| Firing muskets, wearing scratchy shirts and dying — just once — all in the name of history
Related Stories Danielle Wong - Hamilton Spectator New visitors centre at Old Fort Erie displays War of 1812 artifacts “Now would be a good time to die.” The soldiers in blue were too close for comfort, coming closer and closer. Lance-Cpl. Glyn Parsons spoke calmly, just loudly enough so I could hear above the shots and the cracking voices of men succumbing to their injuries across the field. “Now?” This wasn’t how I was planning to go. There were too many people watching. “If there’s a volley, just fall knees-first.” I hit the grass, surprised at how delicately I managed to tumble face down while carrying a replica musket. The rumbling from the cannon and muskets firing over me felt even closer when all I could see was the inside of my slightly-too-large shako (a tall military cap) and the ants crawling over my face. When I heard my unit marching away several moments later, I suddenly felt exposed, even though I was baking underneath layers of wool. I was tempted to flip over, but I spotted a man in jeans with a camera, snapping a picture of me, and I resisted the temptation to break character and tried to look as deceased as possible. Clearly, I should have died in the shade. But after a couple hours at Backus Heritage Conservation Area learning to put the correct foot forward, keep in step with others and handle equipment while looking stoically straight ahead, it became apparent my greatest fears were falling out of formation, tripping on my oversized drop-front trousers or smacking one of the men in my line with my fake musket. In other words, I was anxious about sticking out. It was, of course, bound to happen. I knew and had been told I was historically inaccurate. Aside from being a woman, my Chinese ancestors would more likely have been trading at the ports of Guandong or Fujian than defending the British colony from an American invasion. But my drill sergeant, Rob McGuire, a member of the Royal Scots First Regiment Grenadiers Company, told me to make sure I enjoyed myself. The sergeants would be loud and harsh, but he assured me it was mainly for show. Sometimes, a soldier on the Thin Red Line will mess up just so the sergeant could chew him out in front of the crowd, said McGuire, a former nurse. “Don’t take it personally,” he said as photographer Barry Gray and I stood at ease beside each other. “And have fun.” * * * * * * * * * * * As pickup trucks, jeans and cellphones transitioned into tents, tin kettles and tunics the Friday night before battle, it became more and more apparent that “fun” had varying degrees of seriousness. My unit, the oldest and most senior infantry on the line in the British Army during the two-year war, had a reputation for discipline — a predictable trait for a group that had a fair number of retired and working police officers and military. If I wandered away from my unit’s camp (even if I was running to the period-inaccurate washroom), I wore a uniform of boots, wool pants, a linen or cloth shirt, a wool white and blue barracks jacket, suspenders, a barracks cap and a haversack. Despite what I might see members of other units doing, soldiers would have buttoned up the warm jacket all the way regardless of the weather, my captain, Hal Dennison, said. “It ain’t a sports jacket.” There are different calibres of re-enactors, said Dennison, who has enjoyed the hobby for 15 years. “Some re-enactors are — you’ll hear the term — hard core. The hard-core guys are the guys who show up on Friday, they’re dressed in their period clothes immediately and assume a role and step out of their 21st-century life right into their 19th-century life and get really upset if you intrude in that.” At the other end of the spectrum are the “loosey, goosey” guys who don’t take the historical context seriously enough, he said. “Then there’s all the in-between. You’ll find this group … they’re not hard core, but they’re leaning more in that direction,” the 47-year-old said. For most of the Royal Scots at the annual War of 1812 re-enactment Sept. 9 to 11, which drew about 350 re-enactors and 600 spectators, history was preserved by making it present. And a culture of discipline was needed for this reification. For Paul Pilkey, the tight-knit re-enactment community is an extension of the camaraderie he experienced in the military. But it goes beyond that. “It’s honouring what these guys went through back in that time,” said Pilkey, who is also an American Civil War re-enactor. “These guys were really deprived. They had poor diets. A lot of these guys died in their 40s or 50s, broke. We’re honouring them for what they went through to keep Canada, Canada.” My drill sergeant, known as Private McGuire, agreed. For him, becoming history honours the people who lived it 200 years ago. “You can either read about it, or you can be the history that you re-enact,” McGuire said, as he sat by the fire with his unit. When he participates in re-enactments where some of the battles took place, he said he sees and hears the men who fought 200 years ago. “The stuff coming at me is just smoke