Capturing the War of 1812 on Film – Reenactment of the Battle of Longwoods

“In my dreams I hear again the crash of guns, the rattle of musketry, the strange, mournful mutter of the battlefield” — Douglas MacArthur

I always wanted to be a war correspondent. But as the years rolled by and I settled into a peaceful existence in suburban London, Ontario, I began to believe it would never happen. I waited patiently for 43 years, hoping that one day the opportunity would arise. Then suddenly on May 3, 2025, I was called into action.

I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my Leica M6, a Summilux 50mm lens, and a few rolls of Kodak Tri-X film. I jumped into my old Subaru Outback and used Google Maps for directions to the battlefield, which was in Mount Brydges, about a 30-min drive from my home. I even brought along my seven-year-old son, Kipling, trusting that some frontline experience would be character building.

My wife stopped us before we backed out of the driveway, making sure we had our sweaters, rain jackets, water bottles, and sufficient snacks to get through the day. Indeed, it was a cold, cloudy morning and the battle wasn’t scheduled to begin until 2:30 in the afternoon. She even packed us some lozenges, knowing that the gun smoke might irritate our throats.

We parked in a farmer’s field about half a mile from the battleground, grabbed our rucksacks, and followed a crowd of onlookers to a small encampment of American forces. Kip was anxious seeing all the guns slung over the soldiers’ shoulders. But he was soon distracted by an elderly gentleman selling hand-carved wooden muskets and swords. $75 dollars later, Kip was ready for battle himself.

We weaved our way through campfires, canvas tents, latrines, and a makeshift hospital. Whenever I could, I snapped portraits of the battled-hardened faces of soldiers as well as of innocent woman and children caught up in the war. Kip and I rested on a large log and took it all in. Suddenly, the smell of fresh cooking wafted our way. We looked each other deep in the eyes and then made the hard decision. We threw away our healthy snacks and each had a foot-long hotdog with fries and a Coke.

Satiated, we headed to the English/Canadian encampment. Seeing two sympathetic souls, the colonel showed us around his luxurious tent, replete with Persian carpets, a large dining table, and numerous bottles of port wine. But he shortly had to take leave because the Battle of Longwoods (part of the Anglo-American War of 1812) was soon to begin.

Kip and I followed the marching band to the battlefield. With his wooden musket and our recent meeting with the colonel, Kip had been swayed to the English cause and was wanting to join the war against the Americans. I was momentarily worried, but seven-year-olds are easily bribed. Two homemade lavender cookies later, Kip was back with me on the spectator side of the rope. Once the cannon fire started, Kip quickly realized he’d made the right decision.

For 45 minutes, we watched the battle unravel. Many good soldiers fell, and I tried my best to capture their bravery on film. To keep me humble, Kip let it be known that I wasn’t the only war correspondent at this battle, and that most of the other photographers had much larger lenses than me. I walked over to one my fellow photojournalist (an elderly woman who appeared to have seen her fair share of shrapnel), showed her my Leica, and then asked for a cigarette. She must not have heard me over the gun fire, which is for the best as I didn’t want to teach Kip any bad habits.

The battle went to the Americans (although the English ultimately won the War of 1812). Once the dead and wounded were cleared off the field, all the children in attendance were invited to practice drills and participate in a mock battle. Kip put his musket to good use, taking out a ten-year-old boy, but he was eventually slain by a young girl wielding a wooden dagger. I didn’t feel comfortable photographing the children fighting, but a war correspondent needs to be tough, so I put aside my principles, and kept cocking the shutter.

When we arrived home in the early evening, my wife could see that we’d been through a lot. Kip and I weren’t ready to talk about it, but in the days and weeks to come, she slowly pieced together the events of our day, including the foot-long hotdogs. After careful reflection, Kip decided to lay down his arms, so the $75 wooden musket is now gaining dust in the basement. I’ve decided to retire from being a war correspondent and will go back to taking photos of my wife, son, and his friends.

I hope you enjoyed this story and the accompanying photos. If you want to follow more of Kip and my adventures of film, please consider following me on Instagram. You can find more of my photos at Leica Fotografie International.

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