John Ashton shrugged. My family might have been here, but I dont care, he said. The Civil War means my income these daystourists love to go back. But I love em all. Yankees, rebels, Brits, Brazilians! Bring them on. They all spend money and take tours.
And what happened here was in 1861, for Gods sake, before the thing had really even gotten going, Griffin said, shaking his head. Come on, now! My ancestor went on to die at the Second Battle of Manassasnow, thats a damned big battle. Were here to teach, and to remember everything that happened in the pastand how it made us what we are today. Lets have fun, folks. CmonI come out here to forget the office and programming and statistics, computers and red tape. I dont care who plays what. Its just for a good time.
I spend most of my time in New Orleans, art on the square and all thatyou can call me a doughboy for all I care. Its the spirit of this thing, Ramsay said. And Lord knows, what happened here couldnt even be called a battle. My ancestor and most of the Southern boys except for Marshall survived, but, as weve all pointed out nowthe North won. We are living the United States of America. This wasnt even really a battle.
He was right. What had taken place late in 1861 hadnt even been a battle. Drinking downriver, toward New Orleans, two Yankee spies had heard about Donegals then-ownerMarshall Donegalpreparing a major summons to area troops to prepare them for an invasion of New Orleans. In trying to draw Marshall Donegals men out further on the subject, they had all gotten into a fistfight when one made a ridiculous statement about Northerners being chickens. The two Confederates suspected the men of being spies, and had run back to Donegal. The spies went back to their headquarters, but they were spies, and thus their numbers were small. On each side, six men were musteredand, rather than be executed as spies if they were caught, the Union men donned their uniforms.
The fighting had ranged from the stables to the porch of the main house and out to the chapel and cemeteryending when Captain Marshall Donegal had died of a bayonet wound in his own family graveyard. The enemy had skedaddled, according to the Southern side; the rebels had been left in utter defeat, according to their Northern counterparts.
Now, the battle was something that taught history, and, largely due to its small sizeand the fact that the current owner of the plantation, Ashleys grandfather, Frazier Donegal, was a history buff and glad to welcome the units on his propertyit was a popular event. Living history took place frequently at Donegal, as often as once a week, but an actual reenactment was done only once a year. Sometimes the actors doing the reenactments were involved in other locations. Some belonged not just to Civil War units, but Revolutionary War units, and it just depended on where the biggest shindig was going on. Luckily, most of the men who could claim to have had ancestors in the brawl loved the plantation and the nearly exact-to-the-past-moment location of the place, and they usually made this reenactment a priority.
Donegal House was surely one of the prettiest places left on the river road, with memories of the antebellum era held in place. The great house still maintained a gorgeous front. It had been built with magnificent Greek columns and wraparound porches, and elegant tree-shaded entries stretched forever before the front and back doors. The currently used stables, housing only six horses, were next to the house, while the larger stables needed in a bygone era were far back from the house, to the left, riverside, and offered three apartments for those who wanted to stay for the night. The old smokehouse and servants quarters were available for rent as well, and sometimes they even rented out five of the rooms in the main house. With Beth there, Ashleys extraordinarily talented friend and chef, and the efforts they were making with the restaurant and the crazy business that came along with the reenactment, they had chosen this year just to let rooms in the outbuildings.
All thisliving history and their bed-and-breakfast rentalswas done to survive into the twenty-first century. But the Donegal family had been letting the place out for nearly thirty years now. And the living history and the reenactments were the true highlights to be found here, distinguishing it from other great plantations along the river.
Okay, sure. You all are right, Charles said. Its over. Long over. Hell, the Yankees did win the war.
Cliff laughed. Still hard to convince my mama and a few other folks I know that its true. But thanks, Charles, thats great. The Yanks are good guys. Man, its sad to think back, though, huh? We would have wound up being enemies.
Who knows what our feelings would have been back then? Ashley asked. We might have chosen to fight for the North.
It was a different time, a different lifestyle, Griffin pointed out. Youre all indignant now about injustice, but you didnt live back then. You didnt grow up in an economy of cotton and sugar.
Rich men wanted to stay rich, Ramsay agreed dryly.
Whos being Marshall Donegal today? Charles asked.
That would be me, Ramsay said. Ive done it the past five years. He was quiet a minute; he had done it since Ashleys father had passed away. Ashley could don a uniform herself, but she thinks we boys should just be boys. So I get the honor.
