After Action Report on the 150th Reenactment of Wilson’s Creek

Dan and I left about 1000 from Grand Forks, ND, on Wednesday, 10 August and headed south to Wilson’s Creek near Republic, Missouri.  The route down I-29 was blocked by flooding in Iowa, which meant we were re-routed on state roads.  We got back on I-29 after a scenic tour of farms in Iowa.  Saw many Cabela’s along the way so don’t screw with the Iowans, since they are heavily armed. Stopped driving at 2200 and stayed the night in St. Joseph, MO. Left about 0900 the next morning.

Arrived in Republic, MO, about 1400. We registered and drove into the Confederate Camp area.  What I saw looked like a Boy Scout Camp Jamboree instead of neatly lined tents of the Confederate Army.  It got really interesting when we were asking around where the 3rd Missouri Infantry was located.  No one seemed to know where any units were positioned. No company streets had been laid out.  (Company streets are simply the running of a string from the first tent straight down to the last tent so the unit can have tents to the left and right of a path or “street” leading to the commander of the unit; like an inverted “U”).  Also noticed there were no SLOW DOWN or ONE WAY signs for vehicles using the dirt road running between the rows of tents.  No common sense was jumping out to greet me…

We found the major of the 3rd Missouri and he placed us on the top of a new street.  We just had unloaded our gear when three other groups showed up and recognized my truck. We set up four tents in about 30 minutes and had a fire pit dug to cook the evening meal. By 1700, we had eight tents set up and were ready to eat by 1800.  The ladies had chicken and dumplings for dinner, which went really well with a couple of Coors Lites!

On Friday morning, the damn bugler blew Reveille at 0530 and we got up to light the fire for breakfast. (There was a shortage of cut wood for the camps. Any other event I’ve been to always had wood cut and piled up for use. We ended up dragging dead wood from the tree line, which cleaned up the park.  Maybe that was planned, huh?)  The ladies fixed cinnamon buns for breakfast with sliced oranges and plums.  I cheated on the coffee by using instant with boiling water!

The first battalion formation (about 300 Confederates) was at 0730.  The commander looked like Teddy Roosevelt and had a soft voice which did not carry down to the left side of the formation where we were standing.  Our sergeant major looked like ZZ Top and was concentrating on proper foot alignment of the front row.  When you stand at PARADE REST in 1861, you keep your left foot in place and move the right foot to the back of the left one, at a 45 degree angle.  He was so anal about the feet, we thought he had a foot fetish!

After the formation, we went back to camp.  Suddenly, the bugles were blowing and the officers were yelling that the Yankees had taken the field and were moving toward our camp.  Of course, the field was only on the other side of Wilson’s Creek, and we could see the enemy not too far away.  We formed up quickly and marched off to meet the Yankee invader.

The lines of Confederates were impressive since we outnumbered the Yankees about 4 to 1.  The real battle was about 3 Confederates to 2 Yankees.  The Yankees held the center of the field and within an hour, the ranks of the multi-uniformed Southerners had pushed them off the field. We actually pushed them to the bridge over Wilson’s Creek, where since they didn’t turn their muskets down as a sign of surrender, the Confederates continued to march across the bridge.  This upset the blue clad invaders and they looked like whipped school boys.  The crowds, which were mostly pro-Confederate, enjoyed the action.  We marched back to camp and had the rest of the day off for doing such a good job in routing the Yankee square-heads from the field. (Several of the Union militia units were German immigrants from St. Louis, so “Square Heads” was a descriptive means of identifying them).

We spent the rest of the day visiting the sutler tents and buying items we wanted but didn’t need.  There was a root beer stand and several food vendors.  The prices were not bad but they didn’t take Confederate money.

We had a large pot of stew for dinner and spent the evening listening to several songs.  We even had a history class for two on the young soldiers in the unit on the US presidents, the states, and the Bill of Rights and Ten Commandments.

