In my last column I talked briefly about what prompts an otherwise sane, middle-aged man to don 18th Century French military garb and go about firing blanks at other also normally sane middle-aged men dressed as British at various French & Indian War reenactments. I think the operative word was "fun". This time I'm going to ramble a bit and try to address a few questions such as how we determine casualties, the reliability of the flintlock musket, what it feels like to stand (or kneel) in a firing line, and , last but not least, some of the other fun stuff in which we get involved as reenactors.

First you may ask, how come I decided on such a dumb name for this column. Well, it is an oblique reference to my typical performance on the battlefield: I die a lot. It is also a good jumping-off point to address the first two subjects of casualties and musket reliability.

How Do You Determine Who Gets Shot?

Whenever a battle is to be fought (or a "tactical" as we seasoned veterans are wont to say), there is usually a morning meeting called for all of the officers and sergeants who will be commanding on either side. During this meeting, it is decided which side is to win and which side is to lose. Specific tactical deployments are discussed, a broad outline of the ebb and flow of the forthcoming battle is drawn up, and any specific plans for "hand-to-hand" combat or other such special stunts are approved and choreographed:

"OK, Rogers' Rangers and the militia will advance into the clearing and skirmish with the Indians. The Green Bay Marines will reinforce the Indians, kill the militia, and drive back Rogers' Rangers. Then the Royal Americans and the Highlanders will advance and drive all before them until they are checked and cut to pieces by the Detroit Marines and the French regulars. Any questions?"

"Yeah. How do I get out of this chicken-#@ &P outfit?"

And so it goes. Each side goes onto the field knowing who will win and lose and with an idea as to which side will be taking more casualties. At an appropriate time in the battle, people can elect to "take a hit" and fall to the ground pretending to be either dead or wounded. If a unit has not taken sufficient casualties it is the commander's job to tell the men how many need to drop on the next volley. He can either request volunteers to be casualties or else pick those who are to "die."

"Old Betsy" and Battlefield Viability

Another way casualties are determined is by flintlock reliability, or lack thereof. Flintlocks are notorious for their rates of misfires. I think I read somewhere that, historically, they failed to fire 20% - 30% of the time. The reasons for this range from a clogged hole, to damp powder or a bad flint. Other factors such as fouling of the musket barrel with spent powder, improper priming, or a badly tuned lock can cause problems too. On the other hand, I've seen people get off sixty consecutive shots without mishap. I should be so lucky. I think my record is fifteen.

It goes without saying that if you have a handsome firing line of formidible fusiliers or gargantuan grenadiers and no one's mojo is working, it paints a rather ludicrous picture. Can you spell "chumps" ? Thus those who are experiencing ignition problems are encouraged (should I say ordered?) to take a hit if they can't get their muskets to fire. During my first year as a reenactor, I had plenty of trouble getting Alouetta, my name for my musket when I'm not swearing at her, to fire. Therefore I spent many a day on the battlefield inspecting the soil from up close. Hence the name, "Dead Grenadier".

Creative Dying or "Nifty Falls"

OK, now we're to the point where either our musket has turned into an expensive war club, or the commander has told us to take a hit, or maybe it's just too hot, we're tired, partied too late last night, or the lumbago is flaring up. In any event, it's time to die. What's the best way to end one's martial career on the field of honor and look good at the same time? Dean West, the "Reluctant Fusilier", and I were reminiscing a while ago on one of our favorite childhood games: "Nifty Falls".

When we were playing army or Cowboys and Indians, with our respective pals, we used to take great delight in seeing who could die real "neat". We would go running and getting shot and flop dramatically on the ground or else fall from alledgedly high places such as tree limbs, or in my case, the hay loft, screaming as we plummeted. [Editor: perhaps Monsieur Mitchell could be persuaded to give us a demonstration of a few nifty falls at the next SYWA convention]

Unfortunately, what worked as a child is not so appropriate for adults. Unless you want to be accused of showboating, you usually go down with a lot more discretion. Shrieking,flainling wildly about, staggering fifty yards before falling, and the liberal spewing of arterial blood are frowned upon. Nevertheless, I still think we could inject more drama into dying than we usually do. It's too bad we don't have more reenactors attending these events. Then we could have an entire rank fall when the enemy gets off a good volley, or group of five guys drop in one area when the artillery scores a hit. Maybe we could even do nifty vignettes for the public's amusement such as impersonating Benjamen West's painting of the death of Wolfe. Nah!

