I wish you enough

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude! bright no matter how gray the day may appear.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more.

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.

I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.

I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.

Christmas During the Civil War

The first Christmas tree in America was erected in Cleveland, Ohio in 1851, so most likely you would have had at least one prior to the war. Most decorations would have been made at home and were very simple, such as dried and sugared nuts and fruits, popcorn balls and string. Colored paper, wax ribbon, spun glass, and silver foil ornaments were also popular. Ornaments were made in the shape of doll faces, angels, the Christ Child, and animals. Most trees sat on the table top. Unwrapped presents would be placed under them. Without a doubt, the Christmas tree was the centerpiece of the home. The entire house would have been decorated with greenery such as fir, pine, holly, ivy, and mistletoe.

Songs such as "Silent Night," "Oh Come All Ye Faithful," "Hark the Herald Angels Sing," and "Deck the Halls" were popular. "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" was written in 1850, and other songs such as "O Little Town of Bethlehem," "Away in a Manger," "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day," and "Up on the Housetop" soon followed.

The Christmas Card started in 1844 and must have been dearly prized during the war!

Tally Simpson a member of the 3rd South Carolina Volunteer wrote his sister from Fredericksburg trenches.

From: Tally Simpson, Camp near Fredricksburg
To: Anna Simpson
Camp near Fred'burg
Dec 25th, 1862

My dear Sister

This is Christmas Day. The sun shines feebly through a thin cloud, the air is mild and pleasant, [and] a gentle breeze is making music through the leaves of the lofty pines that stand near our bivouac. All is quiet and still, and that very stillness recalls some sad and painful thoughts.

This day, one year ago, how many thousand families, gay and joyous, celebrating Merry Christmas, drinking health to absent members of their family, and sending upon the wings of love and affection long, deep, and sincere wishes for their safe return to the loving ones at home, but today are clad in the deepest mourning in memory to some lost and loved member of their circle. If all the dead (those killed since the war began) could be heaped in one pile and all the wounded be gathered together in one group, the pale faces of the dead and the graons of the wounded would send such a thrill of horror through the hearts of the originators of this war that their very souls would rack with such pain that they would prefer being dead and in torment than to stand before God with such terrible crimes blackening their characters. Add to this the cries and wailings of the mourners - mothers and fathers weeping for their sons, sisters for their brothers, wives for their husbands, and daughters for their fathers - [and] how deep would be the convictions of their consciences.

Yet they do not seem to think of the affliction and distress they are scattering broadcast over the land. When will this war end? Will another Christmas roll around and find us all wintering in camp? Oh! That peace may soon be restored to our young but dearly beloved country and that we may all meet again in happiness.

But enough of these sad thoughts. We went on picket in town a few days ago. The pickets of both armies occupy the same positions now as they did before the battle. Our regt was quartered in the market place while the others occupied stores and private houses. I have often read of sacked and pillaged towns in ancient history, but never, till I saw Fredricksburg, did I fully realize what one was. The houses, especially those on the river, are riddled with shell and ball. The stores have been broken open and deprived of every thing that was worth a shilling. Account books and nots and letters and papers both private and public were taken from their proper places and scattered over the streets and trampled under feet. Private property was ruined. Their soldiers would sleep in the mansions of the wealthy and use the articles and food in the house at their pleasure. Several houses were destroyed by fire. Such a wreck and ruin I never wish to see again.

Yet notwithstanding all this, the few citizens who are now in town seem to be cheerful and perfectly resigned. Such true patriots are seldom found. This will ever be a noted place in history.

While we were there, Brig Genl Patrick, U.S.A., with several of his aides-de-camp, came over under flag of truce. Papers were exchanged, and several of our men bought pipes, gloves, &c from the privates who rowed the boat across. They had plenty of liquor and laughed, drank, and conversed with our men as if they had been friends from boyhood.

There is nothing new going on. I am almost dead to hear from home. I have received no letters in nearly three weeks, and you can imagine how anxious I am. The mails are very irregular. I hope to get a letter soon. Dunlap Griffin is dead, died in Richmond of wounds received in the last battle. Capt Hance is doing very well. Frank Fleming is in bad condition. (He has been elected lieutenant since he left.)

Write to me quick right off. I wish to hear from you badly. Remember me to my friends and relatives, especially the Pickens and Ligons. Hoping to hear from you soon I remain

Your bud
Tally

Happy Holidays to all my friends!

The Letter

For anyone who may have seen the Ken Burn's Series the Civil War, He quotes a letter written by a soldier to his wife. In his letter to his wife, Ballou attempted to crystallize the emotions he was feeling: worry, fear, guilt, sadness and, most importantly, the pull between his love for her and his sense of duty. People just don't write like they used to. Sullivan Ballou joined the Rhode Island Volunteers in 1861 and left for Washington, D.C. A thirty-two year old lawyer, husband, and father of two, Ballou was a Republican and an ardent supporter of Abraham Lincoln.

July the 14th, 1861

Washington D.C.

My very dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days—perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.

Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure—and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine O God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing—perfectly willing—to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.

But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with cares and sorrows—when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer it as their only sustenance to my dear little children—is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of country?

