Stars From Our Muzzles, or
How I Learned to Love Cedar Creek
Pvt. M. A. Schaffner
Co. ‘BSS’, 16th Michigan Vol. Inf.

A few years ago I wrote a report on Cedar Creek that attacked it for a number of lapses in authenticity.  In retrospect, this seems ungracious and short sighted.  Cedar Creek offers a recurring, reliable venue for reenacting on an original battleground, with an experienced support staff and plenty of appreciative spectators.  More than that, it’s a chance to get together with others in good wool-wearing weather and, outside the battle, shop at the sutlers, visit neighbors in blue and gray, and camp with friends.   As one of the largest annual events on the east coast, it caters to a wide range of reenactors.  That and the lights of surrounding developments, the clearly visible spectator parking, and minimal uniform and equipment standards mean that it will never provide an “immersion” experience, but it still has a lot to offer.

But this year it threatened to end before it began.  On arriving Friday afternoon, my comrade Bill and I learned that Virginia had just imposed a state-wide ban on open fires.   This wasn’t so bad for us, but it was devastating news for QM Sergt. Whitaker, who had planned on serving the Brady Sharp Shooters five full meals including an early Thanksgiving dinner and thus had on hand about 50 pounds of food and sufficient ironware to, as we delight in pointing out to other units, disrupt the earth’s magnetic field for about a hundred foot radius around our camp.  Topos beware.

Fortunately for Brian, if not our waistlines, it had rained earlier in the day and the organizers obtained some sort of waiver.  It also rained again before nightfall, so we were able to have fires for cooking through the weekend.  Our company street was on the far right of the Federal camps atop the ridgeline so we had a fine view of the Confederate camps on the opposite heights and all the land between.  Next to us we had a composite company from the 3rd USV, consisting primarily of the 28th Massachusetts and 56th NY.  Beyond them were our old friends in the 2nd USV.

Overall attendance seemed light this year and I saw only about half the usual number of porta-johns.  While some of my CS friends said their numbers weren’t much down from average, I believe the US numbered no more than 500 infantry, with maybe 50-60 cavalry, about 18 guns, and maybe a couple hundred civilians.

For dinner the first night Brian grilled steaks, serving them up with potatoes, corn, creamed mushrooms and onions, and a modest but respectable port.   Wait – did I forget to mention the cherry crisp for desert?  He was assisted in his operations throughout the weekend by our senior (no, not in age – not by a long shot) member Geoff Golliver.  Everyone else got off with a dishwashing detail – I did mine the first night and slid the rest of the event.   After a trip to the sutlers to see who was about and pick up the traditional superfluous trifles, I turned in at ten, sleeping peacefully until reveille.  This was not to sound until seven, but one of the regiments elected to sound musician’s call around 6:15, so we had intermittent calls on bugle, fife, and drum for the next 45 minutes.

With morning came French toast and bacon to ensure that the Sharpshooters would hold their position in the coming fight against any force short of a backhoe.  Breakfast was followed by the traditional USV morning parade, including the trooping of a new color for one of our regiments.  As we formed up I was surprised to see most of the regimental and brigade command sporting the white crosses of the second division of the Sixth Corps.  I wore the red cross of the first division, as I have for the last several years.  Apparently there had been a change for this year, but only the leaders knew it and none of them had thought to pass it on to the troops through the user board.

The ceremony went on for quite a bit, but it did give us rankers an opportunity to see – well beyond our field and staff’s endless huddles over questions of protocol – the Mifflin Guard at their morning drill.  They were quite good at it, and at the high point of their maneuvers actually formed square, all coming to “charge bayonet” with a rousing yell.  After the parade, the 2nd USV held its own drill, from which we were excused to brush up on our skirmishing.

Our numbers were about average for Brady’s.  In addition to Sergt. Whitaker and Private Golliver, we had Captain Josh Mordin, Sergt. Kevin Kelley, Corporal Andy Scanlan (aka “Scandal”), musician Peter Abernathy, and privates Wayne Abernathy, Mark Maranto, Ben Ogle, John Teller, Bill Wilson, and Schnapps.  I should also mention Mark’s son.  Corporal Marky handled mail call that afternoon.  He also, throughout the weekend, guarded against sloth and indiscipline by sneaking up from behind and leaping on our backs the moment we let our guard down.  I live in awe of the day he becomes a real corporal and have already purchased a lifetime supply of rottenstone.