We also had a Union Cavalry “raid” through the area about 2100 in the dark.  Now, if the event planners had this on the schedule, it wouldn’t have been a problem.  But when several of the Yankees rode through the poorly lighted area, the possibility of someone walking to the porta-johns getting run over was very possible.  We didn’t know whether this was planned or not and some of the boys close to the horses began firing at them.  We sat in our tents since we didn’t know what the hell was going on.  This showed very poor judgment on the part of both the planners and re-enactors. If someone was hit by a horse, the lawyers would be circling like the sharks for a settlement, not to mention the possibility of a rider being pulled off their mount and having the crap kicked out of them by some angry Rebel having to hit the head!

Saturday morning the damn bugler woke us up again. We ate pancakes for breakfast and then drilled as a company, and then as a battalion with Teddy and ZZ Top.  His voice got a little louder since he must have been informed of his lack of a “command voice”. (Military term for using your voice, and other parts of your anatomy to reach all the formation, to put it nicely).

(One item I must report on here.  I noticed one of the officers was riding his horse right through our row of tents.  I walked over to him and asked that he not ride through our living area.  He stated that he was the battalion commander and that I should talk to my captain.  I wanted to jerk the SOB off the horse but didn’t know what the horse would do in a confined area of tents.  So I walked off and told my captain what a pompous ass this clown was.  He turned out to be a corrections guard from Okiehoma who counsels prisoners being paroled.  That’s the problem with these want-to-be Kentucky Colonels, using his re-enactment position to be important, due to his lack of esteem in the real world!  I saw him three times after this incident and hoped he would open his mouth but he always turned away.  I also told the brigade staff about it and they agreed horses in camps were not welcomed).

The morning battle was okay, but confused.  Too many of the officers didn’t know how to move troops around, which was the actual problem in 1861 and also in 2011.  So nothing has changed in 150 years.  The evening battle was a complete cluster when the entire Confederate army was marched into the tree line.  The Union marched out a unit of about 200 to fire into the trees.  Mind you, the crowd was about five hundred yards away and couldn’t imagine what was going on.  Hell, we were there, and still didn’t know what was going on!  We were bunched together in the little shade available, while an idiot portraying a Confederate officer was riding his horse through the tightly packed formations.  Common sense was left back at camp since the horse wasn’t too happy to be crowded by the lines of soldiers.

We ended up firing at the top of the trees and scaring half the birds in southern Missouri.  It was such a waste of powder (about $20 a pound), I just used the caps and saved the powder.  We had no clue what was going on with these knucklehead officers.  (Felt the same way in several staff meetings in Afghanistan, too!)

On Saturday evening, I got a ride with Craig Lenz to the hotel room that his family had booked to take a shower so I could go to the evening dance.  We got to the dance, and again, this event must have been planned the weekend before. The sound system and the lighting was poor, and the ground to dance on had holes and small clumps of brush sticking up.  Not very conducive to slide your partner across the dance floor.  There was no water or sodas since the vendors had run out.  Really poor planning on the event staff.  The band was good, but the dance was a flop.

On Sunday morning, the bugler let loose about 0600, and we had breakfast of eggs and bacon.  We fought the last battle which was actually done correctly, with lots of casualties on both sides and the crowds were happy to see the field littered with dead and wounded.  Sick people, huh?

We broke camp about 1400 and finally left the field about 1500.  We ate lunch at Culver’s (kind of a Friendly’s ice cream restaurant) and hit the road about 1630.  Dan and I drove to his parent’s house in Jerseyville, Illinois, and arrived about 2200.  We left the next morning about 0930 and arrived back in Grand Forks at 0100 Tuesday morning.

The 150th Wilson’s Creek had many problems.  It seemed the planners had a motive to make money, and not spend any on basic items like water, porta-johns and firewood.  That they accomplished.  The crowds were large, and the money they made was probably impressive.  Yet, the atmosphere of commercialization off-set the main reason most of us drove hundreds of miles and dozens of hours to get there – to honor those who fought there.  Future event planners, after pulling their heads out of their collective rear ends, will see that the event must be planned to honor those men that fought and died at the site, and not to squeeze dollars out of the re-enactors and the public as if the event was like an annual county fair.

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