“RUNNING ON SIGNALS & BAD DECISIONS // Day 1- DIV 61”

Matt Howell

April 2, 2026

DIV 61 & 62 – Brandy Station & Culpepper, VA

There’s just something different about stepping onto ground like this… and Diggin’ In Virginia never disappoints.

DIV 61 & 62 brought us back to the legendary fields of Brandy Station and the surrounding Civil War camps of Beauregard Farm of Culpepper, Virginia—land that still has stories buried just beneath the surface. Every signal, every whisper in the headphones… it means something out here.

This hunt was a little different for me.

Out of the full six days, I was only able to hunt about three. Life had me pulled in other directions, but I wasn’t going to miss it entirely. And in the end, those three days were more than enough to remind me why I keep coming back.

A confederate bullet is woken from its resting place 160+ years later

A Rough Start (As Usual)

My trip kicked off Tuesday—and in true fashion, I was completely unprepared.

The night before, I barely packed anything. Just grabbed a detector and figured I’d sort the rest out later. I was heading straight from work to the field, and somewhere during my shift it hit me…

No boots. Just flip flops.
No shovel.

Classic.

So there I was—fresh off shift—running through Walmart in Culpepper in flip flops like a madman. I grabbed my go-to “Expert” shovel and what might be the worst pair of digging boots ever created. Ugly, not waterproof, and uncomfortable from the first step.

But at that point, it didn’t matter. I had what I needed.

Time to dig.

Day One – The Grind

I knew I had some catching up to do. The guys were already into it, and I told them I’d try to chase down a pit in the “Field of Dreams” and meet up later.

I started in the front field—fighting tall grass and swinging a large coil through it. Not easy work. I’ve had success there before and knew there were deep targets left… but it made me earn every one this time.

Some of the bullets were 15+ inches deep, barely giving off a signal. Just faint whispers that you could easily walk past if you weren’t paying attention.

After a while, the crew started rolling in. Ross moved up toward a spot where he’d previously found part of a rare bullet, and before long I was ready to abandon my solo plan and jump in on something better.

That “something” turned into a hut.

The view from the farm looking across the camps of Culpepper to the Blue Ridge Montains

A Glimpse Into 1864

What we uncovered was a winter quarters hut from the winter of 1863/1864.

A soldier had lived there through the cold months at Brandy Station, and before moving out—likely for the Overland Campaign—he left pieces of his life behind. A knapsack. Parts of a uniform. Fabric still intact, with buttons attached.

That’s the kind of history you don’t just find—you feel it.

Moments like that slow everything down. It’s not just digging anymore… it’s connecting.

Back to the Field

After wrapping up at the hut, we moved back to a field the guys had worked the day before. There had already been some great finds, including a Massachusetts coat button, so we knew there was potential.

The field the pits would soon be located in

The group pushed up the slope, but I dropped down lower toward the road.

There weren’t many detectors left in that section, which gave me room to work—but there was a problem. A buried transmission line nearby was causing constant interference.

If you’ve ever run a pulse induction machine like the GPX series, you know how bad EMI can get. The machine starts chattering, falsing, and driving you crazy.

Most people had already moved away from it.

That’s exactly why I stayed.

Trust the Noise

I started slow… picking off a few dropped three-ring bullets.

Then I heard it.

A signal buried in the noise.

Faint at first—but different.

I started digging. The deeper I went, the stronger it got. At nearly 20 inches, I pulled a bullet from the hole.

And right then, I knew.

Bullets don’t end up that deep in these fields without a reason.

I stood up, swung the coil back over the hole… and got hit with a strong, unmistakable signal.

I threw up the call, An upward reached arm with the other crossing the body and the hand covering up the arm pit- The PIT signal.

When It All Comes Together

Matt and Dusty were the first to get there. We opened the hole up wider and started working it properly. Ross was called over from across the field via phone he said “let me watch this signal being dug and I’ll be right there”.

At first, it was just broken glass.

Then more.

And then… the curve.

That unmistakable shape of an intact bottle.

Ross was still across the the field talking and another call was made but this time it was different
“Bring your ass—we got one.”

With the rest of the crew complete, it was on. More careful excavation and then the shovel was handed to Dusty for him to pull the first bottle

Dusty pulled his first Civil War bottle—from the first civil war pit he had been in—at his first DIV. That’s a moment you don’t forget.

The Bottle and history

The famed springs of Saratoga owe their existence to a natural geological fault, which allows carbonated water—trapped deep within layers of shale—to rise to the surface. Long before European settlers arrived, Native American tribes, including the Mohawk and Iroquois, visited these springs to drink and bathe, believing the waters held powerful healing properties.

Local tradition holds that the Mohawks called the area “Serachtuague,” or “place of fast-moving water.” Over time, early settlers likely altered the pronunciation, eventually shaping it into the name we know today: Saratoga.

As news of the springs spread, so did their reputation for health and wellness. Among their early admirers was George Washington, who was particularly interested in High Rock Spring. In 1783, he even attempted to purchase the land, though it had already been claimed. This love for the spring water continued to the American civil war and far beyond. And I am sure that the NY soliders who lived in this camp enjoyed this water and it reminded them of home.

The Pit Continues

Not long after, I spotted something on my side of the hole. Carefully working it loose, I uncovered a squat soda bottle from Hartford, Connecticut—H.L. & J.W. Brown.

Intact.

Solid.

Still standing after everything it had been through.

These are the kinds of find that brings the whole group to life. The kind that turns grown men into kids again—yelling, laughing, and celebrating like it’s the biggest win in the world.

Because in that moment… it is.

Marking the Spot

We pulled a few more pieces—some broken, some whole—but daylight was fading fast.

Like always, we marked the hole with water bottles—our signal that we’d be back to finish what we started.

A few photos went out. Word spread quickly.

And we all knew what that meant.

We Wouldn’t Be Alone Tomorrow

To be continued…

The photo credit for this blog go to the following- Matt Susteck, Ross Walker and Dusty Sizemore. If you would like to submit a blog post of a story of adventure to be featured here on GoneDiggin.net please reach out to me from the contact section. We would love to share your story.

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