Aug 2004 Newsletter

Kernstown; a tasty little event for a very good cause! I’m happy to report that our Company helped raise much needed operating revenue for the Kernstown Battlefield Association by making a $100.00 donation to their efforts at Battlefield Preservation. They own and maintain the old Pritchard Farm, which was at the center of both of the Battles of Kernstown, and as a small, non-profit foundation, they need all of the help they can get with their efforts. In addition to giving them some good old Yankee dollars, they appreciated our participation in the Preservation March, the demonstrations, and our interaction with the very nice and interested folks that showed up. Plus, I got them some free airtime on the Virginia News Network by interviewing the President of their foundation, Larry Duncan. The next time any of you pass by that way, give yourself a treat and visit this most lovely of locations. The view from Pritchard’s Hill, where we camped on Saturday night, is itself worth the visit.

The one down side of the weekend that I feel I should mention was our dismal Company attendance. Our own Lt. Turley picked up his musket and fell in to help swell the ranks. We had a total of five F Company members on the field, and my sincere thanks go out to Lt. Turley, who also led the Battalion in a moving Sunday prayer service up on Pritchard’s Hill, Cpl. Pearson, who once again admirably filled in as 1^st Sergeant, and Privates Harris and Lawrence, as reliable and congenial of comrades as I have ever served with in the field. But lads, we need to do better than that. We were barely a squad, and we stood out as smallest group there. They rounded out my 3^rd Company by giving me the moon-howling, good-time guys of the 13^th VA “Light” Infantry, whatever that is. Two of them actually fell out of formation just as we went into the demo before the spectators, much to my mortification. Next time I will require a provost guard with loaded muskets to prevent such skedaddling.

If anyone would like a copy of Gilham's Manual, my bookstore is now carrying them, thanks to Ken Mink. They are $50.00. Call 804-272-8888 if you would like us to send you one. Also, please remember that the Company owns a copy of "One of Jackson's Foot Cavalry." If anyone would like to borrow it, just call or email me and I will send it your way free of charge. It's really a great read.

Civil War Show - F Comany will have a recruiting table set up at the North South Trader CW Show at the Showplace in Mechanicsville, the weekend of August 21, 22. Please come by and visit if you're planning to make the show.

Men, the season wanes, only three events left, and there is still a good number of you that I haven’t see at an event yet this summer. Please do all you can to join us, and save me from having to resort to leading a bunch of Bozos in funny hats from other “Units.” I love F Company, and if you do too, you will support the unit by putting your brogans on the ground at South Mountain, Cedar Creek, and Fort Branch.

I would like to thank everyone who was able to attend the Kernstown event. Eight members had to cancel due to illness or other conflicts. 2^nd Sergeant Firth has especially had a rough time, recently having passed three kidney stones. Please remember him in your prayers. Anyone who has ever had a kidney stone knows how painful they can be. Those who were able to attend the event included Captain Ramsey, Cpl. Pearson, Pvts. Lawrence and Harris, and myself. I arrived Saturday morning and was able to catch the shuttle to the site where the march was to begin. Due to the low turn out that I had been informed of, I brought my musket. Thanks to Cpl. Pearson and Pvt. Harris for lending me cartridges and caps.

The march was only about 2 ½ miles, so it really wasn’t very taxing. When we got back to the Kernstown site, we did a demonstration for the public. We did another demo later that afternoon and the rest of the evening was ours.

At the Captain’s suggestion, we camped at the top of the hill that gave us an overview of the entire site. In spite of the recent rains and the overwhelming humidity earlier in the week, the weather for the day was awesome. We made camp, cleaned muskets (it had been a long time since I had to do that), and cooked supper. This was turning out to be the laid back event that Cold Harbor normally is. After supper, we settled in for the night. I slept like a log.

We awoke Sunday morning to cloudy skies threatening rain. With there being no real organized activities scheduled for the day, F-Company left shortly after church service. This was a very nice, relaxing event. It was good to get away for the weekend.

Next up, we have South Mountain Living History in September. I think we are the only unit that will be at that location, so if you are not signed up for it, you can still attend.

In between now and South Mountain, we will have a booth/table at the Civil War Show at the Showplace in Mechanicsville on the weekend of August 21-22. We will be next to Captain Ramsey’s display for his book store, but I do need volunteers to help man our booth; two people for Saturday and two for Sunday. The locals – Richmond area people – should be able to handle this, so it should not be necessary for people to come from out of town. So, let’s do what you can to support this effort. I may be giving some of you a call. See you there.

