Of Drying Canvas And Reenacting

It’s Tuesday. My apartment smells like old canvas, Hopper’s No. 9 gun oil, and well-used wool socks – a reenactor’s safe haven. My gear is drying from my first event of the season. Leaving any reenactment, particularly the first or last event, is difficult. Many people don’t quite understand why we nerds do what we do. There’s always interest from students or colleagues when I show up to a meal in uniform, but they don’t comprehend why. There’s no way to fully explain it to outsiders. I don’t believe every reenactor does it for the same reason. It might be to teach others or to selfishly experience everything for themselves. Yet, I love camping in the rain, singing sea shanties around the campfire, and the taste of gun powder on my lips. 

This weekend, the 3rd Maine experienced all of the above. Due to my knee injury, I only got the first two. But even without the coarse kernels of powder on my parched lips, I was a happy camper. It’s a pleasure to take company with others who have a passion for history and a desire to immerse themselves in the lifestyle. I’m especially grateful for the variety of knowledge at these events. As the rain cascaded off tents, we crazy nerds huddled under any shelter available, somehow enjoying it all. 

Over the course of my reenacting career – a baker’s dozen this year – I’ve been a private, following orders and still enjoying the hobby. As I get older, I’m finding myself content with not firing a rifle. I still get a kick out of it, but I am curious about other impressions: civilian photographer, journalist, hospital steward. I’ve taken part in several small scale skirmishes and large scale battles. I’ve experienced time-warp moments where I forget that I’m a 21st century man reenacting a battle. Perhaps I can experience more in other endeavors. I’d like to practice the decision making in wound care or framing a period photograph.

While I sat back in camp or filmed some of the drill, I also spoke with our company surgeon. He discussed some of the other medical personas available, such as an assistant surgeon or hospital steward. I found the steward to be a compelling opportunity. During the war, hospital stewards served as pharmacists, orderlies, and often as de facto triage nurses to identify soldiers who would live and those who had received certain mortal wounds. It’s a role that offers something new and unique.

I will always take pleasure in the camaraderie of being in line with my mates. Pleasure doesn’t quite capture it. There’s joy, sure, but it’s more than that. The camaraderie we share in the field feels like an elevated kind of friendship, forged by shared discomfort, discipline, and memory. This isn’t the army. We are not actually fighting, but I still feel some small level of closeness with my peers in the hobby. I’ll join the line of battle when I can. However, I would also like to partake in other Civil War period experiences. 

This hobby has given me more than I ever expected: friendship, connection, and a deep respect for the past. From long marches to sacred ground, every event adds to my depth of education and understanding. I may be limping a little this week, but my spirit’s full. I look forward to future activities in whatever role I play. If you’ve ever stood in wool under July sun, or hunkered under a fly during a thunderstorm, you know what I mean. And if you haven’t…well, maybe it’s time to join us.