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Page1 - Camp, Sunday Battle
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A letter of musings from Azzit Mightabin near Gainesville, Florida

Stalwart farmers along with their families make up most of this camp along the Santa Fe river. Nearby Poe Springs provides them and their gangly cavalry with fresh water. The cooking fires are set high yet the children run about and dodge about the tents and lean-to's set up by this self-titled "Alachua Homeguard". They would not be mistaken for a formidable, organized army yet their numbers include a couple grizzled old Mexican War veterans who have a smidgeon of discipline and a dollop of military knowledge. To be sure, it mightabin the welcome smell of cooking that drew me in, but everyone can recognize the wanderers need to get a good nights sleep now and then. Sleeping alone in the woods ain't what it used to be, what with bands of renegades and eager patrols roaming about, even in the most inhospitable places let alone the high dry ground where a traveller would chose to unroll his blankets for the night. And it don't hurt knowing there are bright-eyed lads out on picket through the night to make this wandering man sleep soundly. So I lay quietly, alone with my thoughts before surrendering to the sandmen.

In the darkness I pondered the sorry news I recently received. My home is no more. To be truthful the buildings still stand but my long travels throughout the land have taken their toll on Mrs. Mightabin and she has returned to her folk in the north and left word for me not to follow her. This war has overturned the earth in more ways than one. I remember the vows we spoke and I remember when the preacher said "What God has joined let no man put asunder". I reckon we never thought of what a war might do to it. The beaten plowshares have split and divided families, friends, and communities and may be the final ruin of this earth. How long must the common people suffer while the politicians take an unfair share for their own bulging coffers. Can it be that there hasn't been enough flowing blood spilt to quench the blaze of the fire breathing abolitionist? And yet see the fine dandy's parade about the square knowing that the North seeks nothing but total subjugation and the complete ruin of our fair lands. I try to remain impartial in my reporting, telling what I see with an even keel, but if it is true that the Confederacy just wants to be left alone in peace, why cannot we all live in freedom as two great nations upon this vast continent?

Next morning, in the hazy and dim morning light I see contented couples begin the morning chores together and the heart of Azzit Mightabin begins to hurt. I steel myself and rise - for only the darkness of night can hide such sad reflections. I try to find out what these people may know about the conflict but find myself giving more information of battlefields up north than I receive of battles here. They do emphatically inform me that they are bound and sworn to protect this part of Florida from blue-bellies rumored to be marching inland towards Gainesville. I am not so sure they will see any enemy - let alone be able to stand and fight against a organized army but I am willing to be, and have been, wrong.

What was wrong was - unannounced and fully unwelcome they (Federals) attacked. We had only received an incomplete absolution by the Reverend Roger (the finest German parson about these parts). We had yet barely finished singing 'Amazing Grace' when a smallish group of Federals, some with that devils' gun, the Henry, disturbed our peaceful Sabbath. Startled into temporarily abandoning our camps we receded into the trees where our brave Guard formed battle lines. Advancing on two fronts, one up against the Federal cavalry and the other facing those awful repeaters, they made slow, steady progress across a field. The field had a few scrubby tree's and made great cover for the Federal infantrymen and one of those new-fangled Gattalin guns. The Gattalin would've sure turned Reverend Roger into a "burial master" if it had not blown up - wounding the soldiers arming the infernal thing. On the other front - numerous gopher turtle holes that pocked the battlefield seemed to hamper the Union cavalry who eventually had to ride double - taking flight to escape our faithful defenders who gleefully gave chase.

A couple hours of blue-belly running yielded up the most delightful treasures - coffee, sugar, boot black, scarves, arms, and a few newspapers were brought back to camp to fill out our Sunday leisure. I must admit for a small-scale battle - the action here rivals some of the great campaigns that I have witnessed. I suffered another gentle evening spent with these good folk and families and then went on my way - back home to seek out what was left - to celebrate the Christmas season with friends - and then to seek out a new year, a new adventure, and maybe a new life.

Sincerely,
Azzit Mightabin

For additional reenacting information go to
Florida Reenactors Online - a website that regularly features some of my photos and articles and where you can find many links, monthly newsletters and many other resources about the American Civil War and reenacting that conflict.