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Makanda, ILL April 14-15
I first saw Makanda in March 1980 when this became my first event traveling with Steve Lillard, Bill Rumsey, and the other members of the 13th Missouri live fire shooters. It was a farbfest back then: bluejeans, wristwatches, oddly cut uniforms, coolers, sleeping bags, radios in tents. Four years hadn't changed much at all. The host of the Makanda event seemed only interested in quantity, not quality. This was to be a "Camp of Instruction' with the Holmes Brigade cooperating with other Federal units in this area including the Union Rifles, the 31st Illinois, and a group known as LOGAN'S BRIGADE. The later was composed of some boys who had also done some Mexican War living history at Arrow Rock with us. There was Joe Covais, Randy 'By God' Jackson, and my old Chester, Illinois grade school pal Ted Mueller (Ted introduced me to black powder back in 1979. That tale is told in Chapter 2 of these memoirs)
Several of us traveled in Connie Soper's Suburban-another cocktail flight with Hig at helm. A late addition to the cocktail flight was Jim Beckner and Connie's beau Roger Johnson. Both were coming to Makanda as Federals; in fact I loaned Roger my sack coat, while I wore my frock coat (Roger is more barrel chested than I and before the weekend was over he had managed to pull out some of the stitching under the armpit).
Sometime early Saturday morning, Dickson took us out on a drill to practice marching as a battalion. The parade ground was smack dab in the middle of the Union and Confederate camps-a sort of no man's land if you will. We had gotten in the habit of singing in camp and on the march. I believe the Ladies Union Aid Society had begun producing songsters at this time and most of us had learned a few verses of many of the popular tunes. As we marched through the ankle high weeds, wet with morning dew that soiled our trouser legs, we began singing "Battle Cry of Freedom!" It just so happened that as we launched into the rousing chorus of the song, we passed very close to the Confederate Cavalry camp. For the most part, many of these long haired Sons of the South were enjoying a liquid breakfast from the comfort of mountain man chairs and to our way of thinking, they barely raised an eyebrow as we passed. After returning from the drill about an hour later, we were surprised when about six of them came galloping down our company street like some kind of Wild Bunch. Fortunately most of us were in our tents or over by the cook fire otherwise we might have gotten stampeded on. At the other end of our camp they wheeled their nags around as if to make another dash at us, when one of their number took a nasty tumble from his saddle. To be sure, many of us were visibly upset with this invasion, but cooler heads prevailed-most notably Frank Kirtley, Bill Fannin, and one or two others and they calmly inquired what was the big idea for the unwelcome visit. The group of mounted horsemen gathered around their fallen comrade, who'd broken his shotgun in the fall and explained they'd been offended by our singing an hour earlier when we passed their camp. They claimed we'd been singing "Marching Through Georgia" and it was offensive to them being recreated members of a Georgia unit. On closer examination, this bunch looked like ragged scarecrows after the birds had been at them. Higgy gave the best description of all when he said they looked like the ALLMAN BROTHERS BAND. Later during the scripted battle, the host made sure the cavalry action was on another section of the field and away from us.
Not sure what we did on Sunday except for a skirmish that morning which involved going down into a tree invested gully to fight. Tree's grew thickly along the slope and along the bottom of the deep ravine. It was like a wilderness; the sunlight was nearly blacked out. John Maki and I were ordered to remain behind at the edge of the gully at the top of the hill. We were to be on the lookout for any bushwackers who might try to sneak around. I believe we were assisted by members of Joe Covais Illinois boys. We hunkered behind thick trees and took pot shots at a few greybacks who wandered in the area, but other than that, it was uneventful.
After the event at Makanda, Dickson Stauffer was approached by the people of Champion's Hill to return to Mississippi for another May reenactment. We had done the event the year before and were reluctant to return so soon, plus we had already committed ourselves to another event in Mississippi at the end of June-so we politely declined. Talks were underway instead to attend Fort Scott, Kansas in mid-May to participate in a Civil War encampment. It seems the 24th Missouri boys had been at the Fort a few times for living history events and were raving about the site. Fort Scott was easy to travel to-being 90 minutes south of KC-and not much further for the Columbia/Jeff City boys to travel to. I will devote an entire chapter to Fort Scott at a later date because it has become an annual event for Holmes Brigade since this first visit in 1984.
A couple of things happened in May, prior to Fort Scott, that I must mention. I think it was in Chapter 2 that I told you about my pen pal association with Brian Warwick-the bloke from England who teams with other blokes to recreate the US Civil War right there in the UK. He had also struck up a correspondence with my old Civil War History teacher, Dr. Leslie Anders. In '83, Brian and his wife Juliet, came to the US to visit Civil War battlefields and had paused during their pilgrimage to visit the good doctor in Warrensburg. A phone call a few days before by Dr. Anders caused myself and John Maki to make plans for a friendly rendezvous one Saturday afternoon. What followed was a friendly chat over lunch, an interview on the local radio station involving myself, Brian, and the doctor. Afterwards, we went to the Central Missouri State University Library to look at Civil War books. As the evening wore on, Brain told us he and his wife, Juliet, were planning another trip next spring to see even more battlefields. Maki and I convinced him he should attend a Civil War reenactment with the Holmes Brigade as part of his return to America in '84. By early 1984, Holmes Brigade had made arrangements to go to Fort Scott so I notified Brian of this development. He would bring his uniform, but the Brigade would scrounge among the membership to outfit him a with musket and accoutrements.
On the evening of May 6th, which was a Sunday, we came home after spending a weekend with family in Sedalia and Windsor, Missouri, to find that our house at been burglarized. The back door had been forced open and robbers made off with our microwave oven, some miscellaneous jewelry, and my 1841 Mississippi Rifle. The mattresses on both beds had been shoved off as if the bad guys had been hoping to find treasure's hidden under them. All dresser drawers had been opened and rummaged through, contents strung everywhere. It was a very depressing thing to come home to. It was like we had been violated, raped. I found some scattered bits and pieces of stuff in the back yard where the bastards had gone when they retreated from the house. I determined it had to be 2 or 3 people in the house. The microwave alone would have been all one man could carry. We had home owner's insurance to be sure and soon received some compensation for our losses. But it couldn't cover the emotional loss we felt, nor the feeling of helplessness. For several weeks, I kept a Bowie knife under my pillow, just in case. 7 days before the event at Fort Scott, my 3 year old daughter Katie fell off the playground equipment at the local McDonalds's. We rushed her to the hospital where X-Ray's showed a hairline skull fracture. The doctor seemed to think she was in no danger, but recommended she spend the night in the hospital for observation just the same. Five days later she developed the chicken pox.
After these trying times, I can barely recall the events that occurred at Fort Scott two days later. Brian fell in with the Holmes Brigade and at the conclusion of the weekend claimed we had spoiled him. He said he could never return to England with the same enthusiasm for doing Civil War reenacting as he'd had once before; not after seeing how we 'yanks' did it here in the states. It was a real eye-opening experience for him.
I will have more to say about Fort Scott, Kansas later on. Instead allow me to move on to a more exciting episode. At the end of June plans were made to travel to Mississippi again. The place was Brice's Crossroads where Nathan Bedford Forrest won a great victory in 1864, but for the Holmes Brigade it would prove to be our HIGH WATER MARK and the site of our greatest glory.
CHAPTER 18: THE GREYHOUNDS