The 'Charge' | The Irish | 'Incredible' | The Campfire | In Memoriam
Dispatches From Gettysburg
Reflections on the Battle's 135th Anniversary
In vain the Tennessean set
His Breast against the bayonet;
In vain Virginia charged and raged,
A Tigress in her wrath uncaged,
Till all the hill was red and wet!
Above the bayonet, mixed and crossed,
Men saw a gray, gigantic ghost
Receding through the battle-cloud,
And heard across the tempest loud
The death-cry of a nation lost! . . .
Fold up the banners! Smelt the guns!
Love rules. Her gentler purpose runs.
A mighty mother turns in tears
The pages of her battle years,
Lamenting all her fallen sons!
From "The High Tide at
Gettysburg" by Will Henry Thompson
PICKETT'S CHARGE: A SIGHT
UNSEEN IN 135 YEARS
By Joseph E. Gannon
Plainfield, Ct., July 6, 1998
Many of the reenactors at this event were probably less than impressed with some of the battles fought up until Sunday. And some may have
disliked the fact that you had to walk great distances to get to the
sutler areas, water buffaloes and portajohns around the site. But I
believe for most of them all of that is going to be a very foggy memory
when compared to the lasting memory of seeing and being a part of
something absolutely amazing on Sunday.
It may well be that in their planning for this event the organizers concentrated on making 'Pickett's
Charge' a spectacular success even if they had to sacrifice a little in terms of terrain and lines of sight for spectators on the other days. If that is true, I will be the first to endorse their reasoning. It would be hard to find a better spot to recreate the famous 'Charge' with an eye toward both terrain and the ability for spectators to get a decent
view of the fight.
More than 10,000 Confederates marched in parade-like precision to assault the awaiting Federals during "Pickett's Charge" at Gettysburg '98'. [Click here for a more detailed view. (150KB)]
Composite Photo by Kevin O'Beirne
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The setup of the low stone wall 'angle' and the rest of the Union line
seemed very close to the same length as the real thing, which is
approximately 1/3 of a mile from the Bryan barn to the position we held
as Stannard's Brigade on the left flank. The 'Emmitsburg Road,' complete
with rail fencing, was at the bottom of the rise. That incline was
probably a bit too steep, but not by much. The distance to the
Confederate cannons and the woods where the Confederate lines formed up
and began their march was approximately the real distance, probably being
just slightly less. There was even a barn that was not out of place,
being very close to the right location for the Codori barn. Finally, and
most importantly, the plan was for a number of the Federal reenactors to
galvanize (wear gray, in other words) to achieve very close to the
correct number of Confederates as were in the actual battle. I couldn't
tell you right now if they did, but it looked like it from the Federal
position above the field.
| The sight when the actual fighting was over was almost as incredible as
the fight itself. |
Because we in the National Regiment portrayed Stannard's Brigade, we
were able to see the action from two different angles. Historically,
Stannard had been swung out to flank Kemper's Brigade. After seeing the
first and middle part of the charge from the top of the rise, we got to
see the rest from a forward position, looking down the Federal line.
I don't believe anyone has seen a sight remotely close to this in 135
years, including the famous 125th anniversary re-enactment of Pickett's Charge. With
numbers like this, the Confederates had the ability to strew the field
from the 'Emmitsburg Road' to the wall with massive numbers of
casualties, just as it was in 1863, and to their credit they apparently
had plenty of reenactors willing to take those hits. Certainly those who
portrayed Kemper's Brigade on the Confederate right flank, to their
credit, died in droves as we opened on them from their flank at very
short range. I criticized the Confederates who refused to move a step
backwards during the 'Wheatfield' scenario on Saturday, but the overall
performance of the Confederates on Sunday, as far as I could see at any
rate, which would include everything except what happened when some of
them went over the stone wall, seemed to be outstanding.
Cemetery Ridge in the aftermath of Pickett's Charge. The Copse of Trees and 69th Pennsylvania/59th New York positions are to the near left of the image.
