There didn't seem to be a coherent theme to the whole event. I thought it was like Summerfest, though without the headlining bands, or the fixation on beer, cheese, and sausages. Thankfully unlike Summerfest, everyone kept their shirt on. For its part, Fort Scott NHS was paying tribute to armed services throughout the nation's history. Outfits spanned the American Revolution through today, and numerous military band performances I couldn't see or hear from my position went on throughout the weekend.
I was stationed with my ambulance in front of the Hospital, right by the main entrance to the site. It proved to be a good location, right up until the time the CH-47D Chinook helicopter roared in and parked on the parade ground about 100 feet from me. After their dramatic entrance, I said to the folks around me, "Well, that was fun, now who wants to look at my wagon?"
Dramatization. I was closer.
So basically everyone bypassed me and made a bee-line for the helicopter all day. Adding insult to injury, by afternoon it was 95 degrees and sunny, and the few people who stopped by my wagon mostly asked if my wool uniform was hot. I must have looked it. I probably looked hot when I was laying in the shade under the wagon, too, demonstrating "how to loaf under a wagon." I tell you, I'd rather have been out there when it was 10 below zero. I stuck to telling them the safety reason why wool was important when using gunpowder. Mercifully, there was lemonade in an air-conditioned room for us to take breaks in, but getting cooled off just made me feel slimy in that uniform.
Then in front of me, the "All-American Lumberjack Show" was underway, so I got to shout over the sound of chainsaws, hot saws, and the emcee who used the phrase "on over here" far too often. Watching the log-rolling was the most entertaining part; the rest was just noise to me. Everyone in the show was from Minnesota or Wisconsin.
Later on, a crowd gathered again for the Chinook's departure. After liftoff, it circled for a high speed pass with one guy saluting in the window and another standing in the cargo hatch as they blasted by the fort. OK, I admit it was pretty badass.
The weekend continued Sunday with band performances, and more lumberjacking. I was somewhat more comfortable as it was a little milder outside, though the lemonade had run out. Still only a few people were interested in my wagon and I spent most of the morning reading "Theodore Roosevelt: The Strenuous Life" while ironically loafing on or under the wagon.
We departed Monday and drove part time in the rain across the state. Not far into the trip, I saw a cloud that looked terrifyingly like one I had seen in a tornado safety training just a week or two ago. The cloud was all alone, a giant arc shape level with the ground, and rotating like a street sweeper. The front edge of the cloud was lifting up violently while the back side was swooping down just as fast. This is precisely the type of cloud that can form a tornado as the rotation twists toward the ground. I nervously watched as we cruised down the highway with an invaluable wagon strapped to a trailer by a total novice (me).
Then in front of me, the "All-American Lumberjack Show" was underway, so I got to shout over the sound of chainsaws, hot saws, and the emcee who used the phrase "on over here" far too often. Watching the log-rolling was the most entertaining part; the rest was just noise to me. Everyone in the show was from Minnesota or Wisconsin.
Later on, a crowd gathered again for the Chinook's departure. After liftoff, it circled for a high speed pass with one guy saluting in the window and another standing in the cargo hatch as they blasted by the fort. OK, I admit it was pretty badass.
The weekend continued Sunday with band performances, and more lumberjacking. I was somewhat more comfortable as it was a little milder outside, though the lemonade had run out. Still only a few people were interested in my wagon and I spent most of the morning reading "Theodore Roosevelt: The Strenuous Life" while ironically loafing on or under the wagon.
We departed Monday and drove part time in the rain across the state. Not far into the trip, I saw a cloud that looked terrifyingly like one I had seen in a tornado safety training just a week or two ago. The cloud was all alone, a giant arc shape level with the ground, and rotating like a street sweeper. The front edge of the cloud was lifting up violently while the back side was swooping down just as fast. This is precisely the type of cloud that can form a tornado as the rotation twists toward the ground. I nervously watched as we cruised down the highway with an invaluable wagon strapped to a trailer by a total novice (me).
Dramatization
About the time we got to Hutchinson for lunch, I noticed some slack in the straps holding the wagon to the trailer, which necessitated redesigning the whole strapping system in the middle of a rain shower. We got it back in one piece, but not before I clobbered a pigeon with the truck around Stafford, KS. So there was one fatality.
All in all, it was a successful adventure. I wished I had been able to see more of Fort Scott while I was there, but I was too loyal to my duty as wagon interpreter to wander off for long. Those guys out in back had it easy with their big shade tree, I tell you.
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