Saturday’s reenactment of the battle of Cedar Creek went pretty much like previous years’ reenactments.  We formed up on our color line and marched off toward the Confederate camp, which would stand in for the US camp we would initially be chased out of.  Before marching off a priest or pastor asked for permission to address us and, upon receipt, invoked the Christian deity to bless us, strengthen us, and give us victory.  It obviously reminded someone of the prayer of Leopold of Anhalt-Dessau at the battle of Kesselsdorf in 1740, because from our ranks a voice cried, “And if you won’t do that, then at least don’t help those bastards on the other side, but stand back and see how it goes!”  Some other regiment got blessed Sunday.

As for “Cedar Creek,” the Rebs attacked, Brady’s fell back firing, we crossed the creek and fell back to the ridge overlooking the Heater House, not far from our camp.  Then someone portraying General Sheridan rode up and rallied us, and we went back over the same ground driving the Confederates before us.  It was a bit awkward “driving” them because, even though they took a generous number of casualties, the Confederates still outnumbered us.  On the far left of the US line was the Mifflin Guard and in the middle was the USV, and in the hundred yards or so separating them was the mighty host of Brady’s, looking a bit sheepish as whole battalions volleyed at us before grudgingly falling back.  

On the plus side, all of Brady’s orders came via Peter’s bugle, leading Captain Josh to remark later that it was the first battle that hadn’t left him hoarse.  And I was pleased on my part to use my Sharps again and to have it work.  The Armi-Sport Sharps (rifle or carbine) is notoriously finicky, and I hadn’t had mine out in over a year, but I got through 48 rounds without a misfire.  It was besides that a gorgeous day with a high that scarcely reached 70 so all that bounding up and down the hills had me hardly sweating.

After the battle we cleaned our weapons, gave a reluctant farewell to the Abernathy’s, and steeled ourselves for the challenge of doing justice to Whitaker’s miracle of the field kitchen:  tender roast turkey, potatoes, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, green beans topped with fried onions, and gravy, with apple pie for desert.  The wind that day had cruelly interfered with the baking, so there was a bit of char on the piecrust, but that just added depth and character.  It was mighty fine pie.

Once more to the sutlers to see our friends (“Good night, Johnny!  Shoot you later!") and shop for a few more nonessentials.  I turned in again around ten, intending to rise at five for the morning tactical.  Instead I got up around three and chatted around the fire of our neighbors until it was too late to go back to sleep.  Around five Privates Ogle and Maranto and Corporal Scandal and I kitted up and went to look for the USV provosts, with whom we’d planned to fall in for the morning tactical.  There seemed to be some confusion about when we were actually to deploy, with the result that by quarter of six our little group had fallen in with no one, and we decided to let the tactical go by.  Instead I watched the battle from the ridge, not twenty yards from Brian’s kitchen establishment.

It was a clear cold night still, with meteors zipping across the starry sky seemingly every time I looked up.  When not looking up, I could follow the course of the battle along and across the creek by following the crack and boom of gunfire.  A few shots marked the collision of pickets and patrols; flashes along a line accompanied volleys, and shouts and cheers rang out in proportion to the fire.  Gradually the little blazes crept up the hill toward the Confederate camp and there intensified, each musket blast looking like a small shower of sparks, the sparks on the ground complementing the occasional flight of a meteor above until all of us – the soldiers in the valley below and the intermittent line of onlookers on the ridge – seemed to be in the middle of the same grand battle.  

In previous years the Confederates had carried the battle right up to – even into – the Federal camp.  This year, I only saw a pair of horsemen make the attempt, and I am proud to say that my comrade Bill played a key role in our defense.  As the two rode up and endeavored to get their revolvers to fire, he said, “I wouldn’t come this way – we’ve got our pickets out,” and, indeed, the whole end of the camp had people out watching the battle.  The vidette snapped a few caps, wheeled about and rode swiftly to our left where an armed reserve took them under fire and chased them off.  By that point the sun had begun to break the horizon, and soon the cease fire sounded.  I’ve no idea who won.

The afternoon battle did not come off until two, so after breakfast (small sausage links and pancakes as big as your head) I packed up my gear and sat around.  Quite a few people left early, others went to divine service, and many more went back to the sutlers for still more shopping.   I visited with my friends and, after a heavy snack at noon, accoutered up for battle.  This was easy enough as I left my bayonet and haversack, taking only my canteen and a full cartridge box on my waist belt.  With a brief check to make sure my cravat was straight, I was ready for the fight.

