A couple of weekends ago Elliott and I drove to nearby Middletown, where the annual reenactment of the Battle of Cedar Creek takes place, the last major battle in the Shenandoah Valley. I last went 2 years ago, with a neighbor, on a damp and grey day, the sky heavy with clouds that almost mingled with the rising smoke from camp fires. But today was bright and sunny, albeit pretty chilly, and the idea of a looming battle didn't seem quite as imposing as it had on that dreary day 2 years ago, it seemed a better day for a picnic. But the encampment was as spectacular as before, white peaked tents had popped up overnight like a spread of mushrooms after a rainy night. This was the Confederate camp, the Union camp was over the other side of the field, almost out of site. There were very few members of the public in the camp, and as on my last visit here, I marveled at how realistic the camp was. It was as if we'd stepped back in time.
Everyone was in high spirits, more than happy to stop and pose for a photo, or show a particular piece of clothing or a weapon they were proud of. Elliott and I were often drawn into a small group, who would then chat and laugh with us as they told stories of the battle or past reenactments, or how they acquired their uniforms. We were asked to join a group on one occasion, something I'd love to do, but with so little free time, it's a pipe dream for the day when I may possibly be able to retire.
We stopped briefly to hear a preacher talk to some soldiers and sign a hymn. I was passed a song sheet but didn't recognize the tune, so stood listening instead. It made for a lovely scene, one that I could have enjoyed for a while, a strong deep voice talking of wrongs and rights, with the Blue Ridge Mountains standing proudly in the background, as if to attention, the crisp mountain air with wafts of camp fire smoke rustling the leaves above us. It was very comforting, but we had lots to see and moved on. We left the small group and walked over the field to the Union camp.
A few hundred actors were here today, playing both sides of the battle, all of them looking as though they'd come through a time tunnel from the past. On only a couple of occasions did I come across a scene where a modern day piece of equipment had inadvertently been left among the period pieces, like a walkie talkie sat among plates and mugs, or a new toothbrush in a battered metal cup. But nearly every part of this camp was realistic, and people had worked hard to achieve that. One lady and her husband had an authentic wooden framed bed in their tent, with dressers, trunks and chairs, as well as blankets and rugs, making the scene very cozy. Which was fortunate for them, since the night before had been cold and windy, with downpours of torrential rain. We'd sympathized with them that evening as we sat on our porch with a beer, chilly, but dry, and had wondered how the camps were fairing. But today, they showed no signs of their nighttime drenching, only a few blankets and clothes were spread out over tents or chairs, drying in today's sunshine. A lot of used plates were left on tables, and I noted that even their meals had been authentic. Some were still eating, and I saw chunky slices of bread, fresh biscuits, thick slabs of bacon, preserves and butter. Some were still cooking over fires and the wonderful aromas had my nostrils twitching. I made a point of not approaching groups who were eating, not wanting to disturb their meal, but really wishing they'd spot my wistful looks and drools, and then invite me over.
We toured around the whole Union camp before deciding to head back to
the top of the field where the spectators were to group if they wanted
to watch the battle, so we left the blues and walked back towards the
greys. We could sense the atmosphere changing, becoming more pensive, as
people readied themselves for the fight. This battle was actually
started at 5am by the Confederates, led by Gen. Jubal Early, launching a
surprise attack on the Union army. But the Union soldiers rallied round
and soon defeated the Confederates. As we walked back across the filed,
we stopped as a posse of Union soldiers on horseback trotted past to
join their ranks. We arrived at the Confederate camp to see the men firing practice shots and grouping with other troops to walk towards the battlefield.
We saw lines of men marching towards the rows of cannons and then spotted the Union troops taking position on the far side of the field. The cannons began firing, and the field became alive, men marching towards their enemies, cannons thundering almost continuously, gunshots echoing across the field, while the acrid smell of gunpowder, clouds of smoke from the weapons, and horses hooves shaking the ground underfoot, all made the battle scene before us realistic. The infantry were flanked by the cavalry, men fighting with pistols and drawn swords, some falling to the ground and lying still. By the end of the battle, there would be 5800 Union and 3000 Confederate casualties. And I would soon be a casualty if we didn't leave soon. My knee had been holding up pretty well over the rough ground, but it was getting sore. Elliott said we'd walked nearly 4 miles with all the back and forth, so once Taps had been played at the end of the battle, we left to find refreshments and a seat, both of us with many photos on our cameras to process at a later date.
Elliott took some superb photos as well as a short video. Take a look at them here.
