A Girl Walks Into a WWII Reenactment…
Introduction to my Introduction to Reenacting
I know, that’s a lame title. Depending on how you look at it, my involvement in the world of reenacting either began in the mid-1990s or the first week of June, 2022.
Cir 1998 - I attended a Civil War reenactment (educational day) with my homeschool group and was introduced to the concept of reenacting. Decided I wanted to be a Civil War reenactor when I grew up. Did not pursue further.
Cir 2003 - My home school history class studied WWII and put on an original play for the community. Became obsessed with the era.
2019 - mentioned to an online writer friend that I’d visited a local WWII display commemorating D-Day. She informed me that Conneaut, OH held a reenactment of D-Day every year and she was involved in it. Not enough time to get out for it. Decided to try for 2020.
2020-2021 - The years that shall remain forgotten.
February-ish of 2022 - In talking with the same friend about attending a writers conference in July, she mentioned she wanted to go to a WWII reenactment in Reading, PA the week of my birthday. Excited conversation ensued and she said she’ would ask around to see if she could get me on the roster as a participant. (Spoiler: I got on the roster!)
After getting on the roster, registering, and letting the man in charge of the unit know I would need a cot, I had to figure the rest of it out. I didn’t have enough time to research costumes so I settled on doing something civilian-like. Shoes weren’t too hard to find. I’d been eying a pair of reproduction vintage 1930s & 1940s leather dress shoes. Since they would work for the outfit, I ordered them from Denmark and waited in anticipation for their arrival.
In the meantime, I talked with my older sister about drafting up a pattern for a skirt, trousers, or a dress that I could make. She’s been collecting vintage patterns and had a whole pile of designs that could be drafted off my actual measurements. But that would have to wait until after she had her baby in the beginning of May.
Honestly, I procrastinated quite a bit. There was a lot going on - work, writing, writer’s retreat, my uncle’s memorial service, my cousin’s bridal shower. Next thing I knew the WWII event was 10 days away and I still had not made my outfit. I also had a frantic 2+ hour call with my friend to see what stuff I needed to pack and how much needed to be era-appropriate.
For the first time in my life, I bought myself lipstick. I liked it a lot more than I expected and even wore it several days for no other reason than to wear it. The last week of May is when I finally sat down and made myself a pair of slacks. I bought a regular cotton fabric in red and a cotton canvas in navy, planning to use the red pair as a sample. It took about four hours to put them together quickly, just to see if they fit right. They were a bit snug at the waist but otherwise fit nicely. Oh. I also hit up the local thrift store in search of some blouses. I found one and ended up ordering another online. Other things were purchased during this time. Anyway, back to the trousers. If you want to know the whole sorry saga, that’s its own post.
In the end, I decided to take the red pair of trousers apart and sew them properly with pockets. Then on Memorial Day, since I was off from work, I sat down with the navy fabric and made myself a second pair. I didn’t bother trying to put buttons on, and used snaps and hooks instead. One of these days, I will reacquaint myself with the art of making buttonholes.
It took about 8 hours to get the trousers made the way I wanted with French seams and interfacing in the waistband. Not quite how I planned to spend my day but still pleasant enough. I wore the complete outfit to work the next morning - shoes, socks, trousers, shirt, lipstick, watch, and my hair pulled back into a bun because I didn’t know what else to do with it.
I didn’t feel the part but it was all I had so I was going with it.
June 2nd rolls around and I spent the morning throwing things into boxes with a hope and a prayer that I had everything I needed, and if I didn’t…. Well, it was just a three day weekend. I’d survive.
Reading, Day 1 - Packing and Arrival
The day started out on the run. I had a hard time sleeping and then was having problems with my job’s time sheet system accepting my paid time off request. I threw most of my stuff in ziplock bags and then into boxes. There were a few things I borrowed from sisters that I needed to collect. I checked in with my friend to see her ETA so I didn’t get there too early. I’m more introverted than I appear so the thought of getting there before her and being around people I didn’t know in an environment I didn’t know was terrifying. She sent me a message that she was on the way and should get there an hour after she planned. Whew. That gave me an extra hour to pack and eat lunch. I don’t eat much when I’m nervous.
Finally it was time to go. I tossed everything into the backseat of my car, checked the fluids, filled the tank, and got the GPS set up. I giggled over the helpful info Google Maps gave when I put in my destination: “Your destination is closing in 90 minutes. Do you still want to go?” and the best ever remark that my “Destination has more traffic than usual.” You think?
The first two hours would be straight highway driving so I send my friend a quick message saying she’s welcome to call if she wanted and we’d hang out on speaker phone as long as we both could without distraction. She called about ten minutes later saying she was stuck in traffic and THANK YOU for the call.