The men of 1861, both Blue and Gray, were just like us. They where away from their home and families, many for the first time and they wanted to keep in touch with their love ones by whatever means necessary. Men from home returning from furlough, sick leave or recovering from a wound would spend days letting his comrades know about the events and happenings of home. A letter from home was the most wonderful thing to be received by the soldier. It was to be read over and over, catching every detail. Reading and re-reading until it was nearly memorized. Then placed in your shirt or jacket close to your heart, a most treasured possession.

Thus it was when I received the “Love Letter” from my dearest “D”. With her permission, my letter was shared with the men at the Camp of Instruction. From the opening of her sweet smelling letter to the end of her last line of the four pages, the men and myself were held spellbound by her soft and pleasing imagery. I will not be so bold as to share it word for word with you here in this report, but only say that you should inquire as to those who attended. A full report I am sure anyone will gladly share. I would invite all to encourage their sweetheart to send them such uplifting words from home.

August- Civil War Show August 21-22

South Mt. L.H.- September 11^th & 12^th

140^th Cedar Creek- Oct 15^th - 17^th

Fort Branch- November 5^th-7^th

Gettysburg Parade- November 20^th

     The smoke from the campfire just sort of hung in place in the heavy night air. Its stillness was broken now and then by the buzzing of a mosquito looking for a meal of us. Yes they can and are fretful but one does prefer them to the buzzing that has been happening about our heads of late. Yes, give me this late night aggravation anytime over the daytime whirl of a Minnie ball. Specially one that has been sent your way in as much haste as well as malice. I can swat these little rascals, the others well they could dash a man's head. Yes indeed - I think I would rather deal with the mosquitoes.
     Boilers were a going with the booty of taken haversacks and the almost forgotten but familiar smell of coffee was whiffing through the air. Before I could make a request for some of the treasured elixir a hand shoved some my way. It was then I made a quick count of the faces around that night light. There were those that had a face of home and family. People that one had become close to from years of shared toil and strife of conflict. To those souls went a nod of approval, a gesture or a faint smile. For as many of those that had become familiar there was the same number that I had yet to come to know. To those one tried to silently assure that everything was going to be all right. I had to muster up enough grit not to comment on how young those faces looked or to make a recollection of the fear in their faces. Had I become so hard to what has happened? Did my face have the same expression or was I too dull to notice? Not wanting to linger in gazes of those gathered I blurted out, "Has anyone here seen a fella that goes by the last name of Pitts?" An arm motioned in the direction of the one whom I already knew was to be my new charge or I to be his. Collecting myself and my warm cup of courage, I meandered toward him and settled myself on the ground near him.
     We sat there and I started to notice things about this man as I nursed my cup of courage. He was a man of normal height or maybe a tad shorter, older than most of us there but not by much. His hair and beard was streaked with grey and his weathered slouch was pulled almost tight on his head to shade his eyes a bit from the glare of the fire. Thick through the chest he was almost square and his arms were short and stumpy. His mouth was working and it was probably working some homespun. In his hand was a short stick and with his eyes closed he was scratching on the ground before him, nothing in particular mind you he was just scratching. His uniform was not like the rest of us. His coat looked something like an officer's frock but it was cropped a bit below the waist and was of some other cloth lighter than our's. Jean cloth trousers with the knees patched and the legs slit a short ways from his brogans. Brogans that have seen better days I thought. Walked almost through with the laces in both nothing but a ball of knots holding them on what I mused were small feet for such an upper body. Behind him I noticed an oiled gunny sack that sheeved his rifle. It was resting on his accoutrements that were piled almost helter-skelter and everybit of it as weathered and worn as he. Before me was a man that didn't have a fancy air about him and I started to wonder almost to the point of out loud what this person could do for us and our situation when the silence was broken between us. "Name?" he said in an almost muttering mumble as he lifted his head and opened his eyes in my direction. I shortened my pull on my boiler of coffee and replied, "Garnett- Nick Garnett," extending my right hand. He looked at me briefly, turned his eyes back towards the ground to his scratching in the sand. Relaxing himself and shifting his weight a bit he shook his head in approval and grunted. Then a bit of time went by and before I could break this awkward silence again, "Pitts is my name, Earl Lee Pitts. From up around Albermarle County near Charlottesville," grumbled by charge. Before I could reply back he asked, "Is that coffee?" I gave a sure nod of my head and said, "Yes indeed, want some?" as I motioned the cup to him. "Nope - no thank you, not now. It twill be light soon enough," said Pitts eyes now closed and hand and stick still meandering in the sand. "Well then this will open those eyes," I replied as I tapped him on the shoulder with my cup. His head lifted with and aggravated scowl and eyes that had sharpened. "Garnett, I drink the stuff but not now," he almost barked. "It makes me shake a might and I have to go alot," he added. "Listen son - we have to get out there before light and get quiet and still. We can't be jumpy and having to let loose with our water. Because you know what happens then boy?" Shocked and taken back a bit by this sudden chastising and before I could stumble back with something, "Well lad I'll tell you, "snapped Pitts, "we'll end up like what's laying out there now. "I let things cool some then asked, "What is it you want with me, Sgt. Pitts?" "They said you was a good man, a Vet and you had a good set of eyes. Right now I need a good set of eyes. You are to head out with me before light and help me spot this person before he spots us," he said now calmed a bit. "We are hunting, aren't we?" I mused as I finished off my coffee and motioned for more. "Yes we are hunting all right but not for deer or turkey, they don't shoot back. This fella is good from what I hear and I need help to see him." answered Pitts. It was then that I was handed a second cup of courage and could feel the rue and ire of Pitts. "Hey young-en look here," summoned Pitts who was starting to resemble a bear. He rolled back his right pant leg and there was a huge ugly scar. "This like to took my leg off boy and it was because that fella who was to help me was jumping and moving around like a nervous squirrel and they spotted us. I got this and he got a face full of canteen," said Pitts with more than an aggravated tone. "A face full of canteen?" I quipped. "Buried him boy. Didn't want to throw dirt in his face, covered it with a canteen," answered Pitts.

