Funny Anecdotes

[DougCooper]

At such a long event with so many players, there must be some hysterical moments. My favorite had to involve Cody Mobley and Micah Ables of Co C, 15th Texas. Now Cody is a man of few words who makes a living punching cows and making great uniforms and equipment. He marched most of the event without heels on either shoe while carrying the flag.

At the halt on Thursday at the top of a hill around noon (during the evac of the federal with the bad med reaction) Cody sat whittling happily on a piece of wood, sharpening it to a fine point with a truly nice period knife. Due to some comment I assume (or maybe not) from Micah, Cody reached over and jabbed the point of the piece of wood into Micah's thigh.

Micah was startled at the sudden pain and inquired what the heck it was that Cody had been whittling.

Cody calmly replied "Its a poke stick."

[Old Reb]

It is a Ground Hornet thing. We usually play such games with knives.

[Alamo Guard]

We had great fun watching a small dog try to battle with the chickens in the civilian camp. The poor dog was getting his butt whipped on a regular basis by those chickens and kept coming back for more.
We would be in the middle of conversation see the dog approach the chickens, stop the conversation, watch the dog get chased off, then resume the conversation and never miss a beat.
Don't ask what happened when he tangled with the oxen.

[Old Reb]

One of my favorite moment was after the last battle Sunday morning and Yanks and Rebs were marching in columns together down a Forest Serivce Road and in good spirits and singing and all and then they were led off that good Forest Service Road down an old log road with many fallen pine trees across it and pioneers were called forward with axes to clear the road for the wagons. The singing stopped.

[Stephen Johns]

I guess mine was on Wednesday Night, Col. Aufmuth and I went to the Federal camp to parlay with the enemy about a few details we had to work out. After our talk we slipped into the federal camp and actually spoke to some of our pards in blue. But the nights there were so dark no one (except our pards) knew we were actually CS. When we started to leave we asked a federal picket where the trail was and he asked what unit we were with. I said 81st Ill. He then asked what company and I replied Co. I, Marek's comany. While this was going on Col. Aufmuth was looking for the trail. The fedral then asked who our commander was just as Frank said here is the trail, lets go! The federal had actually approached me and felt my sword belt buckle and said "you boys look confederate!" We quickly made our way up the trail and out of the federal camp and back to our own lines before we were captured and had to spend the whole event as POW's.

[DougCooper]

Saturday morning the wagons pulled out and we suddenly realized that we had left some of the Colonel's baggage behind in the sand. Sgt Major Ox Johnson and Pvt Jake Bekstrand took off at the dead run with baggage in hand. Ox drew his sword and with revolver in one hand and sword in the other ran down the hill, over the creek and up the other side screaming "stop that wagon" with Jake carrying the stuff on his head at full tilt as well. I can only imagine the look on the driver's face when he turned around and saw the assault from the rear :eek: The wagon quickly came to a halt, baggage was deposited and both returned to cheers and laughter.

Greg Boothroyd of the Lazy Jacks remarked that normally Ox did not go that fast unless pie was involved. :D

[Cottoncarder]

We had great fun watching a small dog try to battle with the chickens in the civilian camp

Indeed it was hysterical watching Tad with one ear up and one ear down approach, then get his floggings over and over again. Another funny episode was when one curious hen sauntered over to Mizz Terre's cup sitting on the ground next to her and first peer in with one eye, then cocked her head and peered in with the other; then satisfied strolled off as if she had just been chaperoning the whole situation.

[Gallo de Cielo]

Though I was not physically there, Tom and my other Hornet comrades have informed me of the deeds of one Sean Harla, a stout lad marching in the Ground Hornet/Lazy Jack company. They seem worthy of mention here.

A few days into the event, Sean was standing behind a teen-aged Brit, a red-headed fellow. Somehow in bringing his piece to the ground from shoulder to order arms, Sean's Enfield discharged. In bringing the piece down, Sean's slouch hat tumbled from his head. So within the space of a second, Sean's hat fell off and his rifle discharged. The blast blew a hole in the rear of the crown of the hat and came near to blowing off the red-headed Brit's ear. Those watching said the Britisher fell over as if shot and Sean immediately dove to his rescue. The silk lining in his Bender smoldered for a while and the Brit was deafened in one ear for the better part of a day but the lad brushed it off as the cost of doing business. A day later, when the armies passed the civilian world up at Oak/Corral Camp, the locals dished out edibles to the Secesh boys. Sean got a large boiler full of piping hot chicken soup and had it held in front of him. Focusing on the provisions and not the column, Sean failed to see that a halt had been called and plowed into the young red-head, scalding him with soup. Having been assaulted twice, the young boy demanded to know what Sean had against "the ginger hairs" (as red-heads are apparently referred to in distant lands) and finished by saying, "just throw me down and piss on me then."

Though Sean is a heck of a soldier, he is not one to have behind you when rifles are loaded or hot soup has been dispensed.

