Lost Tribes AAR.

[Old Cremona]

Yeah, I had fun.

This was the most elaborate event we have yet attempted at the Boonesfield site.

Friday night began with the Federals not yet occupying the town and a number of "irregulars" hanging about. I was not particularly comfortable with their presence, especially as one none-to-bright but heavily armed fellow seemed to take a particular interest in me and my belongings. My character is no Lincolnite, but I found myself looking forward to the arrival of the Federals if for no other reason than the restoration of respect for the rule of law. My naiveity was considerable!!

The Federals arrived Saturday morning and quickly rounded up the populace of Gray Summit and herded them in to a temporary hold yard. The women were soon relesed and ordered to their homes but the men continued their durance vile for another couple of hours. Finally we were herded into the grist mill where the real hard time got started. Thank goodness I had carried my banjo with me into captivity for it gave me something to occupy my mind and my hands. It was past 2 o'clock before I was finally led off to my interrogation, and almost 3 before I finally tasted the sweet nectar of freedom again. Needless to say my enthsiasm for the boys in blue was dampened.

Things gradually got back on an even keel, although my living quarters had been taken over by our "liberators." We managed to cheer ourselves with entertainment and dancing in the evening, and no one went hungry as the fare at Captain Smith's Inn was delicious.

Sunday morning brought our happy times to a swift and violent end. Our pastor made a somewhat ill-advised reference to a prayer given by Mr. Jefferson Davis, and the Federal troops replyed in a cruel fashion. He was led out behind the grist mill and shot.

The Federals decamped soon after this and left our town. The ruffians immediately reappeared, in a rather darker mood than when we had seen them last. The men of the town were once again herded in to grist mill, and after releasing the Sherriff and a vagabond, they informed us we were to be shot. The ruffian leader allowed me and my compatriot to sing one last song before "paroling us." We completed 2 verses of "Few Days" which seemed not to be of his liking for the end came soon after.

[J. Donaldson]

Adam Donaldson
Drakesville, Iowa

Dear Pap,

I hope that this finds you well and that all at home are getting the harvest in. There are times when I wish that I was back helping get the corn in and working on the farm, and this is one of them. I'm sure that you've read that Price is back in Missouri causing trouble. Well they moved the 21st up from Memphis to help catch him, though I doubt that we will since his boys are mounted and we're all afoot and walking in his path.

Two days ago we stopped in Gray Summit, the roads raising hail columbia on the boys. We advanced on the town about 9 o clock, with first section of first platoon as the advance. Once again your Son had to sit the hot seat while the short end of the company strolled the woods behind us. We moved through a pine wood, not knowing whether or not we'd find any bushwhackers. As we approached the village we heard some few shots which gave us Some concern, but there was nothing to them it seemed. Just before we got to the town we had to clear out a stone building on our left, which meant an extra bit of tension for no good reason. First section moved up and around the edge of town hiding by walls and trees. We could see some women gathered up to one side of the town, and a couple of men walking about, including one fellow with a shotgun and pistol on his hip. When the company was finally caught up to us, Lieutenant Hall had Hog, Myself and another fellow go and grab up the fellow with the shotgun, who turned out to be the sheriff, as well as the minister and another man, and hold them Arrested. Hog disarmed the Sheriff, and I took a knife from the Parson as well as one ugly looking big knife from the other fellow. Why a Parson was walking around with a knife on his hip I'll not try and guess, but there's more to tell of my adventures with the Parson later on. Another fellow walked out on a balcony over us, and I told him to go inside before I'd blow a cathole through him, but he did what he dang well pleased, and I didn't want to be fined for wasting a cartridge. Well the Company came up with the Captain, and first Section pushed the three men into the churchyard to hold them there, which was fine with me as this meant I didn't have to open no doors or push through a house and no one knowing what was waiting for me. the rest of the Company went about the town and cleaned up any body they found, bringing them all over to the Church, men and women alike. They were an ugly lot, looking perturbed at us for doing our jobs. After they took the folks over to the Church, the Officers seemed to get a little confused about what they wanted to do, so we herded them into the Church (some woman started ringing the bell, but we never did know who, but we knew she was signalling someone), and then we pulled them out of the Church again. Some Dutch lady started going on about Texas and going through this before, but that wasn't anything to me, as I was not from Texas, nor do I want anything to do with that God forsaken place. Finally we let the women go, but just as we did, well Hog got an idea into his head about shooting the bird off the church steeple. Hog was just damned mad about something the entire time we were in Gray Summit, and I don't blame him one bit the way we were treated. Of course he missed, but then Jefferson pulled a hog leg of a pistol out of nowhere and started playing Hail Columbia on the Dove too. He missed as well. My God, some boys could not hit their rear ends with either hand in this company. The lady who I think ran the Inn was upset about the boys checking through her place, but I tried to be nice and tell her we were just trying to be safe and didn't know what we'd find. The Women started to trickle out and go to their homes, but for some reason the Officers spent all morning talking to the men in town, probably trying to find on what Side of the question they lay and giving them paroles. I'm glad I didn't have to sit through that load of tales. Everyone kept talking about what they had to Suffer at someone else's hands, but that didn't sit too well with the Scotland County boys, as their folks back home have had to go through worse all along in this war and longer.

First Section got shuffled off to do guard duty, and I didn't see anything but trees the entire time I stood my post, which I am glad for. Just when they pulled us off to rest, Holler came asking for volunteers to go on a patrol. You didn't raise any fool son, so I sat on my hands while Hog and some others went with him. It's a good thing I didn't go too, for the hills around here are more like mountains, and those boys had to billygoat up and down them a good bit. They ran into a bit of trouble while out, and we sat and listened to the shooting, hoping everyone would come back well, which they did. In the mean time I was able to go to the little store and get a newspaper, although a Peace Democrat one, as well as some other things. They did not have any pipes, which means your son is now without anything to smoke with. I know Mother would have liked that, but She's gone and I'm here and damned if I couldn't use a bowl right now. Holler kept borrowing my tobacco, but he was stingy with letting me smoke from his pipe, although he did every now and then.

I spent the afternoon either on duty or trying to rest my feet. When we got off of the 8 oclock guard I tried to get to sleep pretty quick, as the late turn on guard meant I wouldn't get any sleep that night. Wouldn't it figure but First Platoon no more than got comfortable after dark and the criminal Bushwhackers started shooting at the guards posted near a bridge on the edge of town. At the first shot the boys in the Platoon jumped up and stood to their guns and went to the relief of the guard, and we had a bit of a hot scrape. The criminals were in a stubblefield, but the moon was so bright you could see their hats where they were trying to hide. Some fellows just are not bright, but what can you expect from outlaws. The captain even came out to the line with his brand new Spencer rifle he bought in St. Louis. The boys kept talking about that expensive popgun all the time, but I never got to see him use it. After that was all over, and someone said we lost a couple boys, first Platoon went into the Grist Mill to try and sleep, which was fine by me. Just as we were called for first call to go on the midnight to 4 oclock watch a man who said he owned the mill came up and told us to get out, which didn't seem to gentlemanly since we were making sure nothing happened to it, but there's not much better one can expect from these people down here. Guard went quietly again, the trees and bushes making no Rebellious attempts on my life, but the bottom fell out of the thermometer and it was cold, sir. I was relieved finally and went back to the cellar of another house to sleep.

After a couple of hours of the usual chorus of snoring and the night exhalations I've come to expect from some of us, which felt like all night, the Second Sergeant came in and with revellee in the back ground told us to report for the guard with full marching order. The sergeant was out on another patrol, and the Lieutenant had Hog, Arch and I go out as a support, so I got to climb that hill after all. I Had to cross a crick a couple of times, so my dry feet were not anymore, and it was no sense in changing my socks either. We could hear them shooting every once in a while, and we finally found the patrol coming in a little strung out but none the worse for wear. At one point when we were looking I saw the flash of a face in the leaves, but that was the closest I got to seeing a real live Bushwhacker which bothers me not at all. The Sergeant even said that they found the camp of the criminals, and they had Pie! Us on hard crackers and salt beef, and someone in that town giving pie to the criminal element.

As usual it was First Platoon's part to carry the load. Hog and I went on a post together and had a good chat. For some reason they moved us over to church to guard it when Service began, and I tell you, it was a good thing that they did. Hog and I walked a beat, one on each side of the Church, and you should have seen some of the looks that the people inside were giving me. Some were down right surly, and others looked away as soon as they saw me. We started muttering about firing the church and solving all of our problems with one swoop, so the Sergeant made a torch for a gag and walked by the windows, agitating them all the more. Lieutenant Hall was the only one who went to service, and he seemed to enjoy it until the Parson (I told you I'd get back to him) started preaching Jeff Davis and that trash. The lieutenant came out of the church and put on his gloves and told us to arrest the Parson when the service was over. I watched the back door to make sure that the Parson didn't pull a trick and slink away, but he came out the front door with the rest of them. Hog and I walked him over to the mill to jail him until the Captain could be found, and he kept talking to us about how we were evil men for doing what we did. No more than had we got over to the mill than the boys on Picket were fired upon, so the whole town and the Company were up in arms as to what to do. The Parson was irritating us more and more, and no one knew what was going on, so as the Captain walked by, we asked if we could take care of him, which I did. I walked the old Man out behind the Mill and put a ball through his back. Hog thought I didn't do a good enough job, so he did the same, getting some of the Gospel on me in the process. Everyone in the town thought Hog did it all himself, so I'll get no blame from anyone. I've got this to say though, because of me Tom Price will have one less vote for Governor of Missouri. The men in town started to get very agitated after what we did and gathered up in the church yard again, this time with their guns. It turned out that Hog's Uncle was the innkeeper, but there must not be any cool heads or kind blood in that family, as they were exchanging harsh words on both sides, and I think Hog was going to pull the company into shooting the men. Some fellow kept railing on and on about the Constitution, but his people had made a choice, or actually no choice at all it seemed, so we ignored him. Just in the nick of it the captain called to form the company, as the criminals had been repelled, or at least dealt with, we losing our musicians in the process, but that's neither here nor there. The Captain got us formed and took the company out of town and back on down the road. I for one was glad to shake the dust of that town off my feet. Now we're back after Price, but we'll just chase geese until he makes a stand or goes off with his tail between his legs.

Please write soon. I heard through Someone else that Adam Junior was married last month, and I wish that I was told ahead of time, but as you don't like to write me for some reason, that's what I get. If you do feel like returning this letter, please see if you can get a good pipe in town and send it on to me. I hope all is well with the farm, and I'll post this when I get a chance.

Your Son,

James Donaldson

[MercyAngel62]

First, I want to thank Silvana Siddali for inviting Patrick and I to Lost Tribes. The weather turned out to be much more pleasant than what was anticipated before arriving. My favorite part of the event was being able to stay in the neat old buildings on site. How lucky we were to be able to do that. Most site directors cringe at the thought of reenactors staying in preserved buildings, so this was very special!