There had been no officers’ meeting the previous evening or that morning so we were all pretty clueless about what would be required of us in the battle of Guard Hill.  This may have been a deliberate attempt to bemuse us with an ignorance equal to that of the original combatants, but I suspect not.  I’ve since read a little bit about the battle of Guard Hill and I am at a loss to see any connection to our reenactment, though it wasn’t bad as these things go.  To start the battle the Confederates all marched off to Belle Grove and we marched through their camp to deploy on the intervening field.  While passing through the camp we received the usual occasional harangue from Rebel civilians, and saw any number of urchins pointing pop guns at us.  A typical exchange:

Rebel Urchin:  “Bang!  Bang!  Die, Yankee!”

Noble Defender of the Republic:  “Watch it, son.  If your mama didn’t like Yankees you wouldn’t be here.”

We lined up in the big field and deployed skirmishers.  The line was constricted enough that Josh held us (now just five rifles plus John on the bugle) in reserve.  Confederate cavalry were about thirty feet away from our skirmishers and we had artillery maybe fifty yards behind us.  Once the battle started it went pretty quickly;  Brady’s ended up on the far right of the Federal line, firing first in one direction and then to the rear as a group of Confederate cavalry rode behind us, back through their camp, and off to the side somewhere for Act II.  We followed them and burned a few more rounds once we cleared the camp.  After floating between units for awhile (not an unusual role for Brady’s), Josh and the others had enough of the fight and decided to go back to get their cars and help Brian pack.  I stayed in the fight because once you fire ten shots through a Sharps you might as well keep going.  

At first I found myself next to the spectators, who were stacked about four deep by sutler row and separated from the field only by a rope line.  Somebody shouted “Go home, yank!”, to which I replied, “I’ll go home when I can do it without a passport.”  Someone else said something noble about honoring the soldiers on both sides, which reminded me of Schnapps’s Rule Number 15 (“We don’t do this for the spectators; we do it for the orbs”).  I fell in with a couple of units where the folks knew me, then reported back to the USV as the acting commander, staff, and individual personification of the Sharpshooter Battalion, deploying myself by the right and left flank on the right of the brigade and covering its withdrawal until I ran out of ammunition, at which point I left, too.  As I departed I ran into Julio (what do you mean, ‘Julio who?’  Everybody knows Julio Zangroniz) who right then and there delivered the copy of the “September Storm” photos that I’d forgotten to order.  The check is now in the mail.  Really.

Back at camp I spent the next hour doing a light cleaning of the Sharps while everyone else courted hernias packing up the dutch ovens.  We struck our tents, loaded the vehicles, then said our good-byes.   Other packing still went on around us:  here one man loaded the family SUV with camp chairs and coolers while his wife rounded up their brood.  There another man pushed an ammo crate filled with condiments and kitchenware Sisyphus-like up a ramp into the groaning back of the family van.   None of this came close to the real camp of the Union army at Cedar Creek, yet in each case a 21st century American family had spent a weekend on a historic battlefield under conditions that most of their neighbors would fine unspeakably primitive.  I take my Tim Bender off to them.

And I doff it to Brian, too, whom we all love to tease as he labors over his cook fires like Hephaestus at his forge.  The truth is he’s a huge part of the reason I signed on with Brady’s and took up with the hobby – not so much because of the food (I don’t eat much in the field), but because someone cares enough about their comrades to do that for them.

Although Cedar Creek marks the semi-official end of the reenacting season, I hope to see every one of my comrades in the near future at one or another event – if not a W&OD hike, then Fredericksburg.   I especially look forward to seeing more of our newest member, Ben Ogle.  Ben’s a quiet lad, or maybe he just couldn’t get a word in edgewise while Schnapps was prattling about other events, other reenactors, Prussian skirmish commands, and carrion geese.  In any case, like Scandal, Ogle’s one of the rare reenactors who’s about the right size for the role, and we want to support that.  With Brady’s field kitchen being what it is, Lord knows how long he’ll stay that way.

I had a pretty good time too.  After we bailed out of Sunday's battle, I happened to pass Vincent's, who were on the far left near the spectator line.  I was then apprehended by Col. Palese, and pressed into service as bugler - so I wasn't able to complete my weekend's impression of a beat.

BTW, I only counted one purveyor of Funnel Cakes, but two vendors were selling Fry Bread - the 19th century equivalent I suspect...