Ramsay was trying to move quickly past the mention of her father, Ashley knew. He had been gone five years now; he had died shortly after her mother. She had accepted their lossand she knew as well that there would still be a little core of pain when she thought about them, even if she lived to be one hundred. Inwardly, she winced. She hadnt just lost her father that day; that had been the end of her and Jake. Her fault, her call, and she still wasnt sure why. He had frightened her, she thought. It seemed he had scratched the surface of something, and she didnt want to know what was beneath. And still, to this day, she knew that although she had closed the door, she missed Jake. And missing Jake had colored everything else in her life.
He died, Charles reminded him. Marshall Donegal was killed, you know, he added quickly.
Well, as weve said, the war is long over, so I guess theyre all dead now anyway, Ramsay pointed out.
Gentlemen, Ashley said, speaking at last, I want you all to know that you are greatly appreciated. Youre all such wonderful actors, taking on whatever role is needed, whenever its needed! Charles, the Yankees are great guys. Michael Bonaventure lives in town, and his ancestors lived there as well, right in the heart of the French Quarter. His family left when the war started, because Bonaventures ancestor was fighting for the Union. Hadley Mason is from Lafayette, but his ancestors agreed with the Northern cause as well. It will be fun for you to be a Yankee. Its acting, just like when we act out the encampments. And I truly appreciate you taking on the role.
Its really amazing, Griffin said. We do get all tied up in what was. The way the past still has so much to do with the present! Charles, come on, youre a stepchild. We all really had ancestors back then who were involved with this thing. Youre welcome among ustotally welcome. But, hey, if I had come in on this recently, Id be happy just to be a part of it all.
Charles Osgood offered Ashley a weak smile. Sure. You know meIm just happy to be here.
Charles Osgood offered Ashley a weak smile. Sure. You know meIm just happy to be here.
To Ashleys surprise, Ramsay Clayton suddenly spoke up again. Charles, I have an idea. Some of those guys really are my friends. My good friends. Ill be a Yankee today. You be Marshall Donegal.
Charles opened his mouth, stunned, and stared at Ramsay. Oh! Oh, no. I couldnt take that honor away from you!
You get killed, you know, Ramsay reminded him.
Oh, like you said, theyre all dead now. I just couldntI really couldnt.
Hey, I think I want to be a Yankee for once, Ramsay said. Its cool. You be Marshall Donegal, and Ill be a Yankee. No argumentsits decided. Ill be a winner for a change!
I dont know what to say! Charles told him.
Say thanks, and lets get on with it. We have to finish planning this thing, Ramsay said.
Im going to be Marshall Donegal! Charles said, still awed.
Ashley lowered her head, hiding her laughter. These guys really were like children when it came to the reenactment. They were so dedicated. But it was really good, she reminded herself. They kept history alive. It had been on a trip to Europe with her parents when she had seen the quote that meant so much to her: Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. It was the philosopher George Santayana who had written those words, and she had seen them above the gates of a concentration camp. So, whether history was sterling or notpitting man at his best and his worstit was necessary to remember.
The reenactors did a fantastic job. Although there had been only a small encampment at Donegal Plantation at the time, they recreated a larger one, complete with a medical tent, where surgeries were acted out, officers quarters and tents for enlisted men.
This is a right nice place to meet, but we need to get to business, Griffin said, winking at Ashley.
Yeah, Ramsay, looks like you need to skedaddle! Cliff teased.
Im out of here! Ramsay said, rising. He looked around. Sadly, I do like Cliffs digs better than being cramped up in an apartment!
Griffin was right: they were in a nice place to meet. The office/living quarters in the stables were extremely pleasant; there was no heavy smell of hay, horses or droppings in any way, since the office had long ago been fitted out with air-conditioning and an air purifier to boot. There were a number of trophies along with books on horses, horse care, tack and maps on the shelves around the old massive desk with its iMac and printer. It was the horse masters realm. No matter the state of riches or poverty the Donegal Plantation might be in, there was always a horse master. These days, the horse master did more than look after the six horses that remained. He was a tour guide, overseerthough they didnt grow anything other than a few flowers now and then and a tomato plant or twoand general man about the house.
