ON THE DOUBLE,” SAID THE order from Brig. Gen. Truman Seymour, commander of the Union forces in Florida. By mid-afternoon on a clear, cool winter day in February of 1864, Seymour could see that the Battle of Olustee was turning into a rout of his troops. Immediate reinforcements were the only hope for survival.

Six miles to the east more than 500 men, guarding supplies at the Florida Atlantic & Gulf Central Railroad station, got the message. Quickly, the soldiers leaped into action, charging west through the North Florida pinewoods.

To lighten their loads they dropped haversacks, blankets, knapsacks, anything inessential. Now the sounds of the battle were reaching their ears, the sharp crack of rifles, the boom of cannons.

When the reinforcements reached the battlefield, they saw that hundreds of their comrades lay wounded or dying. Dispirited stragglers were in full retreat, yelling, “We’re whipped!” and “You’ll all get killed!”

Then, from a disabled battery moving to the rear the reinforcements heard the words of their famous battle cry: “Three cheers for Massachusetts — and seven dollars a month!”

Seven dollars a month was the starting pay for the battle-toughened 54th Massachusetts Infantry Volunteers, the Civil War’s first regiment of free blacks. White soldiers were paid $13.

It was the 54th that seven months earlier had led the valiant, though doomed assault on Fort Wagner in South Carolina. Their heroics became the subject of the 1989 movie Glory, for which Denzel Washington won an Oscar for best supporting actor.

But at Olustee the 54th was not looking for fame. The Volunteers, commanded by Colonel E.N. Hallowell, faced a brutal task: slow a relentless Confederate advance long enough to allow Seymour’s disintegrating command to retreat to safety in Jacksonville.

At about 4 o’clock the 54th took up its position on the left flank of the battered Union army. The Volunteers, armed with Enfield rifles, gained a brief respite when the Confederates ran low on ammunition and had to withdraw until fresh supplies became available.

As dusk drew near, the 54th was still holding the line. By early evening most of the Yankees had left the battlefield. Only then was the black regiment ordered to fall back.

Even with the 54th’s eleventh-hour action, Union casualties were staggering. But a disaster of more horrendous proportions had been avoided in the biggest battle ever fought on Florida soil.

THERE WERE NO SPECTATORS ON the battlefield of Olustee on Feb. 20, 1864, to cheer for the victorious Confederates. The blood and casualties were real. From the Union’s original command of 5,500 men, 1,861 were killed, wounded or missing in action. The South suffered 946 casualties from a force of 5,200.

Today, thousands of people flock to Olustee every winter to see this devastating battle brought back to life in startling detail.

At this year’s Battle of Olustee reenactment, held in February, hundreds of Civil War buffs, mostly staunch Southerners, belted out Rebel yells when the Yankees finally fled into the pines. Earlier, they had cheered with equal fervor when a uniformed band from Athens, Ga., played Dixie in front of the bleachers.

Olustee, hardly a pivotal battle, has become one of the biggest annual reenactments in the Southeast (for a list of others, see informational box). More than 1,500 authentically garbed and armed reenactors, supported by 25 cannons and 42 cavalrymen, gathered for the 16th annual staging of the event, the centerpiece for a three-day festival held at the Olustee Battlefield State Historic Site at nearby Lake City. The festival, which drew a crowd of 20,000, included a square dance, food booths, entertainment, arts and crafts and the obligatory 10-kilometer run.

A popular area at the park is “Sutler’s Row,” an 80-tent tribute to the provisioners who helped supply the armies. Instead of military provisions, today’s sutlers hawk a variety of Civil War mementos: hoop skirts, bonnets and parasols, gingham, books, diaries, art, tintypes and photographs.

Before the battle is staged, visitors stroll through other realistic encampments, where uniformed reenactors sleep in period tents, cook in pots over open fires and drill at camp sites. Women and children, mostly from Lake City, join in by wearing the fashions of the 1860s.

The reenactment craze grew out of the Civil War centennial in the 1960s and gained new vigor in recent years because of the movie Glory and the PBS series, The Civil War.

Today more than 30,000 reenactors recreate battles from the Civil War, the American Revolution, the War of 1812, the French and Indian War, the Florida Seminole Wars and assorted smaller conflagrations that took place on U.S. soil.

It isn’t a cheap hobby. Reenactors pay their own way, which includes travel expenses and a hefty outlay for the uniforms and weapons of the time. A Civil War uniform alone runs about $1,000, and this does not include costs for books, maps, diaries and journals that are studied for historical accuracy.

