Photo courtesy of Bill Locey Writer, teacher and Civil War re-enactor Bill Locey of Ventura and other county residents did two nights of work as extras.

"National Treasure: Book of Secrets" is the sequel to the 2004 hit movie released Friday at a theater near you, and may feature some familiar Civil War soldier extras — that is, if we don't end up on the cutting-room floor.

The well-dressed locals involved include teacher-writer me; Jack Bell of the Top Hat; Art Mayhew, Air Force mechanic at Point Mugu; and "Big Joe" Woods, coach at Fillmore High and cabbie. We did get paid, but only about 150 bucks twice, so no one quit their day job.

As a Civil War re-enactor and the first sergeant of Company B of the 6th Wisconsin, I have read hundreds of books on the subject. I also have a degree in American history from UCLA and a social sciences teaching credential (even though no one will hire me because I'm too weird). So I know who won the war and what the well-dressed Yankee patriot of 1865 should look like.

The first shoot was on a Thursday night in March at Universal Studios. We parked in an 800-story parking structure, donned our uniforms and took a shuttle bus to the site in plenty of time to sit around and grub on the food.

The scene for the shoot was the nation's capital in April 1865, when the war had just ended. The set featured several buildings (facades, actually), a wide intersection and lots of mud in the street (Washington was unpaved in 1865). The movie-set hose guys in 2007 were working overtime, which sucked for me. My shoes had big holes in them, so I had wet, muddy feet after the first three minutes. Civil War shoes are called brogans. They're like wearing skillets on your feet — in my case, skillets with holes.

Now, the Grand Review in May 1865 was surely one of the most memorable sights in our nation's history. It took two days for more than 150,000 victorious Yankee soldiers to pass in review down Pennsylvania Avenue in front of President Andrew Johnson and thousands of cheering patriots.

With about 149,886 fewer Yankees on hand, 14 of us marched down the muddy street, with a guy who looked suspiciously like John Wilkes Booth watching from the sidelines.

For our second big show-biz moment, we sloshed through the mud as Booth darted nervously right in front of us, jumped on a horse and rode away. Evidently he had just murdered President Lincoln. We performed our mini mud march about five times and stood around for a while, then they sent us home. We made it back to Ventura by 2 in the morning. The end. Fade to, "So where's our Oscars, dude?"

Before we could write our acceptance speeches, thanking the academy and the guys with the hoses, but not the shoe-factory slackers who did a lousy job on my brogans, we got called in June to do another night shoot, for what we were told would be the film's opening scene.

This time we went to the Disney Ranch, one of the last unpaved areas near Magic Mountain. We spent a long time in makeup as they added all sorts of dirt, scars and blood to our already scary mugs. Our alleged motivation in the scene: The war's over and we're all brothers again, happily trudging home to our loved ones. Of course, that had nothing to do with the facts.

When Lee surrendered at Appomattox in April 1865, the tattered and torn rebs skedaddled back home on foot. But the victorious Yankees marched back to the capital, then camped for about a month until the Grand Review the third week of May. Many grumbling bluecoats didn't get discharged until well into the summer of 1865.

Then there's the Hollywood version. In the film, there was no military formation other than a bunch of blue dudes and a few rebs moseying down a dirt road.

On a whim, I had decided to take our 6th Wisconsin national flag, the one with 34 stars on it. During the first take we were near the back of the column. Every succeeding take we were moved closer to the front of the line. While most of what is shot ends up on the cutting-room floor, I'm guessing our flag will be in the movie, proudly carried by Yankee Cpl. Woods of Fillmore.

So after all that makeup for our close-ups, which never came, and after being on location for hours and standing around for years, when we finally marched by the camera, they got a great shot of our backs, marching away. In the dark.

Our Oscars are probably not in the mail.