Roaring Camp 2009

On the coast of California, South of San Fransisco, you will find beaches, boardwalks, bums, and civil war ghosts. I am one of the ghosts and this is the story of my death.

The Golden State was an important source of material wealth to the Union during the war between the states, The Civil War. The South became aware of the importance California's gold played in helping the North pay for the war and so they wanted in on it. As a result a special force was sent to steal and plunder Union Gold before it could be sent to Washington. For once Pinkerton had reliable information, obtained from his spy network, and President Lincoln dispatched a Union Force to intercept the southern threat.

The Iron Brigade was sent to stop the threat. We arrived in Santa Cruz, CA on the 20th of May, 1863. We marched six miles to the train depot, Roaring Camp, and set up camp.






























The Colonel's wife is a fine lady and she has commissioned a number of woman to assist in the camp. Boy, these fine ladies can cook. It makes me a little homesick.






























































A picket line was arrayed around our camp. Union cavalry reported confederate forces to our east not far away. We prepared and waited.

A large shipment of Union gold arrived at the Train Depot to depart on the 25th. Lt. Colonel Bispo made a speech about the importance of the Gold and we must make sure this Gold makes it to its destination. His speech was full of vim and vinegar and lasted two hours.


































In the morning we woke to fog blanketing the ground. It was like we stood next to the smoking gates of hell. It was an erie feeling not knowing what awaited us in the fog.

My unit was sent out as skirmishers.












We were able to push there skirmishers back. Our joy was subdued when we found out that a few replacements were killed in the fight. We expected a counter attack. The sun burned the fog away to reveal empty field with a few dead rebs. The rest of the day was uneventful.
















I awoke early the next day to sound of canon fire.




































The rebs were attacking from the east. The whole brigade was quickly assembled and formed into battle lines. The Colonel implored us to hold our positions.


















A big grey line emerged out of the line of trees to our east. Like ghosts out of the mist these southern apparitions appeared. They raised there rifles and fired. It was so early in the morning and I could see the vapor trail of these balls. It was like a swarm of bees sent out from the grey ghosts.














"Ready, aim, Fire, load." screamed the Major.














We advanced forward, firing, forward and continued to fire. The Rebs suddenly retreated back into the tree line. As quickly as it had started it was all over. Our brigade cheered in relief.
















I congratulated myself on surviving another battle. The men of the Iron Brigade were known for there bravery. Unfortunately, they were also known for holding out and holding on until the last man. Many a good man have died holding to the last man in battles that started like this.

Boom! A shell ignited behind our line. The battle was back on! Flame ignited from the tree line. Then the grey line flowed toward us at a run.















I looked around and found four men to my left were lying in a heap. I raised my rifle, aimed at the mass, and fired. As I reloaded I heard the sick sound of a round hitting flesh. Big John grunted and fell. I raised my rifle and the grey mass was no longer a blur but the rebs were plain to see, for they were close. I fired. As the smoke cleared I could see the line of men now less than 60 yards away. Heat penetrated my neck and I found myself falling. I tried to put my arms out to catch myself but my arms wouldn't move. I landed on my side. I couldn't get my breath. It was hard to breath. I felt sweat on my face and chin. It was hot and sticky. No, that was blood, my blood. Blackness closed in from the sides. Before the blackness veiled my vision completely, the Sargent's face appeared next to me. He wasn't looking back at me. I tried to scream to him but all I heard was this wet sound. He was dead and I knew it. I was dead and I knew it. Then blackness filled everything.















Although the battle field was small the event was a lot of fun. A lot of people attended the event throughout the weekend. The Colonel and his staff provided some new and educational drills.

Monday we were able to provide Honor Guard detail for the City of Santa Cruz at the Grand Army of the Republic Cemetery. Roaring Camp also recognized and honored the fallen heroes of the past.

Video from Mariposa

Las Mariposas Civil War Days

After a long trek in our horseless wagon we arrived in the Mariposa area. A small civilian tent city was center for the upcoming campaign against the Sesech army.

With the news of an approaching reb army I joined the 7th W. Virginia infantry. President Lincoln was visiting, so the Brigade stood for a grand review.

The president gave a short and fiery speech and the boys were ready to fight.

A large dust cloud formed off to the southwest and some rebel scouts were seen over the ridge. We formed into three companies and my company was held in reserve. While we waited we heard the cannon fire and popping of musketry. Hearing the continuous cannons firing I had a bad feeling. I had only seen 6 cannons in our camp and now I heard at least a dozen firing. The rebs came prepared to battle and probably had some US artillery in their hands. Just as I figured we were outnumbered and outgunned some cannons were rushed forward.

