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As I mentioned at the conclusion of the last chapter, I have been to Prairie Grove, Arkansas at least 12 times in the last 20 years. The State Historic Site began to routinely host an event every other year at this park. In 1982, the park began a tradition of holding the event on or near its anniversary date-in early December. The weather at this time of year in Arkansas is hard to predict. One year the temperature would be very mild-an 'indian summer'. The next year might see a half inch of snow on the ground. Reenactors always brought greatcoats and wool mittens regardless to Prairie Grove to prepare for any eventuality. It became fashionable later on for some guys to sport rabbit fur hats. 1982 was the 120th anniversary of the battle, but I will not bore you with an account here. I will offer a couple links to some Prairie Grove information at the conclusion of this chapter.
1982 was the year right after doing the BLUE AND GRAY TV-Movie. Those of us that participated in the production had some stories to tell as we pointed out some of the landmarks that were prominently featured in the movie-such as the Henry House, where granny got blown out of the 'fart sack' during the Bull Run scene. When the house 'blew-up' during the filming, it was actually a false wall built next to the real house that fell. The minor charge blew off boards and such that were already loosened. Potting soil and other dust were combined with the charge to give the illusion of the force of the explosion. Hollywood later dubbed in the loud explosive noise. In other words, the house that was now standing on the hill here in Prairie Grove was unharmed when we revisited it a year later. The TV-Movie was aired during the spring of '82, so by this time we all had seen it and had our own criticism's of it. A favorite line from the movie was used by one of the company wag's during the battle reenactment when he exclaimed,"I wet my pants!"
1982 was the first time we had ever done a tactical. Bi-partisan judges awarded points to those units who met objectives within a certain time frame. Points were also awarded for unit performance in drill competition. The federals made up more than enough points in the overall contest to win the day. Don't remember if we got a prize in the form of a ribbon or a case of beer. Cal Kinzer was commander of a unit called the Union Rifles. They were mostly a collection of Arkansans, Oklahomans, and Texicans who slept on the cold hard ground without the benefit of tents. They were odd ducks, but ok. We later began referring them as "Union Tentless." Cal was also Park Superintendent of the Prairie Grove State site at this time. Whatever his short-comings, he organized an exciting weekend. Beside the tactical and scripted battle, we had a baseball game, the most authentic soldier with under one and a half year's experience in the hobby (John Maki won second place), plus a musket loading contest. Believe it or not, I won first place. I have the plaque at home. I had been practicing for some weeks with my Enfield and won the contest by an eye lash. My closet competition, an old fart from the Union Rifles, dropped his musket cap at the moment of truth. Captain Dick and Higgy were at my side and bear witness to this feat. I had ripped the skin of my hand during the overzealous handling of my musket, but it only required a minor binding with a rag.
Saturday night, someone came up with the bright idea to do a Zulu charge against the 'johnny' camp. The motion picture ZULU with Michael Caine was quite popular with many of the Holmes Brigader's; in fact many of us had a video tape copy of the movie. To quote lines from the movie was quite the novelty. Towards nightfall, about a full company of us gathered near the Latta Barn with our musket ramrods on hand as spears. We began the Zulu warrior chant, and started gyrating our bodies in a wild frenzy. After about a full five minutes of this spastic behavior, we broke into a mad dash toward the Confederate camp-about a hundred yards away, waving our ramrods high overhead. The 'johnnies' didn't quite know what to make of this lunatic display from two dozen screaming yanks. They simply grinned back at us, meanwhile sipping from their tin cups of "Who Hit John." A final incident occurred that same evening when several of us went a few miles to the CLUB WEST. It was a red-neck joint and many of the local bar-flies seemed a little miffed at seeing 'blue-bellies' come into the place. Fortunately we escaped bodily harm because of the presence of members of Shelby's 5th Missouri Cavalry who spoke up in our behalf. For the rest of the night however, we did not go to the restroom without taking a pard.
