ONE OF KOSSUTH’S OFFICERS.
Early in the spring of 1862 Col. Gustav von Wagner came to our regiment. He was a Hungarian refugee and had seen service with Kossuth. He claimed to have been chief of artillery under Grant at Fort Donelson, and the Second New York regretted that Grant did not keep him.
The colonel awoke one morning and the first thing his eyes looked upon was a mule dressed in uniform standing demurely in his tent. It was said that he swore in several languages but he never found out who perpetrated the huge joke on him.
The officers of our fort arranged to have a little party one evening, the principal in the arrangements being Lieut. Stewart. The colonel had taken a dislike to Stewart in some way and when he learned what was going on he detailed the lieutenant to command the headquarters guard that night. The colonel occupied a fine house that had been used by Gen. McClellan for his headquarters before he left with his army, and Stewart got even with the colonel by firing off a gun after the party was in full blast. This caused a fright among the pickets who commenced firing, which caused a general alarm that resulted in the breaking up of the party and the regiment had to stand by the guns in the forts all night.
The colonel took the regiment on a long march one day in the direction of Fairfax court house. We skirmished through swamps and waded in streams nearly waist deep. The colonel issued orders that there must not be any “shying” at a mud puddle or creek, every man must go straight through them.
One of our captains was quite a fleshy man and as the weather was very hot the march was hard on him. He was greatly beloved by his men, however, and when we came to the first deep creek two of his soldiers carried him across dry. The colonel rode along just in time to witness the act and he ordered the men to carry the officer back and then the captain was told to wade through.
OLD “QUICKER NOR THAT.”
The most unique character of all was Maj. Roach or old “Quicker-nor-that” as he became known. Maj. Roach was a Scotchman and had seen service in the British army and when he was drilling the regiment and wanted them to close up would yell out, “Quicker-nor-that, there.” “Mind your distance; 18 inches,” and soon the boys got to calling him “Maj. Quicker-nor-that.” A witty Irishman by the name of Mike Lanehan composed some verses, the chorus of which ended with:
“Eighteen inches from belly to back,
Quicker nor that, quicker nor that.”