[huntdaw]

I and others in Co. A under the gallant Capt. Tucker got a pretty good laugh when he announced to us as we formed up nice and straight before the morning's march on Friday I believe, that he had his shoes on the wrong feet. And indeed he did. It helped explain why he kept getting his directions backwards when giving orders. He was ribbed unmercifully for that one for a while.

[Cottoncarder]

Having been assaulted twice, the young boy demanded to know what Sean had against "the ginger hairs" (as red-heads are apparently referred to in distant lands) and finished by saying, "just throw me down and piss on me then."

To quote one of my favorite comedians, "Now, that there's funny I don't care who you are." Being of a like circumstances (though now a bit faded), I remember well the copper haired fine young man with the Lazy Jacks.

[DougCooper]

I and others in Co. A under the gallant Capt. Tucker got a pretty good laugh when he announced to us as we formed up nice and straight before the morning's march on Friday I believe, that he had his shoes on the wrong feet. And indeed he did. It helped explain why he kept getting his directions backwards when giving orders. He was ribbed unmercifully for that one for a while.

Actually the funniest tactical thing I saw was Sunday morning when he gave one of your platoons a fire by file command while you were in skirmish order. Had the Yanks noticed it they could have scooped all of you up before anyone could re-load. :eek: We chalked it up to the excitement.

That was also the fight where we retreated in the face of the Yanks surge down the hill. Not being used to seeing our backsides, the proud Suckers began braying and clucking like a barnyard gone mad. Chalk that up to 4 days of retrograde - and lots of spirit.

[hooyahmicah]

A few days into the event, Sean was standing behind a teen-aged Brit, a red-headed fellow. Somehow in bringing his piece to the ground from shoulder to order arms, Sean's Enfield discharged. In bringing the piece down, Sean's slouch hat tumbled from his head. So within the space of a second, Sean's hat fell off and his rifle discharged. The blast blew a hole in the rear of the crown of the hat and came near to blowing off the red-headed Brit's ear. Those watching said the Britisher fell over as if shot and Sean immediately dove to his rescue. The silk lining in his Bender smoldered for a while and the Brit was deafened in one ear for the better part of a day but the lad brushed it off as the cost of doing business. A day later, when the armies passed the civilian world up at Oak/Corral Camp, the locals dished out edibles to the Secesh boys. Sean got a large boiler full of piping hot chicken soup and had it held in front of him. Focusing on the provisions and not the column, Sean failed to see that a halt had been called and plowed into the young red-head, scalding him with soup. Having been assaulted twice, the young boy demanded to know what Sean had against "the ginger hairs" (as red-heads are apparently referred to in distant lands) and finished by saying, "just throw me down and piss on me then."

Though Sean is a heck of a soldier, he is not one to have behind you when rifles are loaded or hot soup has been dispensed.

I remember coming to a stop before a bend and taking a knee. There was a shot directly behind me and I whipped around just in time to see Adam Hammersley do a deadfall to his side with Sean dropping his rifle and leaping for him. After that, I went to look for the creek, but word is Adam hopped up and said 'Com'on boys, what are we waiting on?' I'm sure there was a 'Cheers!' to be heard at the end of that, too.

All night long Cody teased Sean about ginger-haired genocide...and then the soup! I think it was more a problem of going down the wrong pipe than being scalding hot, but we were halted when Sean just spewed soup all over Adam's back. That's when Adam turned around and told him to go ahead and piss on him. Sean denied, but one of the Lazy Jacks tried to take him up on his offer in Sean's place.

The best part about it was that Adam loved his first trip to America...despite the repeated attempts of harm. After every incident, I'd ask Adam how he was liking America and he had nothing but good things to say.

[hooyahmicah]

Actually the funniest tactical thing I saw was Sunday morning when he gave one of your platoons a fire by file command while you were in skirmish order. Had the Yanks noticed it they could have scooped all of you up before anyone could re-load. We chalked it up to the excitement.
Our dear 1st Sgt. called for a fire by platoon when we were the far right flank of the Confederate line, not 30 yards from the enemy. As soon as we fired, they charged and we charged and...well, our platoon was all captured or killed.

[Footslogger]

Yeah I did kind of have an ulterior motive for that move.
It didn't seem like we would get to meet up with the other side, and after all that travelling I wanted to meet as many of you good folk as possible, so when we were ordered to "sweep them off the hill" I saw my chance and once at the top got captured, And I must admit I had a great time as a prisoner all conversation was kept to a period context even having to explain why us brits were fighting for the Rebels.
Fortunately for me a chance to escape arose a while later, so I had to hot foot it a bit sharpish and got back to my Company.
It really was a fantastic event, Now I have finally recovered I would do it again tomorrow.

Regards
SteveB.

[JustRob]

One of my favorites was the encounter between the Federal column and the Preacher.