When a French regular soldier takes a hit, the direction in which he falls is determined somewhat by the equipment he carries. If he falls to his right side, he may land on his own musket, possibly damaging it. If he falls to his left, he will land on his sword, possibly damaging himself. This leaves falling forward or backward as the two safest alternatives. Many prefer to fall backwards because if they are face up they can watch the subsequent progress of the battle. You can see these types lolling on the ground propped up on one elbow as if taking a siesta. Such fellows don't take being dead seriously enough, and I have no use for them. Others, myself included, prefer to pitch forward onto their stomachs. This has two advantages. One, it keeps the sun out of your eyes in case your tricorne should fall off. Two, it enables the reenactor first to sink to his knees before toppling forward, lessening the chance of injury. No one wants to get hurt dying, afterall.

Once Dead...

Once dead, the reenactor is confronted with a lot fewer decisions to make. The most convincing thing to do is nothing. It is unseemly for a dead guy to be wiggling around unless, of course, he's only wounded. This is one of those moments to stop and smell the roses, or rather the clover, plantain, or previously invisible dog droppings that you just landed in. For those of us dead who become thirsty in the hot sun, there are usually civilian "nurses" running about with canteens to refresh us. They are usually female and rather nice looking. This situation gives us single guys a chance to meet new people, maybe ask for a date. Being shot has its advantages.

A Continual Roar of Musketry or "Oh God, Please Don't Let Me Screw Things Up!"

For those of us not dead yet, the firing line can be a pretty busy and scary place. Amid the smoke, flame, and noise of muskets discharging, we stand elbow to elbow in lines, sometimes three ranks deep, trying to fire our weapons in well-timed volleys. With all the noise of the musketry and drums, we often strain our ears to hear the commands of our officers. There are eleven separate commands and positions - even more if we were using live rounds - involved in firing a musket using the 1755 French Arms Drill. We practice them meticulously in our drills in order to look competent during the tacticals.

The upshot of this is that we are so busy trying to pay attention to the commands, load and fire our weapons, and perform our battlefield evolutions without deteriorating into a disorganized mob, that we can hardly notice what the other side is doing. That's what officers are for. Only dimly aware of what's going on in front of us, we would be totally oblivious to what is happening on our flanks and rear, save for the vigilence of the officers.

Marching

I have a few other personal observations concerning battlefield manouvers. I never knew how difficult it was to wheel a line of men until I became a reenactor. Our lines are rarely more than a dozen or so men across, and attempts to wheel even that small an amount have often seen the line break into several parts. Imagine the difficulty of wheeling an entire 600 man battalion or multiple battalions on a real field of battle with bullets flying and people dying!

The shoes we wear have smooth leather soles. What might normally appear to be a negotiable slope to a person with running shoes or hiking boots can be a nightmare to climb with our antique shoes which keep slipping on the grass. A well-formed line quickly becomes ragged if the slope is too steep. No wonder hobnail boots were invented. Similarly, trying to move as part of a line through a wooded area can cause an already fatigued soldier to lose his religion. Sword hilts and cartridge boxes love to hang up on saplings and low-hanging limbs continually threaten to sweep the muskets from our shoulders when we carry them in the port arms position.

You can draw your own conclusions, if any, from all this with respect to the war game table. Keep in mind that what we do as reenactors and wargamers isn't real. The last person to have experienced real Frederician warfare died early in the last century. We can only try to create a very pale reflection of it.

From the Face of Battle to the Fog of Conviviality

After the battle has ended, the dead have risen, the flags have been lowered, the armies have marched off and been dismissed, and the public - previously unenlightened, but now thoroughly knowledgeable about all aspects of 18th Century warfare thanks to our efforts - has shuffled on home, we each can indulge in our own unique forms of post-event entertainment. This is when we get to lighten up, kick back, shoot the breeze, party down, and/or consort with the enemy.

As the evening fades, we eat, drink, make merry and swap tales and gossip. Comrades all, French , British, civilians, Indians, Militia and Black Robe, all bask in the afterglow of another fine event. In my next column I plan to discuss the proposed activities for the 250th anniversary of the seige and capture of Louisburg. There is a reenactment scheduled there for late July, 1995 and our unit has just been invited!