Reenacting and recreating.

Often times, reenactors take joy and pride in recreating themselves to fit their character and place in the Civil War. I am no exception, and after research, geneology, and some thinking on who I want to represent, I decided to go with a immigrant from south Wales, from a coal mining family, who immigrated in the early 1850's. The name was fun to come up with, and I decided to go with Robert Tribbet. Robert is the name of my G-Grandfather who died in WWII, and Tribbet is the family name that hailed from Ireland and Wales. The rest of my 'story' I made up using historical facts and events, and then added in my own theatrical flair. I am even learning how to properly do a South Wales accent, to add to my other accents (Irish and South Philly). But, I'll let Robert tell you his own story:

"My name is Robert Tribbet and I was born in the port city of Newport, in South Wales. I am the fourth of five children, and I come from a coal mining family. My mother died in childbirth with James, my youngest brother, and he perished soon after. My father was killed in a mine collapse a few years ago in one of the mines in the hills above Newport.

By the time that my parents had passed, my older siblings had moved out of the house and had employment at different places around Newport, but could not afford to take me in. So, using the insurance money from father's death, along with the money from selling all of the furniture and the house, I bought a ticket on a ship leaving to America from Liverpool, England. I bid farewell to my siblings, and boarded the ship to the new world.

I arrived in New York in the spring of 1852, and started working for shipping companies, hiring out my strength to move crates and barrels to the trading ships that were plying the oceans of the world. Often I would see the tall clipper ships sailing off into the ocean, some for China, some for Brazil, and some for the west coast and San Francisco. After three years of working on the docks in New York, labor started dying down and slowing, due to new immigrants coming in and causing a scarcity of jobs. I had saved up enough money to buy me a passage to San Francisco, and soon took that voyage to find yet another new life in the west, which was rumored to be filled with land, opportunity, adventure, and gold.

Almost as soon as I stepped off of the boat, I was told that there simply was no more gold to be found like there was back in '49, and I was soon back to the hard drudgery of manual labor for minimum wages. As in New York, these jobs soon were taken from me, this time by Chinese immigrants who were coming into the city in droves. I tried to work in the saloons, gambling halls, and even tried my hand at iron working, but to no avail. I decided to head north to Oregon, to try my hand at farming in the fertile Willamette Valley. Arriving in fall of 1856, it was too late in the year to plant or even build a house that would last, so I stayed at a boarding house in Champoeg, a river town on the Willamette river, north of Salem.

As spring came,  I went to the west side of the valley, along the south fork of the Yamhill river, near the Grand Ronde Indian reservation. Once again, my luck failed me, and I was again reduced to poverty and took up cutting wood to earn my meals. I wandered at will, looking for day to day jobs, and on occasion begging. I finally wandered into Fort Yamhill, and asked if there was any work I could do for the soldiers keeping watch on the reservation.

While they didn't have any work I could do for them, I fell into conversation with some of the soldiers at the fort, and they told me about how they were well fed, well clothed, and stayed under a tight roof every night, and were paid thirteen dollars a month. They were members of the 4th United States Infantry Regiment, regulars, who had been in the army for most of their adult lives. Some had been in the late war with Mexico, and most had seen action against hostile indians in one place or another.

Having no better options, and being strong as a bull, I inquired into enlisting with them. I was told that "D" company, at Fort Yamhill, was at a full roster and did not need any more soldiers, but that either "F" or "G" companies, to the south at Fort Hoskins, would perhaps be in need of extra hands. After hiking down to Fort Hoskins, I made the same inquiries and after some paperwork, took the oath of allegiance to the Union and became a soldier in "G" company, 4th United States Infantry.

There is not much to tell about Fort life, it was a mixture of boredom, drill, sentry duty, and infrequent mail runs to Dallas. In early 1861, we learned that South Carolina had seceded from the Union, in protest of Abraham Lincoln's election to the presidency. Soon after South Carolina, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas all seceded, and later in the spring, Virginia, Tennessee, Arkansas, and North Carolina joined them, creating what was called the Confederate States of America.

Finally, on April 12th, 1861, the first violent blow was struck in Charleston harbor, at Fort Sumpter. Refusing to surrender to rebel forces, Major Anderson suffered a severe bombardment with the men of Fort Sumpter, and ultimately had to capitulate. After hearing this news, we in the regiment received orders to march south to California to help quell secession riots in San Bernardino, and then catch a ship to the east coast. We sailed to Panama, marched across part of it and then rode trains to the east coast of the isthmus, and caught another ship bound for Washington D.C.