I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death—and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.

I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. A pure love of my country and of the principles have often advocated before the people and "the name of honor that I love more than I fear death" have called upon me, and I have obeyed.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar—that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.

But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night—amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours—always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.

As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father's love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue-eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers his and hers I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.

Sullivan

Ironically, Sullivan Ballou’s letter was never mailed. Although Sarah would receive other, decidedly more upbeat letters, dated after the now-famous letter from the battlefield, the letter in question would be found among Sullivan Ballou’s effects when Gov. William Sprague of Rhode Island traveled to Virginia to retrieve the remains of his state’s sons who had fallen in battle.

Ballou and 93 of his men were mortally wounded at Bull Run. In an attempt to better direct his men, Ballou took a horse mounted position in front of his regiment, when a 6-pounder solid shot from Confederate artillery tore off his right leg and simultaneously killed his horse. The badly injured Major was then carried off the field and the remainder of his leg was amputated. Ballou died from his wound a week after that Union defeat and was buried in the yard of nearby Sudley Church. After the battle the territory was occupied by Confederate forces. According to witness testimony, it was at this time that Ballou's corpse was exhumed, decapitated, and desecrated by Confederate soldiers possibly belonging to the 21st Georgia regiment. Ballou's body was never recovered.

Multiple Personalities

Many of the ladies who re-enact have multiple impressions that they "perform" during re-enactments. Each persona has their own background and behavior. I have decided that I would share my multiple personalities. Most are done whether I am Union or Rebel that day.

The Company Seamstress: The clue to this persona is that I have my tent and there is a sign on it reading "Seamstress". The funniest part of this is that I don't machine sew very well at all.
My "brother" Michael is in the unit I work for but is usually a prisoner of war. I usually have letters from him in my tent. Most import is that the Seamstress is true to the company and not a spy. Hey, come to think of it, there are a few privates that owe me money for sewing I have done!



Private Bergeron's Wife: I am a camp follower because we lost our farm when the private joined the war. He is never seen around camp because he is on picket duty or in the brig for drinking and gambling. I am not a spy.




Maryland Bible Society Member: This lady tires to ensure that the boys receive religious guidance and enters camp handing out cards or pamphlets. The truth is that she is a spy and is actually seeking information on where the troop is going. She also is the cousin of Rose Greenhow the Washington DC spy for the Confederacy. I only do this persona when I am with the Union. I have letters from Rose in my basket along with maps of the Railroads.


Sanitary Commission Member: Dressed as a local lady, I visit the local Union camp and inspect it. I have only done this once with the other ladies and it was sooo much fun!


Train Patron: This is the most fun and challenging persona because at these events both my companies are represented and fighting each other. Usually I am pro union and have some knowledge if healing skills. I use my knitting needles to remove bullets and have "morphine" tablets (Altoids actually) to help those in pain. I try to be nice to my Rebels too though they always outnumber the union at these events.


Well that's it, that generally what I do. I am planning another persona for the next national event. I will be dressed as a man and go onto the battle field with a first aid kit, Ice and water. Anyone got an AED I could borrow?

Off Topic: The Great Moose Hunt 2008

Hunters


**NOTE Detailed description of the Hunt- not suitable for all audience members

Every year my husband and I enter the New Hampshire Moose Lottery to double our chances. This year the joke was on us when I actually GOT the permit. This started a avalanche of time consuming activities.

In Early September I took the Hunter Safety course with my niece. We both enjoyed the class and both passed. With card in hand, I then got my hunting license. Of course on the same day we needed to buy a new gun. We spent several hours scouting the area we were to hunt. Andre, as my subpermittee logged in 60 hours finding several spots that had all sorts of sign during the rut. We invested in a moose call, watched moose call movies and got scents to attract rutting bulls.

Moose Bed

One of the movies we watch showed in detail why the call and scents were needed as well as two moose mating. We lovingly call the movie "Moose Porn".

Finally, after 6 weeks of preparations the day approached.

Scrapes

Day 1
Saturday October 17th dawned clear and we left the house at 5 am. Once in the field we climbed through brush, downed wood and mud to find a rock. There we used the moose call....not a moose was seen. We headed across the clear cut....not a moose to be seen. Then we heard gun shots..5..then 4..then 3...apparently "Machine Gun Kelly" was hunting 1000 feet from us! Needless to say we went elsewhere. We saw lots of sign but no animals. After 12 hours we had seen only 2 medium moose, a cow and a spike horn bull. Together we decided to try for a bigger bull. Little did we know that the rut was over! Home at 7 pm.

Moose Droppings

Day 2
Sunny Sunday: We left the house at 5:30 am, since calling and scents would not help us. We needed to stumble across a moose on the logging roads or in the woods. We hiked, found old signs such as prints, broken or eaten branches and scraps form bulls showing off. Nothing new though. We did see one medium cow and passed her up. Home at 7 pm.

Day 3
Sunny Monday: Again left the house at 5:30 am. We tried many roads again and even went "swamp diving". I actually walked on a beaver damn in the swamp. Later in the day at another site we saw a beaver building its damn. Very cool but no fresh sign of moose. At dusk, with 5 minutes left in the hunt, Andre saw another cow. His scope was fogged so he could not get a good shot off. Home at 7 pm.