We talked nearly the whole two hours. Along the way, I nearly missed getting into an accident when a small black bear ran onto the interstate and the car in front of me hit it. The poor bear went spinning into the left lane, then scampered off into the trees. I had enough space and instinct to slam on my breaks to avoid hitting the car in front of me; with no traffic behind me, I zipped into the left lane and regained speed. My adrenalin pumped for a few minutes before I settled back down. I’ve never seen bears near the highway and at around 3 PM I had no reason to think there would be one trying to cross the interstate.
As time passed, my friend and I would comment on the traffic in our respective sections of the state. Me, northeastern Pennsylvania, and her western Pennsylvania. Eventually the rain started right as I reached the hills and valleys that interfered with phone reception. We hung up and I continued on. The roads themselves weren’t bad and the GPS did a decent job at getting me to where I was going.
The destination grew closer and my anxiety rose. My friend was easily two hours behind schedule. I had no idea who her friends were. I didn’t know where parking was or where our camp site was going to be. I hadn’t seen any signs for the air show, let alone directions on which entrance to use. I started to doubt I was in the right place. As I turned down a road clearly leading to the airport, I saw a scene that looked right out of a movie - a WWII Jeep with three soldiers in complete uniform with combat helmets and rifles, buzzing down the road.
Yep. I’m in the right place.
If I hadn’t been driving, I would have gotten a picture. To the right, I saw a sign pointing to a very hilly field that said “Reenactor Parking”. I pulled in, but decided to take the car to the front gate and get clearer instructions. The gate in the fence surrounding the airport was narrow and only large enough for one vehicle to go through at a time. I was waved to the side to get out and register. After showing my driver’s license and getting a map and printout of important info, I was helped into an army green wrist band that would allow me to enter and exit the airfield during operating hours. I went back to my car and sent a text to my friend’s friend, C, to let him know I’d arrived and didn’t know where to go.
Map of Reading Airfield encampment location for WWII Weekend.
A few minutes later, two older men reach the gate and wave to me. I knew they were older but I hadn’t expected older. I introduced myself and was told they were D, who I’d corresponded with to get on the roster, and C. They told me to follow them through the gate to the tanks and they’d head to the camp site. I drove onto the tarmac and completely geeked out at the parked bombers and fighters, and all the miscellaneous military vehicles driving around - jeeps, trailers, bicycles, motorcycles, army-branded heavy equipment. And the uniforms. Half the men were in some stage of wearing a uniform, many carrying their weapons as well. I get it. You get to dress up and wander around with weapons, so you take advantage of every moment you can.
Following the Leader
At the two tanks, I pulled up behind a white pickup hauling a trailer with a jeep. It took C and D a few minutes to decide what order they were going to do things and shortly I was following them down the tarmac toward the campsite. We stopped for them to offload the jeep and unhook the trailer before circling around the row of fair food trucks and arriving at the empty patch of grass directly in front of a runway. On either side of our campsite, uniformed men were setting up their own tents and gear. We were in the Eastern Theater.
With nothing else to do and my friend still hours away, I stood around looking helpful until my help was actually needed. We emptied the truck, laying out poles, boards, boxes, canvas, and bags. The tent was army surplus and new to the reenactment unit. I’ve set up camping tents before so it wasn’t hard to follow instructions and use some common sense. By the time my friend arrived, it was dusk, we had everything laid out and the main tent was ready for the center pole. That was an undertaking but with my friend, D and C inside and me outside, we got it up. Next, we got the fly set up so we would have shade during the day. And lastly, we unloaded our cars and got cots set up. A fifth person joined right around then, R, a woman about my age doing an impression of a civilian.
Did I mention that they’re not called “costumes”? Since many of the reenactors use vintage, authentic clothing, and focus on a specific military unit or theme (like civilian), they are called impressions. They’re not representing any one, real person, but any person. My impression was civilian and I felt rather dumb talking to people because that is all I had - no background, no other reasoning than “I could do it fast”.
Anyway, the fly got set up and we sat around chatting for a while before heading to bed. Imagine seeing lanterns hung in tents and stars in the sky; hearing laughter and singing, and the occasional cough and sputter and roar of old vehicles. Well, it was wonderful.
Reading, Day 2 - Friday
I woke up with the sun but didn’t bother getting out of bed until my friend was up. Again, there was the slight awkwardness of sharing a tent with two older men, my friend, and another lady I don’t know. Nothing was indecent, just odd at first. All modern vehicles needed to be off the airfield by 8:30 am. I planned to drive over to the reenactors parking and walk back but D offered to bring us back in the jeep. I wasn’t saying No to that!