I set the cup to my side and looked at the night that was showing signs of changing to dawn. Then Pitts gathered himself up to his feet and hobbled over to me it was then I saw the effects of that leg wound. Then in a tone that was almost fatherly, "We are here," as he scratched in the sand. "Here is a covered way," he continued and then pointed in the night air with stick in hand. "Garnett, meet me in there before sun up. Bring rifle, no bayonet and a full canteen. A full canteen Garnett, one that sloshes around gives us away. Got it?" as he tapped me on the side with stick turned to pointer. "Understood Sgt. Pitts." as I nodded. Stiffly he trudged off into the dark but not before he noticed the still steaming contents of my cup and physically displayed his dislike but said nothing. I kept it out of site until he was gone. Then I dispatched it into a favorable spot, into me and it was almost like stealing a watermelon. Sometimes I guess it is those almost forbidden pleasures that we like best. Now I had to ready myself for daybreak and Earl Lee Pitts. I was naturally uneasy about what was to happen. Didn't want to go back out there. Who did? Death was out there and was ripening by the hour. I didn't really know about Pitts and he about me and this was one heck of a way to get acquainted. I guess the biggest thing was that I might turn into bait for Pitts so he can get a shot off at the Yankee sniper. I didn't care for that much at all, but I can't care for this either. Well - wonder if there is any coffee left. Pass it on...

I wanted to pass along to all of the membership of our recent donations to the Museum of the Confederacy and to Kernstown Battlefield Association in the amount of $100 to each organization.

Você pode ajustar uma guitarra mas você não pode peixes de atum-Old Portuguese Proverb

By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world: I will verify as much in his beard: he has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.-Fluewyen (Henry V Scene II)

Skirmishing or the “Petit Guerre” (small war) is an art. Like all arts it is subject to interpretation both of the person doing the art and those viewing it. What I am going to try to do is clear up some of the fog of war concerning this art.

Skirmishing allows a commander to extend his main force and by extending it; roughly locate and perhaps hold the enemy’s main force while he brings his main force to bear either on the main force or the flanks.

Tactics may be defined to be the art of drawing up, and moving troops systematically. This is divided into two classifications.

Minor or elementary refers to the drill or other preparatory instruction of the troops.

Grand is the art of combining, disposing or handling of troops on the field of battle.[i]

Therefore this treatise will be concerned with elements of the minor and grand tactics. In the minor we will address issues of instruction that will affect how you practice the grand tactic or practical application of skirmishing.

As learned men we must consult with the ancients to see what they have to say on this subject. First we shall see how the Greeks employed skirmishers.

