parking area filled with trucks, horse trailers, campers and RVs. Along one side numerous tents were set up. Michelle waved at Eddie, who was busy getting his gear together. They got out of the car and joined him.
“So what are you this time?” asked Bailey.
Eddie grinned. “I’m a man of many talents, so I’ve got multiple roles. First, I’m a major in the 52nd Virginia in an all-Virginia brigade under General John Pegram’s Division. After that I saddle up as part of the 36th Virginia Cavalry Battalion, Johnson’s Brigade under General Lomax’s Division. I belong to lots of different units actually; they’re always looking for bodies. Hell, I’ve mustered up in Confederate armies in Tennessee, Kentucky, Alabama and even Texas. Done artillery, cavalry, infantry, even went up in an observation balloon once. Now, don’t tell my mother, but I’ve suited up in Union blue on occasion too. ”
“Sounds pretty involved,” said Michelle.
“Oh, it’s quite a show. There are primers for how to put one of these events together, complete with sample budgets, marketing plans, logistics, finding sponsors, that sort of thing.”
Michelle pointed to the line of tents. “What are those?”
“They call them sutlers,” replied Eddie. “During the actual Civil War merchants would follow the armies and sell them things. Sutlers nowadays sell period-style items and goods to reenactors and the public. As for the reenactors there are definitely different levels. They have the ones called thread-counters who make sure their uniforms are authentic down to fabric having the same thread count as during the real war, hence the nickname.” Eddie deadpanned, “They’re also referred to as the stitch Nazis.” Bailey and Michelle laughed. “Then you have the other side of the spectrum, the Farbys; those are the ones who dare to have polyester in their uniforms or use plastic dinnerware during a reenactment, when those things weren’t even invented at the time of the real war. I call them Julie instead of Johnny Rebs.”
“So which are you, Nazi or Julie?” asked Michelle.
He grinned. “I’m a tweener. Most of my stuff is authentic, but I occasionally bend to the comforts of life at times as well.” He lowered his voice, “Don’t tell anyone, but my uniform has some rayon in it and, God forbid, Lycra. And if you press me on the point, I won’t deny that there might be some plastic thingies on my person.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“I’m actually going to buy some stuff from the sutlers today. Everybody’s gearing up for the reenactment of the Battle of Gettysburg in Pennsylvania in July. Then we got the Spotsylvania, Virginia, campaign coming up; the Road to Atlanta and the Battle of Franklin are in the fall. But this battle today is a pretty big deal. The Union outnumbered the rebels by about a third on both the infantry and cavalry side and had over twice the number of artillery pieces, but the Yanks suffered double the number of killed and wounded.”
As Michelle helped him with his gun, canteen and bedroll, she looked around at all the activity. “This is like a bi
g movie production.”
“Yeah, but without the big payday.”
“Little boys who never grow up,” replied Bailey, shaking his head and grinning. “The toys just get bigger and more elaborate.”
“Is Dorothea here?” Michelle asked.
Eddie shrugged. “My good wife would rather have all her hair pulled
out one strand at a time than come and see me play soldier.” A bugle sounded. “Okay, the camps are open. They’ll start with a little lecture about the battle and such, some infantry field drilling, music and then a cavalry demonstration.”
“You said you’re riding. Where’s your mount?”
Eddie pointed to a thirteen-hands-high nimble-looking Tennessee walker tethered to a trailer parked next to Eddie’s truck. “There’s my ride, Jonas. Sally’s taken good care of him, but that horse is ready for some real action.”
They headed to the army camps. Michelle watched with great admiration as Eddie drilled on foot, then took Jonas through some very intricate paces during the cavalry demonstration. The spectators were required to leave the camps before the artillery barrage began. At the first salvo Michelle covered her ears.
Then the first day of the battle was announced.
Eddie pointed them to a spot where they could “watch me die gloriously.” He also pointed out the hospitality tents. “Hot dogs and cold Buds. That’s a perk no Civil War soldier ever saw,” he said.
“I hear they’re filming this,” said Bailey.
“That’s right. They shoot lots of them. For posterity,” he added sarcastically.
“I’m assuming all the guns and cannon are loaded with blanks,” said Michelle.
“Mine is. I sure as hell hope everyone else followed that same rule.” Eddie smiled. “Don’t worry, we’re all pros here. There won’t be any musket balls flying around.” He stood and balanced all his equipment. “Sometimes I don’t know how those guys walked, much less fought, with all this stuff. I’ll see you later. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” said Michelle as he hustled off.
CHAPTER
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