From an engraving in "Battles and Leaders of the Civil War"
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The sight when the actual fighting was over was almost as incredible as
the fight itself: Thousands of Confederates were straggling back one by one,
in pairs, and in small groups, and thousands more were dead or wounded on
the field. Most had their heads down, looking as dejected as those
veteran soldiers must have been 135 years ago. And thousands more were
dead or wounded on the field.
Unfortunately, having to travel a few hundred miles back to Connecticut, we had
little time to savor these final sights before heading off to get on
our bus with an eye toward beating as much of the traffic as possible.
Without the visual spectacle of Pickett's Charge at the end I think many
of us would have considered this event fairly run of the mill, in terms
of battle scenarios, if not numbers. What we participated in and
witnessed Sunday, however, is likely to vault this event into the
mystical status here-to-fore reserved for only that reverently referred to
event: the 125th Gettysburg, which for years had been the largest
reenacting event ever.
Joe Gannon is the managing editor of The Wild Geese Today, and 1st sergeant of the 27th Connecticut Infantry.
THE IRISH AT GETTYSBURG
By Kevin O'Beirne, Special to The Wild Geese Today
Hamburg, N.Y., July 6, 1998
The historic-in-itself 135th Anniversary Gettysburg
reenactment is now over. I am back to writing dispatches from my
20th-century computer rather than writing them in the field, scribbled
hastily with a knife-sharpened pencil nub in poor handwriting in a
journal book propped on my knee. The "shock" of "returning" to the 20th
Century in the aftermath of such a reenactment is always an odd feeling
that takes a few days to pass entirely.
The reenactment was amazing. I thought that, after 12 reenactments a
year during five seasons of living history in the ranks of an Irish unit, I
have seen just about everything, but Gettysburg ‘98 taught me
differently. Antietam ‘97 was awesome -- 16,000 troops -- but I daresay
that Gettysburg ‘98 topped it in numbers, as well as offering some new
experiences and reflections.
| And -- over it all -- floated the Green Flag at the Bloody Angle. |
Certainly the memories that will linger most prominently in my mind from
Gettysburg will be those from Sunday, July 5, 1998. The vision of literally
thousands of Federal troops in blue, lying fully accoutred under arms [image 138KB] behind the stone wall and before the copse of trees, heads down in the
grass and dirt, a blazing sun, hot and sweaty, with hands over ears, as
over 150 artillery pieces roared over our heads for over an hour -- that
will be my most lingering memory of Gettysburg. And -- over it
all -- floated the Green Flag at the Bloody Angle.
Photo by Kevin O'Beirne
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Perhaps the second-strongest memory is Robert Carter's moving portrayal
of Father William Corby on Day 2, as the re-created Irish Brigade
prepared to enter the "Wheatfield". The weekend offered many chances to
reflect on what it meant to be an Irish-American in those trying three
days.
What did I personally do to consider my Irish roots in those three
days? I met and conversed with pards of other units from far-flung
areas. We shared our reenacting experiences and talked of Irish
soldiers. I met Gerry Madden of the 69th New York's Co. A after Mass on
Saturday evening and wound up chatting with him right in the middle of
the road for over an hour. I met an Irish pard (born in Ireland) from the
61st New York and drank good Irish whiskey with him and talked of the
Emerald Isle for over an hour -- some of it in first-person. I marched
under the Green Flags. In "first-person" I encouraged the boys of my
company to do their best for Ireland (while trying to keep an eye on
20th-Century needs, such as musket safety and water consumption). Many
times I had extended periods of trying to rest and cool off after a hot
battle where I could lean back against a tree and close my eyes and try
to think on what these Sons of Erin of 135 years ago endured. Why they
endured it. And the price they paid for their endurance.
| I found myself thinking
of the coffin ships and the poor treatment many Irishmen encountered here in the 1850s.