We passed a long line of event attendees on our way out and back. I can only imagine what they thought when they saw us - probably something like when I saw the jeep the afternoon before.
Jeep in the Morning
Back at the campsite, I was introduced to another woman, who was officially attached to our unit but staying in a hotel. From there, we rushed over to breakfast before it closed. D insisted on taking the jeep because we needed to fill up all our water containers.
(Left to right: D, the other lady, and my friend)
Breakfast was in “Spamville” and served…. Spam. There were also sausage patties, scrambled eggs, toast, orange juice, Tang, coffee, and hot water for tea. Not a bad meal but certainly one that left me far more thirsty than I had to ability to carry water to quench. We chugged down water, refilled bottled, and clambered back in the jeep to head for the tanks.
My friend has been doing reenactments for years. C let her climb in one of the tanks and look around. The offer was extended to me but I didn’t get a chance to accept before the crowds came. From there, we were free to wander, and from there, my grasp on particulars of the day is shaky. My friend and I did a quick walk around the other theaters - the British camps, the Pacific Theater, the Homefront, Occupied France, Germany, and back to the European Theater.
At some point, C joined us from a stroll through the flea market in search of cuff and lapel pins for one of his uniforms. I love looking around flea markets and a themed one is even better. Everything was 1940s and/or military, and it was a blast. I didn’t plan to buy much but ended up with a lovely feminine hat and two tiny biplane pendants. My friend bought be a book for my birthday that we had both been eying. (On Sunday I bought a canteen with cup and fabric holder.)
Sunshine Woes
Lunch was in the VIP tent and had a much better variety of food. Much of the support staff of volunteers were kids - Civil Air Patrol units, Sea Cadets, Boy Scouts, and at least one other cadet type I can’t remember.
I got sunburned.
More wandering the rest of the day. By lunch my feet were killing me. I had to walk slowly because of the pressure on my toes.
Gates closed at 5 PM, I think. I wasn’t terribly hungry for dinner.
One of the hangers was set up as a USO dance so we heard the music all the way across the airfield. My friend and I wandered over but decided not to stay. I got some great photos of the sun setting over the camp and planes.
We sat up under the fly and talked for an hour or so. I rubbed lotion into my burn. Took my shoes off and discovered blisters on all my toes from the pressure and rubbing. It was glorious to have my bare feet in the grass and as soon as the shoes where off, my feet felt much better.
Reading, Day 3 & 4 - Saturday/Sunday
(As I’m writing this up almost two months later, I’m pretty fuzzy on exactly what happened each day. I combined them into my best guess.)
My sunburn cooled considerably overnight although it was a bit uncomfortable. I stayed out of my shoes as long as possible. We took the jeep down for breakfast, filled up water, then stopped at the tanks just like yesterday. More wandering and talking happened today. My friend was trying out a new look - a British women’s uniform - and wanted to talk to the ladies representing the same group of woman. It was pretty fascinating to hear what they had researched on their impressions and how their unit operated.
Each day, the airshow had a parade of military equipment so while my friend talked, I got a short video of C and D in the tank. They were IN the tank and not visible but still, I knew they were there!
Sunshine Woes, Part 2
Yep, this is day two of sun.
Yes, I was wearing sunglasses.
No, I wasn’t wearing sunscreen.
Yes, it hurt but not nearly as bad as my blistered feet.
Yes, the burn got worse.
Yes, I survived.
And if I had a dollar for every time someone asked if I knew how red my face was, or if I needed sunscreen, I wouldn’t have had to buy gas on the way home.
My friend took a nap in the afternoon on Saturday and I wandered around on my own for a while. I found a vendor tent from an RAF museum, selling signed copies of books and art prints. Some were signed by the authors, others by veterans whose names were in the book or served in a particular engagement depicted by a painting. I couldn’t resist and bought two gorgeous art prints. One was signed by the artist and depicted the last dogfight of Manfred von Richthofen, Germany’s “Red Baron” of WWI. The other was signed by a WWII veteran of the type of fighter plane depicted in an engagement with a German fighter plane over the English Channel; I mainly got it because of the warship in the channel waters below.
Recruited by Soviets?
I also caught wind of a Soviet camp at the far, far end of the airfield. I had to go see them, if just for the fact that I’m learning Russian and think their history is tragic and fascinating. There were Russian partisans, a medic tent, a communications unit, and two or three tents of infantry. The communications unit had an authentic Cyrillic typewriter that I fell in love with. The infantrymen were very informative and everyone tried to recruit me; the lady in communications gave the reason that when it came to women in the military, they were fully integrated and I’d only need two uniforms.
