The more I study the Civil War, the more apparent it becomes that no matter how many contemporary accounts I read, I will never truly know—nor come close to knowing—what a battle was actually like. The noise, the smell, the death and destruction—none of it is fully comprehensible.
Every so often, though, we get brief, vivid moments that offer the faintest glimpse into that world: a powerful first-hand account, a walk across a battlefield where the terrain still matches what soldiers saw, or a living-history experience. I recently had one of the latter.
I won’t pretend that wearing a wool uniform for a few days a year mirrors what Union and Confederate soldiers endured from 1861 to 1865. But I have worn enough Civil War clothing and fired enough reproduction firearms to have caught a handful of these fleeting impressions. At the briefest instant, you can sense a single aspect of what a Civil War battle may have been like. Years ago at a Gettysburg reenactment, for example, so many muskets fired on a damp evening that thick smoke hugged the ground, hiding the opposing line except for the occasional flash revealing their position.
More recently, I attended artillery safety training in North Carolina. Learning each position on the gun was informative, but the multiday session culminated in a morning of live firing reproduction Civil War artillery at Camp Lejeune. It was there that I witnessed several battlefield phenomena I had only ever read about—and, fortunately, was able to capture some of them on video.
The Recoil of the Gun
I have been loading and firing Civil War artillery since college. While blank firing creates plenty of noise and smoke, the gun scarcely moves without a true projectile. Load a live round, however, and you quickly appreciate a crucial, often overlooked aspect of serving as an artillerist.
Newton’s principle applies vividly here: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Sending a solid shot or shell downrange at high speed drives the cannon backward several feet. From a safety standpoint, it becomes obvious why no one—then or now—wants to stand behind a firing gun. Practically speaking, the recoil meant that crews had to haul the piece back into position and re-aim it after every shot, slowing their rate of fire and forcing the gunner to reset the aim each time.
Stand Upwind of the Smoke
Civil War ordnance produced thick, heavy smoke the moment Number 4 pulled the lanyard. Even a slight breeze carried the cloud quickly in one direction. To follow their shot, judge where it landed, and adjust future fire, artillerists needed to stand upwind so that drifting smoke did not obscure their view.
Watching Your Shot
A 12-pound Napoleon could send a shell more than 1,000 yards downrange. The round would reach its target in about four seconds—a speed I once assumed made it impossible to see. Yet countless accounts describe soldiers watching projectiles arc across the sky or hearing their distinctive hiss.
To my surprise, it is possible—though difficult—to visually track a Civil War shell in flight. This ability helped gunners adjust their aim, but even if the projectile disappeared midair, its impact was unmistakable. At long distances, Civil War rounds kicked up a tremendous plume of dirt on impact, clearly marking where the shot landed relative to the target.
Canister Is Terrifying
We have all read descriptions of canister’s devastating effect. Seeing it firsthand drove home just how lethal it truly was—and how horrifying it must have been to face even a single round, let alone double canister.
I’ll let the video speak for itself. It is difficult to see in this video, but the canister round fired from the howitzer on the right of the gun line clipped a tree in half.
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