Day 4
Cold Rainy Tuesday: More hiking in the woods. No fresh sign of Moose, no moose seen. 5:30 am to 7 pm again. With the rut over, all the Moose are hiding in the swamps resting, or so the experts tell me.
Prints in the Snow

Day 5
Cold Snowy Wednesday: More hiking in the woods. No fresh sign of Moose, no moose seen. 5:30 am to 7 pm again. I am now convinced there are elves making old tracks in the woods to tease us!

Day 6
Warm, Sunny Thursday: More hiking in the woods. 5:30 am to 7 pm again. Finally there is fresh sign again. We tried sitting in the woods for an hour burning moose incense. Late in the day we followed prints through a clear cut and up the side of a mountain. We had to stop due to the late hour or we would have to sleep in the woods!

Day 7
Sunny Friday: We started first thing where we had left off the night before. But the tracks showed that the 3 moose went up and over the mountain. The sky was so blue it looks fake looking!. We followed tracks, then would move to another site, then go back and find new tracks. All afternoon this seemed to happen. Finally we decided to stick to one area. By 6 pm we had given and started for home...then after 4 days of no Moose we saw one!

Finally the Moose!
It was dusk, we had until 6:20 pm to shoot. At 6:08 pm, lumbering in the road was a bull moose.
Andre asked for the rifle...I thought he was joking! "Give me the Rifle!" He said then with it in hand, he aimed and..."click"...yikes the bullet wasn't set in right! Andre quickly adjusted and "boom" the bull, nicknamed Motley, was struck in the chest. At the time we were not sure. The moose seemed dazed but not hurt. We couldn't see the bright blood that had sprayed around him. Motley staggered about 10 feet, then turned and Andre, unsure if the first bullet had hit home shot again. Sadly the moose's upper front leg was broken by the second shot. Still not dead and not wanting Motley to suffer, Andre shot the animal 2 more times in the chest. The Moose was dead.

We were so exited that we hugged and started calling friends for help. The next step was to start the gutting process. With the instruction manual in hand (no I am not joking) we started to cut open the skin and let the abdominal sack out. Half way through we realized that Andre had forgotten a saw. This was needed to get the animal completely gutted.

Now as the permit holder, I was not allowed to leave the animal until it was checked in with Fish and Game. There was no choice but for me to stay with Motley while Andre drove back home to get the trailer and saw. Along the way he would pick up our helpers.

Picture this. 8 pm until 9:30 pm I was in the woods, at night, with a flashlight, rifle and dead moose. Nearest main road and house was 8 miles away. I have never been so scared in my life. Anyone hearing me would have though me insane (insaner?). I cried, sang, prayed then called my sister on my cell phone for reassurance. It was the longest 90 minutes of my life (Both my labors were under 90 minutes and less painful!)

Gutting the Moose

Finally the crew arrived. Buck, Ron and Dwayne. My saviors! They had all the gear, plus a generator and big lights. It took us another 2 hours to gut the animal. Finally by Midnight we headed home with corpse in trailer.

Loading Motley On the Trialer

We woke Saturday and headed for the check station. Motley was a fine specimen.
4 1/2 years old, 740 pounds dressed, 52 inch rack with 16 points. A beauty!
The Official Weigh in

He is now at the butcher and his head is at the taxidermist.
Andre and Motley

All in all Andre and I spent the most time together then we have spent in years. We jokingly call it our second honeymoon...and this time we got along even better!

Rations

The original Federal ration, in 1861 was:

3/4 lb of salt pork or bacon or 1 1/4 lb of salt beef
1 1/4 lb of fresh bread or 3/4 lb of hardtack or 1 1/4 lb of cornmeal
2 1/2 oz dried peas or beans
1 1/2 oz coffee or 1/4 oz tea
2 1/2 oz sugar
1 1/4 oz vinegar
1/2 oz of salt
2 in cube of dessicated vegetables

In 1863 the ration was changed:
increased to 1 lb for hardtack
coffee beans were specified to be 10 lbs of _green_ beans
added 1/10 oz of pepper
added 1/3 lb of fresh potatoes
added 1/3 oz molasses

In addition, each regiment was supposed to have a fund of money to buy
fresh food, but that only worked if there was fresh food available in
the area.

The Confederacy adopted the exact same standard ration. Because of
resources, however, they issued more cornmeal than hardtack or soft
bread, almost no coffee or tea, and were often short on quantity for
everything.

(Thanks to Miss Carolyn for supplying me with this)

Willowbrook

September 2008
This was my third visit to Willowbrook and it will always be a favorite of mine. First, it was my first real event in re-enacting and second because I was voted as a real member of the Third there.

This time I was once again portraying a women from the Maryland Bible Society and found Company A in deep need of a moral compass. Alarmingly, there were underpinnings handing where anyone could see them!



It was delightful to meet the authoress of Billy Boy, a book I very much enjoyed. Ashley spent alot of the time running around and also enjoyed the farm.

The best part of the day was watching grown men in union uniforms riding on undersized carousel ponies. All of them had huge grins on their faces!