Private Schnapps,
Excellent report. My only disappointment: it doesn't come with your finest Spencerian efforts.
The check, believe it or not, is already on my hands, and will provide much-needed resources for a trip to New Hampshire this very weekend when I will be consorting with French and Indian War friends.
My friend Merrill is totally taken in by your charm and talents. You can expect to hear from her again. Unfortunately, it will be all business, for she has a steady boyfriend, who is a good friend of mine, who is also confident enough to put her on my hands for an entire weekend. She was a joy to mentor around. Merrill enjoyed a most auspicious introduction to Civil War reenacting and I sure hope that she continues to pursue the hobby, because she is a very good photographer and just might make a most worthwhile successor to yours truly in serving this community.
In spite of some shortcomings, already discussed with a variety of folks in a variety of venues, the 2007 edition of Cedar Creek was a most worthwhile weekend. Hopefully, I can be there next year, Lord willing.
Julio

We will miss you in the field, Julio, but it's a real comfort to know you'll still try to hit the highlights.  That white duster is probably the most widely recognized item of clothing in the hobby.

I very much enjoyed meeting Merrill, too -- turns out we read at the same place in NYC this year.  I'm sure Mrs. Schnapps will be glad to hear about the steady boy friend <g>

I saw some strange things during this year's Cedar Creek. During Saturday's scenario we were ordered to stop at the little creek at the base of the hill where the Federals were formed up. While we were waiting for the Federals to counter attack and push us off the field, we watched one Reb Battalion march across the creek in perfect order right up to the massed Federal battalions. After a while, they turned around and marched back down the hill and across the creek. The most amazing thing was  the Federals didn't bother to shoot at them as they marched off, still in perfect order.  

Bill,
There were *exactly* 46 men in the Confederate force that crossed that little creek on Saturday and "pushed back" the hundreds and hundreds of Federal infantrymen (and myriad artillery) poised on higher ground. I know the exact numbers because I can count them in my photographs.
That scenario looked utterly, utterly, ridiculous. I felt sorry for everyone who was forced to be a part of it.
And a hand-to-hand scenario that took place about 25-30 feet in front of me as the Union forces launched their counterattack was even worse. Nearly everyone in it laughing, having a wonderful time, as if they were at a company picnic, rather than in an action that could (and would) snuff their health and/or very lives at any second.
I know that we are all *amateur* actors, but... WE all need to have more pride in ourselves, in what we are portraying, when there are *paying* customers watching.
Because, if nothing else, we are trying to help save a bona fide battlefield, Cedar Creek, from ever-encroaching development, and we NEED those paying customers back. Again and again and again.
And they won't come back, even once, if they don't see a good show.
And this past October, on that particular Saturday, we, the reenacting community, simply did NOT give that paying audience a good show.
Just one man's opinion.
Anybody with a well-reasoned opposing point of view, please feel free to add your two cents worth. I'm all ears.
Julio

On the issue of money and accuracy, here's something I noticed many years ago, when I was working at a museum with paid living history employees and volunteers. Everyone hit their own personal comfort level of accuracy, which varied widely and seemed to have no correlation to pay level, but the reasons for stopping were different.

Those who were paid gave the reason: I'm only doing this for the money, so if they want me to do better, they need to pay me more.

Those who were volunteering gave the reason: I'm only doing this for fun, so if they want me to do what they want, they'll need to pay me.

At Cedar Creek, of course, the reenactors will never be paid, but if the incentive is to put on a more accurate show so spectators will pay money that will go toward a battlefield, that's a similar situation. At least some of the reenactors are there because their actions are "earning" money which will be donated to a cause they want to support.

So I'd submit that those who go to Cedar Creek for fun won't voluntarily change to attract more spectators. Those who go to Cedar Creek solely to entice paying spectators won't voluntarily change unless they can be sure the sacrifice on their part will definitely bring in more money.

Were there massive complaints from spectators? Booing? Demands of refunds? Were you upset enough to swear off attending events like Cedar Creek ever again?

Because otherwise, those who want more accurate battles and/or more accurate "acting" are already implementing it at other events, and those who enjoy supporting Cedar Creek (for fun or fundraising) are at Cedar Creek, and it's darn hard to get people to do something they don't want to do.

Hank Trent
hanktrent@voyagern.et

Quote :

hanktrent wrote : Were there massive complaints from spectators? Booing? Demands of refunds? Were you upset enough to swear off attending events like Cedar Creek ever again? hanktrent@voyagern.et

Hank,

Over the years I've had the opportunity to stand with the spectators at a reasonable number of events. I make it a point to listen to their comments.

On average, I find that most spectators don't understand the manoeuvres, but they are usually impressed by the masses of men moving around. It's my feeling that we, as participants, are more concerned about broken scenarios, than they are.