A mounted messenger came up at a full gallop and we were sent up to battle at the double quick.

As we cleared the crest we could see the reb infantry at the bottom of the hill. We were on good ground. We were on the hill and we could fire down on our enemy. Like it always is, our commanders couldn't see good ground in front of their own eyes. We were ordered down the hill into the bottom of the gully. To my amazement the rebs pulled back and so we pushed forward.

Suddenly, musket fire was coming from our right flank. The rebs set a trap and we took the bait. We made an orderly retreat and fell back to the gully. Just as we readied to counter attack we received musket fire from our left flank. We found we were surrounded on three sides. We made a right face to right flank march and the reb cavalry came over the hill. We had no choice and surrendered to those cunning southern foxes.

We were sent to the reb camp and they put us to work. Even the drummer boys were force to do hard work.

Later that day, the guards posted to watch us, got into some confiscated corn whiskey and that is when we made our escape. Three of us were able to get back to our lines and we found ourselves thrown back into battle. This time the lead was coming fast and hot and we returned

obligingly. We were given filled cartridge boxes with forty cartridges.

My rifle heated up and I was able to fire Minne every 20 seconds. I quickly found that I was running low on ammunition and I was able to acquire more cartridges from the dead and fallen around me. The sun was setting and I knew that would help us hold on. After the sky darkened we were marched back to camp. Unfortunately, we happened to march across a temporary hospital under some large oaks. The wounded were lined up on blankets all around. Men were crying and moaning. The smell was that of body fluids, blood and sweat.

That night we slept on our rifles ready for reb attack in the morning.

Early we were formed into line.

The Col. was sending us to an early attack, a surprise attack, if possible.

We advanced stealthily and quickly towards the reb lines. We marched about 300 yards across a large pasture and into the tree lines. We met a few reb pickets in the trees but they made a retreat toward their camp. As we came out of the trees into the next pasture we could see long grey lines formed ready to meet us in battle. We marched loaded and fired. Then we loaded and continued marching toward that grey line. They didn't move and none of them fired at us.

The Lt. ordered us to fix bayonets. Then he yelled "Charge!" We took off running toward the line and when we were within 30 yards the whole reb line fired upon us. Men went down and our line stopped charging. I reloaded and looked up and my company had turned and were running. I could see no sense in paying the butcher bill by myself so I fired, turned and joined the other two black hats of our mishmash company. It must have been a sight. Of our company only a few of us were able to retreat in order. Three black hats of the Old Iron Brigade fired and retreated, fired and retreated and continued until the rebs stopped advancing. Some of our boys must have continued running until they were back at camp. I remember hearing the Major cursing at some boys when they were running away. I don't blame them. I understood. I was not going to die for that Major or any other incompetent officer that day. When will we get our own Bobby Lee?

The rest of the brigade returned to camp about the same time I did. It looked like we had lost about a third of our company. Many were wounded but a lot were missing. They probably decided they were done fighting this war and they went home.

The remaining members were sent out as skirmishers into the beginning of the second pasture just exiting the treeline. Some reb marines were deployed as skirmishers opposite our line.

We advanced and fired on their lines and they returned in kind. We continued to push back and the marines left the field. A few minutes later the reformed brigade advanced behind us en mass.

Our skirmishing line held and we continued to fire our rifles with all we had.

To great excitement we found a whole brigade of reb infantry appear on our left flank. Our skirmishing line was ordered into company line and we were ordered to hold the flank at all costs.

The reb fire was accurate and deadly. Before long our numbers were decimated. We were going to hold this line to the last man. It was like we stirred up a hornets nest. Buzzing, zipping, and hissing sounds filled the air, then the gruesome sound of a round hitting flesh. As men fell I tried to load and fire as quickly as possible. I was back with my 2nd Wisconsin boys and we were keeping the reputation. I felt a smile form on my face and then the wind was knocked out of me and I felt heat in my chest. On my side, I rolled to see my badger brothers but they had fallen. Sargent Hinton was lifeless and Big John V had a large blood stain on his back and then...

Mariposa was great! The natural setting and scenery of this event made this event feel realistic. I enjoyed the location and the battlefield. I would love to return to Las Mariposas again.

Reenactors are odd ducks!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rsz3Fpy0Jkk