A CHEERFUL SUPPER OF CHEERS
AS Commissary it was Haskell’s business to see to it that we had plenty to eat; but the seven days’ fights below Richmond were on, and Haskell was, first of all, a fighter,—a thing uncommon in Commissaries and Quartermasters.
Instead of attending to his pork and meal wagons in the rear, he went to the front.
There he was active in a degree that commanded the respect of his general. He interested himself so much in the movements of troops, and in the controversy with the enemy, that he forgot all about the wagons.
In this service he had his right arm shot off by a cannon-ball.
When night came, and we wanted something to eat, there was a good deal of growling because we had nothing. But when the story was told of how our Commissary had fought, and how he had lost an arm in the fighting, a fellow with more humor than appetite got up and cried: “I move that we sup on three cheers and a tiger for the Commissary that fights.”
The three cheers were given.
As soon as his wound was healed, Haskell was made a major and placed in command of the battalion.
There may have been many better Commissaries than Haskell, but there were no better fighting majors.