At Olustee, the Union reenactors dressed in snappy dark-blue uniforms, complete with caps. The Confederates displayed a ragtag assortment of mostly gray caps, hats and uniforms, reflecting the actual conditions of the war. Both sides wore wool, a tough requirement in the unseasonably warm 80-degree Florida weather.

Safety is always a concern at reenactments. Charges are set off to simulate cannon hits, and rifles fire blanks in a steady barrage. But what if someone slips up and leaves a live cartridge in his rifle?

“Constant inspection is the answer,” says Ray Giron of McIntosh, Fla.

Giron holds a Ph.D. in zoology but now runs a business called Fort McIntosh Armory, which specializes in reenactment supplies and period memorabilia.

A coordinator of reenactors for Glory and for the upcoming Civil War movie, Class of ’61, now being shot in Georgia, Giron choreographs the movements of the 1,500 men who recreate the battlefield of Olustee. “We use walkie- talkies,” he says, explaining how mass confusion is avoided.

Before the release of Glory, part of which was shot at Olustee in 1989, the reenactment called on a small black “regiment” recruited in Lake City. Now, Company B, 54th Massachusetts Volunteers, based in Arlington, Va., consists of some 50 men, mostly from the Washington area. Thirty members made it to Olustee, including one from the Philippines.

Black reenactors have been well received, says Mel Turner, a five-year reenactor who is an employee of the State Department’s Foreign Service.

“The Confederates are glad to see us,” says Turner, a Harvard M.B.A. “Just like us, these people are students of the war. They know blacks fought in these battles. They know the reenactments wouldn’t be authentic without us.”

Before the battle, the portly Turner is given appropriate duty: peeling potatoes and chopping cabbage for the noonday meal, prepared in pots over an open fire in the Florida pinewoods.

“We’ve been eating just fine,” he says. “We had fried apples and scrambled eggs for breakfast and a really good stew for dinner last night.”

Helping Turner prepare lunch is Mark Williams, who is active in outreach programs that carry the story of the 54th to schools in the Washington area.

“It’s a source of great pride for blacks,” he explains.

The 54th is commanded by Capt. Jack Thompson, a former Marine helicopter pilot and aviation consultant. He is white, as were the commissioned officers who commanded black troops in the Civil War. A reenactor for a decade, Thompson appeared briefly on-screen in Glory.

“If you looked quick enough, you’d see me,” he says, grinning.

The oldest of the 54th battlers is Alvin Batiste, a 71-year-old private who sports a snowy-white beard and speaks with a lilting Cajun accent. A resident of Alexandria, Va., he was recruited two years ago by his son, Michael.

Many visitors to Olustee were surprised to find black reenactors wearing Rebel uniforms.

“Many blacks were surveyors for the South,” explains Lake Ray, a reenactor from Jacksonville. “Two (Rebel) regiments were recruited from free blacks, and by the end of the war the Confederates were using slaves with a promise of freedom in return for fighting for the South.”

Herman Floyd, an engineer from Jacksonville, plays the role of a black surveyor with the Confederate Engineer Corps. He signed on three years ago at the annual December reenactment of the Dade Massacre, the first major battle of the Second Seminole War in 1835. At the Dade Battlefield State Historic Site near Bushnell he plays the role of the guide Louis Pacheco, a slave believed to have betrayed the U.S. Army troops to the victorious Seminoles.

THE UNION’S CRUSHING DEFEAT IN the Battle of Olustee, despite an edge in manpower, is largely blamed on the arrogance and ineptitude of Brig. Gen. Truman Seymour.

Seymour had little respect for the black soldiers under his command. In July of 1863, he had commanded the bloody assault on Fort Wagner in South Carolina, and had deliberately placed the black 54th Massachusetts in the vanguard of the attack.

“I guess we will … put those damned niggers from Massachusetts in the advance,” he told his officers. “We may as well get rid of them one time as another.”

In early February of 1864, Seymour’s troops occupied Jacksonville and began raids on a number of settlements in North Florida.

On Feb. 9 the Union troops captured the town of Baldwin, west of Jacksonville, and the following day moved on to a large ranch known as Barber’s Plantation.

At Barber’s, Seymour chose to ignore the instructions of his superior, Maj. Gen. Quincy Adams Gillmore, who ordered him to return to Baldwin. Instead, Seymour headed west toward Lake City with a force of some 5,500 men, planning to destroy an important railroad bridge.

