Waitt, Ernest Linden, History of the Nineteenth regiment, Massachusetts volunteer infantry , 1861-1865

[219] if any, may be left to a comrade who drinks as he moves along, getting about as much down the neck of his shirt as in his mouth; some wet their handkerchiefs and put them under their caps to cool their heads.

Most of the regiments are dressed in the regulation fatigue uniform, but once in a while a regiment passes which shows a faded remnant of the picturesque Zouave uniform. Here comes a man slightly round shouldered. He moves along with his gaze fixed on the ground; his cap is turned around with the visor covering one ear and half of one eye, over which straggles a lock of tangled hair. His blouse which is hitched up in a roll behind above the belt, is open in front, as is also his woolen shirt, exposing his sunburnt chest; his cartridge box is around on his hip, the belt loose, while his haversack and canteen are dangling in front of him; the bottoms of his trousers are under his heels because he wears no suspenders, and a generous quid of tobacco puffs out one cheek. His walk indicates that he is an old salt.

Look at that short fellow, somewhat stout, with a big knapsack,—the only one in the company. He is evidently one of the greedy ones and dislikes to see things going to waste, for he still carries his woolen and rubber blankets, shelter tent and overcoat. What else there may be inside the knapsack, we won't attempt to guess; no doubt there is enough. To his knapsack he has attached a frying pan and an extra coffee pot, while straps secure a plate to the back, black and grimy from much use. He is well clothed and his gun and equipments show evidences of good care; his beard is full and scraggy and from it great beads of sweat are dropping. He is evidently one of Kaizer William's old campaigners. His comrades call him The Galvanized Dutchman.

Now comes one of a decidedly different type. He is tall and slim; carries his head up, has no need of a regulation leather choker; his eyes roll around, taking in everything as he passes along—if he shall go over this road five years hence, he will remember every house and hill—his cap is pushed back upon his forehead with the visor turned up, giving him a reckless, don't-care sort of look; he carries a rubber blanket over his