A Tactical Decision

[Spinster]

Re: A Tactical Decision

Civilain shelters built from deadfall and well worn painted canvas:

[Becky Morgan]

Re: A Tactical Decision

This is non-period, but could definitely help with event-related image emergencies:

http://www.z-a-recovery.com/digital-image-recovery.htm

Its freeware recovers erased images. As long as you haven't *written over* the images on the card, ZAR will get them back for you. Husband's hard disk crashed, taking a couple gig of scanned 1800s photos with it. I'm glad to report they're all back (and now printed, with copies in several places.)

I don't know how many batteries you'd need, because my trusty Kodak will pretty much fill up a 512 meg card on two AAs. The newer (and smaller) ones take even less power. The size of a lot of new digitals kept me from buying them because my big, stiff hands don't do well with tiny things. However, those built more like ladies and less like Irish (and Welsh and Cherokee) washerwomen may be able to operate the credit-card-sized, quarter-inch-thick ones.

Even though I can't go out on events, when I get to photograph people in period dress I hate to interrupt with clicks, flashes and whirrs.

[Spinster]

Re: A Tactical Decision

Becky,

He's assuming several things

1. That we own them
2. That we can work them.
3. That we have something to charge them on, or care to keep that many batteries in camp.
4. That some one won't accidentally erase 81 images of a fishing expedition, with period tackle, bait, dawgs, children, frying pans, and various other appropriate accoutrements.

Yessiree, I can still see that cover image for the Civil War Historian right there. Trouble is, y'all can't.:D :o

[Becky Morgan]

Re: A Tactical Decision

I' so glad there are pictures! It's too bad the emergencies intervened, but I'm glad you decided in favor of recording the event for those of us who can't take the field. (Or the burnt-over woods!)

Photographer son just said "Er...'film'?" He pointed out that most newer digital cameras have "sports mode" in which the camera doesn't make any noise. That could be a help in a lot of situations, as could the very small size of a lot of relatively inexpensive digitals.

[Spinster]

Re: A Tactical Decision

Here is Garret, solemn and quiet, who tended the small animals and applied himself to learning a toy that none of us could master.

[Gallo de Cielo]

Re: A Tactical Decision

Sarah was the belle of the ball in my opinion. I reckon that we all had a personal favorite among those youngsters.

Cordially,

[Spinster]

Re: A Tactical Decision

Sarah on the left, With Cami

Part of the Chicken Flock

Cami on the left, then Sarah and Anna, on mules

[Emily Burns]

Re: A Tactical Decision

That would have been Cami, I think. She was the chicken girl. I watched her negotiate for her chickens with the confederate fellows. That child may well be born to haggle.

I hear that she surprised everybody by stealing the chickens back from the federals down on the trail. Gracefully, like she'd done it every day of her life, she walked up and tucked one chicken under one arm and another chicken under the other arm. It was quite a feat as the first time she'd ever picked one of them up was just a few hours before.

[CSchneider]

Re: A Tactical Decision

Having a short first person conversation with that cute little girl in the pictures (I think it was that girl) was one of the highlights of the event for me. She could not have looked more excited to see the Louisiana script that I handed her in exchange for the chicken she was holding, and didn't bat an eye when I took it away to kill it.

-Craig Schneider

[Emily Burns]

Re: A Tactical Decision

Tad didn't fare very well against the poultry in the yard. I can't imagine he would have done any better against the armadillo. Unfortunately, the little dog's bark is much worse than his bite, as is usually the case with littler specimens.

[western reb]

Re: A Tactical Decision

Mrs. Lawson,

Thank you for your posts describing your experiences from the BGR event and the pics you have provided. For those who wished they gone but were unable, enjoy what is being posted here as obviously this was quite a special event as evident by Mrs. Lawson and others who have contributed their time and effort to give us a glimpse into the Trans-Miss. experience.

For those from California, may you all come back in one piece comrades! :D

[Charles Heath]

Re: A Tactical Decision

Our erstwhile companion, and owner of the little red wagon deposited his AAR over on some obscure location, only to be quoted here:

"Strolling through Louisiana, by Sephas J---

Me and my comrades in Company C, Philo and Bonaparte, had quite a
time of it in Louisiana. After our Reg, the 77th Illinois, got a
walloping at Sabine Cross Roads and returned the favor at Pleasant
Hill we got orders to guard the trains as we retreated back to the
Red River. Hard as we tried to stick with our comrades during this
time we lost some KEYS to the route we were taking and after a
thirty-hour march couldn't see any SIGNS of our army in the dark. So
being good veteran soldiers we slept and decided to pick our way
through the wilderness in the daylight.