|
While attempting to place myself into "first person" (reenactors' term
for trying to "be" a 19th-century individual), I found myself thinking
of the coffin ships and the poor treatment many men of the Irish Brigade
and 69th Pennsylvania encountered here in the 1850s, yet these men appreciated the
freedom America offered. They struggled to make successes of themselves
and attain acceptance by American society. They enlisted in the Federal
Army to preserve the Union, as the United States seemed to be the
next-best thing to a free Ireland. Sons of Erin fought with no less
determination for the South, most envisioning that the Confederacy's
search for independence was analagous to that of Ireland's. Irish in
the Civil War fought under Green Flags to identify themselves as Irish,
but mostly they fought to gain acceptance as Americans.
Gettysburg was perhaps the greatest battle of the Civil War. Today, it
is certainly the best-known and most studied. Whether the significance
of the battle justifies the myths and legends that have grown up around
it is a grand debate but, in the end, to us of 1998, it seems to have
been terribly important and, for the place it holds in our national
psyche, it deserves to be remembered. For those of us who try to place
one foot in the "camp" of our Irish ancestors, the opportunity to
increase our understanding of the Irish-American experience in the most
terrible moment of America's most terrible conflict is a great
educational opportunity.
These citizens of the United Kingdom portray men of the Irish Brigade's 28th Massachusetts, Company B. From left to right, standing: Wayne Tyler, Dai Painter, John Elbro, David Appleby, Mike Openshaw.
From left to right, kneeling: Ian Hammond, Alasdair MacDonald, Max Kingsford.
Photo by Kevin O'Beirne |
The reenactment gave chances for reflection, but also offered glimpses
into what Irish (and non-Irish) soldiers endured. The heat was
appalling. The terrain was rough and the hills steep. Since the 155th
New York was, this weekend, always at the end of the Irish Volunteers'
column, the dust was heavy. Insects were numerous. It rained on us a
bit. The cannonade on Sunday was -- to say the least -- fierce (enough so
that my skull hurt afterward), but for us it did not include firing of
ordinance like the real soldiers had to endure. There was pain enough
without the horror of shot and shell and disease and death.
There were "plusses", too. Cameraderie with my pards in the 155th New
York was, as usual, great. I am honored to be part of such a fine
reenacting unit and was further honored to be promoted to sergeant for
the weekend. I also passed many great conversations with pards in the
69th New York, Co. A -- a great bunch all. Corporal Kevin Brightney of the
28th Massachusetts walked 200 yards across the Irish Volunteers camp
simply to bring me and my pards a bag of ice when it was hot -- that's a
friend! The officers of the Irish Volunteers worked
hard and long to make sure that the event was a success, and safe and
enjoyable for those of us of lower-rank -- hats off to Colonel Kevin Air,
Lt. Col. Steven Eames, Major Brian O'Connor and their staff. My company
commander, Captain Larry Wagner, exhibited his usual strong leadership
which made the weekend better for all of us. Charlie Venturi's
dedication forced him to walk miles in the heat -- up and down steep
hills -- to visit me and collect my dispatches.
| To properly
portray an Irishman, you need a dose of religion, too. |
Rob Carter's dedication to the Irish Volunteers Battalion and his faith
introduced another, very important, aspect to the Irish-American
experience for the weekend: Where would an Irish-Catholic soldier be
without his religion? To some, reenacting is more like a hunting
weekend with the boys than a historical experience and, to properly
portray an Irishman, you need a dose of religion too; Rob's efforts to
portray Father Corby and to organize a Mass right in the Irish
Volunteers' camp paid off for me personally, as well as many others.
Rob's got a good sense of humor too. When he is ordained, this young
Jesuit seminarian will make a great priest.
Chaplain Rob Carter, S.J., of Company A, 69th New York Infantry
Photo by Charlie Laverty
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There are dozens of other people as well -- too many to mention -- who
contributed in one way or another to my great experience this past
weekend. I'm sure that Irish-American soldiers of 1863, too, had some
good times along with the hardships they suffered, and no doubt that is
partly what kept them going.