My “Aunt Silvana” and I were living in the stone building (Squire Boone Home) but once the federal army occupied the town, we were forced out. When the federal army gathered all of the civilians in the church, we were told that according to Martial Law, the army had to have permission to occupy a home. Well, we were booted out anyway. I believe it was because we were two women by ourselves. Perhaps if we had man with us, we would have kept our home. I got a giggle out of Silvana ringing the church bell once we were all gathered inside and thoroughly angered the Federals. She really stirred the pot by doing that! :wink_smil Miss Anna and Miss Sarah Belle (my cousins) were kind enough to take us in at the Sappington House not too far away. Unfortunately, the harassment didn’t end there! If it wasn’t those Federals causing problems, it was those “ruffian” bushwackers!

Sunday was full of events. Some of the Federal soldiers were threatening to burn the church with the torch during the Sunday morning service. Reverend Cope had mixed politics and religion in his sermon and as a result he was taken out to the mill and shot for the whole town to witness. I’ll never forget when they were dragging him in ropes to the back of the mill and he cried out "Ladies! Help me! Help me!". Once the Federals had taken him to the back there was silence and two gun shots rang out. This was very disturbing for me because that was one of the more “realistic” moments of being a civilian in MO at that time.

Later, more bushwackers had come into town, but were a bit more irate than the ones we had come across before. When they were rounding civilians up to the mill, Anna, Sarah Belle and I were dodging them behind buildings and fences in hopes that we would not be caught! (We were never caught)

I also enjoyed placing faces with names and meeting wonderful people. The first person interactions in the village from Friday night until Sunday were phenomenal. I loved the black face Minstrel show Saturday night in the carpenters building! Very entertaining, you guys did a GREAT job!

There are just too many “kewl” moments to keep listing. Pat and I really enjoyed ourselves this past weekend and Silvana deserves special thanks for all of her hard work! Lost Tribes would not have happened or had been so successful without her!

Thanks again for having us and we hope to be invited back.

…….on to Bummers!!!:baring_te

[Drygoods]

Thumbing through this lost tribes folder, I've not seen any link to show what the buildings are like. Would someone tell me where to look to see what the park buildings are like, and who furnished them?

[moconfed]

Here is a link to a site showing a picture of the buildings and a little more information. http://www.geocities.com/athens/parthenon/7109/Boonesfield.html

This site will give you more information about their ownership. http://www.lindenwood.edu/boone/

[blackhattertuck]

I must say, reading the perspective of the Partisans is instructive. As a lowly private, it seemed that you all were lurking behind every building, tree, shrub, stone or tall weed during the weekend and doubly so at night. One of the most intense moments for me was on Saturday when myself, and two others accompanied Lt. Wickett to give cover to 1st platoon's returning patrol. I found myself in a duel with a lone bushwacker at a range of about ten yards, his pistols barked, the balls hummed past my head, and I discharged my musket. It then appeared to me that he was attempting to reload his pistol, so I hastily charged upon him. He raised his pistol. My musket was empty, and I had foolishly not fixed my bayonet. I raised my hands and stared. He said: "if you go your way, I'll go mine." I nodded. As he backed away, I noticed the hammer of his pistol was not cocked, perhaps it was empty? Still too shocked to attempt to subdue him, I stood stock still as he retreated. "There's a pistol over there," he said as he motioned to the ground a few feet away, and then vamoosed. I wanderd over where he had pointed, and found an empty Colt Army which had seen some rough service. I stuck the parting gift from the partisan in my belt and rejoined the company, wiser. If that bushwhacker reads this, I have one question: was your pistol as empty as my musket?

Great event. Quite a chilly guard mount on Saturday though.

[coastaltrash]

I've been thinking about the event all day, and how to write this AAR. I'm not sure if words can really describe the event at Lost Tribes.

I arrived on site some what reluctant to be a federal, let alone portraying a 2nd Sgt for a group of guys that I didn't know. I sat back and watched the boys roll in car after car, and I would spot the occasional friend, jokes exchanged and the event was a start. I met some folks I have yet to meet before, and have a very high respect for the Hairy Nation Boys. I count Holler as a friend, and consider that group one of the best in the field.

Thanks Holler and Silvana for the invitation, and look forward to future events to come. This was one of, if not THE BEST, event I have ever attended.

[Silvana Siddali]

One of the things I love best about these events is the chance to visit with friends and make new ones. I thoroughly enjoyed being dear Lizzie's Aunt and Cuffie's mother. Liz, you were fantastic company. Anna, Brandi, Forrest, Cuffie, Liz, and Carl, what a great family you are!

For me, what I love most about the village is the feeling of a tightly knit, affectionate community, and the ready acceptance of all newcomers. I hope everyone felt welcome and immediately a part of things.

I don't have too much to add to these well-written AAR's, so I'll only add the bits that had to be kept secret.

First of all, the whole village has been thinking that my late husband Luke Siddall died in a drunken fall from a wagon. It's been mortifying to me to allow people to gossip about this, when the truth is that he rode with Anders (Jay Stevens) and his men for two years and was shot in action. Anders' band are like brothers to me. They protected me in my late husband's memory, so I felt I had to repay their kindness and respect. My cousin Carl Anderton was not pleased about this, but I felt compelled to house and feed them on their first night in the village. Carl thought this was foolhardy beyond belief. He may have been partly right because they were a little careless the following morning upon leaving my house. They were seen standing around in the front yard (I never found out by whom) and as a result my niece, my son and I were evicted from our house when the U. S. Army marched in.

No, we were not asked for permission.

When the village residents were herded like cattle into the church, I felt compelled to ring the bell because that was a signal to Anders and his men to stay away. I knew I was endangering some of my fellow citizens by doing so, but I owe loyalty to my late husband's friends. It was a difficult decision.

My family and I were taken in by my wealthy young nieces, Anna and Sarah Allen, who live in the fine mansion up on the hill. They made us as comfortable as possible and never allowed us to feel the difference in our worldly station.

On Saturday, Anders and his men visited us in the fine house, where we feasted them on chicken stew and apple pie. In their company were two Rebel Deserters. I knew one of them well, and felt very sorry for him because his house had been destroyed and his wife and children had fled to St. Clair. I never learned whether he found them.

The events on Sunday have been described elsewhere. I do just want to add one thing. We know who shot our dear Pastor. There will be a trial. The judge has already been summoned. The jury is ready.

The trial will be held on May 14-16, 1865 (read: 2009 in Boonesfield.) I hope you will all be prepared to give your testimony.

[BenjaminLDavis]

Best event yet at Boonesfield! Certainly the most intense, and, were you
lucky enough to be in First Section of the First Platoon of the 21st, one
of the busiest ~ in one of our 4 hour rotations, we were standing a Post
or chasing bushwackers for all but about 15 minutes, and in that time
myself and the company clerk were getting a fire going where we could
cook and make coffee (which never happened; it was a durn good thing
I cooked my salted beef right off, cause that and some apples and
crackers was most of what I ate. Section one came back to the
Reserve Sunday morning to find our breakfast of beans had been
dumped in the fire, and we had to dig our breakfast out of the ashes.
We made do, with some small grumbling.)
Great moments:
I was at Post One (outside the door of the building
we had taken over as headquarters) when three ladies approached;
I stood in front of the door and called forth Captain Fleming. Seemed
someone had been impersonating a Lt., causing commotion and great
consternation among the womenfolk. When Capt. Fleming asked
Silvana if she could describe this man, she said he had a "rather
vacant look on his face." (It took all the self-control I had not to howl
with laughter ~ she had Double-D there, to a T!!)
After this, I was present, about to relieve Eric from his post (guarding
the selfsame Double-D), when Sgt. Holler came into the mill like a
runaway train, rolling up his sleeves, with Hellfire in his demeanor,
and lit into the miscreant with a vengeance! We grabbed the Sgt. and
held him back sos he would not kill the lad, who was some cowed by
the beating.
The patrol Saturday, Section 1 and a few others who joined in ~ the
hill was almost impassable, with brambles, felled trees like giant
abatis, loose rocks in the washes. We got to the top and then
swung right, going downhill, until we could go no further due to
a sheer drop of some 20 feet ~ we turned to go back up the hill
and came under fire from below! Sgt. Holler knew we would be
boxed in sure, so we did the only thing we could, went further into
the woods and then down a wash, to the edge of a beanfield.
Across from us one scoundrel sauntered in and set on a stump,
never seeing us. We talked in hushed tones, figured there was
only one or two fellers ~ Sgt. says rush 'em, now, which we
did, and came under fire from the whole bunch! We chased
'em out, with a few boys felled by buckshot, and found we had
help from across the stream. Waded back, but them fellers were
not done yet: one had a pistol leveled on a young boy in blue. I
yelled for him to lay it down, ramming for all I was worth (was
not sure then if I could reload 'fore he turned the pistol on me,
tried to bluster him with my cusses) when he run like a
rabbit. Our boy come out of there with his Enfield and a
pistol, seems the feller had been tryin' to bluster him with
a spent sidearm. Another victory for the Loyal Men of Missouri!

My one regret is that we were so busy being the 21st that
I never found time to get my image struck ~ this bespeaks
the quality of the event!
One last memory ~ when we bedded down on the hard, hard
floor of that cellar and dropped off to sleep, I drifted off with
the sound of giant Columbiads firing in rumbling volleys, and soon
added my battery to the cacophony!! My apologies to them
few fellers who did not snore. My friend Dan Barker was
posted just outside our closed door, and he said he has
never heard the like of First Platoon in full roar!

Many thanks to Boonesfield Village, the University, Silvana, Holler,
Capt. Fleming, Lt. Hall, Hog for all the superb amusement,
Tom Steele and all the other new friends I met, with a special
thanks to Brad Argue, best Crpl. a man can serve under. The
men of the 21st Missouri, Co I are indebted to you. I would also
like to thank Mr. Hicks for the "medication" you slipped me as
we were returning from patrol ~ it "cured" all that it promised to!

[Sarah Belle]

I had a fantastic weekend. A big thank you to Silvana and Holler for organizing this event. My “sister” Anna and I spent the weekend up on the hill in the fabulous Sappington house. Thanks to Silvana for convincing Graddy to let us play in the house. The only regret was that we were quite far away from the rest of the village and didn’t get to interact with to many of you. Friday night Anna and I did a little performance of Shakespeare for our “family” and friends. After everyone left we were having a fantastic conversation about Shakespeare that was rudely interrupted by Anders and his men. Because our dear Aunt’s late husband rode with these men once upon a time, we hesitantly entertained them. Anders though quite arrogant was gentlemanly, though his men were a bit squirrely. (Amazing first person moments, thanks so much guys!!!) Thank God our cousin Carl and uncle Walter where there to protect us and defend our honor.
On Saturday morning I went to make breakfast and found that we had the majority of our food stolen by one of Ander’s men. So we had to go down to Mrs. Brenton’s to do our shopping and ended up being trapped there when the Federals came into town. After being bossed around by federal troops we were finally let go and were told to go home and stay there. When were arrived home we found our door had been forced open and left wide open. I found my drawings and personal papers had been rummaged through and scattered on my desk. Our dear Aunt and Cousin Lizzy were kicked out of their home by the federals and came to our home to find refuge. Being secessionist and friends with bushwhackers we were afraid to go into the village, so we spent quite a bit of time in our home doing our domestic duties. Saturday evening Ander’s men returned and we fed them chicken soup and apple pie. Those Federals didn’t seem to smart, we were known friends of Ander’s and his men and they never asked us questions or put a picket on our house. Though there was lone man who was impersonating an officer who did come up to the house while Anders and his men were there. But Aunt Silvana and I were able to get rid of him. He just came to harass us about having alcohol. He seems to be frightened by women though, because when I smiled and batted my eyes at him he started walking backwards and left. I don’t think he was very smart because he didn’t come into the house and investigate who the men in our house were. After dinner we went to the carpenter shop and enjoyed the fantastic show given by our cousins Kyle, Carl and uncle Walter. Thanks guys for putting the show together, it was great. After all of the excitement of the day we decided we were to tired for dancing and went back home and went to bed. During the middle of the night there was stomping on our porch and under the house. It seems that the federal troops spent the night under our house. We had to listen to them bang around and snore all night.