On the morning of Feb. 20, Seymour was informed that a large Confederate force had assembled east of Lake City. At first he refused to believe the report, but it turned out to be accurate.

A force of some 5,200 Confederate troops stood between Seymour and his objective. The Southerners had used their knowledge of the landscape to set up defenses where the wetlands of the Okefenokee Swamp would severely restrict the area of dry land over which the Union troops could advance.

Union troops had already marched more than 30 miles when they collided with the Rebels. Skirmishing, which had begun in mid-afternoon, quickly accelerated into a major battle.

Seymour, restricted by the swampy terrain, sent his troops forward in numbers too small to handle the superior Southern forces. The Union collapse began when the 7th New Hampshire Regiment suddenly fell apart. Some soldiers began running to the rear, while others simply milled about in confusion.

Later it was learned that the 7th commander, Col. Joseph Abbott, had given an incorrect order, which created a chaotic positioning of his troops. Nearly a third of Abbott’s men were killed, wounded or captured.

The disintegration of the New Hampshire 7th was far from the end of the battle, however. Heavy fighting brought severe casualties on both sides. Shortages of ammunition slowed down the Confederate advance, but by late afternoon Seymour realized his troops were facing an ignominious defeat.

It was at this point that he decided to send in his last reserves — the 500 black troops guarding the Florida Atlantic & Gulf Central Railroad station.

Seymour has been criticized for sacrificing his black soldiers to save the routed whites. That charge may have been true at Fort Wagner, but at the Battle of Olustee it seems unwarranted, since the black units remained in the rear until desperately needed. Furthermore, the casualties among the Massachusetts 54th were lower than those of the rest of the army — 83 killed, wounded or missing out of a force of 500.

It is likely that even fewer would have been killed if Confederate troops had not deliberately shot wounded blacks as they lay helpless on the battlefield — a frequent occurrence during the Civil War.

“Soon after the Battle of Olustee in Florida,” wrote Union Brig. Gen. John P. Hatch, “a list of wounded and prisoners in the hands of the enemy was forwarded to our lines by the commander of the Rebel army. The very small number of colored prisoners attracted immediate attention, as it was well known that the number left wounded on the field was large. It is now known that most of the wounded colored men were murdered on the field.”

To the South, a black soldier was seen as a slave who had rebelled, a crime punishable by death. The Confederacy simply refused to recognize the blacks as soldiers protected by the normal rules of war.

THOUGH THE BATTLE OF OLUSTEE had little influence on the outcome of the Civil War, it had a dramatic effect on the career of General Seymour. He had defied the orders of his superior, ignored accurate information given to him, marched his troops 30 miles in one day and then thrown them into battle against a well-entrenched enemy. Seymour was promptly relieved of his command. A few months later he was captured during a battle in Virginia.

An amusing aftermath to the Battle of Olustee was the dunking of Union rifles after the war. Occupation troops taking a meal at Lake City’s Hotel Blanche had stacked their weapons outside the dining room. Rebel sympathizers quietly gathered the guns and dumped them in Lake DeSoto a block away.

The story became a local legend, often told but not necessarily believed. Then in 1982 the lake was drained — and there in the mud lay 16 trap-door Springfield rifles. They are now on display at the Lake City Public Library.

April 11-12: The Second Seminole War attack on the settlement at Indian Key. Location: Indian Key State Park, in the Florida Keys. Call 305-664-4815.

—- STUART McIVER is a Florida historian whose articles appear regularly in Sunshine.

BATTLES AHEAD

REENACTMENTS SCHEDULED FOR 1992 in the Southeast include the following:

March 21-22: The Second Seminole War skirmish between Sam Jones’ Seminoles and Col. W.S. Harney’s U.S. Army troops. Includes arts, crafts and food booths. Location: Charles Deering Park, Miami. For information call 305-235-1668.

March 21-22: The Second Seminole War skirmishes at Fort Foster. Location: Hillsborough River State Park, near Tampa. Call 813-986-1020.

April 10-12: The Civil War Union cavalry raid on the hometown of Andrew Jackson. Location: Waxhaw, N.C., near Charlotte. Call 704-289-4749.

April 11-12: The Second Seminole War attack on the settlement at Indian Key. Location: Indian Key State Park, in the Florida Keys. Call 305-664-4815.

May 23-24: 1836 Creek War skirmishes. Location: Westville Village, near Lumpkin, Ga. Call 912-838-6310.

Dec. 26: Dade Massacre, Second Seminole War. Location: Dade Battlefield State Historic Site, near Bushnell, Fla. Call 904-793-4781.