The tiniest things take on greater meaning

[flattop32355]

Disclaimer: I've never served in the military, nor done an extended period of what could be considered "doing without" in my life.

Most of us are used to doing the standard Friday night to Sunday afternoon event schedule: Drive in and set up on Friday, reenact Saturday and Sunday morning, gone home by 3-4 pm Sunday. Our minds get acclimated to the routine.

Throw in an extra day of activity, and our reenactor rhythms get thrown off schedule; you feel like you should be going home now, not tomorrow, especially if you've made major effort early on. The third day feels like you've been there all week.

We started At High Tide with the pre-event march. Between the heat and humidity, the four miles felt like twenty; clothing soaked completely through with sweat, draining to the bottom of canteens between rest stops, balancing the desire to be able to finish it with the desire to just be finished. I have never heard more men use the word "spent" during a reenactment than I did that afternoon.

Perhaps because of that early exertion and the continued oppressive weather that sapped what little energy one could muster, making just sitting still a misery, I began to notice something that I believe may well have been true for the original men, as well as all those similarly engaged throughout history: Comfort could be found in the tiniest things, in the smallest of ways.

I discovered that the mist generated by ice water in a small tin cup held just above your face while lying down was like air conditioning for the entire soul.

I saw a veteran reenactor take almost childlike joy in the taste of a single piece of dried apricot.

I saw the surprised expressions and true gratitude of two men in our company when they were awarded special recognition for outstanding service that day: each was given a small, foraged fresh peach. You'd have thought they'd each been given a bar of gold.

Under other circumstances, none of the above would have registered more than a passing notice, but under those conditions, each was a momentary comfort and respite from the shared endurance of the day.

The significance these things took on was a revelation for me.

[Spinster]

Congrats Doc B!

You have just noted one of the prime effects of a 4 day event. No, I take that back, a near to full three day event. You hit the ground marching Friday morning, with maximum exertion, and had little real down time until Sunday evening.

And its just about at that point that things truely begin to jell. Whether soldier or civilian, folks fall into a routine division of labor, shared hardship, shining joy at small things. Modern life receeds more often, life in the moment is more real. For you, with a son at your side, all the more so.

And, you'll find yourself looking for those opportunities that are more extended. That brief moment of shining joy, of being grateful, is right addictive.

[Sgt_Pepper]

A wonderful post, Mr. Biederman, thank you. It inspires me to ask everyone to imagine what the effect of even a small gift from home, something from family, friends and loved ones, or even total strangers, must be like on our military people serving abroad.

[Tom Scoufalos]

While I cannot compaire my weekend exertions to Doc B's, I have had those types of experiences in the past (most memorable off the cuff: the sublime enjoyment of frozen canned pears and hot coffee at a past W64 event), and they are one of the top reasons I enjoy this hobby. They can be had in non-immersive events and even in the most abject of farb-fests, and teach you things you will never learn from a book and for me provide a great reservoir of memories.

[RichLather]

A most wonderful post, Bernie. I think many of us out there in those woods can take memories of their own small "magic moments" borne of things just like you described.

For me one of them was near the end of the Friday battlefield march, at Sach's Covered Bridge over Marsh Creek. We had literally just crossed it when the skies began to open up with a pelting rain shower--the kind that is too heavy to find comforting when one is already saturated with sweat. The column backed up and made room for all of the approximately 170 men to find shelter under the bridge's roof until the rain subsided.

Only later did I learn that this restored bridge had been used as part of the Confederate retreat after the battle.

[OVI]

Waiting out the rain shower under the cover of Sachs Bridge was a real bonus for me.
Didnt get the camera out tho. I was afraid Meryl Steep would show up and then I'd be forced to go home with her.

Kent Dorr - Ohio
"Slab Bacon Boys Mess"

[RichLather]

There are worse fates than that. Check your email to see if the photo I sent you worked.

Another small moment for me came Saturday night after the storm rolled in. It was past dark, with the only illumination coming from the small campfires and candles, along with the occasional lightning flash (not to mention the two prolonged strikes that lit up the whole canopy above us with purple-white light).

I was curled up as best I could be inside my shelter half (at 6'4" my calves and feet easily stick out the side of a shelter half), its canvas drooping in the rain. I propped it up from the inside with a stout twig, allowing me all the room I needed.

It was there as I huddled underneath my wool blanket, praying that my sweat-soaked clothing would dry out by morning, that I looked out at dozens of men under their own shebangs who were probably wondering the same thing. Not in their cars, not running off to hotel rooms, just resolute in their mild suffering.

It was a satisfying thing to experience.