What is the Turkey Shoot? Have you ever seen the 1941 movie Sergeant York? If yes, then you know what it was. If not, a turkey would be placed behind a log. A shooter would pay to get one shot at the turkey when it popped its head above the log. If they hit, they win the turkey. The GFV officials duplicated this by using an automated system that would pop up a balloon. One would roll a die to see how long you would have to aim and shoot. They did not give you a turkey as a prize but a canned ham. Later, they changed it to a smoked sausage.

The Musket team event at Greenfield Village’s Muzzle-loader Festival was one of most competitive events there were. To be the winner was a proud feather in their hat. But there was another unofficial competition that a lot of units took part in, and that was getting a prime camping spot. If you wanted a good spot, you had to get there early.

For years, the Matuszek’s were always first in line to ensure their favorite campsite. As the Commander was signing in, he would send the “youngin’s” into camp with rope to secure a space for the rest of the unit. This, at times, lead to some disagreements. These were normally settled by making sure they saved room for Rudy’s trailers. Rudy was the Skirmish Director. Need we say more?

The most anticipated event of any skirmish had to be the last event at Greenfield Village. They placed a vertical two by six stake at 50 yards that each team had to cut low to the ground. After completing that task, each team could then fire at four fulminated mercury explosive targets. This was to give the spectators the experience of what a real battle may sound like, both artillery and small arms. Even if your team did not drop the stake, they gave you two minutes to hit the explosives afterwards. The explosives were said to be the equal of a quarter stick of dynamite. Not only did you hear it, but you also felt it when they went off. During periods of drought or very dry weather, the explosions would start the dry grass and hay bales on fire, causing the range to shut down so they could extinguish the fires.

Did you know that our cannon's first set of canon wheels were actually from an old circus wagon. These did the job but weathered poorly. The Battery planned to save money by buy wheel parts and put them together with help from Matt Switlick.

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After gathering all the parts, Dave, Frank V, and John traveled up to Marshal Michigan. There they worked with Matt and went over the process it would take to put all the parts together. But before they could do that there was one more part they needed. They needed the iron tire or rim that would go around the fellies and hold everything together. They had the iron, they just needed to bend it into a circle, by using a hand cranked tool.

They started at 8 PM. The 3/8-inch-thick iron was fed into a roller that would slowly put a slight bend into the iron and was hand cranked through. Then some adjustments would be made, and the iron would be fed again and cranked through. This would bend it a little more. After about 10 to 15 passes, they ended up with an iron hoop that was welded closed. This had to be done for both wheels and by 11 PM, resulted in many blisters and sore muscles.

All the parts were fitted together and the next morning everything was delivered to a farmhouse just outside of town. A fire, large enough to put the iron rims in, was started. As the rims heated up the wooden part of the wheels were set up. As the rims heated up, the iron rims expanded. They did not have to get red hot but hot enough to burn wood. Then using special tongs, three people had to lift the rim out of the fire and carefully place it over the wooden wheel. There was about an inch to spare on each side. But as the iron cooled, it shrank. Water was poured over the wheel to prevent it from starting the wood on fire. You had one shot at getting it right. If something went wrong, you would have to cut the band off and start all over again. Luckily under the direction of Matt everything went well with the exception of one of the fellies cracked but all held together.

Fort Defiance, Ohio had a reputation, a reputation for rain. There were other things it was known for but all incorporated water. Frank V and John V traveled out there and planned to shoot with the 1st Michigan Engineers and Mechanics, long time family friends. It was a muggy Saturday morning, and the threat of rain was present and strong. The Carbine team event had just completed the first event of the afternoon when the sky opened up. Rain fell in waves, strong winds blowing it sideways, causing everyone to look for shelter. It was every person for themselves. Nowhere was safe or dry.

The rain finally stopped after 30 minutes of soaking everything. The air was still heavy as skirmishers made their way back to the firing line. Frank and John returned to the ready area, though drenched to the bone, they were willing to continue. As they prepped the targets for the next event, they noticed that they were short a shooter or three. All the Engineers were MIA. So, father and son stepped up to the line determined to do their best.

The horn went off and after the second volley, the targets vanished in the low hanging smoke screen. They had to wait for the shooting to subside before they continued. Word traveled fast of the two-person team and was questioned if they were a legal team. Being that they started with a full team, it was legal for them to continue. Fellow skirmishers helped them fulfill their duties as timer and safeties, giving them time to clean their carbines and prepare for the next events. Other skirmishers stood and cheered them on. After the last event, they cleaned up and went back to camp.

When they got back to camp, they found their MIA teammates sitting back and relaxing under their shelter. During the storm, they decided to head back to camp and, once there, choose to stay. The two man-team did not win a medal, ending up tying for last place with a full C-team, but they did win the respect for all those who shot that day.

For nearly 20 years, I watched Battery H compete at Fort Shenandoah. While I was interested, life was stopping me from joining. I even won a Springfield Musket in a raffle one year, and yet I wasn’t able to commit to the sport.

Move to 2006 and my life was very different and now I had the time and drive to join Battery H. After the first mortar shoot, I turned to the Commander and asked, “Why didn’t you get me into this sooner?!?”

I can’t remember if he smiled or gave me a look of “I told you so.”