Weidrich’s Battery is based in Albion, PA and is made up of men, boys and the women that are attached to them by blood or marriage.  Steven McNally is the sergeant and leader of the group, and is also the one who owns the three cannons the battery utilizes – two Mountain Howitzers and the three inch ordinance he towed behind his mini van to Gettysburg.  Steven has been involved with reenacting for 20 years – this reenactment marked his 20th anniversary, as well as his 36th wedding anniversary with his wife, Allene.  They have spent more wedding anniversaries at Gettysburg than Allene would care to remember, with the 130th anniversary of Gettysburg being their first reenactment.  It was at that reenactment, which they attended as spectators, where Steven "got the bug" and upon returning home, found an unit to join himself.  However, to begin the hobby requires a large investment up front; in order to reenact, you need to procure all the gear all at once and cannot cobble together an impression as you go along. Steven sold lumber in order to make the money to begin the hobby and after he was outfitted, the rest of his family joined up in various fashions depending on their age and gender.  Listen to Steven and his children discuss their history of reenacting here.

 

The McNally's three children – Ian, Kellen and Megan – also reenacted while they were growing up and returned to the battlefield (for the men) and the camp fire (for Megan) for the 150th anniversary reenactment.  Ian also brought his wife, Renee, and his two sons, Nevin and Gavin.  Gavin was a registered reenactor even before he was born; he is listed in the commemorative program of the event as “Baby McNally” for he was not named at the time of registration almost a year ago.[1]

 

Also in the unit were the Dugays joined up after their teenaged son, Robert, became interested in the hobby and Steven McNally would take him with his family to reenacting events.  Seeing how much Robert enjoyed it, and wanting to spend time with him, Robert's parents joined the unit about a year after he did.  Robert was not the only young boy who joined the unit on his own.  Over the years, Steven has taken many young men into the unit, affectionately described to me as "The McNally Home for Wayward Boys," and through the hobby has taught them discipline, responsibility, camping skills and about history.  As a former Boy Scout leader, this kind of mentorship comes naturally to Steven.  He sees a natural connection between the Boy Scouts and reenacting and many men who were involved in the Boy Scouts and then aged out of it can be found on the staged battlefields.

 

There were some men in the battery who were enticed into the hobby after seeing, and getting to fire, the cannon at local events.  In this artillery battery, there was no talk of ancestors who served in the Civil War, and thus the impetus to reenact to preserve and honor their memory was not there.  The typical answer when asked why they reenact was, “Because I like to fire the cannon.”   I also repeatedly heard the phrase “boys and their toys,” said with a knowing smile, as a reason for reenacting.  I found this to be a strange infantilization of the self while at the same time infantilizing one of the most grotesquely phallic pieces of military weaponry; a phraseology made even more perverse as the eminence of a battery rests upon the size of their cannon.

 

As I was in their camp, I spent the majority of my time with Weidrich's Battery but did not participate in a battle with them until the last day for Pickett's Charge.  The previous days, I had watched them march in formation for dress parade and head to the battles with their cannon and limber ( a two-wheeled cart that allows the cannon to be towed; also can store supplies such as, in our case, black powder charges and watermelon slices) being towed behind a pickup truck, but stayed behind in the camp to help out or joined up with an infantry unit for the battle.  The day of Pickett's Charge, I was ready to be the one riding on the limber, and looking forward to seeing the artillery in action from the battlefield itself.  The sky was clear and the temperature in the mid-90s when we got the black powder charges out from under the cot in the main tent and loaded up the rest of the gear.  Sitting atop the limber on the way into battle, I was on display for the spectators who lined the dirt road that led to the battlefield armed with their cameras.  The feeling of being a Civil War soldier on my way to "see the elephant" was not nearly as palpable as the unsettling feeling that I was not "passing" and was being recognized as a female, despite my best embodied performance otherwise.  There was an odd carnival-like atmosphere as we made our way to the field, despite the fact that we were about to reenact an event where thousands of men lost their lives.  In those moments on the limber, I did not feel transported, and I did not feel as if I was honoring or paying tribute to those who lost their lives during the battle we were about to depict. As much talk as there is about commemoration and the call to "keep history alive" through such spectacles, more than anything I felt excited and nervous for the battle - much like I do before I take the stage.

 

Having spent several days with the unit and having proved myself to the men, I earned the honor of the rank of a private for the battle - and a new name.  I was christened Pvt. Hail, and I was going to fire the cannon at the Rebs.  But I was not thinking about the Rebs or about the battle itself - in fact, there was little talk at all about the actual battle we were portraying and the history of the event - I was just repeating a mantra of "please do not misfire" over and over to myself.  After being shown several techniques for firing the cannon, and intently watching the other gun crews and their own style of firing, I waited behind the limber for the call of "independent fire," when the cannons do not have to fire in a certain order or at a specified count and walked up to the gun ready for my grand finale of the weekend.  Wrapping the cord behind my back to use the torque of my body as leverage to pull the primer out which would spark the black powder charge that had been loaded in for me, I looked out upon the field and at the confederate troops coming towards us and the spectators behind me and mustered all the concentration that anyone has ever used to fire a cannon and let it rip.  My first thought after my successful fire - "I feel like a real man."

 

It was an incredible reaction for me to have.  I felt powerful, strong and dangerous. I now understood why the men keep coming back - the (fire)power over others and the opportunity to show masculine prowess in a deeply-rooted American martial culture.  Despite the fact that I would never be able to last more than a day in Basic Training, at that moment I felt I could be in the military and I could take on any enemy. All this, and I was shooting blanks.

 

 

 

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[1] Gavin was not the only “Baby [Last Name]” registered for this reenactment and there were children reenactors younger than his 7 months there as well.