I was buying a jar of jam at the sutler's tent when the cannon went off, close enough and loud enough to make my teeth rattle and my eyes widen into an excellent impersonation of fear. The salesman, a stout, bearded fellow in the woolen blues of a Union soldier, barely blinked. As he handed me my credit card, I could read his thought _ a greenhorn!
But I was enjoying every minute of it.
A few months ago, attending the re-enactment of a U.S. Civil War battle wouldn't have been high on my to-do list. I had never fired a gun in anger (I had surfed through the Vietnam War on a college deferment, a high lottery number and a deaf right ear) and I could not see the point of grown men dressing up in funny clothes and firing blanks at one another all weekend.