There are two negative comments I've heard  over and over and they both have to do with casualties. First, why aren't there more of them? They understand when two mobs of men stand fifty yards apart and shoot at each other for a while, sombody ought to get hit. Second, is the silly things that some of those few casualties do while laying on the battlefield. I've actually seen spectators point and laugh at some guy taking pictures when he's supposed to be dead or wounded. They also joke about the guys leaning on their elbows watching the action or the guy sitting in the middle of the field smoking a cigarette.

In regard to the small battalion that marched right up to the Federal lines at Cedar Creek. I doubt many spectators would have been bothered by that, if the unit took massive hits and the survivors just ran away. Of course, that's not what happened.  

--Last edited by Bill on 2007-11-05 10:54:58 --

Quote :

Bill wrote :   Hank, Over the years I've had the opportunity to stand with the spectators at a number of events. I make it a point to listen to their comments. On average, I find that most spectators don't understand the manoeuvres, but they are usually impressed by the masses of men moving around. The two negative comments I hear all the time

Bill

I find that sometimes seeing how it is on the other side of the rope line helps me improve.  Because I hear what the spectators say and then look to apply the comments to myself and my unit at future events.

Quote :

Bill wrote :   I've actually seen spectators point and laugh at some guy taking pictures when he's supposed to be dead or wounded. They also joke about the guys leaning on their elbows watching the action or the guy sitting in the middle of the field smoking a cigarette.

Here's a radical thought. From the spectators' viewpoint, is that bad? Comedy is entertainment as well. RenFaires have no shortage of visitors, though they do a hokey interpretation of the middle ages deliberately.

If the goal is purely to give a good show to attract paying spectators to raise money for the battlefield, is giving them a chance to feel superior and laugh at the reenactors detracting from that?

If the goal is to recreate what actually happened, to honor the original soldiers, and so forth, it's easy to say that a joking picture-snapping "dead man" needs to change. But how many of us would change something about our impression just because someone told us to, when we're happy doing what we're doing and plenty of others are doing the same thing?

Hank Trent
hanktrent@voyager.net  

--Last edited by hanktrent on 2007-11-05 11:36:19 --

Quote :

hanktrent wrote : If the goal is to recreate what actually happened, to honor the original soldiers, and so forth, it's easy to say that a joking picture-snapping "dead man" needs to change. But how many of us would change something about our impression just because someone told us to, when we're happy doing what we're doing and plenty of others are doing the same thing?

Hank,

I truly believe if more guys could watch a scenario from the otherside of the rope, they'd see how silly things can look sometimes. Just might be what it takes to get some people to clean up their act. Most people don't want to look foolish. This goes for both officers and privates.

Quote :

Julio C. Zangroniz wrote : Bill, There were *exactly* 46 men in the Confederate force that crossed that little creek on Saturday and "pushed back" the hundreds and hundreds of Federal infantrymen (and myriad artillery) poised on higher ground. I know the exact numbers because I can count them in my photographs. That scenario looked utterly, utterly, ridiculous. I felt sorry for everyone who was forced to be a part of it.

Julio,

Any chance you could publish that picture, so people know what we've been talking about?

Bill,
Very soon, you will be able to see not only that photograph but also a few hundred more images from this year's edition of Cedar Creek.
I hope to complete the editing/uploading process in a couple of days, due to other more pressing tasks that must be carried out first because they are wage-earners whereas CW reenactments for me are, generally, pro bono cases (though certainly not by design).
But you will definitely see that photograph --in fact, I have more than a few views of the particular scenario, so everyone will be able to appreciate exactly what happened.
Not a shining moment for the reenacting community, as I told a couple of high-level officers later that afternoon and that evening. All they could do was stare at the ground, shrug their shoulders and stammer half-hearted apologies.
Mercifully, things worked out in far better fashion on Sunday, though it was a battle that no one would admit to having heard of before. Someone told me we would be recreating something that had been a rather minor skirmish between cavalry and artillery nearby, thus leaving the infantry commanders to scramble in order to find something for the footed troops to do (who constitute about 90 percent of the participants at Cedar Creek), and they did, and subsequently the men did very well indeed.
The spectators loved the spectacle on Sunday, as their level of excitement was still incredibly high as I trudged off the field lugging a bag of ice that had been left abandoned.
Lots of folks, thinking I was a member of the cast, extended congratulations and comments such as "good job!" or "thanks, you guys are terrific!" so I'm happy to pass those on to those who truly deserve them.
Julio

Quote :

Julio C. Zangroniz wrote :The spectators loved the spectacle on Sunday, as their level of excitement was still incredibly high as I trudged off the field lugging a bag of ice that had been left abandoned. Lots of folks, thinking I was a member of the cast, extended congratulations and comments such as "good job!" or "thanks, you guys are terrific!"