It is odd, sometimes, how other reenactors react to the Irish
Volunteers. It must be largely due to the fact that we portray
Irishmen. Over the past few years, our battalion has grown in numbers
and kinship -- there is a bond between the member units. Like the Irish
regiments of old, we receive a decent measure of respect for our parade ground
skills and being dependable: "You don't have to worry about the Irish in
a scrap," but yet, sometimes, it is hard to escape the feeling that the
rank and file of some other battalions may somehow look down their noses
at us just because -- unlike any other national-level reenacting
organization -- we have a "group portrayal" -- we're Irishmen. No other
battalion has that defining aspect about it. They will cheer us when we
move in cleanly dressed lines in a fine battalion formation to plug a
gap in the line of battle -- we've heard "Give ‘em hell, Irish!" on more
fields than just Gettysburg ‘98, but that Green Flag and our own close
internal bonds also set us apart from other battalions. Maybe they are
jealous of the Irish, maybe they don't like us because we're different.
Perhaps they don't care one way or the other.
| We've heard 'Give 'em hell, Irish!' on more
fields than just Gettysburg '98. |
There is something about being in the Irish Volunteers Battalion that helps one to
better understand the Irish-American experience of the 1860s. No one in
the Irish Volunteers will claim that we ARE the Irish Brigade, or
Corcoran's Legion, or any other Irish regiment, although perhaps we have
one of the best chances to re-live the Irish soldiers' experiences.
The Irish of the 1860s were a big part of the Federal army and their
dash and elan exceeded their numbers. The Irish Volunteers is just a
group of reenactors that tries to remember the Irish Brigade and other
units but, on the field, when the colonel orders the double quick and
the Green Flag floats to the breeze--as I jog along in the column gripping
my Celtic rosary in one one hand and my rifle-musket in the other--and a
cavalryman gallops by and reigns in his horse and waves his sabre and yells,
"Hurrah for the Irish! Go give ‘em hell!", for one brief second, we are there
in the shoes of Kelly's Irish Brigade. It is for that type of oh-so-brief
"back in time" experience afforded at events like Gettysburg that we
reenact.
Kevin O'Beirne is a corporal (brevet sergeant) in the 155th New York Infantry ("Corcoran's Legion") reenacting unit and editor of the Irish Volunteers' battalion newsletter.
FOR SHEER SPECTACLE, 135th IS ONE FOR THE AGES
By Charlie Venturi ("Dooley")
Bristol, Ct., July 7, 1998
It was big. Everything seemed outsized and to go on endlessly and in incredible numbers. This is my most overwhelming impression. To walk the camps was an ordeal. I don't believe we visited much more than half the sites on the grounds, though we tried to cover everything, my courier and I. The roads were rough and the Federal unit campsites straggled off down the wooded side of the ridge for hundreds of yards. Every few minutes or so, a new road wandered off into another little "village" of troops. Most units had wisely posted identifying signs at their entrance. The Confederate camp was, for the most part, also situated on the side of a hill, spread through several fields divided by tree lines. These camps were painfully formal in their arrangement and company streets, at times, were so narrow as to make the passing of two opposing individuals exceedingly intimate. The impression was of a cascade of tents pouring down the hillside. Confederates lucky enough to be at the base of the hill had relief in a leafed canopy similar to the Federals.
| The impression was of a cascade of tents pouring down the hillside. |
I feel the organizers did not think through some of their service areas, such as registration and reenactor access to telephones, but for me, the event ran well and relatively smoothly. After all, most of the discomforts were historically correct. The horror stories bandied about prior to the event were not realized in my experience. I found no shortage of wood, water, or portable necessaries. And these necessaries were kept clean. "People-movers" and buses from various site
areas and parking lots to various site areas and parking lots passed about every fifteen minutes.
