Reenacting: Chesterfield, NH – July 2026

Somewhere in the woods of Chesterfield, NH — 10 am

The sound of axes biting trees and men pulling heavy limbs fills the air. I finish chopping a downed tree, which will provide excellent cover when the fighting begins. The men cheer me on as the wood snaps. Three of us drop the tree onto the growing mound. We take one breath, wiping sweat out of our eyes. 

Around me, other Union troops prepare two lines of defenses. Stretching to a farm road, the 3rd Maine creates the first line. On the ridge, the 2nd Rhode Island builds a secondary position. Working together, the two groups quickly prepare for the coming tactical.

Not too far away are members of the 35th Virginia, 15th Alabama, and 12th Georgia — all members of the Liberty Greys. They are organizing their own breastworks before the tactical begins. No battle plans. Just an unscripted run-and-gun in the woods of Chesterfield.

Of course, we’re reenactors with no real animosity towards one another. Together, we share the same hobby, the same love of history and dedication to preserving it. It doesn’t matter which side you’re on; it’s all part of the same purpose. It gives us a sense of camaraderie without being in the actual military.

Just as we finish whipping our foreheads: “Fall in on the stacks!”

I leap over two fallen trees, barely missing a stick in the eye. I pick up my canteen, cartridge box, and cap box. The “fighting” is about to commence, but the really important part is the way we work together.

Rest

During a lull in the fighting, I lay down against a log, head resting on my kepi. My stomach growls. Hungry already? I think to myself. I had just been a runner, seeking out the second platoon. They were out of range, and the Lieutenant needed to know their status. Just as I reached them, they had repulsed (barely) a Confederate push. I commended myself on the improved endurance over last year.

Now, reaching into my haversack, I retrieved provolone cheese and bologna. My friend and I joked that it would be funny to make a sandwich mid-battle. So, here I was, doing just that.

“Bucci, I would be more impressed if you had some mustard and mayo right now,” someone calls out.

“Well, you’re in luck,” I say, hauling out the bag of roast beef with a sleeve of mustard and mayo. I look down and see they’ve leaked their contents directly onto the roast beef. Well, at least I don’t have to worry about an even distribution.

I offer roll-ups to those around me. Lieutenant Pinette accepts the offering. 

“Anyone want some cherries?” Carter offers. He produces them from his haversack. 

“Oh, definitely!” Pinette grins. 

Drill

Later in the day, the officers meet. I overhear some of it. 

“Most of my boys are nearly out of ammo,” the Confederate colonel says.

“Not sure we could get many of them to hike back into the woods,” Lieutenant Pinette notes.

“Maybe we let the new officers drive the car instead,” Captain Bray offers.

That’s his way of saying drill. The officers concur on that plan of action. Around 4 pm, the optional drill is called. “Come as you are,” Pinette repeats for the third time, “No muskets needed.”

I’d say over half of the men join in. We’re tired. We’re ready for music and card games. Yet, we want to help the new officers practice “driving the car.” Thirty reenactors – Union and Confederate – make two ranks before marching off to a larger area for maneuvers.

Pinette drives us first. “Right face.”

“Twos up!” Corporal Conant calls out.

“Front. Right wheel. March!”

I think wheels are a difficult maneuver, especially in groups over twenty. The wheel can be done to the left or right and stationary or on the move. Picture a door. That’s the wheel. Even in well-drilled units, one end of the line or the other will go too fast or too slow. The middle will bow in, and it looks like garbage. It becomes more difficult when you incorporate units who don’t often drill as one. The man next to you is unfamiliar. Your shoulders separate. The movement falls apart. Yet, it takes us just one foul attempt before we are seamless. 

“That’s it, lads! Looking good!” Captain Bray hollers from behind.

Lieutenant Pinette guides us through “by company into line,” “on the right into line,” and “by file into line”. Each command concludes in the same result: a line of battle. However, there are differences in when they should be utilized. All of them are important to know for public events.

Captain Norris takes over the “car driving” next. He puts us into skirmish line. Of course, at some point, the angle is fumbled. There is a brief session of complaining, and several try to reorient things. I wish they’d just let the officers handle things. Norris settles everyone down. In our second shot at “form skirmishers from the left file,” it goes more smoothly. We repeat this several times from the right and left.

Gratitude

It’s Sunday. Our second tactical finished at 10 am, ahead of schedule. On the one hand, I’m excited for a shower and bed. Not so much the four and a half hour car ride. Still, it’s not often I see this extension of my family. When I reach my car, I find my modern clothes. Slipping into solid footwear and a cotton t-shirt feels amazing. Brennan calls out.

“You can’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“I’m not leaving yet, man!” I smile.

“Well, I am!”

We share a bear hug.

“When will I see you next?” I ask.

“McClary?” 

“Not sure right now. Train raid?”

“For sure!” he exclaims, eyes beaming with anticipation.

As I drive an actual car into camp, I see Lieutenant Pinette and Second Sergeant Hulsey. They, too, have changed into contemporary clothing. I drive them back to the vehicles. It’s crazy how fast reenactors can break down a camp. In thirty minutes, years-old stained canvas is down and folded. Trunks are packed with wooden boxes marked “Kennebec Arsenal.” 

I shake every hand and hug all my friends. Despite only being able to attend four or five events each year, these folks somehow remain close friends. I’m excited to move closer to them so we can hang outside of events.