Ashley stood and gave him a shove. Our apartments are beautiful. Get on out of here, and get this all moving! She spoke with teasing force. Im going out to check on the camp setup and see that everything is running smoothly, then get ready. Ill leave you gentlemen to agree on the final assignments and action. The day is moving on. We need to be prepared to start with the battle at sundown.
Hell, I hope they got a uniform that will fit me! He winked. Ramsay was a good guy. He had a small house that had once been a working plantation, but his land had been eaten up over the years. Plantation actually meant farm, and Ramsay had no farmland left at all. He spent most of his time in the city, where he actually was a working artist making a nice income.
Im off to join the Yankees!
Thanks! Charles Osgood lifted a hand to Ramsay, and then to Ashley, looking dazed. He was getting the prime role for the day, and he still seemed to be surprised.
It didnt mean as much to Ramsay, Ashley thought, watching him as he walked from the stables to the old barn. He was from here; hed been born a part of it all. Hed played soldiers over and over again, and though it had been magnanimous of him to hand over the role, she wasnt sure that Ramsay hadnt decided that being a Yankee might not be that bad a thing for the day. After all, they ended the day with the Pledge of Allegiance and the Battle Hymn of the Republic. Even if they did begin it with a rousing chorus of Dixie!
She left Cliffs to make a quick check of the horses. Thank God you darlings dont care if youre Yankees or rebels! she said affectionately, pausing to rub Abes ears. She saw that the tack for the Northern cavalry was ready for each of the mounts, saddles and saddle blankets set on sawhorses and the bridles with their insignias hanging from hooks right outside the stalls. Abe, Jeff, Varina, Tigger, Nellie and Bobby were all groomed and sleekly beautiful, ready to play their parts. She paused to give Varina a pat; she loved all the horses, but Varina was her special mare, the horse she always chose to ride.
Leaving the stables, Ashley paused for a moment to look across the expanse of acreage to the left, where the tents of the living encampment had been set up. She could see the sutlers stretch of canvas, and she walked over to see who was working that day. Touristsparked way down the river roadwere milling around the goods for sale. She heard children squealing with delight as they discovered toys from the mid-nineteenth century, just as she heard women ooh and aah over some of the corsets and clothing. She saw that a crowd had gathered around the medical tent where reenactors were doing a spectacular job of performing an amputation. The patient let out a horrific scream, and then passed out. Dr. Ben Austinplaying his ancestor, also Dr. Ben Austinstood in an apron covered in stage blood and explained the procedure. Ben would later be part of the battle reenactment, but for now, he was explaining medicine. Ashley reached him in time to capture part of his spiel.
Amputation was frequently the only choice for a Civil War surgeon, and field surgeons could perform an amputation in as little as ten minutes, Ben told the crowd. Chloroform existed, but it was scarce. The South had alcohol. When the surgeon could, he would do everything in his power to make the traumatic operation easier for his patient, but at major battles, the pile of amputated limbs could easily grow to be five feet tall. There was no real understanding of germs, and more men died from disease than from wounds or bullets. To carry that further, more men died in the Civil War than in any other American war, and more men died at Sharpsburg, or Antietam, as those of you from the North might know it, than died during the D-Day invasion.
Ben saw Ashley watching him and lifted a bloody hand. Well, it was covered in faux blood from the faux surgery. Ben knew how to be dramatic. She smiled and waved in return and went on, stopping to chat with some of the women who were cooking, darning or sewing at the living-encampment tents. There were soldiers around as well, explaining Enfield rifles to little boys, whittling, playing harmonicas or engaging in other period activities. One laundress was hanging shirts and long johns out to drya nice touch, Ashley thought.
When the war started, the North already had a commissary departmentand the South didnt, Matty, the sutlers wife, was explaining to a group who stood around the campfire she had nurtured throughout the day. Hardtackdried biscuits, reallymolasses, coffee, sugar, salted beef or pork and whatever they could scrounge off the land was what fed the soldiers, and the South had to scramble to feed the troops. Didnt matter how rich you wereyou were pretty much stuck with what could be gotten. There were points, especially at the beginning of the war, during which the Southern soldiers were doing all right. They were on Southern soil. But war can strip the land. What Im doing here is boiling salted beef and trying to come up with something like a gravy to soften up the hardtack. With a few precious spices, salt and sugar, it wont be too bad. A few people can taste, if they like! Of course, Ive made sure that our hardtack has no boll weevils. The soldiers were fighting every kind of varmint, big and small, to keep their own food.