At the times when I needed staff assistance, they were most cooperative, cordial and helpful. During the first day's battle, I was deputized by the U.S. Chief Surgeon to assist in traffic control of the little knot of civilian reenactors at the Bushey Farm. As the battle passed over the hill out of.our view, I requested help in controlling these wandering onlookers and the reaction was immediate. A particular gatekeeper with whom I kept company for an hour on Saturday evening -- a man in his 70s – had been on duty from 9 a.m. to 11:30 p.m. but maintained a calm demeanor and a sense of humor even at the late hour. I would have to say, overall, a job well done.
The weather, on the other hand, was not so cooperative. Although the temperature, as it was relayed to me, was about 10 degrees lower than that at "Gettysburg 130," the humidity kept me wet through, and breathing, at times, felt a bit labored. I don't believe I have ever seen so many played-out reenactors on the first day of an event. Of course, many had been camped since the day before or earlier. To this weather, and the rough ground, I attribute a majority of the hundreds of ambulance calls during the weekend. Despite fatigue, humidity and heat, crowding of camps, difficult foot travel, and long battles, everyone appeared at all times in good spirits. As was I.
It is unfortunate for me that I was unable to participate in Little Round Top, Culp's Hill and Pickett's Charge scenarios, but the battles of Friday afternoon and Saturday morning and the variety of camp life made the trip worthwhile. Friday's "First Contact," from my vantage, was a "Battle-In-The-Round" with the battlelines extending to my left and curving around my right as far as I could see. Several times we "became" a part of the battle as troops and horsemen maneuvered within feet of us. "Angels of Ice (or water)" hovered on the fringes of the battle area to relieve those reacting to the heat.
| The battlefield was close to two miles from left to right. |
I "bumped" into about 150 people I knew outside the area in which I was camped and saw, maybe, six of them more than once because of the press of people and the size of the encampment. I am told that 35,000 spectators attended Friday's event while the same number of tickets had been pre-sold for Saturday and Sunday. I don't doubt this information. The battlefield was close to two miles from left to right and one-half mile deep on the left and three-quarters deep on the right. One side of the rectangle, one end, and one-half the far side were ringed with spectators. The number of troops allowed the battle lines to span the entire diameter, at times, several ranks deep.
I wouldn't want to do this every weekend but it is an experience not to be forgotten and an event by which all that previously occurred, or will subsequently occur, will be unconsciously measured.
BOYS OF '63 WOULD MOST RELISH OUR CAMPFIRES
By Joseph E. Gannon
From a song sheet of 'Tenting Tonight'
Published by Oliver Ditson Co., Boston (1890) |
One of the aspects of reenacting I, and thousands of other reenactors, most enjoy is our activities around the camp. Most specifically it is our gatherings around the campfires at night, singing songs of the period and simply sharing the camaraderie of soldiers, which I believe are, arguably, the closest we ever come to matching the real feeling of being a Civil War soldier.
The battles we reenact are often exciting to participate in, especially those as incredibly large as the ones this weekend; however, it is physically and mentally impossible to recreate the absolute terror of combat unless people, and those people some of your best friends as well, are being killed and maimed around you. And certainly none of us, unless there be any reenactors among us who take being hardcore to some mentally unstable excess, wants to actually recreate that sort of nightmare. So while we may get a chill up our spines, while a given recreated battle may present a perfect representation of what the real battle looked like, I don't believe it is within the powers of imagination of most human being to induce the terror of a real CW battlefield. We might be able to feel for a 'moment' that we are a witness to a CW battle, but not really as a soldier actually in that battle; I doubt the bone-chilling fear of that moment can be mentally induced.
| The campfire has always held a sort of mystical hold on humans. |
That is what reenactors call 'having a moment,' but in my opinion the only times we can truly do that is in our camps and perhaps in the minutes leading up to the battles. In the eight years I have been reenacting almost all of those moments for me have come on Friday and Saturday nights around our campfire. Here is the place where this mental time travel can reach its peak. The campfire has always held a sort of mystical hold on humans. As one sits near the fire and stares into it, the mind seems to be more easily sent out on transcendental treks across time and space; perhaps it's a throwback to our distant ancestors, who spent so much time around such fires in the days before cars, television, and yes, even computers.