The men told me how the Soviets didn’t change the design of anything that worked. Their fully authentic, WWII-era canteens were Soviet military surplus with manufacturing dates of 1987, 1990 and 1991 stamped on the bottom.
Reading’s WWII weekend is predominantly an airshow so throughout all the wandering and talking, there were speakers announcing and giving facts on the planes that were flying. I got video snippets of any many as I could. It gave me chills to be standing there, dressed for the era, surrounded by uniforms, tanks, jeeps, weaponry of all kind, impressions of all nationalities, and see bombers and fighters buzz over the airfield.
More Bombers ‘Till The Skies Are Black With-
Eagles! American eagles!
America sings of her wings in the sky…
America’s strong just as long as they fly…
America sings of her kings in the sky.
(From the song “American Eagles” by Irving Berlin)
The rumble of the engines and buzz of the propellers settle in your stomach. It’s a feeling I’ll never forget and a high I think I’ll always chase. To be there, in that moment, I could almost imagine the pride and fear that every person in America faced during the war.
Humor
The crowds were huge. I tried looking up estimates but the only number I got was that 2021 had 1,700 reenactors, so I imagine the visitors were in the tens of thousands over the three day event. Some of the best things about blending in to a crowd are the things you overhear.
It Works!
A woman talking to man as they walked away from this bomber:
It has working wings, propellers and engines. That’s all I know.
My personal favorite visitor interaction from the entire weekend was:
My friend and I were at our tent, peopled out and tired, when a female guest walks up and asks if we know where the chaplain’s tent is. Neither of us knew and my detailed map was in my car. The lady glanced at her watch>
They’re holding Mass and I was trying to attend. Well, thanks anyway. You guys have a good day. I have fifteen minutes to find Jesus.
Moments to Remember
One of the coolest things about attending an event like this is the presence of Armed Forces veterans. Attached to our unit was a lovely man named Bill, a 90-something year old Korean War veteran who brought about ten film and still cameras from the 1940s. He sat outside under the fly all afternoon, all three days, in a uniform and talked to visitors about the cameras, let them hold them, and take pictures of them pretending to take pictures.
A moment that truly captures the respect shown during the event was when, during lunch, the national anthem came on over the speakers. As people heard it, they stopped all movement and conversation to face the flag. Uniformed men and women, regardless of being just reenactors, saluted. Visitors stopped and saluted. All vehicles stopped. The entire airfield filled of thousands stopped dead until the anthem was complete.
Legacy
A WWII veteran stands in front of a tank with reenactors, while a photographer takes pictures and his family watches.
Saturday evening, we wandered down for the USO show and the grand entrance of a parade of reenactors representing all of the American armed forces. Five WWII veterans were acknowledged and a few minutes later when the service branches anthems were played, I saw two of them struggle out of their wheelchairs to stand and salute.
A truly remarkable and humbling experience, to say the least.
Aftermath
Once the gates closed on Sunday night, we picked up our cars and I had my last ride in the jeep. Packing started in earnest and within a few hours we had cars loaded, the tent collapsed and packed, the shower taken apart, and just a few odds and ends left. I worked Monday and had a three hour drive ahead of me, so farewells and thanks were had.
Packing Time
My friend’s cot in the back and mine in the front. You can see the green book and black hat on my cot, as well as the white back of my art pieces in the bottom right corner.
Burnt and blissful, I hit the road back home. Most of my driving was at night and by the time the NY border was in sight, I was exhausted. I took a shower to wash off four days of sweat and grime, and loaded up on the heavy-duty lotion and aloe for the night. I also took a good look at my poor aching feet; there were two blisters on every toe. No wonder they hurt so much! None of the blisters broke, and before I left, R gave me some great tips on how to minimize blister “for next time.”
My friend told me over and over how nice it was to have someone along who knows enough about the era that she didn’t have to explain everything to me. She, D and C all apologized for getting me hooked on reenacting. I assured them they had merely awakened the beast I’ve kept locked away since that history class so many years ago.
Awakened is right. I’ve already started collecting trinkets for the next time I go. I also have a list of impressions that would be fun.
Going in, I knew I would have a great time because I’ve taught myself to enjoy something no matter what. But there was a deeper reasoning for going, aside from it being the same week as my birthday. I have a book series I’ve developing that will take place through the war years. Seeing it in person makes the era come alive in ways that books and movies can’t.
And to Reading, PA, the Mid-Atlantic Air Museum WWII Weekend, and the 167th Signal Photo Co,
Until next time.
P.S.
Have I mentioned how badly I want one of these now?
