Remembrance Day, 2005

Today is November 19, the 142nd anniversary of the Gettysburg Address. The anniversary has really taken on a life of its own in Gettysburg.

Every year on Remembrance Day, as the anniversary is known, there is a parade of reenactors honoring the soldiers who fought at Gettysburg. I have never been there for the Remembrance Day parade, nor does the event hold even the slightest, tiniest little bit of interest for me.

I’m not a “living historian,” whatever that means (I say “whatever that means” because I have yet to come up with a definition of the term that more that two people agree with). Three very close friends of mine portray individuals who were at Gettysburg. One portrays Lt. Gen. James Longstreet. One portrays Col. Thomas C. Devin, and the third portrays Col. William Gamble. All three were there today, although I doubt that the fellows who portray Devin and Gamble participated in the parade–they usually set up shop on McPherson’s Ridge and educate people about John Buford’s stand on July 1. I’m not sure about General Longstreet. Because they do first-person impressions of figures who played significant roles in the Battle of Gettysburg, this is understandably an important event for them.

I’m also not a reenactor. I won’t get into the issue of farbs and realism. Suffice it to say that I am 6’3″+, I weigh more than 275 pounds, and I’m generally a big guy. I’m also 44 years old and have more gray hair than brown at this point in my life. Your average Civil War cavalryman was 5’3″, weighed 130 pounds, and was in his 20’s. I can’t even remember the last time I weighed 130 pounds, but it was probably in middle school. I also haven’t been on a horse since I was a child. Yet, my primary interest is Civil War cavalry. Given my own limitations, I would be one of the guys that people laugh at as reenactors. Hence, being painfully aware of my own limitations, I choose to avoid the issue. ‘Nuff said about reenacting.

I’m a guy who researches and writes, and who studies the war and the men who fought for something that they believed in. Consequently, the anniversary of Lincoln’s great speech–arguably THE greatest speech ever given by a politician–has never held much interest for me, even though the speech itself is compelling and fascinating. I absolutely hate being in Gettysburg when there are huge crowds there, and this, along with the anniversary of the battle, is one of two times per year when the crowds are immense. I get very uncomfortable in those kinds of crowds there, simply because the town does not have the infrastructure to handle it. You can’t park your car. You can’t get a table in a restaurant. The sidewalks are jammed. I could go on, but you get the idea. For me, it’s not a pleasant place to be at those times, and I try to avoid it all costs. That especially includes the anniversary fo the battle. So, I’ve just never had any interest in being there for Remembrance Day, and this year was certainly no exception.

To my friends who were there–I hope you had a great time. I know it’s an event that’s important to you, and I’m glad you were there enjoying camaraderie at an event you particularly enjoy. I hope it–and the parade–was terrific. To Mike and J. D., I hope you had LOTS of interested visitors out there on McPherson’s Ridge.

Having said that, I do regret not being there last year. Last year was the final time that my friend and mentor Brian Pohanka proudly led his Zouaves in the parade. Brian was already terribly ill, and he knew his days were numbered. He told me that he knew it would be his last parade, and that he was going to go and do it, no matter what, and he did. After the parade, he gathered his men around him on Little Round Top and told them that it would be his last time, and that he didn’t think he would be around this year at this time. He encouraged his men to carry the flame and to continue his work, even if he wouldn’t be there with them. I’m told that there was not a dry eye in the crowd, which doesn’t surprise me a bit.

Sadly, Brian was correct. He left us in June, and for those who regularly attend the parade, I’m sure it was strange not seeing him leading his beloved Zouaves down the parade route. I’m sure he was missed, and I hope someone sang “The Vacant Chair” for him this weekend. This was an event that meant a lot to him, and I’m sure he was watching over the parade from a better place, proudly cheering his Zouaves on. Rest well, Brian. You’re missed.

THE VACANT CHAIR

We shall meet but we shall miss him.
There will be one vacant chair.
We shall linger to caress him,
While we breathe our ev’ning prayer.
When a year ago we gathered,
Joy was in his mild blue eye.
But a golden cord is severed.
And our hopes in ruin lie.

We shall meet, but we shall miss him.
There will be one vacant chair.
We shall linger to caress him,
While we breathe our ev’ning prayer.

At our fireside, sad and lonely,
Often will the bosom swell,
At remembrance of the story,
How our noble Willie fell.
How he strove to bear our banner,
Thro’ the thickest of the fight,
And uphold our country’s honor
In the strength of manhood’s might.

True they tell us wreaths of glory,
Evermore will deck his brow,
But this soothes the anguish only,
Sweeping o’er our heartstrings now.
Sleep today o’ early fallen,
In thy green and narrow bed.
Dirges from the pine and cypress
Mingle with the tears we shed.