Sunday brought church and the murder of our poor pastor and the departure of the federal troops. Unfortunately it allowed a nasty band of men into town that rounded up all of the men and women in town. Fortunately Anna, Lizzy and I were able to hide behind a house and were left unmolested, though our cousin was murdered along with many of the men of the town.

Thanks to everyone who made this event great. A special thanks to Dan and Jay for being my after event heroes!

[LibertyHallVols]

Thanks to all who made this event possible! I had a great time. I would have liked to stay around a bit longer to meet some folks after the end of the event, but that was not possible. There were a lot of folks I've known on these fora that I met for the first time, and that was a real treat.

Abe, Lt. Hall, Holler, Landrum, all the Hairy Nation, and the ONV boys who made up the 21st MO are a class act. Between Piney Woods, Bentonville, and Lost Tribes, I've fallen in with some of you all three times now this year.

Mess'r Yearby: It was good to see you again, too!

"Into the Piney Woods... and out with spoiled ammunition"
One of the ONV folks (I recall not who) gave me two packages of cartridges for a Colt pocket 36. Well, at Piney Woods, I never fired a shot. So, I still had the two unopened packages in my officer's haversack. I used one to load-up my revolver on Saturday morning, caps and all. During the ill-fated attempt to capture a bushwacker out in the beanfield (nope, that wasn't Holler and Co. moving up to support us! :confused_ ), I never actually fired a shot. ...probably for the best. Before leaving the event, I went to clear my pistol... "Click, click, click, click, click". Evidently, the caps were all spoiled from Thursday night's deluge(s) during IPW, despite being in a rubberized haversack. :embaresse

Take Care, Folks!

[LindaTrent]

I'd rank this event in the top 5 events of all-time! Thanks to Silvana and Vivian and others who worked at organizing this event!

It was great to be able to meet the Sorchys and help out at the local tavern. We had a great time, worked hard, and had great interaction!

Probably one of my favorite moments though was sitting in the church on Saturday and hearing that the town had been placed in martial law. Martial law meant (among other things) that the army couldn't enter buildings without permission of the owner. Well... later that evening, as Hank and I were walking toward our mill, we noticed that a lantern was burning in there. The army had occupied our mill.

My mantle, hood, and all our blankets and such were in the rear of the building and it was frigid. I was really looking forward to retrieving them and going to bed. Hank (A.K.A. Mr. Anderson) walked up to one of the soldiers and asked what was going on. He was told that they were bedded down. Hank asked if the town was still under martial law, and the answer was yes. He asked if they had permission of the owner to be bedding down in the mill. The answer was yes. When he asked who the owner was, the answer was that they didn't know, they were just following orders. So he told them to be prepared to move, and we walked up to the headquarters and a guard helped us get the captain. We spoke with the captain who assured assured us that the men would be out of the mill within 10-15 minutes, so we ventured off.

Returning about 15 minutes later, the men were still snoring away all around the mill sweep. So, off we went to find the officer in charge, again. We walked up to the house and banged on the door. The officers woke and told us that they thought the mill was an abandoned building because it wasn't all fixed up and in running order. Then they told us that they didn't know who owned the building, as there was no notice on the door. Um, anyone in town could have told them, and could have told them where to find us. Then they apologized and said they'd have the men out in 10-15 minutes, and they did. How cool is that, that we could make the army move!?!

It was so cool to be able to tell the army what to do and then watch them do it. Usually it's the civilians who get kicked out of buildings and forced to sleep on the cold damp ground. I can get used to this "martial law" stuff. :tounge_sm Having been kicked out of our home on numerous occasions at events, I did feel a slight bit of remorse throwing the reenactors out, but then again, it's all part of the game. :rolleyes:

Linda.

[Trish Hasenmueller]

Count the journal entries below as my AAR, written through the eyes of my daughter, Abigail Waddoups.

Trish Hasenmueller

Mrs. Abigail Waddoups
Journal entries
October 3, 1864

In Gray Summit at this time, visiting my mum in MO. Got in yesterday after a long journey from London.
The trouble started as soon as we got in. We went to dinner and left my lady maid Elizabeth at the Engledew boarding house. When we returned, she was all flustered explaining how three men had terrorized through the house pushing her through our room and stealing four of our apples. The leader was apparently very distressed to see his house next year had burned down and his family gone. Later to learn they are alive and well in the next town. The other men with him had been drinking. Either way completely unnecessary to be so taunting. Two of the orphaned children were in the house and ran to hide. Took Elizabeth a while to find little Daisy, who hid herself in the privy behind the church. The men continued on to the Inn for dinner refusing to pay or work for their food. After we did some investigating and got Capt. Smiths story, mum and a group of us ladies found the sheriff and reported the men. We tried explaining it was not the money for the apples that we wanted, it was terrorizing Elizabeth, two ladies who were dressing upstairs, and scaring the children that we did not approve of. This morning the sheriff gave us three apples, they were not ours, but a nice gesture. We kept all doors to the Engledew locked last night as to have no more disturbances as we slept.
This morning we were advised they heard drums outside town and Yankees were close by. We walked to the Inn for breakfast. Just as we were finishing, gun shots were fired and Capt. Smith blew his whistle and we were rushed upstairs to their quarters for safety. When we thought it was safe again we continued on our way to the general store for a paper. Soon we were rushed inside and locked in as Mrs. Brenton turned the “Closed” sign. All the women inside and men standing outside.
From the store windows we watched in horror as the Union soldiers descended on the town from the hill at the Boone home. Our hearts sank as the town sheriff held his arms up surrendering. Soon all the men were gathered and taken hostage. Women were gathered next, both poor Marys from the Dress Shop which had been ransacked earlier in the morning. It is said the bushwackers and Union soldiers were to blame. The soldiers marched on to the Engledew and brought those children and women, including Elizabeth. Rufus, the brave boy, stuck his tongue out and shook his fist at the Yankees in defiance. We knew we were next and pointless to run and hide. The soldiers approached and asked nicely for us to unlock the door, Mrs. Brenton had no choice. We were escorted across the field to where the whole town was being held in the Chapel fence. Their only excuse for what they were doing to us was “securing the town.” Our towns men opened the Chapel to let the women and children inside away from the cool wind. The soldiers immediately came in and had us removed back outside, just to change their mind and return us to the shelter of the church. As we sat in the church uncertain of our future, I quickly told mum and Elizabeth to change our story if any soldier asks, we are not here to return mum to London with us, we came to visit because she had been ill. I was figuring I should be able to claim International immunity, but mum must be protected. The pastor began a prayer service and was interrupted by soldiers who read a new marshal law, Order Number One. The men had to swear to the Union Oath, while women and children were released to house arrest. As we were escorted to the Engledew home we 'baaed' like the sheep we walked past, in defiance to the union soldiers herding us their flock of sheep. We have been cooped up and got tired of sitting. After we saw others start to wander, Elizabeth and I went to the store to hand over goods for my mum to sell. I picked up our dishes from breakfast to have Elizabeth wash them. While the children waited to get some candy, a soldier came in and demanded we return home immediately. The other women challenged him and said Mrs. Brenton would go out of business if we did not shop, and asked for his superior officer. The man reported back that we were allowed to finish shopping and return back to our houses. As we left, there were two Yankees on the porch doing absolutely nothing. I did not see, but one of the men was starring at me and Elizabeth kicked rocks up at him. We managed to pass in peace.
It is currently one thirty and lunch has not been served. We have heard gun shots and watched the men march and change guards. A couple of ladies just ventured out again to walk the town, we wait on the porch sewing and gossiping and awaiting their return.