Arriving too late to take part in the summer campaign, we have since settled in to our winter quarters and started drilling as a regiment along with our brigade, so we are thoroughly immersed in the laws and tactics of warfare once again.

Now, we are preparing for the spring offensive under General McClellan, where we will try and take Richmond once again. Lord only knows what will happen."


So, thats my 'story' as I have it thus far. Lame? Probably. Historically accurate? As close as I can get it. Well, it all improves with time.

Two weeks and one month.

Okay, we all know it had to come at some point, the countdown, that is.

This past week, I was hired by Amity Middle School to come out and do three presentations about
the American Civil War for them, for three 8th grade classes, altogether numbering about 68.

The only time it was sunny was when everyone was gone at lunch break, and right when I was packing up. Otherwise it was a fairly good rendition of a Fort Hoskins springtime day, with green grass sneakily covering up the mud that wound up all over my leathers, tents, and 8th graders who couldn't believe that I actually enjoyed sleeping on the ground with one blanket and my uniform for warmth.

At any rate, we had fun in its various forms,  and more importantly, I left more excited for my internship at Harpers Ferry NHP. You may be asking, 'well, why haven't you been excited about it before now?'. An understandable question, to be sure, especially if you know how I am in my day to day life.

I guess I would say that its still been a sort of surreal feeling, with me leaving my beloved Oregon to go across the country to live and work for 12 weeks. I'm still feeling a mix of emotions, mostly good, with me eager to go to get out of Oregon for a variety of reasons, and in some ways wanting it to be a longer internship, in some ways a shorter internship. For me as a reenactor, its hard to believe I'm actually doing this. For me as a person, I'm a little nervous. What will it be like? What will change, if anything, after this? Will I still want to work for the NPS after this internship? These questions, and others, are haunting my mind.

But for me, I guess I relax with thinking about why I love this hobby so very much.
First and foremost, it allows me to relive my nation's history with a great bunch of guys, who I would go to hell and back again with if they asked me to. Reenacting is my getaway, and the time where I socialize and have absolutely no worries on my mind, unless you count the wonderings as to if my tent mates are burning the salted pork again.

Second, it helps me to recreate myself, even for a few days each month.
I think myself overly critical of, well, me. I look back and see where there's been a mess, and I don't like it. I look in the mirror and I'm not impressed, because I know who i really am. Reenacting is an opportunity to create a whole new David Plett, with a whole different life. This isn't to say that my personality changes a whole lot, but my history does, in a way. In short, for a few days out of the month during the summer, I am allowed to forget myself and just plain have fun. There's no facebook, no cell phones, and the highest form of entertainment is hearing the wannabe comedians botch jokes at the civilian's camp talent show. There's so many ways to be critical of ourselves: how are my grades? am I doing a good job for my boss? how could I have made him/her love stay? The list is endless. For me, reenacting and living history is a way to escape all of that and just be me.

Thirdly, it allows me to have experiences that I never would have had otherwise. For example,
next friday, the North West Civil War Council (NCWC) will be conducting a live military funeral for an original Civil War veteran. No, the guy isn't more than 150 years old, he died in 1924, but his remains have been in storage since then, and the time has finally come to give him a proper burial in Willamette National Cemetery. This is a huge honor for me to do, because what we'll be doing is not reenacting in this instance. This is real. I will look forward to telling my children and grandchildren about this experience in the future, should I be blessed with that future.

Another experience I am looking forward to is next year, Lord willing. If I am able to raise the funds, I am hoping to attend the 150th anniversary reenactment of the battle of Gettysburg, in Pennsylvania. I am told this will probably be the largest reenactment I will see in my lifetime, and if I can, I don't want to miss it.

So, needless to say, I am now starting to be more excited about my internship, I'm not quite counting down the days and minutes, but its a sort of "I can't wait to get on the plane and go, I'm ready to go" sort of feeling. It'll be good to leave my home behind for a few weeks, sad to not see my friends for a while, to be sure, but then again, change is good. A chance to 'get away from it all' is good.

Oh, and fireflies. I've never seen a firefly in my life  before, and that is near the top of my list to see on the east coast. Hey, its the simple things in life, right?

Okay, I'm done rambling, I'll go back in my hole.
Until next time, toodlepip!