" I’m The Guy In Gray "
					( C ) 2005
				By Jason Z. Dehart
	The tall winter grass made for a fine pillow as I lay on the hillside dead. Then, as smoke drifted low over the shell-shocked battlefield, the plaintive voice of a young woman called out, disembodied, ethereal: "Daddy! ... Daaadddy!" She stared out over the hillside, where some 70 Confederate soldiers lay dead. A horse nipped grass near a fallen drummer boy. Smoke hung like mist. The attractive young lady stopped six feet away from me, wrinkled her nose against the smoke, and called out again for her lost father. "Daddddy!" The poignant scene was interrupted when the old soldier at her feet sat upright and alert, back from the "dead." "Who you lookin’ for, darlin’?" he said. Startled, the girl said, "Earl Snood." The old soldier looks over his shoulder and calls out, "Fifth Regiment!" On that cue the entire hillside stirs in one gray movement as the reenactors attentively roll over and prop themselves up on their elbows. "Anybody seen Earl?" We all look around for "Earl." Then, up on the hill, another soldier hollers back, "He’s just gettin’ ready to surrender!" At that point Reese Witherspoon yells "Thank you!" and we all fall back down "dead." If I remember correctly, this short scene from the 2002 film "Sweet Home Alabama" took maybe two or three takes to get right. (I didn’t mind; all I had to do was play dead.) You remember this movie: It’s a "romantic comedy" with Witherspoon playing a country girl who has made a name for herself as a famous fashion designer in the Big Apple. When she gets engaged to the mayor’s son, she reluctantly heads home to Alabama to break the happy news. But in a twist of fate, the haughty city mouse ends up falling in love with a childhood chum and moves back home to find true happiness. (If you’re a girl, insert Heavy Sigh here). The most notable aspect of the film is the Civil War reenactment scene, which was actually shot in Georgia at the International Horse Park outside Conyers. It was filmed during an actual reenactment I attended back in the late fall of 2001. I didn’t know a movie was going to be filmed while we were there, but it made for an interesting diversion. The film crew spent all weekend there, getting some dramatic shots of the event. It looked really good on film, and the filmmakers treated the topic with some degree of respect. After "Earl" is seen surrendering, Witherspoon is seen applauding her father’s performance, having come away with a newfound respect for him and her own heritage. I was elated to think that I would be "in the movies," but my elation turned to frustration when I saw my scene on the big screen. You could see me laying right behind the old soldier who speaks to Witherspoon (his head brushed my right arm), but all you could see was from my waist down. Even when I looked up you still couldn’t tell it was me because of the camera angle. You see my trousers and boots, and maybe my Enfield rifle-musket, but that’s it. Rats! Regardless, in the theater I excitedly jabbed my wife when it came to "my scene." "There I am, honey!" I said. "Where?" "Right there!" "I don’t see you." "I’m right there, behind the guy who’s talking!" "I still don’t see you." Then, in utter frustration, "I’m the guy in gray, darn it!" "They’re ALL in gray, sweetie," she shot back. Then it was over. Oh, well, there’s always the next time. What’s ironic about this whole thing is I don’t even like romantic comedies. And yet, there I am, appearing as an extra in one. Life is indeed strange. But a good weekend fighting Yankees beats a bad camera angle any day. Every time I think about that movie, I think about that particular event and the glorious fall weather we had to play in. I traveled up there with a buddy of mine from Leesburg, Bob Lovell. Bob is adjutant in Hardy’s Brigade and he let me bunk with him in his officer’s tent while we were up there. Bob often wonders aloud the motivations behind reenacting. "You think about it, being a Civil War reenactor is so illogical. There are other things I could be doing," he said. I agreed. Why do this? Is it spiritual, or what? I let the question go unanswered for the time being, and focused on the setting we were in. Since it was November, the hills and trees looked like they had been dipped in honey. The sky was so clear that beyond the last ridge in the far distance we could see Stone Mountain. Down the valley from us a gleaming white church spire rose majestically from the gold and garnet hills. At night, campfires and yellow lamplight dotted the dusky hillside where we were camped. At our tent, cigar and pipe smoke mixed with wood smoke from the fire. Somebody nearby brought out an old-timey gut-string banjo and was playing "Ring, Ring Da Banjo." The old men drew their chairs up and told stories. In the morning we got up before dawn. There was no alarm clock radio to wake me, no central air and heat. No cat jumped on the bed to wake me. There was no running water or hot shower. No shaving razor. Somehow, I didn’t miss any of those things. A full moon, nothing but a gleaming white disc in a purple sky, was setting in the west. The air was crisp and clean with a little wind. At first, the only sound was that of a rooster crowing somewhere in the distant mist- covered valley below us. Soon there were other sounds. The regimental surgeon was cooking breakfast nearby, and sausage and scrambled eggs sizzled in a skillet over an open fire. Next to the skillet a coffee boiler gurgled and steamed. Shaking off the cold, I went over and filled my tin plate with hot grub and my tin cup with black coffee. You couldn’t have gotten a better breakfast meal at Cracker Barrel. Then, off in the woods near our camp, we could hear a bugle call. Bob, a bugler himself, pointed out that it was a cavalry reveille. "And he’s not missing a note, either. Listen to it; it’s the longest call in the Army. It’s very melodic." Indeed it was, drifting sharp and clear through the misty, bare woods as hundreds of men -- all brothers in a sense -- roused themselves. Like in the olden times. Yeah, I don’t know why I do this. No idea in the world.
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Jason