October 4, 1864

How to begin on such a tragic day. Yesterday afternoon was merely an inconvenience. The soldiers came by Engledew numerous times to search for any contraband, and found nothing every time. They had also released us women from house arrest but failed to tell us until hours later when we thought we were being defiant by going to the Inn to eat lunch. The men were held captive for five hours, or until they had signed the oath. I do believe a few townspeople were able to outsmart the soldiers and refused to sign, I know the pastor was one and the sheriff vouched for him. The law enforcement completely changed hands, and now the sheriff and his deputies are working with the Union.
The joy of last night is furthest from my mind, but will make this a happier entry. When evening came three of us remained in the Engledew house for our own feast. We were not trying to be anti-social, we just realized we were all vegetarians and chose to eat healthy as they were serving a meaty stew at the Inn. My company included Mrs. Engledew's daughter Kitsey, and our roommate Nancy. We combined our resources and had a lovely rice medley with apples and onions, potato crisps, and aged sharp cheddar from London. When the others returned we gathered our things for the minstrel show and dance at the Carpenter's shop. I had never seen a minstrel show but had heard of them, very different but entertaining.
We were squeezed in tightly as almost the whole town was there and even a few soldiers. I am assuming upper ranked officers. Every where we went there were soldiers standing guard, outside the house and in the field, and even in front of the chapel. When we were through eating Nancy and Kitsey tried giving the two soldiers behind Engledew what was left over. When they went out to offer it the soldiers were suspicious and asked them to stop several steps back from them and leave the pot on the ground. We are assuming that is because one of their comrades lift his post earlier and was punished with his arms tied spread out wide while they threw things at him. Or the two soldiers did not trust us sharing our food and thought we had poisoned it because it was returned and appeared that they did not eat any. On our way to the Menstural show Nancy gave the pot of rice to an officer on his way to the group of soldiers in the field. I do not condone what they are doing here but they were so hungry and it did not go to waist.
After the show, I got up and participated in the dancing. We had such fun with Nine Pin, The Virginia Reel, and The Spanish Waltz. Elizabeth asked for my permission to attend and of course I would not have thought of going without her. We all enjoyed the dancing, and grateful that Mrs. Brenton who was very fatigued was able to call the dances. It was good to see some Gray Summit townspeople in a happier time where they could almost forget their troubles and Yankees that surrounded them. As we walked back to our housing I realized I had had my galoshes on all night as I wanted to keep my feet warm before the change of venue from the covered bridge. I was wondering why everyone else was slipping from the candle wax dripping on the floor and I had not hit a slippery spot at all. I highly recommend wearing galoshes to dance on waxy floors.
Mrs. Brenton lodged in our room for the evening, she had not been sleeping well as a mouse had taken up residence in the Mercantile. The night before she had woken up to sniffing in her ear and a mouse playing with the tassel on her night cap. I had witnessed a mouse earlier in the day on the wall of the shop, a very brave and quick moving fellow. Why even when Mr. Harding accompanied her to fetch her sleeping things the mouse was holding his own dance on her counter. I do not blame her at all, as I would refuse to sleep with a known mouse about! When we got back to our room she and my mum gave me a gift they had been planning before my arrival. Mrs. Brenton had knitted a lovely blue and red Norwegian hood with gold ribbons to match my new wrapper. In return my mum is trading one of her handmade Greek casaques.
The morning started normal enough. Mum and I got dressed and made a stop by the photographer Mr. Ingram, as our afternoon the day prior was wasted in confinement to our home. I almost wanted to cause trouble and rebel myself, being a citizen of Great Britain, but alas stayed calm in order to protect my mother. I must say I did not disapprove or hold back my maid Elizabeth from voicing her opinions and being unruley. I rather enjoyed her mischief.
Mum and I had our image made and by the time we got the Inn for breakfast the church bells rang letting us know it was time for service so we are going hungry for now. During church I was unable to control my feelings as we sang Amazing Grace, a song my grandmother taught me as a child and having just lost her in February. Mum and Elizabeth were there to comfort me but we were all shaken to the unusual sights of soldiers surrounding the chapel glaring into the windows with bayonets in hand. The service barely went on as sighting were seen of someone who with a lit torch walked behind the chapel. Both men and women started to leave in fear as we stayed and tried to have a normal church service. Soldiers came to the door interrupting and the pastor ended his sermon short. No sooner had we walked out of the chapel, when soldiers arrested the pastor for reminding the citizens that the Confederate President Jefferson Davis had set October 16th as a day of fasting ans prayer. They took him behind the mill, and we heard shots. While the women were trying to think of some way to show our disapproval we were rushed back into our homes as shots were being fired. Elizabeth stopped to question a boy, Cuffie Sidal, who had signed the oath and took it away from him and burned it in the fire. Two musicians from the Union army were standing guard near by and started to hassle us, but while their backs were turned a bushwhacker popped up from the brush and shot them both. This is the closest we got to gunfire, and closer than we ever wanted to be. With dishes in hand we ran back to the Engledew. Mum and I had all but packed our belongings and were heading out of town. As we went to say goodbye to mum's closest friends and slip out of town, the Partisans were taking over and rumors of the townsmen being captured and taken to the mill. We looked back to see the mill burning, and I shutter to think if Gray Summit has any husbands or fathers left alive. I can only think we were no accusted as we made our way out of town because we were unsuspected with no proper male escorts with just Elizabeth, mum, and me. We are traveling to the closest train station until safe travel arrangements can be made back to London. How I long to be further on our journey back on one of my husbands blockade ships with England in sight. As this war has been going on too long and we offer a safer life for my mum in her new home overseas.

[pvt_jb]

Linda, I am very happy you and Hank stood your ground. Throwing us out of the Mill got us a nice spot in a much warmer house celler.

[Annette Bethke]

Thank you everyone who helped put this event together. And the participants who made us new comers feel so welcome. I had a wonderful time and am so appreciative of being invited to attend. It was definately the highlight of my reenacting "career".

Dutch Texas lady in the church.

[tmdreb]

On Saturday, we decided to leave the mudhole we'd slept in the night before and see for ourselves the occupation of the town that had made us feel unwelcome the day before. Three of us crossed the creek and hid in the bushes opposite the town while the rest stayed behind. We watched the picket post for a bit, and the man Tom put in charge of this advance party told us to stay put while he went back to report what he saw. We did so. We watched some officer with a scant guard walk down to the creek and back to town. Soon after, a cocky sergeant strutted at the head of a patrol in the direction of the creek.

We stuck around, but didn't see much until we heard a whole mess of shooting behind us a ways around where we'd left the rest of the boys. Steve and I didn't think it would be too safe to try and cross the creek while this was going on, so we stayed put. To our dismay, a small Yankee patrol walked towards us following the treeline of the bushes we were hiding in. They passed by at no more than about 3 rods from us, but didn't see us. To make matters worse, they entered the woods at about the same distance past us! We had now been cut off, and outnumbered. I thought for sure that young officer would see me as he stopped and looked around, but he just kept walking. None of his men seemed as curious.

The shooting started up again, and closer this time. I figured the bunch that had just passed us had stirred up another hornets' nest with the rest of our boys and would be too busy to notice as we passed behind them. I told Steve "lets go" and we went. We almost made it. Some bluebelly noticed Steve and his blue coat and asked "who are you?" Steve answered with his Navy Pistol. A bluebelly sergeant hearing the commotion asked "what's going on here" and got the same answer. It was around this time they figured out Steve wasn't one of them.

I shot my rifle and pistol and told Steve to run for the bean field, which he did. I took off after him, but the pistol in my belt fell out. I thought I could go back to get it, as the bluebellies seemed to like staying in the creek bed more than getting shot at. As I turned to go back, one yankee who'd followed me thought he had his chance to catch me, but I brought up my Navy Pistol and fired. He cursed and fell, so I thought the bullet had found its mark. I stood to fetch my Army Pistol that had fallen, but the bluebelly stood up right in front of me, his musket in his right hand. All that came to me was to point my empty Pistol at him, and he quickly saw that he was in a fix. His fellows were finally coming out of the creek bed and had noticed that I was alone, and had a gun on their comrade. I knew I couldn't take the man with me, and he might figure out quick that I wasn't going to shoot him. I told him where to find my Army Pistol, figuring it'd take his mind off me, and give him a souvenir to redeem his reputation for being momentarily captured. Also, he'd been the only bluebelly with sand enough to chase me that close, and with an empty musket at that.

I swapped a pistol for my life. It was a good trade.

[TKlas]

Hi gang,

I want to thank Holler and the Hairy Nation for a great experience and all the work that went into the event. To my comrades in 1st platoon - second section of the 21st Missouri, it was a pleasure to serve with you and thanks to Cpl. Eric Fair for his hard work during the weekend.

Probably one of the more unique events I have taken part in with the occupation of a not so welcoming town. The Star of the West Society, the Citizens of the Old Northwest along with others should be commended on their portrayals for the weekend.

Tom

[blackhattertuck]

All that came to me was to point my empty Pistol at him, and he quickly saw that he was in a fix. His fellows were finally coming out of the creek bed and had noticed that I was alone, and had a gun on their comrade. I knew I couldn't take the man with me, and he might figure out quick that I wasn't going to shoot him. I told him where to find my Army Pistol, figuring it'd take his mind off me, and give him a souvenir to redeem his reputation for being momentarily captured. Also, he'd been the only bluebelly with sand enough to chase me that close, and with an empty musket at that.

I swapped a pistol for my life. It was a good trade.

Curses, It was empty! :cry_smile Thanks pard for giving me one of the biggest "period rushes" i've had. Nothing like having a pistol shoved in your face to make it seem real!

[huntdaw]

This was one of the best events I have ever done. It helped me get just a bit
of a feel for what it may have been like for civilians in this state during the
war. I knew it was a scary place to live but I think I have just a little bit
better understanding of it now.

I lost more percussion caps this weekend from having my shotgun continuously taken away from me by people and removing the caps. Seems like everytime I turned around fellows who had me outnumbered were disarming me.

Friday afternoon saw a group of fellows lounging around the mill. They were either deserters or partisans. Either way I just didn't want them making trouble in the town. I chatted with them a bit - one fellow who seemed to be their leader and I talked a while and it turned out we had both served with Doniphan's Missouri Volunteers during the Mexican fray. I let them be but some of those boys had military weapons that were nearly armoury bright. I could only speculate where they came from. I'd look over their direction every now and then to see what they were up to. I noticed toward late afternoon that they were getting their gear together. Next time I looked, they were gone. That didn't bother me any - if they weren't in town there'd be no trouble.

Three deserters from Price's army wandered in. One was a local boy that we hadn't seen for several years. He couldn't help but notice that his house was gone along with his family. He was a bit upset by that. He was told that Missouri militia had burned it down during the spring of '63 and his family, all well, had gone to live with kinfolk in St. Clair. He had a real young fella with him whose sanity I had to question. He was wearing a Federal blouse and red leggings cut out of the only blanket he had to use he said. Folks asked me what he thought he was doing with those leggings on. I told them he was trying to get himself killed by whomever captured him. I mentioned to him that he should probably change his attire at the first opportunity. Another fellow with them had obviously been in the applejack. He was hard to deal with. Eventually he was so skewed over from his indulgences he resembled a comma standing there. Fortunately, these boys moved on I thought things would settle down.

Not to be though and Friday night was very tense as some raiders came into town. A couple of these fellows were dressed mighty fine for vagabonds. Looked like the kind of boys that might own a French whorehouse down in New Orleans - not that I'd know anything about those kinds of places. They tried to avoid me and skulked around but I kept an eye on them and would question them at times when I was able to get close to them. I don't think they expected me to be standing in the Captain's inn when they came in that evening. I hope it made them a bit nervous to take their meal while I stood with my back against the wall with a loaded double-barrel at hand watching them. That was probably the most tension I felt during the weekend - not knowing what might happen next. I figured they were going to try something before it was over. Well, next morning they were still in town and I told them they'd best be movin' on. They said they would. A bit later, one of these yardbirds goes rambling across the commons, then starts hallooing, pulls a revolver, and fires into the ground. I headed outside and hollered "What you doing boy!" He said something about a big chicken after him, fired a couple more shots and headed for the brush. About that time, two of the womenfolk come runnin' and say they've been robbed. I knew right away that chicken man was a diversion. A couple of men headed down to the end of town the raiders probably left by. I went to the other end where the house was and looked around. I picked up their tracks on the other side of the woodline and started tracking them through a beanfield. They were easy enough to follow.

I had received several telegrams telling me that Federal troops were in the area. It was my hope that if they came through, they would scare out all the riff-raff and then follow them right behind as they chased them but it was not to be. While I was tracking the raider robbers, I hear a commotion in town and cut back through the woodline to see what was going on. Lo and behold, here come some Yankee skirmishers on the other end of town. So, the preacher, another fellow in town and I go up there to hopefully talk to them and keep the town from being ransacked. My troubles got me disarmed and everyone rounded up in the churchyard.

Those Federals had a few short fused boys among their ranks and they were some trouble. Their captain struck me as the kind of fellow that was probably a decent man but he'd been changed by the war. I also think these boys were used to fighting Confederates and now they were back in Missouri dealing with an enemy they weren't used to. They tried to accuse us of being disloyal but didn't seem to realize that everyone was our enemy and we were only loyal to ourselves - that was the only way this town was going to survive. I was willing to work with them to rid the town of partisans and raiders but I sure hoped they'd leave pretty quickly too.

