Armed with a camera and a gazillion batteries, I set off on my mission. I knew that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I was going to get as many decent pictures as I could take. Having never been to a battle reenactment, especially one of this size (over 3,000 reenactors), I had no real idea where to point the camera.The plan was to make-up for the missed battle shots with camp photos, which I have a little experience shooting at Ft. Scott. Between the two battle reenactments (one in the morning and a different one in the evening), I found myself spending most of my time in the Confederate camp. This was because of two reasons; First, Ft. Scott was never controlled by the Confederacy, so this was my first chance to shoot the gray uniforms, and second, laziness- the Union camp was at the top of a hill that I had no real desire to climb very often. So due to opportunity and inertia I wondered amidst the Rebels, and although I spent more than an hour roaming around the camp, I was very disappointed with the photos I captured there. In fact, to my amazement, I ended up with better battle photos than camp photos; and I believe that the results were greatly effected by the way I dressed. I've always seen myself as a Yankee, so for me, the natural choice of hat was the blue Union kapi; however, this meant that I was slightly out of fashion to be hanging out in the Confederate States campground. I had entered enemy territory at my own risk, and the outcome was bewildering. As expected, there were jokes that I was wearing the wrong color, and some troops even went as far as dueling over who got to take care of 'them spies' or which old geezer was to marry me as my unhappy punishment. Even without their jokes, I knew that I didn't really belong there and kept my distance, and this seen in most of my pictures. This slight frustration over not getting good shots was no real mystery, I was wearing their opponent's hat and had placed myself on the outside, but what truly surprised me were the soldiers who acted as complete southern gentlemen. They welcomed me into their campfires, answered my questions, and even let me hold their weapons. Up till now I had seen Confederates as the bad guys of the Civil War, rebels who wanted to keep their slaves and throw off their government. I have learned that this thought is grievously wrong, that the soldiers on both sides had stories, passions, and beliefs. There are, and always will be, more than one reason to go to war, yet in the end, the winners become heroes and the losers are seen as criminals. I'm not saying that the wrong side won, I'm just saying that we have wronged the losers. We should not write off all who wore a gray uniform as traitors or wave their flag around as open defiance of others beliefs or feelings.
I am still a Yankee at heart, but I have a new respect for the Confederates. To me the color gray can no longer be seen as just black and white.