Julio,

Your experience with the spectators at Cedar Creeks sort of reflects what I've noticed in the past. Spectators don't seem too concerned if the scenario is "authentic" as long as it's realistic.  

Bill,
That may be because most, if not all, of the spectators simply don't know enough to differentiate or know better.
The public is there to enjoy the show, and as long as it isn't raining, or snowing, and there are plenty of funnel cakes and toy rifles and whatnot within reasonable reach, and at reasonable cost, they will be happy.
When I go see a Broadway show, I expect to see and hear what the authors of "Fiddler on the Roof" or "Man of La Mancha" or whatever wrote when they created those plays.
The key difference here is that I usually know how the original play, or music, was written. I know the plot. I know the characters. And that it is usually *professionals* presenting the spectacle to the paying public.
That, obviously, is not the case at CW reenactments, and I can't honestly and realistically expect a *professional* performance from amateur actors (or re-enactors), but I can, and do, hope that they will do their best to be as faithful as possible to the scrïpt that was written --in the case of Cedar Creek-- in October 1864. And this year, that simply didn't happen.
I, for one, felt cheated.
Maybe it's a case of "wait 'till next year..."? On the other hand, what do WE get? Another battlefield preserved... or preserved to a greater degree than before... and that's enough for me.
Julio

Quote :

Julio C. Zangroniz wrote :  I can't honestly and realistically expect a *professional* performance from amateur actors (or re-enactors), but I can, and do, hope that they will do their best to be as faithful as possible to the scrïpt that was written --in the case of Cedar Creek-- in October 1864. And this year, that simply didn't happen.

Julio,

There are many reasons a scrïpted scenario might not be "authentic" I.E. not according to the historical record. Wrong land, wrong numbers, time constraints, people making honest mistakes (Been there, done that, got the T-shirt) are all reasons for a scenarios not being correct.

IMHO, there is a lot less excuse for a scenario not being "realistic" I.E. just not looking right. Such things as taking a realistic number of hits, avoiding the use of camaras, maintaining reasonable ranges, and not making a joke of hand to hand combat fall into this category. I think every one of us have the responsibility to make a scenario look as realistic as possible. As individuals, we may not have much control of where we are sent, but we have a lot of control of what we do after we get there!

The average spectator may not know the specific history of who attacked who and when they did it, but they do know what looks just plain silly.  :/    

Quite true, Bill.
I am far from being a historical expert, but I do try to read up on whatever battle recreation I'm about to witness (and photograph) on a particular weekend, simply so I can have a better "handle" on what I'm about to see and experience.
Cedar Creek is special, very special, to me.
In my opinion, it may be because I was there for the very first reenactment of the battle (way back in the ancient days of 1990) as well as for nearly every succeeding living history program there until this year, except for one year when I was too ill and could not attend.
I honestly can't explain why this battlefield feels so special to me... heck, my family didn't arrive to the new world until 1871 --and they landed elsewhere in a Caribbean island-- but, every year, I have tried to make a financial contribution for the preservation of Cedar Creek, and I have written/photographed story after story after story in support of its preservation.
To me, Cedar Creek is my "home battlefield," even though I don't live in Virginia --it's more so than Gettysburg or Antietam, which are way closer to me, in the physical sense.
But with Cedar Creek, I feel that I am actually *helping* to do something for a valuable piece of real estate. When I'm there, I feel like I'm stepping on the very blood of the many, many brave people who gave their all on those grounds in 1864.
And my pitifully small input is my way of giving back to a country that has given me so much. I honestly don't know if I can convey accurately my feelings on this matter.
But I definitely know that this event is most worthwhile, that it accomplishes a LOT for a very worthwhile cause, regardless of the petty arguments we may have about "authenticity" or the lack of thereof.
That field must be preserved. Period. It must be. America has more than plenty of room for shopping malls and parking lots, so it has to do --WE must have to do-- what we can to preserve our history.
Am I being a foolish idealistic fool? I hope not.
And I certainly hope that enough members of the reenacting community continue to see the Battle of Cedar Creek that way and will continue to lend their resources and their presence to help preserve that battlefield.
Julio