In the end, and others have told the tale, about how the Yankees acted like they were going to burn the church, arrested the preacher and shot him. When I saw the torch being brought into the churchyard, I went outside and determined that enough was enough. I told them that I'd kill any man who tried to fire that church. I knew I'd die too but a man gets to the point where he just doesn't care about that much anymore. That was the last straw and I wasn't going to let those Yankees burn that building or kill any of our civilians without me taking a few with them. I was proud of the men who came and stood beside me. Even Mr. Mueller the avowed Unionist woodworker stood with us although he was unarmed. There was a statement made there about the importance of community and family. In a real situation, if that had escalated we would have all been dead and we knew that but we had had enough and were going to stand up for ourselves and our town no matter the consequences. It was a good moment for me.

So there we were; about 6 townsfolk with whatever weapons we had facint off a platoon of soldiers while commotion was going on all over town. I fully though that at some point we were going to start shooting at each other. Well, the Federals decide to leave after our show of defiance and partisans hitting them at one end of town. The captain said the town's not worth protecting and tells his men to form up and off they went.

I went out with a few fellows to let the partisans know there were no Yankees in town and hopefully keep them from shooting up the place. For my troubles, I got disarmed again, tied up and herded to the mill. One of those fellows said I'd been rude to him - I don't know just what I did but it didn't matter, I was tied up and he had a rope ready to set me to swinging.

For whatever reason that fellow didn’t string me up and their leader, after talking with Mr. Hicks, comes and says I can go. I told him I had a responsibility to the rest of the men in the mill with me. He let me know that it was not the time to be idealistic so I took my leave.

It seemed no matter what I did I ended up between a rock and a hard place and I often felt very ineffective in my office despite my best efforts to honor my oath and the trust of the community. There were times I felt utterly helpless. People looked to me for some sort of protection which is mighty hard to do when you're up against men who have you outnumbered and outgunned.

So, despite some dissatisfaction on the part of some of the citizens at my
inability to take care of all the riff-raff that came into town, especially the Widow Siddall who had some idea that I could stand up to 50 armed Yankees and keep them from tossing her out of her house, I hope I was of some assistance to the citizens. That widow gave me continuous grief for that though.

Excellent event made possible by the excellent impressions and probably the best first person I have ever been involved with. Without that, it would have just been a costume party. But, because of the efforts of all involved it was a real learning experience for me.

[Stormi Souter]

Wow, it is fantastic to hear other peoples stories and find out some of what was going on that I only saw a small part of!

Miss. Katherine Engledew's diary recording from the Lost Tribes event can be found here:

http://whynotthen.com/Main/LostTribesAAR

I can post them in a message is this doesn't work for anyone!

-Stormi Souter

[Deborah Hyland]

My dear husband:

Now that our town has returned to normal, I feel brave enough to let you know how we have been faring. I hesitated to write before lest you become unduly concerned and, and am afraid to say, lest I reveal your absence to the untrustworthy.

I was terrified that our neighbors would learn of your extended absence. Some are true friends, but others ... It was even more important to me that no soldier know of your absence. Given the abuse we women suffered at their hands, I shudder to think what might have happened had they been aware of how truly unprotected I was.

I told anyone who asked, and many who did not, that I was expecting you at any moment. I did reveal to a few trustworthy souls such as our sheriff so that they might watch for any trouble. I even went so far as to call several times at the telegraph office and inquire for word from you.

I had seen a gang of four men sneaking in the brush (true bushwhackers indeed) towards the boarding house on Friday evening, so I slept not a wink that night as I kept hearing rustling noises in and around the store. Perhaps it was only mice, but what a quantity of mice it must have been to make that much noise.

When I rose well before dawn on Saturday to ready the store for our customers, I saw the same men gathered around the Widow Siddall’s house. At first, I feared for her safety, but I saw her hand something out to them, so perhaps she knew them after all. Among them I had recognized several friends, but I was surprised at the widow’s daring.

Later, Mr. Anders himself came into the store. I had heard of his fierce reputation, but he seemed kindly enough. He even set up an account. I was afraid to say no to him, yet also was afraid that the Union troops would find his signature in our ledger.

I also had several letters for the bushwhackers, which I was frantic to have delivered. I asked as many as I safely could if they knew how to get the letters to their rightful recipients and remained fearful while they rested on the shelf with the other mail.

On Saturday, a gaggle of Union troops turned the town upside down. I’m afraid my dear, that our business was quite disrupted. Many of the ladies took refuge in the store, but we were all forced out and into the church. Still, the army posted a guard on the store and eventually let us reopen.

As you know, my dear, I was a staunch unionist before meeting you, but I ever strive to understand your position and endeavor to support your views. When the Union army arrived, I asked myself what you would have me do. I did not know a one of these soldiers, while the so-called "ruffians" counted among them our friends of many years.

Thank heavens I heeded your suggestion to stock an additional quantity of sausages. They say an army marches on its stomach, but I wonder if the Union can hold, as hungry as these young men are. In the interest of commerce, I accepted their script. I also reminded myself that these young men are some mother’s son and are perhaps as dear to some wife as you are to me.

I could not spend another night in the store, however, and fled. Capt. and Mrs. Smith helped soothe my nerves with a bountiful dinner, a few extra cookies, and a quantity of restorative cordials. I took great comfort from the words of our pastor and Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Good helped distract me from my worries. Later, I gained in spirit by listening to the minstrel show. What a relief to find myself warm and welcomed and among such dear friends.

Afterwards, Maj. Harding helped me retrieve some small belongings from the store and I took refuge in Mrs. Engledew’s. With the help of a strong sleeping draught, I was able to find further comfort from Morpheus.

On Sunday, when the troops fled, I was stunned at how many bushwhackers seemed to materialize from nowhere. I had thought that by spotting the four or five of them, that I had seen them all. We must have been quite surrounded.

I close only with some sad news. Our pastor was killed by the Union troops on their way out of town. I know you are not a church-goer yourself and have strong feelings on the matter, but I also know that your son by the first Mrs. Brenton is a minister. I fear we have come to days where a man of God is not treated respectfully and I pray that your son remains safe.

Please give my regards to your dear mother and hurry home to me as soon as she can manage without you. I am ever,

Your loving wife,
Deborah Brenton

[rebjeb04]

Did anyone take photos at this event? It sounds like it was quite an event for Bushwackers/Jayhawks!

Don't know if anyone has heard of Silas C. Turnbo, but he told some great stories in the ozarks of Arkansas/Missouri. I had three ancestors that served in Turnbo's unit the 27th Arkansas, and have two titles he wrote on his war experience.

Turnbo's Tales of the Ozarks: War and Guerilla Stories
Revised Edition

History of the Twenty-Seventh Arkansas Confederate Infantry.

[Trish Hasenmueller]

I'll soon be scanning in the ferrotype and ambrotypes my daughter and I had made at the event. Modern cameras were quite scarce. The ladies had a group ferrotype made also...all by Steve Ingram. Doug Harding was also making collodian photos. I don't know if any bushwhackers had a chance to get a photo made.

Trish Hasenmueller

[PVT.THIB]

I have a few that I took with my camera of the event. I will probably upload them in a few days.

[ColdSteele]

As a member of the 1st Section, 1st Platoon I must say that I have never served with a more determined or rougher bunch of Union men.

Saturday:
As part of the lead element moving into the town, my distrust of the civilians began immediately. As I came to the barber's shop, I ordered a man who refused to take Hog's advise and return to his home, who again appeared through a roof door. I immediately ordered he and anyone else who occupied the building to come out. Of course in sneaky sesech fashion, he lied and claimed he was the only one in it. It was at that moment that I saw faces peering through the window and, not one, but TWO more civilians exited after MUCH warning.

I had cleared the church, which was locked, and the barn a little ways farther. I then returned to the churchyard where the town men and women were being held. I stood guard over some men who claimed to have fought in the 4th U.S. Infantry in Mexico...I somehow doubted this claim.
The pastor then unlocked the church and women began entering. Another and myself went in to search the building for contraband. The townsmen clearly agitated that we had entered a house of God with weapons. After a search we exited the building when the preacher started to speak and the door quickly shut. Not a minute later the church bell rang out its intended warning and I busted the door open and ripped the rope from a woman's hand. I saw the fear in her eyes about what might happen next. Had I any less scruples, I would have tied a noose and strung her up, leaving her corpse to counter weigh the bell as it tolled out it sesech message.

I went on patrol with the 1st Sgt and made contact with a group of bushwackers. I only saw about 5-6, but they put up up quite a scrape. I had been trapped in the beans as the balance of the patrol came forward. We tried to push them out, and luckily we were met with friends and the 2ndLt on the opposite side of the creek providing support.

Much later that evening, standing my picket by the Inn, the night was black as tar. I asked my pard with me to inquire at the inn if they had any coffee to spare. This request was met with a "none to share with you..." as my friend returned emptyhanded. Moments later, as I swear to have heard movement in the brush beyond my post, two women appeared from the back of the inn. With the inn already a suspect sesech haven, the hairs on my neck rose as I waited for the enemy to rush in. They spoke to my pard about extra rice that would be disposed of if we did not take it. We said the rice would be fine and they left back into the inn. I told my pard of my fears in the brush, thinking the women to be staging a diversion. They returned with a pot and my pard told then to put the pot on the ground. No diversion happened, however, by then we had forgotten about the rice. It appeared in camp later - which I had a heap of to quiet my stomach. Interestingly, after we were relieved those same ladies poured out a pot a coffee that they could not share - accordingly to the pickets.

Sunday:
I had the midnight until 2:00am picket with Pvt Hog. As we shared some contraband apples and contemplated another attack from our post at the covered bridge. None came as 2:00a, creeped nearer and we were finally relieved. I was relieved more so to know we had a warm building to sleep in rather an open grist mill.

We awoke to report for our picket duty to which I was posted with George (Jim Schumann) and our fine Corporal at the road by the clearing. In the midst of our watchful eye, George noticed something I have never seen - a TUFTED TIT MOUSE bird. He had shared other interesting curiosities he read in a book about birds by Autobahn.

We were finally relieved from our post, anxious for our stomached to receive the simmering beans that were present before we left for picket. To our disappointment, the proprietor of the inn demanded his pot back from the company and the beans were dumped before our plates and spoons could be filled. I am sure, to the townsfolk’s entertainment, they must have scoffed at the sight of good, brave Union men scraping beans from the bottom of a fire bit, spoon by spoon, to ease their hunger. I had attempted to volunteer for a patrol, however, not counting very well and to the 2nd Sgt's annoyance, I departed the ranks when 3 already fell out for patrol. I sheepishly returned wishing to be with them.

After a few moments when I was tasked to take the miserable man at the inn his pot back - cursing him the whole distance of the village green, I was glad no one was home. Presumably everyone was attending services at the chapel. I passed by the Confectionary store, intended on purchasing another Turkish delight that I enjoyed on Saturday. Not a moment after I opened the door, the drums were beating as fire began and increased in the open field beyond the town.

