The quiet of the camp is broken by the quick tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump of a quarter horse at full gallop. The rider, a union soldier, sits deep in his saddle as his steed thunders past the tents. On the far side of the field the animal begins to rear up, but the cavalry officer sits firm, guiding the brown beast into a sharp right turn approaching the camp once again.
The rider greets the two sentries as he stops his mount at the edge of the small encampment. The steed's nostrils flare wide and red trying hard to fill its lungs with the hot, humid air. Rays from the late spring sun beat down on man and beast and the first beads of perspiration begin their long journey down the brow.
A thunderous roar announces the presence of cannons on the small hill above fractions of a second before the force of the blast can be felt in the chest. The horse stands firm, oblivious to the chaos nearby.
The seriousness of the scene is broken by a series of gasps from a crowd of young people who have gathered to watch the soldiers. The soldiers are nothing more than actors putting on an elaborate show. Rick McCann and Al Fricke, both teachers at Hershey High School, play the role of union soldiers to former Hershey Middle School teacher Bob Watson's Johnny Reb.
For them, wearing the heavy, often uncomfortable uniforms of yesteryear are nothing more than a hobby, albeit one that requires a significant amount of time and money.
Their hobby brought them to Hershey Middle School's Civil War Day last Thursday. The now annual event brings the history lessons learned in school to life for students, giving them an up-close and personal view of life as a soldier during the Civil War.
Fricke and McCann were bitten by the reenactment bug five years ago. Like many people involved in the façade, an interest in history, specifically the Civil War, is to blame.
Watson caught the reenactment bug two years ago from Fricke and McCann. Now retired, he's embraced the hobby, participating in several Civil War events a month.
Fricke said he and McCann are lucky to make it on the field two times a year because of job obligations.
Ken Oberland, the union cavalryman, rides his 20-year-old quarter horse into battle several time each year, but it's a battle where the guns are unloaded. Most days he's a lineman from Maryland, but when he dons his uniform and leaps into the saddle he's a Major in the 5th New York Cavalry running courier missions on the front lines.
"When I started I was able to put myself on the field for $500," said Oberland, who started his hobby 20 years ago.
"Now it's about $1,000," he said. The cost is even higher for cavalrymen like himself.
A new McClellan cavalry saddle will set a participant back at least $700, add to that the cost of the horse - about $2,000 to buy or $200-300 to rent for a weekend, feed and tackand the cost to participate rises considerably.
Greg Eyler of Palmyra, John Kirby of Baltimore and Bill Cole of Cape May, NJ play with bigger guns.
The three men are part of an artillery crew, complete with a historically accurate replica of a Civil War-era cannon.
Not exactly middle schoolers themselves, the job requires less marching, although the role historically carries greater risks. The crews manning the Howitzer cannons were often the first targets of enemy sharpshooters.
Playing the part takes a bigger chunk out of the wallet, too.
"There are at least six places in the US and Canada that make artillery and cannons," Eyler said. The average cannon runs about $20,000, he said. By trying to stay as true to history as possible, reenactors often suffer some of the same hardships as the historical warriors. With their heavy uniforms, the heat can be more dangerous than their weapons.
"You've got to stay hydrated," Watson said. "We drink Gatorade and water."
"We're marching, climbing over the walls. You've got to be in shape," he said. Perhaps it's irony then that the concerns of today's reenactors are echoed in the truth of history.
"The lives of the soldiers were incredible. More people died of diseases than bullets," Fricke said. "You can't recreate that, but you can try."
Joshua Etterman can be reached at (717) 533-2900 ext. 18 or via e-mail: jetterman@hersheychron.com.
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