Steve Wakefield, a Living Historian

A Vermont Civil War Hemlock explains why he takes part

Steve Wake­field, liv­ing his­to­ri­an with the Ver­mont Civ­il War Hemlocks

By Sharon Lakey

At the 125th anniver­sary of the sur­ren­der of Lee’s army at Appo­mat­tox, Steve Wake­field, liv­ing his­to­ri­an, had one of those crys­talline moments. “I was with the 5th of New Hamp­shire at the head of the col­umn. When I turned around, I saw 3,000 fed­er­al troops stand­ing behind me, all per­fect­ly aligned. “The moment didn’t last long, maybe three sec­onds, but in those few sec­onds, I was there.” To be trans­port­ed through time—those are the sec­onds a liv­ing his­to­ri­an cherishes.

In 1963, Andy Fish­er, a his­to­ry teacher in Con­cord, VT, attend­ed the 100th obser­vance of the Bat­tle of Get­tys­burg, a reen­act­ment of the bat­tle that turned the tide in the Civ­il War. The event was so inspir­ing to him, he returned home to cre­ate the Ver­mont Civ­il War Hem­locks, a non-prof­it group whose goal is edu­ca­tion. Three years lat­er, 16-year-old Steve Wake­field went to one of the group’s meet­ings and joined. He was uni­formed and equipped in 1971 and took part in his first reen­act­ment that year.

I don’t like the term reen­act­ment,” said Wake­field. “I am a liv­ing his­to­ri­an.” He goes on to explain that to reen­act implies an indi­vid­ual is act­ing. “We don’t act; dur­ing an event, we actu­al­ly live the expe­ri­ence 24-hours a day. At night, we don’t retire to the tent with a beer cool­er.” And any­one who has wit­nessed the Hem­locks in action, per­haps in some­thing as sim­ple as a parade, rec­og­nizes imme­di­ate­ly that they are liv­ing in the moment, and it is not tak­en lightly.

To make it even more real for Wake­field, he has cho­sen to por­tray his Civ­il War ancestors,

Steve Wake­field por­trays Hen­ry Wakefield

of which he has eight. Most often, he takes on the per­sona of Hen­ry Wake­field, who enlist­ed with his broth­er in East Mont­pe­lier. “He was part of the 13th Ver­mont infantry that helped defeat the Con­fed­er­ates in Get­tys­burg. They fired on the right flank of Pickett’s reg­i­ment dur­ing the famous Pickett’s Charge.” Hen­ry, who was known as a great rifle­man, re-enlist­ed in ’63 and was wound­ed in the Peters­burg Mine deba­cle of the Union Army. In 1865, Hen­ry died a pris­on­er of war near Richmond.

Anoth­er rel­a­tive, Joseph Wake­field, died in Ander­son­ville. Joseph was from Hard­wick and fought with Com­pa­ny H of the Ver­mont 4th infantry. Like Hen­ry, he was a rifle­man and entered ser­vice on July 1, 1862. On Octo­ber 13, 1863, Joseph was reas­signed as a team­ster as part of a Fed­er­al wag­on train. J.E.B. Stu­art, Com­man­der of the Con­fed­er­ate cav­al­ry, swept down on the wag­ons, cap­tur­ing part of the train and tak­ing pris­on­ers. Among them was Joseph. “First he was trans­port­ed to Belle Isle near Rich­mond, but when Ander­son­ville opened in Feb­ru­ary, 1864, he was trans­ferred there,” said Wakefield.

I own a Con­gres­sion­al Medal of Hon­or,” he con­tin­ued. “It was giv­en to me by Arthur Sprague, who was a lawyer in St. Johns­bury. He knew my moth­er and of my inter­est in the Civ­il War, and he want­ed me to have it. On the medal is writ­ten ‘to Pri­vate Lewis Ingalls, Co K, 8th VT infantry, for gal­lant behav­ior at Boutte Sta­tion, LA, Sep­tem­ber 4, 1862.’”

Of course, Steve had to have the full sto­ry behind the medal, and it goes like this. “The Com­pa­ny was on a train and as anoth­er fed­er­al train was com­ing through, the train Ingalls was on was switched to a side track. Lit­tle did the Fed­er­als know that the Con­fed­er­ates had set up an ambush, switch­ing off both ends of the track. After the longer train went through, Ingalls’ Com­pa­ny found them­selves in a hail of bul­lets with nowhere to go. Ingalls jumped from the train, run­ning through the bul­lets, and opened a switch on one side of the track. As the train drew away, he was pulled to safe­ty by his com­rades hav­ing been wound­ed four times.” Luman Grout, Major of the 8th Ver­mont, spoke high­ly of the young man and thus the Medal of Hon­or. The strangest part of this sto­ry is what Steve found out lat­er. “It just so hap­pens that Lewis Ingalls was my great, great grandfather.

Some­thing inside me inspires me to pay trib­ute to these guys. I am a liv­ing his­to­ri­an to show the deep and pro­found respect and admi­ra­tion for the hard­ships these men endured.” This pro­found respect and pass­ing of his­to­ry to future gen­er­a­tions is of great val­ue to him. “I feel that we are los­ing an appre­ci­a­tion of our his­to­ry. With­out remem­ber­ing, we will lose some­thing very impor­tant. Lin­coln said, ‘Peo­ple who for­get their past will do lit­tle worth remem­ber­ing in the future.’”

Of the Hem­locks, he said, “We take it to a high­er lev­el. Our goal is to edu­cate; first, you edu­cate your­self, then you take what you learn and share that expe­ri­ence.” He wants peo­ple to walk away from an event (such as the upcom­ing encamp­ment) hav­ing found a gen­uine inter­est in some ele­ment of the war. “If we spark an inter­est, peo­ple can take their own road in learn­ing some­thing about our history.”

The Civ­il War was the blood­i­est of all wars in terms of Amer­i­can lives lost– 620,000 dead in 10,000 places of con­flict.  “So many aspects of the Civ­il War are still with us today,” said Wake­field. “Pres­i­dent Obama’s elec­tion is part of the sto­ry. He is not the end of the sto­ry, but a part of our ongo­ing sto­ry.” To Wake­field, the val­ue of remem­ber­ing a war that took place 150 years ago is as impor­tant in the present as it was in the past. Our future depends upon it.

 

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