Our relief was assembled and posted in front of the town church as people began filing out. Pvt. Hog had the preacher with another man, his name I do not recall, moving him into the village green. Hog claimed the preacher was speaking secech trash and he proceeded to the grist mill. I had thought he was going to detain the preacher, as was done yesterday. However, I looked back and saw Hog move back quickly, as if shoved, and he then fired a shot - ultimately mortally wounding the preacher I suspect.

As the fighting in the field intensified, I heard someone cry, "They shot the drummer!" as I looked and saw a man slump to the ground. It was at this point I thought the townsmen would fight us. They began assembling in the churchyard, visibly holding weapons of sorts and loading them. The Captain returned and formed the company and we began to depart the town. As we left, I saw some of the townsfolk looking at the hat the preacher wore. I can only assume that he had perished for speaking his sesech, rebellious words....

Signed,

Your most obedient servant and friend
Thomas Golihur
21st Missouri, Co. I

One of the best event I had been to in a long time! Thanks to all the new friends I had met and hope to see again very soon! The civilians, officers, NCOs and the whole event made me shiver with cold and fear and never felt so real! Thanks again!

Best Regards,

[PVT.THIB]

Here are some pictures that I took of the event:
The event site:
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/006-6.jpg
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/007-6.jpg
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/008-6.jpg
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/009-6.jpg
Myself on the porch of the Boone house:
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/010-5.jpg
Bushwacker stronghold at the farmhouse:
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/011-5.jpg
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/012-4.jpg
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/013-5.jpg
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/014-7.jpg
Post event Pictures:
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/015-6.jpg
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/016-3.jpg
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/017-3.jpg
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/019-3.jpg
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/024-4.jpg
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/023-4.jpg
Sgt. Patrick Landrum
http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/021-3.jpg

[coastaltrash]

Good caption for that would have been "Alright-I am going to the car now"

[MO-Pard]

Nice pics!

I still have my AAR to post, but it is trapped at work. Once they stop beating me, I'll post it....

[MO-Pard]

First, thank you to everyone who made this such a success. The planning,
impressions, and interactions were well thought and organized. I thought
the event would be good, but it far exceeded my wildest expectations.
Additionally, like any 'great event', IMHO, I rank them on the number of
period moments experienced and as such it usually takes me much longer to
post an AAR as I digest and sort out my thoughts.. But better late than
never....

It wasn't publically known, save a few select folks and organizers; I would
even be at this event. I was approached over a year ago to assemble a
small group of guerrillas. I knew this would be a challenge, but guerilla
warfare in Missouri is something I have researched/studied for a long time
and was honored by the challenge. Originally, the presence of
guerillas/partisans and confederate deserters was to be a wild card and not
announced. When the announcement was made, some made their roles public,
while we chose to keep it mostly a secret in order to better facilitate our
first person interactions and the flavor of the impression we were to
emulate. We admittedly chose a different guerilla interpretation based on
specific accounts and documentation, from the other partisans, but the two
interpretations worked very well together and the differences were
appreciative.

This was a challenging impression, probably the most difficult thing I've ever done, and I would look forward to again. The boys did a killer job and I appreciate their patience. I sent out probably more than 30 pages of information to get ready and prepare for the impression and they did so enthusiastically. (The impression,) It wasn't a bunch of bravado, but trying to blend in, manipulate, case, size up, plan, take care of your men and interact with folks to learn who you might be able to trust to a degree. What made it more difficult was the lack of words we used to interact in FP. We had to convey things beyond words. We worked rooms, people and the open spaces. We made people uneasy, made them ask questions and hopefully made them think about things they hadn't planned. We worked for information, we watched. We were untrustworthy, but principled. We were paranoid, but brazen. We expected people to know we were special/important, but also wanted to be anonynmous. We lived off what the towns could make us forget about the war and personal losses. All we had left was each other. We moved, always calculating the next move.

I was (infamously) honored to portray Will Anders. And our band was
indicative of the many bands at this point in the war. Fractions due to
egos, apathy and opportunism (plunder, etc.) were rampant. As former
members of Samuel Hildebrand's band, we left and went our own way about a
year prior, for those previously mentioned three reasons. But most all the
bands came together when Price came through, working as scouts and
basically using the might of Price's army, to further settle scores.....or
more so for us, to continue to line our pockets, take what we wanted, drink
away the scars, and deal with anyone who got in our way......at a later time
of our choosing. We came up with Shelby, who knew many of the Missouri
guerillas from the Border War days......and Shelby always welcomed
guerillas and overlooked their lack of discipline. Having lost Luke Sidal,
two years prior, and a few others to Wilson's men, we were now numbered at
five. The temperamental Charlie Clay (Charles Hoskins), youthful and
newest member Levi Farrington (John Duff), the "not right" and giant
chicken fighter Hardy Sample (Marty Rubin) and my trusty Lt. Austin
Wingfield (Dan Hadley) rounded out the band. We were all actually from
down around the Mingo Swamp area around the bootheel, and had never
ventured this far north. However Hildebrand convinced us, to join Shelby
and we worked our way north from the Arkansas line. Finding Doniphan a
blaze, save one structure belonging to a Federal officer.........which we
quickly 'made like all the others,' we learned of and pursued the 3rd MSM
who had torched the town. Along with Shelby, we eventually caught up with
them, and when Shelby "left them with us, we left them there." We
continued to tear up the roads and burn depots, as we bypassed Pilot Knob
and went to Potosi. We stayed here sept 27th with Shelby, Hildebrand and
what a bounty Potosi was! In fact, when Shelby and Hildebrand left the
next morning to pursue Ewing and eventually link up with Price at Pilot
Knob, we decided the town still had plenty to offer. Here we remained
several days in fine quarters, were "donated" fine, dapper clothing (Hildebrand spoke in his memoris about how they were always provided "fine clothing",) and
were privy to a vast (and hidden) supply of whiskey. Coincidently, the
whiskey miraculously ran out the same morning some Federal militia came
back to town, so we elected to continue to follow in Price's wake hoping
for many more "Potosi's." Next on the route was Gray's Summit which we
watched for a day or two from the hills to learn whether there was any
Federal presence or lawmen. Afterall, there were rewards on our heads.
Out of boredom, Charlie and Levi burned the depot. But this smoked out the
town's sheriff. Hungry and out of whiskey, Gray's Summit was our next
oyster, but even without Federal troops or Enrolled Militia, the presence
of a sheriff and his double barrel might be an impediment to our
opportunities. Especially if he knew our identities. We waited for dark.


The highlights:

Additional impression. Three of us arrived early thursday to get
established, help organize some of the civilians, etc. Because our main
impression had not been to Grays Summit before we needed to figure
something out for those who were on site a day early. We wore different
attire, and to Terry Sorchy's credit, we portrayed male refugees fleeing
both confederate conscription for federal militia as well. We introduced
ourselves as such to the few there and it was really a bonus evening. We
went to Capt and Mrs Smiths and bartered washing pots for a meal, (very
good!) The evening was cool, and then shortly after our arrival the rains
cut loose. With the summer kitchen door open, lit only by candlelight;and
the hearth; we ate and smoked to the sound and smell of the driving rain. When the
rain subsided, the skies gave way to 'sand dune-like' cascading clouds,
floating past the full moon. Incredible.

Ice Cold Baptism. Having been down there a day already and all the hiking
we had done up and down the hills, the lure of a bath was enticing. One of
only two times the 5 of us weren't together, Hardy and Levi headed to where
we were bivouacked up in the hills. Lt Austin stayed with me and kept watch
from the bank. From a gravel bar I found a clear, rock-bottomed pool which
appeared about 2-3 feet deep. After shedding my clothing, I grabbed my lye
soap and a handkerchief and slowly waded into to ice cold Femme Osage.
Much to my surprise a bus full of school kids.............................(just
kidding), much to my surprise the edges of the pool were not stable, but
piled pebbles and rocks. The sides gave way to a small avalanche and
plunged me into the frigid pool, which was deeper than I expected. After
the fastest bath on period or modern record, it grew even more interesting......
because now I couldn't get out, trying to scale the avalanche! As I tried
to climb the sides now, it kept sliding me back down into the pool. After
kicking and scratching, I finally crawled out. Refreshing and
unforgettable.

Sheriff. Although this was a unique event, there have been a few events
with military, civilians and partisans.. But this one added a nice
angle....a local lawman or sheriff. Mike Comer did a stellar job here.
His laid-back, but everpresent presence made things interesting. Although
we out-numbered him, we still did our best to keep tabs on his whereabouts,
be where he wasn't, verbally side-step his questions/inquiries and avoid
contact which would lead to a confrontation. In town, he was our only real
concern. We never knew for sure if he knew who we were, but we certainly
didn't want to find out if he did. We certainly didn't expect him behind
the door at the Inn friday evening or in the mercantile saturday morning..
Although, I do believe he began to figure it out by early saturday morning
when he asked of me whether I knew anything about the depot burning and
where I had come into the large wad of money in my pocket, when I had none
the night before. We knew we were leaving town soon however, once we
'secured provisions'. In an display of defiance, I signed my name to the
account book in the mercantile.

Inn. The Inn had incredible food and a very period presence. Things
pretty much seemed to revolve around the Inn and where most folks in town
could be found at one time or another. Great food!

Mercantile. Though mentioned above, Mrs Brenton's shop was well-laid out
and a treat to visit/shop. We came in for the expressed purpose of
learning local news and purchased the newspapers, and treats. To our
surprise, the local paper told not only of the depot burning, but that our
(Anders) and Hildebrand's bands were suspected/seen/rumored in the hills
surrounding the town. Little did they know, Hildebrand returned to
Arkansas when Shelby left Potosi. Anyway, would like to have shopped more,
but the presence of the sheriff and reports of Federals moving toward the
village cut our visit shorter than expected. It also prevented me from
getting a shave at the barber shop.

Image. Having secured our dapper clothes and finding the photographer set
up Sat morning, the lads fancied having our image struck. Many commented
on the audacity sitting for an image with Federals approaching, and we
could hear the drums while seated. We unfortunately had to leave the image
behind and it was used by the sheriff to inform the Federals who we were
and what we were wearing. Realizing this, we obtained different clothing
prior to leaving town to change our descriptions.

Dressmaker Shoppe. The encounter with the two ladies (never got their names...) at the shoppe was another tense period moment. We knew we had to secure provisions before we left town and in 'calling on' this shoppe, we would never be able to be seen in the village again. The ladies did not know who was coming for them. In typical fashion, with no men present we were polite but direct why we were there. At first they either didn't understand or want to believe what was occuring, and I can only imagine how it feels to have you home violated and your things ransacked and taken. We were in, we were out, and I hope the experience was as interesting to them as us.