Replacing our lost knapsacks with some we found stacked near a fine
fenced in house we proceeded in the direction of some campfires we
saw the night before. The flora and fauna of that fine southern
state kept us on our toes and we were hard charged by the largest
meanest snapping turtle we've ever witnessed. Phi and I held it off
at bayonet point while Boney crept around to secure the road for us.
It was sure close. Some of the people we met – or rather didn't
meet – along that way lacked the hospitality we were accustomed to
(but that was made up for later). At several houses our shouting and
banging our gun's butts on doors could not convince the residents to
appear and at one place where we stopped for water we were nearly
torn to pieces by dogs. But, again, that was made up for later.

We soon found signs that we were BEHIND the Rebel lines. We
conferenced and stroked our beards for a bit and decided it would be
wiser to try to take a round about route and fall in behind our army
rather than fight through the Rebs who would just gobble us up as we
almost were at Sabine Cross Roads and send us off to godforsaken
Texas. Hitching up our socks we followed a road heading east. We
could tell we weren't the first as there was hardtack along the way
and signs of a wagon gone before. In fact, a wagon of fleeing
contraband happened along and offered to take us all to a crossroads
that would meet with the road to Grand Ecore. Getting to that point
we came across a local Baptist deacon or preacher who claimed to
have seen the "invading" army aiming for the direction of the cross
roads but as "salvation" in the form of the Rebels was some ways off
he was heading back to tend to his flock and jugs. We didn't know
whether to believe him or not, but all sources told us this was the
place to be so we set down there and waited for friends to catch up
with us. Boney headed down the road toward the army to see what
trouble he could stir up while Phi and me laid low and kept an eye
out for Reb cav. After some hours Boney came back saying he didn't
see any army, only a dead armadiller (burp). Night came on with
still no sight or sound of anyone and we slept without a fire in the
hopes that if friends didn't come we'd at least get passed by
unnoticed by the Rebs.

At first light we found ourselves still alone and after stroking our
beards again and staring down the road in an attempt to conjure up
someone, even Bank's damned pets, we realized that wasn't getting us
any closer to Grande Ecore. Going towards the army would just mean
double the marching, so we turned in the direction of the gunboats
and once again took up our lonesome journey. The road was lacking
modern improvements and made its way though every ravine and bottom
between here and there. We couldn't see how the trains would make it
along them and felt sore bad for our comrades that would follow. It
eventually leveled some and kept towards a high ground where we came
to another cross roads. Phi watched the way we had come while I went
one way and Boney went the other to see what trouble lay ahead. I
found none, but Boney came across water at a cabin and three
colorful specimens of the local fauna. Through gestures and secret
handshakes Boney discovered that one of the women was looking for a
man somehow related who apparently lived there and was guiding
the "invading Yankees" back across Louisiana. We concluded this
loyal son of a Louisianan was the reason for all the delay on the
road to Grand Ecore. Not caring for delay ourselves we filled our
canteens and put some distance between us and the cabin. From this
point on the route passed through a burned and barren land and we
couldn't help but wonder if worse lay ahead. Towards noon we found
the answer.

Coming up out of a small swale we were suddenly met by the old
Baptist minister we had talked with earlier. He greeted us warmly
and spilled that we were ahead of the Rebs and our rear guard by two
day's march, the distance between the Rebs and us probably
accounting for the warmth of his greeting. We weren't but a short
walk from a tent city of the local populace who had fled their homes
to avoid the war. I'll tell you that entering that place was like
finding Eden, Goshen, and the Happy Land of Canaan all rolled up
into one. The women when they saw us marching in flocked to us with
hot coffee (the real kind) and victuals, the children gathered
around us in awe, the men skulked away to grumble, and the chickens
volunteered for the pots. Boney was an especial favorite with the
women as apparently the 77th had preceded us and left behind tales
of his finer attributes. We weren't quick to let our guard down, but
we soon helped with some chores and were fed yet more and plied with
the local replacement for water. The goodness of the people there
can not be overstated. They had quite a town and we were much
entertained to see an old fashioned drover move his oxen through the
place at one point sounding as much like an army teamster and
reminding us of what we were missing not being up with our comrades
with the trains.

Fat and happy we determined to catch up with the 77th and after dark
when the camp fell silent we packed up and moved out by the
starlight. We marched until we couldn't and then spooned together in
a flat spot beside the road where we dreamt of wolves and icebergs
and riding the railroad until dawn broke and we could march on. It
wasn't long before we got to where we needed to be, looking back on
our time away from the army with wonder and fondness."

Tad vs an armadillo would have been a right fair match up.

[Spinster]

Re: A Tactical Decision

For Doug Cooper:

Anna with the Brown Eyes

[Emily Burns]

Re: A Tactical Decision

I have to think that William was the fourth. But, now I could be wrong.

Regards,
Emily Burns

[Spinster]

Re: A Tactical Decision

Per Chawls request, images of Tad.

Too bad their are no moving pictures of Big Dawg and Little Dawg and their endless game of tag.

Nor of the negiotiated truce with Wagon Dawg, made under the kitchen table and signed like gentlemen, in the way that honest working dawgs do.

More or less, well maybe.