and powder. The people who did that for real faced the shot and the shell and the friends around them were dying. And I can see that and I can feel it when I go out there. I know what my realities are, but it’s sometimes so real.” Dennison, who had been promoted to field commander for the weekend, summed up the hazy line between historical imagination, recreation and reality in the re-enactment world: “It’s total escapism. It’s totally different from everything that you do in your regular life.” When I asked him for advice for the next day, I could tell he was grinning in the evening darkness. “What I would tell you, Danielle — and I’m going to understate it — you ain’t seen nothing yet.” * * * * * * * * * * The next morning, as soon as I put on my war uniform — black boots, shirt, drop-front pants, suspenders, red jacket, neck stock, belting, rifle, cartridge box and shako — I knew it was coming. After breakfast, I joined the Royal Scots for the first time for drills. We marched back to camp and stepped out of line formation and it happened: I threw up my breakfast in front of my unit and passersby. So much for not sticking out. The others promised me it happens to everyone, especially when the uniform is heavy and the weather is humid. Being vertically challenged, I was still to march in the front of the line for two battles: one at 2 p.m. and another one at dusk. The first combat event had us marching across the field in the middle of the heritage village, wading into tall grass and firing at the Americans almost mechanically. There were 31 units participating in the event, but I couldn’t tell who was who, except that red was the good guys and the different shades of blue were not. The men and a few women in war gear looked and sounded so convincing, I became distracted watching them as I would a movie. Then, I heard my colour sergeant Steve Hartwick, whose sarcasm had become endearing, suddenly order the soldier on my right to switch his musket for my replica. I felt the eyes of the spectators boring into the back of my head as I struggled to hold up the 12-pound weapon. When I pulled the trigger, I was taken aback, both physically and figuratively. Re-enactors’ muskets are not loaded with ammunition, but the sheer pop of the gunpowder firing, the heat emanating from the weapon and the ashy, sour-smelling smoke floating into my face were enough to make me step back in surprise. I died in that scripted battle, prompted by my musket-loaner, and learned afterward that our side had lost this combative exchange. The question of who had won or lost the War of 1812 is a prevalent one for historians and re-enactors. I heard many say the conflict, which President James Madison declared against Great Britain on June 18, 1812, amidst tensions over the trading restrictions the imperial force placed on American merchant ships, was a draw, even though the U.S. had not succeeded in taking Canada. That is debatable. Local historian James Elliott points out that the Americans had stated aims to invade Upper and Lower Canada but did not accomplish those goals. “This is perhaps the most perilous, formative moment for Canada,” he says. “If a few things had been different, this would be a profoundly different place today, so … I think it’s quite important that people realize this is the genesis of Canada.” * * * * * * * * * * |
The battle at dusk would be a draw.
The march to the military encounter was longer than the first one and faster-paced. I fell out of step with the long-legged men and Cpl. Kevin Garrett burst into song, crooning O’re the Hills and Far Away. The sound of boots hitting the dirt became the percussion to Garrett’s tenor and I found my rhythm. Once we reached a grassy pathway, we waited while the field commander sent a picket to scout the enemy. We were poking fun at one another and other units when we heard shots. Our scout and the British Indian Department were in a shootout with Americans at the end of the pathway. After considering letting our scout fend off all the Americans on his own, we marched toward a wooden fence and split off into shooting partners. I stood with Parsons, who continued to pass me his musket so I could fire. The smell of the burning potassium nitrate, charcoal and sulphur was thicker this time, as the smoke from soldiers’ muskets hung suspended in the humid evening air. Firing continued but no one was dying. I wondered if some of us on both sides should fall so it would seem more real. As if reading my mind, Parsons told me I could take a hit and crawl behind the line, as if I had been injured. This gave me a moment to reflect on my final hours in the War of 1812 re-enactment world. My captain and fellow privates had told me to find something from this activity that was specifically for me. It wasn’t the shooting or the muskets. And while sleeping in a tent I had clumsily assembled under the direction of Colour Sergeant Hartwick had been fun, I was not sure it was the camping either. The Royal Scots wrapped up that battle after a couple of casualties and injuries. As we marched back to our encampment, McGuire’s choir voice piped up, singing