Most of Greece was unsuitable for grazing horses so armies were predominantly made up of infantryman. The archetype of Greek infantryman; the Hoplite, was a heavily (over 70 lbs) armored infantryman. His primary weapon was a long spear used to thrust against an opponent. The Greek tactic of the Phalanx relied on a strict discipline to hold the formation. When Greek armies met in battle the Phalanx’s would rush together and in the ensuing melee one side or the other would be pushed back.

The Phalanx was a horribly effective tactic. The Phalanx enabled Greek armies to defeat armies much larger than their own.

The standard Greek tactic of the phalanx did not overly concern itself with maneuvers; relying instead on the sheer brutality of its employment to win battles. One of the lessons the Greeks learned from their wars with the Persians was the need for a lightly armed soldier who used missile weapons. Thracian tribesmen were utilized in this role. These Thracian tribesmen were called Pelasts after the small shield, the pelta he carried. The Pelast’s main weapon was a bundle of javelins. The Pelast was to hurl his javelins at the oncoming infantry formation and then fall back onto the heavier infantry that was coming up.

His shield provided sufficient protection against slingers, archers and other light troops. As long as he did not come into contact with a Hoplite formation he was reasonably safe.

Greek military thought held skirmishers in low esteem. Greek literature of the period held skirmishers as something of an object of loathing. Skirmishers were seen as men of a low class who could not afford the armor, or were semi-Hellenized tribesman who had no stomach for the clash of spears.

In fact, the ancient Greeks held missile weapons such as arrows or slings as the weapons of cowards. In Homer’s Iliad, Paris’s slaying of Achilles by an arrow is seen as particularly shameful since Paris had refused to fight Achilles in single combat. Hector instead meets Achilles in combat and although slain is treated with great respect and the Greeks accord him a hero’s death.

It was the Romans, those innovative masters of warfare, who had the first true skirmishers. The velites were the light infantry of the legion. Lightly armored and armed with a sword, the velites were placed in front of the main legion where they functioned as skirmishers. The velites had two missile weapons available for use. The first, the hasta, was a throwing spear slightly shorter than the pilium, which was the standard throwing spear carried by a legionnaire; and the second was a sling attached to a staff.

This sling and staff combination was called the fustibalius. According to Vegitius[1], legionnaires were trained to hit man-sized targets at 600 paces (roughly 200 yards using Roman measurements). Was the sling and staff effective? Let us examine perhaps the most famous incident in history when one man goes to face another armed with a sling.

Then, staff in hand, David selected five smooth stones from the wadi and put them in the pocket of his shepherd's bag. With his sling also ready to hand, he approached the Philistine. With his shield-bearer marching before him, the Philistine also advanced closer and closer to David. When he had sized David up, and seen that he was youthful, and ruddy, and handsome in appearance, he held him in contempt. The Philistine said to David, "Am I a dog that you come against me with a staff?" Then the Philistine cursed David by his gods.[2]

Of course we all know the outcome of the story. It is interesting to note that despite all the Biblical evidence that David used a version of the fustibalius to slay Goliath, every depiction of this act shows David using a simple sling.

Archeological research has shown that at Roman battle sites, the opposing forces were literally showered with missiles hurled by these slings. These missiles were usually cast from lead and sometimes even bore inscriptions naming the legion using them. Here is evidence that Roman velites were true skirmishers, attacking the enemy at long range in hopes of breaking up his formations before they could come to close combat.

Not only were the velites specially trained and equipped, Roman commanders were keenly aware of the value of their light troops and would issue special instructions to the commanders of the velites.

During the wars between the Romans and the Carthaginians, Hannibal’s use of elephants had initially caused great confusion in the Roman ranks. However the Romans soon learned that despite every urging by their masters, the elephants would only charge in a straight line.

At the Battle of Zama (202 B.C.) the Roman velites were instructed to drive Hannibal’s elephants into carefully prepared openings in the Roman ranks. The elephants charged harmlessly into the rear of the Roman army where they were quickly dispatched and the Romans then closed ranks on the Carthaginians, and destroyed Hannibal’s army.

With the fall of the Roman Empire, a great deal of military knowledge was lost and would not be regained until the Renaissance.

