SATURDAY: The Battle of Raymond

It is 95 degrees in the shade, except there isn't any. I'm standing with the Fourth Alabama in the open sun, waiting for the battle to commence. A chaplain kneels before the rebel troops, leading them in prayer. "Lord, protect us as we go against the enemy," he intones, "and help us to do our duty, as Jesus did. Amen."

Somewhere during the march to the battle I've lost the ABC crew. So I've decided to just fall in with the Fourth Alabama and enjoy a front-row view of the fight. One of the Rebs lends me a spare uniform. "You'll cook in these," he chuckles, offering me gray wool trousers and a long-sleeve jersey. I've also donned spare brogans, several sizes too large and so stiff they make me feel as though I'm walking on wooden planks.

Artillery opens up in a nearby field, signalling that combat is imminent. The troop's commander offers final words of encouragement. "The people of Mississippi are counting on us to defend them against these thieving, Yankee hordes. Can you do it, boys?"

"Hell yeah!" the men shout, waving their hats.

"Let's go kill some blue-bellies!"

The men fix bayonets and turn to face the enemy. A line of Yankee cavalry approaches, enveloped in a cloud of dust.

"Front rank, kneel!" the officer barks. "Ready. Aim. Fire!" A hundred muskets crackle at once, creating a loud, rippling sound that resembles the noise made by tearing paper--at 500 decibels. The air fills with acrid smoke and the shrieks of elated rebels.

"Pour it in, boys!"

"Come and meet your maker, Billy!"

The smoke clears to reveal the Union calvarymen in full retreat. Miraculously, despite the close-range musketry, not a single man or horse lies on the field. But then, the battle is young; no one wants to become a casualty in the first five minutes and miss the rest of the action.

As we wait in the wilting heat for the next round of combat, a man next to me falls to the ground. "I seen the elephant!" he shrieks, using the Civil War phrase for a soldier's first glimpse of combat. "God help me, I seen the elephant!"

I chuckle to myself, thinking of Rob Hodge and his "impression" of a bloated corpse. Hardcore reenactors try to stay "in character" at all times, maintaining the illusion of 19th-century Army life. This guy's impression of a heat-struck rebel is remarkably good.

But as the man keeps babbling, his face beet-red, a bit of foam forming on his lips, I realize he isn't acting. "Call an ambulance!" someone shouts, and we kneel over the man, sloshing canteen water on his face. Medics attach an I.V. to the man's arm and hoist him onto a stretcher. "I seen the elephant!" he keeps shouting, as he's loaded into an ambulance.

One of his fellow Alabamians shakes his head. "He's staying in character, all the way to the hospital. That's super hardcore."

This prompts talk of all the clever ways to mimic battle wounds. One man fills condoms with red dye, which he then bursts like a water balloon against his chest. Another uses ketchup and drops of steak sauce, to darken the mix down to a color resembling blood. "Steak sauce usually contains pepper," he warns, "so you have to keep it away from your eyes when you do head wounds."

Another Reb uses a syringe to suck most of the goo out of an egg. He replaces the yolk with red dye. Then, when he takes a hit in battle, he smacks the egg against his forehead and lets the mix of albumen and dye trickle down his face. "The best part's the egg shell," he says. "When you break it against your head, it looks like bits of brain pan."

The Yankees charge again, on foot, and a dozen or so actually go down this time, though prudently placing their hats over their faces to avoid sunburn. But the most dramatic death occurs just before the battle's end. A Union officer feigns a bullet to the chest and falls to the ground. Then he jumps straight back up, performing what looks like a St. Vitus's dance. The Reb beside me lowers his musket and laughs. "First rule of Deep South reenacting," he says. "Do not die on a pile of fire-ants. When that happens, you always see an immediate resurrection."