Read an account from the Holmes Brigade Dispatch following the '82 event at Prairie Grove
Another tactical was planned. The scenario involved sealed orders and racing around the park for a prize of 1,000 pre-rolled cartridges. At one point during the tactical when we paused after a lengthy march, Color Sergeant Frank Kirtley USMC, broke ranks to do some pushups. While most of us were winded, Frank barely broke a sweat. He was one tough marine and did not hesitate to show his manliness when called upon. Unfortunately, the Union boys lost this tactical. During the weekend, there was a ceremony up at the visitor's center for an old boy who's pappy fought at Prairie Grove. Don't recall which side his pappy fought on. Both Union and Confederate units formed up while some words were said by somebody important.
During the battle reenactment-in which we charged up and down "Henry House Hill"-the Holmes Brigade flag got ripped. Don't recall if it snagged on a branch or bush, but I pointed it out to Frank who just kind of shrugged. Moments later, I found myself in possession of the colors as Frank took a hit and Captain Dick ordered me to take them off the field. So I retreated out of harms way, then within moments the rest of the Brigade followed-stumbling and slithering down the slick grassy knoll.
It was at the 1984 Prairie Grove that we started the Holmes Brigade toast. 1984 had been a banner year for the Holmes Brigade. We had excelled in a number of areas and as a unit Captain Dick wanted to honor us by offering a jug of peach brandy. In his own words:"...we've kicked Rebel ass in every field situation we had. I'm damn proud of all of you for getting out and doing it..."
1986 was the year we tangled with the 9th Texas. As before, we had the unpleasant task of charging up and down Henry House Hill. It had rained and a mist was still in the air. As we retreated, the colors got caught in a bush. Most of us were at the bottom of the hill, when I looked up and saw Frank Kirtley in the face of some greyback. Bill Fannin was trying to untangle the colors from the brush while Kevin Ellmer of the 9th Texas kept screaming," We've captured your flag! We've captured your flag!" Something inside me exploded. I yelled at no one in particular, "THE COLORS!!", and sprinted my fat body back up the hill until I was in the face of a Confederate officer. For a moment I thought it was 1862. Luckily, Bill Fannin calmed things down, and the situation was contained. But the flag had some new battle scars.
Each succeeding visit to Prairie Grove from here on out was about the same as the last. The battle reenactment's remained basically the same-the fight held on top of or near Henry House Hill. There was a large field spread out below the hill-open all the way to the Illinois River (just a stream really about a mile away). The park owned a piece of property about a quarter-mile square. It was flat enough were cavalry could romp about and infantry could line up shoulder to shoulder. Authentic recreations of the original fight was usually held on Sunday afternoon's around the hill. Generic or fabricated skirmishes were usually held on Saturday in which the wide open spaces could be used and everybody could participate. Unlike out in the East, not every battle or skirmish in the Trans Mississippi West was an infantry, artillery, and cavalry duel. To justify having a maximum effort event at any site-especially in this region-required one day set aside to allowed all branches of the military to participate. This was true for nearly every reenactment we participated in and is true today.
As I've stated, each return to Prairie Grove was about the same as the last. It would be useless for me now to talk about each succeeding year as I have done up to 1986. To be honest, the visits to Prairie Grove just about all run together after '86, so I will use the remainder of this page to give you some highlights from the last 12 years:
taking a dump on Henry House Hill and wiping with a reproduction Civil War greenback....
eating plum pudding....
walking through the fire pit....
slicing Andy Cole's cheek open with shrapnel from a spent musket cap....
meeting Black Civil War soldier's who were in the movie GLORY....
eating Frito Pie....
unplugging Fred Norris' electric blanket....
going to the motel across the street to eat breakfast....
seeing a reenactor on horseback in a full Klu Klux Klan outfit....
Roger Daltrey-all-fucked-up....
For now, I will conclude this chapter about Prairie Grove, Arkansas. Despite the fact that I may have omitted some things about the event in this telling, Prairie Grove has always been worth the drive and a source of much fun. I may revisit this chapter later to add some more thoughts. Of course I'm hoping some of my comrades in arms might have some things to add to this page or stir up a memory I've forgotten. For now I will advance to Chapter 11 where I will begin discussing the year 1983 and my role with the MCWRA.