Here’s what I do know: The Hessians were trashed. Trashed and wearing big pointy hats. At one point they joined with their British counterparts and started drunkenly marching WITH TORCHES down the main thoroughfare. All the tourists were beaming and snapping pictures while I repeatedly asked George the obvious question: What if they turn on us?
I mean, come on. They know how to form and flank like a real army; they carry guns (that they conveniently claim are fake); and they clearly enjoy a power struggle. I’m just saying.
I tried to remain calm as each army marched to its position, but the pounding drums and booming canons—yuh huh—were making my palms sweat. Plus, the Hessians were back. Jeez Louise. Don’t these guys ever quit? I’d never actually seen a full battle reenactment (only rogue re-enactors wandering around), and I found it oddly comforting. Once the troops turned on each other, I sort of felt they’d lost interest in me.