An Elementary Treatise On Advanced Guard, Outpost and Detached Service Of Troops

Editor’s note

I don’t think I’ve ever attended an event that yielded less than 50% of those that had signed up for an event. But, that is surely what I witnessed at Kernstown. I do thank everyone who notified us of his cancellation. We missed you out there, but your spirit was in all of us. The march was a piece of cake, but that was mainly due, in part, because of coolers temperatures and a fantastic breeze that made life bearable. Other than pulling one tick off of my face early Sunday morning, the insects were not an issue. I arrived early Saturday morning in Kernstown, changed into my uniform, grabbed my gear and headed to an awaiting wagon which took me to Bartonsville. As I was walking toward the Friday night camping area, I started to recognize the faces of the men of Jackson’s Division. In the distance, I saw the smiling faces of Captain Ramsey and Private Harris. They had arrived Friday evening and said that it was a fairly pleasant, but cool evening. There was about a thirty-minute drizzle during the evening that did little to dampen the spirits that were there that morning. Lieutenant Turley showed up shortly after my arrival and decided to take on the role of an enlisted man in the ranks to give us another musket. After a brief Officers’ meeting and then an NCO meeting, we formed up for our Preservation March from Bartonsville to Kernstown. I decided to carry all of my gear to get a better sense of how to wear everything and tighten everything down for a march that was probably no more than three miles. We stopped once to rest, take on some water from our canteens, and to adjust our timetables. We did not wish to arrive in Kerstown too far ahead of schedule. As stated by the Lieutenant, we did a demonstration for the public upon arriving our destination in Kernstown. At the conclusion of our demo, one participant in attendance, not from our unit, fell flat on his face from heat exhaustion. It shows you that preparation for an event is vital. Even if the temperatures are low, you still can lose enough fluids to bring you down. After the order to fall out, Mr. Lawrence joined in with us to complete the magnificent five statuses, which would hold firm the rest of the weekend. The public was very enthusiastic and not shy, intermingling with us. Much to my surprise, Saturday night turned into a “blanket night”. You just can never tell what the weather will be like throughout the year, that’s why it is so imperative to prepare yourselves for whatever situations may arise.

August is pretty much all for the family month. September will bring a breath of fresh air for us to actually be able to put together an event that is one-step lower key than the Camp of Instruction. That’s not to say the C.O.I. was low key. On the contrary, that was day and night full of activities, but it was just F-Company. South Mountain will provide us with the same luxury. This will be our weekend, our agenda, and our pace. See next column for those signed up for this event. No one needs a formal invitation to attend this event, but we would love to have every musket on hand to put together a quality Living History event for the Park Service. If you have not signed up for South Mountain, please contact me and I will forward your name onto the honor roll. You may have heard the rumors by now, if you haven’t, I will enlighten you. The Battle event, scheduled to be put on the same weekend as our South Mountain event, has been cancelled due to low registration. And, from what I gather, 1/3 of those registered were civilians. The event coordinators decided to cancel because they would not have enough money to put on the event. That will leave South Mountain to us to perform for the Park Service and the visitors to the Park(perhaps an opportunity to recruit some Maryland sympathizers).

South Mountain State Park consists of 10,000 acres. We are presently awaiting the information packet from the Park Service to fine-tune all the details. In September’s Newsletter, if not sooner, I will have the exact directions to the proper location of where our camp will be placed and the exact directions on how to get there from North, South, East, and West. Please see below for who’s who in attendance. We could surely use a lot more of you out there for this one. We won’t have the luxury of filling our ranks with other units. Please look over your schedules and see if we can put forth a strong showing for the NPS at South Mountain in Boonsboro, MD

Ramsey, Stafford, Wilson, Schirmer, Harris, Perry Sr., Gammon D., Gammon M., Firth, and Pearson. (Note: This is just F-Company’s Living History weekend).

Ramsey, Stafford, Wilson, Schirmer, Harris, Perry Sr., Gammon, Firth, Catlett, Turley, Ward, Gregory, Lawrence, May, and Pearson.

Ramsey, Stafford, Turley, Wilson, Harris, Schirmer, Alexander, Catlett, Firth, Gammon, Gregory, Courson, Lawrence, Perry Sr., Perry C. and Pearson.

No registration needed for this one day Parade in Gettysburg. Many have an interest to attend. Please notify me if you wish to be a part of this activity.

[1] Vegitius's De Re Militari

[2] Samuel Book 1 Chapter 17 verses 40-46, New American Bible
United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, Washington, DC

Commander’s Column

Editor’s note