Hunger. At every other event I, or we have done, there has been plenty of food in the form of rations. Most of the time, people waste these or we take them home. After a discussion between our band, it was decided we would bring nothing. We would purchase ahead of time a meal from the Sorchys (yeah we really paid for Friday night,) but after that we would have to rely on borrowing, bartering, stealing or raiding haversacks. This was by no means to freeload. Hunger at an event is a period experience none of us had ever experienced and we wanted to experience that concern, worry and wonder about where the next morsel would come from. With all the movement and traversing the hills and creeks, we burned a lot of calories. It was one of the period experiences, because we did things we would not have risked (i.e. coming to town) otherwise but were very hungry and had to use our heads and perseverence. The trade with Mr. Hicks was totally unplanned and another period moment as we were provided for a spell longer. He was not aware of how valued and deep his experience and actions were.

Friday Evening Dinner. We arrived at the Inn after dark, and as mentioned
and to our surprise the sheriff was in the room behind the door. Dapper
and hungry, we greeted most in the room and asked for the Inn Keeper. We
explained we were hungry, had no money and wished to barter for food. When
asked what we had to trade we produced 3 items from a burlap bag: A bottle
of ale, a potato and Federal forage cap. Seeing the forage cap (though
most didn't) the Inn Keeper quickly said he had plenty of those items, but would
feed the five of us if we would wash pots. We agreed and following dinner
a few of us followed through, a few didn't and disappeared. The table was
full on all sides, and we could not shovel the food down our throats fast
enough. Many were quiet and said little to us, and we would barely make
eye contact for fear of being recognized. Some including Mrs. Smith, were
very inquisitive. Setting up one question with, "May I ask you a question
of a personal nature (or something to that effect.) Which I replied she
may, although I may not answer. She then inquired how we had such fine
clothing but no money. To which we explained we had to leave Potosi in a
hurry as the rebs approached and took our best, but had since lost our
horses, spent our money and had been living on squirrel on our travel
since. We then, after several cups of coffee, needed to excuse ourselves
to call on the widow Sidal whom it came to us over dinner we believed her
late husband Luke, one of our own, was from Gray's Summit. We learned of
her location and left to bring her the truth of her husband's demise.

Friday Evening. Having secured food, voluntarily, for another day me moved
through town. Most of the town was dark, save the full moon. We could see
a candle in the window at the home pointed out to us as widow sidal. We
circled the building, for our own safety and knocked on the door. There
was no answer, so we cautious went in, she was not home. We encountered
another civilian who believed she had gown to her two nieces home on the
hill. We learned of the location, formed up, and moved through the shadows
and bushes avoiding contact with folks coming down the road from that
direction. We approached the home from the rear, as we always do, and
scaled our way up to the deck. A man was posted by the rear door. We
could hear music and saw the nieces seated near the window. They were
well-dressed, rather striking and appeared from their clothing and
surroundings to be 'well cultured.' We did not see the widow Sidal
however. Wishing to let our hair down, take in the music, some of the
libations being poured was quite enticing. Further, none of us had enjoyed
the company of women-folk since Potosi. I gave the order to enter the
home. Hardy tried the door but it was locked or jammed. As he fumbled with
it a gentlemen named Slurheal came and opened the door. He was not pleased
to see us and tried to excuse us, and close the door which we would have
none of it and forced our way in. We greeted both the 3 fine musicians and
introduced ourselves to the young ladies....... thanking them for their
hospitality. I immediately posted a watch dog out on the front porch and
another on the rear deck to greet any 'visitors.' Throughout the night we
took turns in these responsibilities. I had chosen a very comfortable, and
expensive looking chair near the fire, which had a matching chair next to
the door and separated by a small pedestal table. It was a comfortable
location providing sight out the front window, the front door, the rear
door as well as all in the room. We spent the better part of the evening
attempting to learn the disposition of the ladies sympathies. At one
point, comfortable in my arrogance and expectations, I firmly requested one
of the ladies come be seated in the chair adjacent to me, which Charlie had
since vacated. They did not oblige, and I checked my rising disappointment,
recalling these were the widow Sidal's nieces. Unlike Federal soldiers and
militia, and although we appreciate the attention of the ladies, we do
respect their honor. It was about that point I heard a gunshot out front
on the porch, which alarmed all in the room. In a second the jovial scene
had changed to purpose as the men moved to positions as they always had. We then
learned after checking with Hardy out front, that he was shooting at a
'giant chicken' he saw coming after him up the walk. We returned to the
festivities and received our first report from some deserters the federal
were about a day away moving in this direction, which was surprising to us
since it was our belief they had all moved west chasing Price, and allowing
us to live it up in the vacuum created. Later that evening Austin
entertained us with a spirited jig. He was rather into it with is head
unknowingly bobbing up and around the chandelier overhead, only missing it
by a hair with each graceful step. The site brought us to spirited laughter which
only spurred him on. Then after almost a minute he ran into it and knocked
a candle from the chandelier. He stopped, reached down, picked up the
candle, and placed the still lit wicket back in the chandelier and
continued the show. All the while this was going on, Hardy, unbeknownst to
us, had stolen a great deal of the ladies food and was eating it out on the
front porch. As it was late, we bid the ladies goodnight and headed back
to the Sidal home. Hardy had asked me to hold a small piece of cheese for
him which I did without question. There we would seek shelter for the evening and the widow sidal began preparing a chicken stew for us which would be ready for lunch the next day.

Saturday.We arose to be told, the Federals weren't far from the outskirts
of town. We'd heard that before and weren't going anywhere unless we had
to. Still in prudence we posted a picket up the road. I sat out front of
widow Sidal's and listened as the sleepy town came to life. The house was
getting a lot of looks from various folks across the green and curtains
pulled back from windows, so the widow Sidal requested
we not be seen there, to which we obliged and not endanger her. Charlie then traded a bundle of
rounds "donated" from a federal militia man at mineral point, with a Mr. Hicks for some cheese, sausage and bread. Another meal taken care of by the good Lord. Although, we never figured out Mr. Hicks
sentiments, but beyond the food he bartered and we needed, my seasoned
senses never fully trusted him.. We hadn't planned to leave town
for days, and I realized we needed to possibly make other plans and secure
the things we needed. We needed news, so waited until the mercantile
opened to obtain a paper and would hit the Inn for any news making its way
to town. No one was at the Inn yet as they didn't serve until 9:00, so we
had our image struck. We heard drums in the distance, so as I sat for the
image hatched our plan. A plan which would never allow us to walk down the streets
of Gray Summit in daylight again. Four of us headed to the other end of
town as the sheriff went to the Inn for breakfast.........Hardy went out
into the town green and picked up where he left off in his personal battle
with the 'giant chicken.' In the meantime, we surrounded the home of some
ladies we believed to be Unionists. Whether or not, I can't say, but these
were dire times. I knocked on the door to the dress shop and the kindly
ladies opened the door. With proper manners, I introduced myself, told them we needed but a
moment of their time and instructed them no harm would befall them if they
kept their place. Austin and Levi then searched the place securing bread
and ale, enough to sustain us for another two days. The ladies, became
distressed and upset, one approaching Austin from behind as he looked under
a bed. I called her back, as I didn't want this to be the first time I
shot a woman or one of those lads reacted on reflex. We then 'thanked them' and left rapidly. Charlie gave the
signal waving to Hardy who went into his 'Chicken Fight" for a diversion.
Three men approached him from the Inn as he screamed and fired, as though he himself was on fire.......we
almost made a grave error by underestimating the ladies, because we
couldn't stop ourselves from laughing on the other end of town as we
watched him freaking out and then running for the bushes. We then hit the
woods and made our way to the hills. The ladies quickly went for the
sheriff to report us, and then we heard the whistle, the Federals had
arrived. We had pulled yet another robbery and this one with only seconds
to spare. Shortly we heard the church bell ring and the signal from widow
sidal proved the news was true. We returned to the hills, shed our
clothing and relaxed to the spoils we had obtained from the fine ladies in
the dress shop. God Bless them. We spent the next couple hours resting
and laughing at our experiences. I pulled out the cheese Hardy had
entrusted me and we shared what little there was, still not knowing where it hailed from. I fell asleep in my drawers and undershirt, on a gentle slope, in the warm sun with a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves. Saw four whitetail running through the woods. It was the only peace I'd felt for days.

We awoke after an hour or so to more brotherly banter and were growing hungry. That
chicken stew was sounding good and we were HUNGRY so we decided to sneak back into town if possible to eat....maybe the Federals had moved on. Just then we saw a
Federal patrol pass not more than 20 yards from us. We drew our revolvers
and laid low. You never fire unless you have to, so as not to draw attention to
yourself. At 1:30, we dressed and headed down the hill, in one of several
ways out we had established. While and cool minds, delivered us yet again.

We heard gunfire and quickly moved to the sound of it in hope of supporting
whoever was there. Had Shelby come back? Or had the rival band met up with the Federals. Regardless, we were on our way to help. We arrived after the firing had ceased and those firing on the Federals had melted away. We watched from afar on high as the Federals returned to the town, After fording the creek, we watched the pickets for awhile. We moved up a treeline, with crazy Hardy leading the way and
signaling. Levi was rear guard. We first crawled on hands and knees, and then had to resort to crawling on our bellies. Suddenly Hardy silently halted us and signaled the danger.

There were pickets, probably an outpost, with a sentinel on the second floor deck and a couple more moving around the house. Our guts and spirits sank in a way I can't trivialize. It was gutsy to return to
town at night, but during the day was either extremely brave or foolhardy.
Only time and final outcomes decide which. I called the boys together and in a rare and only occurance told them, whoever didn't want to continue, could sneak back the way we came and return to the bush. I was
starving and had come this far. I was willing to try because beyond this
post believed we would be hidden by terrain. The ensuing discussion seemed to last quite a long time, but I believe it was at this time we all grew together to a deeper level. I said, "whoever
is going, we're just going to walk by and see what happens." I heard a stomach groan, but had no idea who's. All were in. "We're going to walk by in one horizontal line." We formed and walked as we came into
what would be their site of us, they had both turned and were looking in toward the green.

Withough a word, we looked at each other and took off in a sprint for the
ravine in front of us. What were the chances? We then moved down the ravine, and under the bridge. The ravine was full of water and clay mud. Hardy stepped in a certain spot and plunged to
above his ankle. The collective laughter was much needed but we were afraid we might give ourselves away. When we came to where we could see the old widow Sidal place we saw it was surrounded and guarded by
Federals. We ascertained she wouldn't be there, or at least we weren't.
We would head to the niece's place and hopefully she and Lizzy were there, and if not maybe they had restocked the food Hardy stole. There was one problem. There was so much activity at the house/HQ we were
unable to ascend the mud and water-filled ravine without being detected.
This was one of those up and down emotional experiences because each bravery-rewarded break, was followed by another seemingly insurmountable and draining wall. I don't have any idea how long we sat in there absorbing clay, water and mud. Finally we crawled out on our bellies behind an abandoned home
and up to the far treeline. There we rested and took back into the thick woods. After a spell, we were able to see the niece's place through the trees from the highground. They had several groups of guards,
as suspected, which would have made a direct route to that part of the town
suicide, or at least quicker suicide. We saw the Orderly Sgt checking on and talking to concealed guards/outposts. We saw the sheriff leave. We moved. We eventually came down behind the niece's house and widow Sidal came out waving us of of the impending trap and Orderly inside. We
waited and watched him leave. She waved to the woods and we emerged, and entered the back door.
As soon as we hit the doorway, the rich aroma of the stew tickled our senses and the site of an apple pie on the table was beyond emotion. Each of us ate as though it was our last supper, when an "Oh God" was yelled
and a Federal had peered through the window. The lads sprang out the back
into the woods as experience had nurtured them to do. I was, as always, seated near a window and saw the young Federal leaving and then stop in the yard, Ms. Brandi had gone out, batted her eyes and all was
well since the Federal hadn't seen us. He was only looking for popskull.
I stepped out back, echoed one of our signals into the woods, and the boys returned. The stew, pie and company were indescribable.