The 27th Connecticut has always tried hard to recreate the campfire of a real CW unit by singing many of the songs they would have sung, as they made their own entertainment in the days before radios and tape decks. Our leader in this regard is Leslie Sweetnam (You can find his recent review of David Kincaid 'Irish Volunteer' here). Leslie is somewhat of a paradox to many people in that he is a veteran anti-war activist and a Civil War re-enactor, as well. If he is, indeed, a paradox, the world could use more such contradictions. Leslie has often responded to such confusion by pointing out that nothing he, or we, do need be seen as a glorification of war -- it is the sacrifice and service of the common soldier which we honor, and hopefully a good percentage of all reenactors feel the same. With Leslie leading us with his banjo playing, and our lieutenant, Gordon Markiewicz, playing along on the mandolin, we often sing around the fire for over 3 hours, usually without ever repeating the same song.
Many, many times in my years of reenacting I have stared into the fire as we sang a traditional song of the period and felt one of those time transporting 'moments' reenactors speak of. Singing a song such as 'Home, Sweet Home' - perhaps the most popular song of the War on both sides - or 'Tenting Tonight,' with the firelight flicking off the faces of men who are among the best friends I have, and ever will have, in the world, it is not difficult to reach that mystical plane for small snatches of time. While I would have to admit that none of our reenacted battles has ever moved me quite to tears, 'Home, Sweet Home,' and a few other of the songs we sing, has had the power to do that on several occasions. Part of the emotion is the bond felt at that moment with men who originally sang those songs, the ones who actually lived through the terrible times we merely try to recreate, and part involves the bond I feel for the men of today's 27th Connecticut.
Within the 27th there are many strong friendships, but given the distances between the places we live, as is true with most reenacting units, many of us are not able to see each other very often between events. And so each of these times around the fire, given the vagaries of health, accident, and other facts of life, we never know, as the Civil War soldier never knew, if we will ever see some of these faces around the fire again.
| Its chorus includes the line, 'For we may or may never all meet here again.' |
We have adopted a song called "A Health to the Company" as the 27th's unit song. I must admit we have not been able to fix the vintage of this particular song to be sure it goes back to the War, as we have with most we sing, but it has the sound and feel of music of the era, and the words are so appropriate for any group of men at war that we decided singing it would not harm the sensibilities of any other reenacting groups. Its chorus includes the line, 'For we may or may never all meet here again.' I never sing those words without feeling that they may be true for us and knowing that a Civil War soldier on the eve of a battle would have looked around the fire with the near certainty that he was seeing a number of those faces, faces of men he loved like brothers, for the final time.
Saturday night at Gettysburg we had a chance to have that campfire experience once again. With over 60 members of the 27th on hand it was a memorable 'hoolie' as we Irish members of the 27th have dubbed these occasions. We sang many of the songs those soldiers sang, both CW related and Irish, and we enjoyed the bond of friendship with our comrades around the fire as they did as well. For many members of the 27th all the hours spent in preparation and travel would be well worth it if we only experienced these few precious hours around the fire. For me, the heat I feel coming from the fire has always been exceeded by the warmth I feel around it.
IN MEMORIAM
No more the ringing bugle blast
Shall fright the trembling air;
No more the squadrons hurrying fast
To meet the charge -- perchance their last --
Amid the battle's glare;
Their pride, their strength -- all, all are past.
In peace they slumber there,
And comrades true besides them lie,
Who oft, on field and flood,
Fought in the strife for Liberty
And sealed their faith in blood;
But never yet beat hearts as proud
As those which Ireland gave.
Night's sable mantle was their shroud,
The battlefield their grave!
-- From "In Memory of the Fallen Dead of the Irish Brigade"
by William Collins
Confederate dead await burial near the Wheatfield.
Library of Congress
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Ar dheis De go raibh siad.
(May they sit at the right hand of God)
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