The 300 Pound Cavalryman and Other Oddities; Secrets of a Reenactor

Our Civil War reenactment group had a cavalry trooper who weighed at least 300 pounds if he weighed an ounce.  (When he signed on he signed on as a “non-combatant).  In reality there were no plus sized troopers (Save overfed officers I suppose).   It shouldn't come as a shock that the main ingredient in the cavalry was not the man; it was the horse (The origin of cavalry is from the Italian word cavallo meaning horse).  Haven’t I often said in this blog that it’s always about money and not people?  Wasn't any different in 1863 when the horse was the valuable piece of equipment that the War Department wouldn't have wanted burdened by a rider with an out sized boiler. At 6'1" and 185 pounds I myself would have been a mid-19th century oddity.  People were just smaller then. 

Joining Mr. Lincoln's Army

What was it, the early 90’s when I saw my first Civil War reenactment?  Must have been the very early 90’s; maybe the late 80’s.  That's it; 1989.  When I heard that such things existed I thought, my God, where have they been all my life.  I’d gone through nearly 40 years and missed these things?

The National Civil War Association held the event on Memorial Day weekend near Felton in the Santa Cruz Mountains.  Revisiting 1863 in the hills that look down on the Silicon Valley.  There was some irony.  As we approached the site we were met by a sentry in the woolen blue of a Union infantryman.  Oh my, I thought, what a wonderful place!  I'd found a history buff's nirvana.

A Day in Virginia; Circa 1863

The American Civil War is arguably the most important event in the nation's history.  It's been written that "everything in American history leading up to 1860 was a cause of the Civil War and everything that has happened since was caused by the Civil War."  An overstatement? Perhaps, but not by much.  And so on these days surrounding Memorial Day, which began in response to The Civil War and as the nation commemorates the sesquicentennial of that conflict I'm devoting a series of blogs to some observations of The American Civil War; then and now.  

There’s a chinkle of spurs and the crunch of boot heels on the dry, rocky sun bleached path.  The creaking of leather is slightly audible beneath the jangling of sabers that hang from their belts and the Sharps carbines slung over their backs.  Some stray civilians wander into the area and stop to point at the three as they stride with purpose along the uneven lane.  The trio is clad in blue wool jackets trimmed in yellow and fastened with a row of dull brass buttons.  Their trousers, also of wool are light blue, tucked into knee high black boots that wear a layer of gray dust.  Each man wears on his left hip a large .44 caliber revolver, the brown handle peeking out from a black flapped holster.  Two of the men have full beards, the third wears the rough stubble of a few days growth.  Their faces are splotched with dirt and their eyes, heavy and weary from lack of sleep are barely shaded from the morning sun by the leather brims of their caps. Woolen, worn, and grimy, each cap bears the crossed saber insignia that designate them as cavalrymen.  One of the three sips coffee from a beaten old tin cup while another takes an occasional pull from a blue, fabric covered canteen.  The three talk among themselves and occasionally one acknowledges a greeting from a curious onlooker.