Civil War resurrected in Newport

By BRETT WARNKE
NEWPORT, Ft. Adams-It takes certain intensity in one's personality to slip on a wool uniform in the July heat before bivouacking next to a fire in an abandoned fort. And that is what over 200 Civil War enthusiasts did this past weekend at the nation's largest coastal defense facility, Ft.
Adams. The weekend's events included historical interpretation, a battle, a skirmish, historic displays, cooking, and encampment information.
The Civil War program was set in Ft. Adams, the 871,000 square foot defense fortress constructed in an age without hydraulics (and therefore by hand) between 1825 and 1857. The impregnable fortress never endured a hostile bullet and was built as a reaction to Newport's infamous occupation by British General George Clinton (1776-1779). Half the population of Revolutionary Newport--then the fifth largest city in the colonies--abandoned the city because of patriot loyalties, leaving the city to the Tories and the Bay to the whims of the British. Ft. Adams was built to ensure the defense of the nation's east coast.

Each summer the fort hosts a historical program. The Civil War weekend's reenactors each took upon roles, specific occupations, which they educated the public about in extraordinary detail. One of the reenactors, an engineer named "Major" James Duarte, staked out a position along the five-foot thick slate and granite walls which once housed thirty-seven cannons. "The balls were filled with black powder," he corrected, when questioned about dynamite. An engineer, according to Duarte, was the general's indispensable man.

“If you need a tower, or a design...if you need to create a sawmill or a bridge, who do you go to? The engineer! The engineer would tell the general where he's been, where he is, and how to get to where he's going."
They were also responsible for producing defense plans, roads, reconnoitering, and map-making. It was engineers, Duarte said, who used steam technology to surpass 32lb. cannon balls with 80-100 lb cannon balls. At the beginning of the Civil War there were less than fifty engineers in the country. Many like P.G. T. Beauregard, Joseph E. Johnston, and General Robert E. Lee were graduates of West Point who became commanders and used both paid and slave labor for their own engineering projects. Though the role was high-pressure, there were benefits. Engineers were given four horses and paid $86 a month, much better than a foot soldiers' $13 per month. Yet, to nearby Raymond and Marianne Germaine it was the Acting Assistant
Adjutant General, an intermediary between government and the army, who was the indispensable man.

"If you needed to find a soldier, to get a decision made or confirmation from the higher-ups-if you need to find or file a document or an order, who would you go to? The Adjutant General!" Without bureaucrats and clerks, Germaine argued, how could any decision
get passed along?
By midday Saturday the heat weighed like alp on the few exposed troops. Three "Confederates," Jacob Fish, Paul Maynard, and Mike Yutesher, laid drowsily in a meager tent on the south side of Ft. Adams, waiting for the approaching battle. To these twenty-somethings, troops were what the war was about. One soldier complained that his troops had a tougher time in last summer's battle than the others. And as expected, to these young men, the numbers of troops were what really made an army. "At a recent reenactment of Picket's charge, there were 9,000 Confederates and 6,000 Union troops. That was the real deal, with all those guys on the field. I think at Gettysburg there were 26,000 people!"
The various reenactors each have their own stories about how they started living the double life of a historical interpreter. Beth Singley of Massachusetts currently leads a twenty-five person Alabama regiment, organizing communications and an annual meeting. Years ago
she stumbled across a Civil War reenactment when her son was twelve and never looked back. "It's a great time; it's a family unit," she said. Others come because of the chance to teach, mentioning authors Shelby Foote, Bruce Canton, Edwin Bears, James MacPherson, and Ulysses S. Grant's memoirs.

"These reenactments give you a truer sense of the history," said Mike Flye, working as an ordnance sergeant. "The last soldier to die who fought in the Civil War made it until the 1950s. Without the real soldiers, younger people will need history they can touch. A kid might not be able to touch a 'real' 186 3 water canteen, but we've got a facsimile that he can handle."
"The Mayor of Coventry, Connecticut," his third summer at Ft. Adams, was also educating the public. "The Mayor," Ryley Blouin, received his political nickname from a middle school principal. His youthful appearance belies his adult manner and limitless memory. While his
grandfather, John O'Brien, a retired navyman was describing the history of "force multiplier" cannons and the change in firepower after the battle of Waterloo, the fourteen year old Mayor Blouin greeted a renewing audience with the history of an 1841 cannon, details about 'factory
fashion' weapons, and the weight and ferocity of "grape shot." Ryley was strictly business, "Everyone, please stand in this area so you can hear."

He corralled curious patrons with the efficiency of a sheepherder. There was no levity regarding materials either. The Mayor imperiously called out "Two hands, please!" as the lead ammunition was passed. The question of course arose: Where would a general be without proper artillery power? Perhaps it was the gunners who were the real indispensable men?

The narrator of Saturday's 2:30 battle, a former infantryman himself, would disagree. Outside Ft. Adams's walls, smoke billowed above howling, bugling Confederates and the Union's drumming "Bluebellies." One former US infantry soldier and reenactor narrated the events of the battle. Playing the role of both narrator and topographical engineer, the soldier
detailed why General "Stonewall" Jackson was so effective.

"It was a little known man who knew the ground-Jedediah Hotchkiss—who was largely responsible," said the soldier. "What does a general need to know? The ground. The terrain. Who tells him that? The topographical engineer! Without Hotchkiss, the battle might have been lost."

Clearly, this role was the most important.