Secord’s Warning: There’s American guns and 500 men so the warning must be given and Laura Ingersoll Secord was the stalwart heart who braved the heat and the flies and the swamp to warn Colonel Fitzgibbon I made a note to include the catchy tune in my story. And that was it — what was for me in this whole thing. The world of war re-enactment is a world of narrative. And I was there to understand and be part of that story. A role for everyone Defending the British colony on the Thin Red Line isn’t for everyone. In fact, the group recruits make sure the whole family finds something in the hobby that appeals to them, said veteran re-enactor Hal Dennison. Michelle McKenney, 44, portrays a camp follower living with the Royal Scots. She and her two daughters, four and 14, do not have a husband or father in the army as a camp follower in the 19th century would have, but she plays the role. A soldier’s wife who accompanied him to war would have had half rations and her children would get quarter rations. The wife would also sleep in her husband’s tent, often occupied by five or six men. To survive, she foraged for berries and extra food and made extra income by sewing and doing laundry, said McKenney, who has been in the hobby for nine years. “They followed behind the baggage train. Women weren’t persons back then. They weren’t considered very important at all,” said McKenney, of London, Ont. If her husband died, the camp follower had 48 hours to find another husband before the army cut off her rations, McKenney said, adding that best friends would often make pacts to marry the other’s wife if they died. “It was really strong, sturdy women who became camp followers. Other ones wouldn’t have survived very long.” She said the appeal, besides her love of camping, was the chance to learn more about Canadian history and connect with a community. Linda Lee, a bonnet and hatmaker as well as a palliative-care nurse, portrays a sutler or civilian merchant who followed the military and sold needed supplies to the soldiers. Some owned a general store. In the re-enactment world, sutlers consist of blacksmiths, seamstresses, milliners and experts who work with tin providing uniforms and equipment. “In a way, the sutlers are keeping certain … crafts alive that would be dying,” said Lee, who owns Miss Linda’s Millinery. Her husband, Steve Zronik, is the Frontier Artist, painting period portraits and designing collectible cards for soldiers and other re-enactors. Lee, who set up a stand at Backus Heritage Village, makes bonnets and hats mainly for women and girls out of cotton, linen, satin and vintage lace. Next year is the 200th anniversary of the War of 1812. As the bicentennial approaches, re-enactors are hoping for more recruits. Many participants are aging and they say the activity is not popular with young people. Aaron Grainge, 26, is one of the youngest members of the Royal Scots. He became involved last year and says he stays because the other men take the military discipline seriously. Grainge, a fitness trainer for the Canadian Forces, said one barrier to participation is cost. Supplies needed to take part can cost as much as $2,000 and the musket is about $650. Others re-enactors have lent him various things as he puts together his kit — an indication of the welcoming atmosphere that keeps Grainge in the pastime. To get involved with the re-enactment group, visit royalscotsgrenadiers.com or to learn more about the war and bicentennial events, visit Tourism Hamilton’s War of 1812 bicentennial website at 1812.tourismhamilton.com or contact the War of 1812 Community Advisory Committee at 1812@hamilton.ca or 905-546-2424, ext. 7612. Another source is Pathways to Peace at westerncorridor1812.com, put together by the Western Corridor War of 1812 Bicentennial Alliance, which is co-ordinating activities for the bicentennial in southwestern Ontario. The War of 1812, a new PBS documentary airing Oct. 10, has numerous connections to Hamilton. Local historian James Elliott and Hamiltonian re-enactors Craig Williams, Rick and Pamela Peterson and Ray Hobbs are featured in the film, as well as makeup artist Sue Upton. Some of the scenes were shot at Westfield Heritage Village Hamilton last February because of its historically accurate setup and the guarantee that there would be snow, coproducer and editor Diane Garey said. Scenes included depictions of the Battle of the River Raisin in the Michigan Territory that saw British forces launch a raid against the Americans who had settled down for the winter, Garey said. The site was also used for a scene in a Quebec prison and the interior of the White House. The $1-million documentary also filmed in Fort George and Fort Erie. With the bicentennial and documentary, Garey said, it is important for people to recognize this moment in Canadian history. “When the war came and their country was invaded by the United States, these people came together and said: ‘We will fight for this land, fight for our farms, fight for our communities.’ That slowly evolved into a Canadian identity.” For information, visit pbs.org/wned/war-of-1812. |
The war that saved Canada