The journey there was draining. We arrived at 5:15. It had taken us almost 4 hours
to get from one side of the village to the other. The food was plenty and they begged us to take more, but it was so rich we quickly filled. I did fill my tin cup with apple pie and packed it away for a later spell. Understanding we could shortly expect a Federal patrol, we left in haste. We slogged our way back to our nest. Three of the lads were fast asleep due to the rich food and day's physical and mental
strains. Hardy and I sat around a small fire, and enjoyed some of the
lovely dressmaker lady's ale. It was quiet and serene. It was so silent it was loud. I kept an eye on Hardy so there would be no giant chicken melees this night. Soon, the night, the chill and the results of our conquest overtook us and we crawled into our nest between Austin and Levi.
It wasn't as comfortable as the fine hotels of Potosi or the widow sidal's, but the
cover provided us safety and warmth.

Sunday. It wasn't much of a sleep, slumbering on a diagonal slope where
each time a man moved, he rolled downhill into another, but it sufficed. After one awoke, the others followed. The banter, bonding and laughter continued. Charlie, had been cramped and moved outside for the night, but was now awake as well. In typical Hardy fashion, Hardy said "Hey, did you hear that?"
None of us had, but given the gravity and our position, we all shut up. Hardy was probably hearing the 'voices' again. We peered through the openings of our crude shelter and saw 2 Federals come down off to the side of our camp. They hadn't seen us, but when the orderly did see Charlie out front and our shelther, his eyes grew large as eggs and his jaw dropped. At once, one would have thought there was a fox in the chicken coup as we filed out of there. Each man had at least two revolvers, and I was fortunate to also have a remington and loaded spare cylinders. We hadn't fired a shot all weekend, but
now was different. I don't know if it was Hardy or Charlie who dropped the
Orderly or Charlie or Levi who dropped and seriously wounded the Federal approaching the other flank but they did.

We had them outgunned, but we were outnumbered almost 2-1. My mind raced.
Originally, they pushed us, but once we gained formidable positions and showed a little vinegar, they pulled back a little. It was almost a stalemate, because anyone moving from their positions would have taken a heavy beating. I considered dividing and flanking from both sides, forcing them back
uphill. I hoped the rival band, Hardy and the boys had had sore words with
in my absence prior, would rally to the shooting, however I also feared more Federals would come. In the best interest of my boys, I ordered them (while watching) to fully reload. Men shared cartrides and
caps. Fumbling and breathing deep as we did so. I then said to grab
anything you need and be ready to move. Having brought down their wounded in to our camp we had bargained for 5 mintues to do so. They inquired how they knew they could trust me, and I told them they had my word.
Little did they realize, I gave the last bit of my apple pie to the Federal
I didn't think was going to make it. We were loaded, took the clothes on our backs, and a few provisions, and laid down a spirited fire to barely escape. We lost everything we had acquired in Potosi, Gray's Summit and on our way up in that nest. Again we were hungry, and headed to town.

It took us almost an eternity and a long way to make sure we weren't
followed. We forded the creek in yet another spot we hadn't prior and moved down the creek bed. We checked the Federal situation and watched for a spell. I am sure they saw me, but did nothing. They were too smart
to come out of their position. I then spotted the other band and some
deserters fording the creek a ways down. We decided to hold our position and even though they didn't know we were there, to support the hit they were obviously planning or use the diversion. Hardy asked for a nip of my last whiskey to which I obliged. I almost shot the bastard after he drained all of it.

He just smiled. We waited for a good 20 minutes and the other band never moved, so we sent our men down through he trees to the Inn for food. We could hear the pickets talking as we skulked. At the village Austin, Levi and Hardy headed in. I then heard the eruption of gunfire from the creek area, and took Charlie with me back that direction to hit them from the flank, draw some attention, or find me a suitor for the hemp 'necktie' I was now carrying after the destruction of our home in the hills. I watched and waited. Then removed my hat, dropped my hemp and moved slowly like a cat through the tall grass. I drew both the nimble '51 Navy and the stout remington from belt and holster. There were two Federal at what used to be the picket
post.......both unarmed and watching the action by the creek from afar......and from what they felt was a 'safe' position. As I looked to the creek I saw the skirmish there had quelled and the Federals were but 50 yards out and returning. I yelled to the two Yank lads,"...You two! With me, this way; NOW!"

Startled they turned and looked at me with wide eyes. One, nodded 'no', so I let loose one round from both hands and watched them drop to woman's screams as I turned and ran into the bush. I reunited with the lads back at the Inn where Hardy had the place locked down. The place was packed but silent! I made sure
Hardy understood, no harm was to come to Mrs. Smith. Mrs. Smith commented
she knew there was something about me and that I had deceived her to which I gave her a shallow apology and assured her it was of necessity.

We then proceeded, to fetch a straggling Federal, and stretched his neck.

Again, a great event. If you ever have another chance to do an event at the village it really is something special.

[Sarah Belle]

Better late than never! Thanks for posting your AAR Jay. It’s always great to hear all the different sides of the events. I was wonder what the “Anders’ band” was doing up in those woods. I'm glad you guys came to visit on Friday night. Fun first person experience!

Little did they realize, I gave the last bit of my apple pie to the Federal I didn't think was going to make it.
The Federal that you gave the pie to did make it and came back and questioned us about giving you the pie. He also seemed to be swayed by our womanly charms and nothing came of it.


I pulled out the cheese Hardy had
entrusted me and we shared what little there was, still not knowing where it hailed from
I’ll have to get back at that Hardy Sample for stealing my cheese!!!

[Hairy Nation Boys]

Well according to some posts I should have laid off the pie. :)

I also saw lots of "butterflies" near the house you all stayed.

[Hairy Nation Boys]

I have had a few questions regarding pictures from Lost Tribes. Silvana and I agreed that we would not allow cameras at this event. Some were snuck in. No big deal. Just wanted people to know what we were thinking and why the lack of images.


This was my one and only experience organizing a event like Lost Tribes.

I am thankful that we had a good group of citizens, bushwhackers, and federal troops.

I hope everyone has a hapy Thanksgiving and am looking forward to 2010!

[tater_cuffie]

I'll be there in 10'! However, I do recall an old lady, worked for the sight I think, taken some pictures. I know she got alot of good shots! Would anybody by chance know who the lady was? She wasn't one of us in funny clothes...

[tmdreb]

There was also a film crew from the University that was poking around a bit. In fact, my dashing exploits that resulted in the capture of a pistol were at least partially captured on film, if I am correct.

[BenjaminLDavis]

In addition, there was the older feller, later to be seen walking a sheltie ~
does anybody know him? He took a bunch of shots, all of our march and
our first occupation of the village, and many more.
It would be great to see those pictures.

[Hairy Nation Boys]

The old guy does security at the site.

I like the fact that we don't have any picures. Kind of like Bigfoot. You had to see it to believe it.

[Silvana Siddali]

I'll try to find out whether there was anyone from the University taking pictures. I never even noticed them. That's one great thing (among many others) about the site administration -- they do their level best to stay under the radar during events and the few spectators who do come by are intelligent & respectful and very interested in history.

At events like these it's almost impossible to get rid of all modern intrusions, but Holler & I thought we could at least minimize some things, such as cameras. For me, it was worth it not to have cameras. I'll never forget this event anyway. BTW, Holler, I hadn't realized this was your first time out organizing a major event -- you did a brilliant job.

One thing I wanted to add, about the pictures posted by Jason Thibodeaux -- those were taken at the Van Bibber site, which is about a half mile down the road from the main village. That is a separate collection of buildings, also owned by the University, which include a blacksmith shop and a large school house. The reason you see cars in that photo is that the VB site doesn't have a separate parking lot. At Boonesfield village all cars are parked elsewhere, and are not visible from inside town.

The Van Bibber site was used as a bivouac by the federals at Lost Tribes. It's also a collection of antebellum buildings. It has its own little pond and is surrounded on 3 sides by historic panoramas, but the cars are visible at the front of the site. Anyway, we'll see what we can do about that for the May event. The veterans will be lodging in a Gentlemen's Boarding House (i.e., the old academy building) and we will see what we can do about minimizing modern intrusions for you.

I guess the best thing to suggest would be to try to car pool as much as possible so that the cars will be easier to hide.

[Hairy Nation Boys]

If you are planning on attending as a veteran of the 21st Missouri Company I , and want to be with us at the Van Bibber "Hotel" contact me. headlog@gmail.com


We will NOT park at the Van Bibber site. Parking will be at the Boonesfield site for all participants.

More information to come!

[tmdreb]

When we were at the Van Bibber site, another University camera crew filmed us for a bit, and one of them asked us questions while the other recorded our answers. We were kind enough not to shoot them.

[Hairy Nation Boys]

We saw them too. Had to play along.

[Phil McBride]

The first 2010 issue of the Camp Chase Gazette should include an article about Lost Tribes that I submitted shortly after the event (but still too late for the November/December issue.). I included some photos I discreetly took during the event and some taken right after the final whistle, and a couple of period images taken by the period photographer who was there. Since I was with the bushwackers, only the posed period images include any of the Federal soldiers. I don't know which or how many photos the CCG editor will include with the article, but there should be a couple at least. It was an excellent event that made a good story.

Phil McBride
The Alamo Rifles

[Old Reb]

I tried to explain to some of the boys that much progress had been made in the 19th century and that their old flintlocks that didn't work and trying to start a fire with flint and steel were so 18th century, but they could grasp the concept of the modern age. I also tried to explain to them about photography, but it was beyond their comprehension.

[Auld Pelty]

Unfortunately, friendly fire was more effective than the flintlocks. Next time, advance guards should get the flintlocks and scouts take the percussion weapons.

[tmdreb]

My flintlock worked just fine. It certainly worked better than Joe's shotgun when he was carrying his caps in his hand.

[Auld Pelty]

My flintlock worked just fine. It certainly worked better than Joe's shotgun when he was carrying his caps in his hand.


Throwing rocks would work better than your flintlock. At Lovelady, it would not shoot at all. Same with your pistol.

As for Lost Tribes, the caps were transferred to the shotgun nipples, then the double barrels wrought deadly fire.

This is modern 19th Century weaponry. Go get you some.

And don't lose your pistol again unless it is the one that does not work.