In the course of his pitch, the preacher made a rather derogatory reference to "Papists".

This Papist color sergeant (& former Jesuit seminarian) was quick to respond that "he would rather be a member of a church founded on the Rock of St. Peter than the balls of Henry VIII."

All's fair in love & war.

[Utah]

I have a couple of somewhat funny anecdotes I experienced in the piney woods of Louisiana.

I was assigned to picket-duty at Post 12, the third night I believe, on the road near the river between the two camps (three actually as the teamsters were down by the river as well). It was quite the busy post what with prisoner exchanges, soldiers both Blue and Gray going for water, officers from both sides meeting for various reasons (a dour Sgt-Maj was chastising the Federals about disparaging and demeaing remarks made of Southern womenhood in some letter or such) and then the infamous Pvt. Chase Pinkham showing up to desert, fully-armed (luckily I knew him "before the war" and was not caught too off-guard).

So after all this folderol, the sun went down and the night became quite dark as there was no moon, and I was somewhat edgy due to all the previous commotions. The air was quite still and I could hear movement in my front, towards the river, from the Federal side. I could hear foot-steps in the fallen leaves and they were getting closer. I called out "HALT, WHO GOES THERE?" for the twentieth time that night, but there was no reply. The sounds of movement grew closer and I dropped my musket slightly lower and called out again in a loud voice "HALT, WHO GOES THERE?", again no reply but suddenly from the bushes darts that nosiy dog the teamsters ha:) . To check my vigilance, I guess, but I was relieved I hadn't called for the Corporal-of-the-Guard yet - I wouldn't ever had heard the end of it!

The other story happened on the third day was well, I think (it was all kind of a blur sometimes). I had already captured three Union boys, mainly wounded and the slow. But on this occasion I happened on a Yank who was so wound with vines that he could not move at all:D. I could understand his plight since when being a flanker and on a few charges I had been there myself, and had there been any counter-charges at those times I probably would have been captured too! He was fairly astute, this Federal was, and told me he was going to discharge his weapon for safety reasons, which he did. After a few minutes we unrolled him and off to the rear he went. Seemed like a nice bloke, I wondered why we had been shootin' at each other just a few moments before.

[skunkboy]

I had many funny moments in that "howlin wilderness" that after three weeks of reflection, just make them that much more endearing.
Any time that my messmates (Jon O'Hara, Tim Renna and Tyler McManus) and I got together was a good time! The shebangs that we made those first two nights and all of us in there jabbering away like magpies to the point that First Sgt Cooper had to tell us to shut up cause we were keeping everyone up. Giving the Sgt Major a hard time cause of the length of his canteen stopper. The marching and the stupid jokes you would tell or be told by your file mates. The first night when Rex and I were on water detail and we got turned around and confused looking for the water. That night in the "burned camp" when it was so godawfull cold that we fell asleep around the fire till the fire got low. Then Brooke, Nate and I stayed up till dawn telling stupid stories that were hilarious to us in our sleep-deprived delerium, especially Brookes torpedo story! My God... he could have taken care of Porters fleet all by his lonesome if left to his own devices! These were the things that made me laugh.
The things that may not have been so funny but will stick with me till my dying day are many. The trying to light a fire that first night with nothing but wet wood. The colonel singing and telling stories that second night in camp. Guarding the Yankee prisoners and bantering with them in 3rd person. (I would have shot that escapee if my cap hadn't fallen off when I raised my rifle!) Brookes special "linament" potion. The battles and skirmishes...(the "crossroads", the "burned wood", the "stream crossing") Capturing the cannon. Getting tangled in those f.....g brambles and thorns. Pickett duty in the pitch black and cold. Cutting the heal off of Ron's ruined brogan. Being scirmishers on that beautiful Louisiana morning and expecting an ambush at any moment. Guard duty on St. Patricks Day night with Cpl. O'Hara and Capt. Treadway. (Probably my best St.Paddy's Day ever!) The taste of hot hominy and peaches and cream after three days of hardtack and saltpork. And all of us marching back that last day, Yanks and Rebs together. That combined with the nutty 37 hour drive in a RV (God wills it that the Border Patrol loves us!), will stay with me forever.
So... to all the civilians that fed both our bodies and our minds with good food and great 3rd person (Thanks reverand for the water that fires the inner soul), thank you. To our noble foes in blue who gave it their all to fight for their beliefs, thank you. To the boys of the Lazy (Crazy) Jacks who came from across the ocean to play with us, thank you. To the gentlemen from the Tater Mess who showed us how to do it, thank you. To the boys from the Texas Ground Hornets who have set the bar so high that I seriously doubt that anything I do from here on in will ever compare to BGR, thank you. And especially to my pards in Company B, the Western volunteers, thank you guys for the time of my life. We really were a "band of brothers".

Sincerely and with best regards,
Patrick O'Melia
Poison Oak Mess
1st Texas