Journal of Surgeon Alfred L Castleman.

30th.—Rumors of battle have to-day, waked up our drowsy energies, and put all on the qui vive. Orders at noon to “be ready for action at any moment.” The enemy’s gun boats are coming down the river, and a land attack is anticipated. Humiliated as we feel at being shut up here on the defence, there is a kind of “let ’em come” defiance in every heart and on every face. My own opinion is that it is a feint, and that we shall not be attacked. My experience in the late retreat, has fully gratified all my curiosity to see a great fight. For five days and nights I was not out of sight of our lines; in fact, never left the field of battle. It will require more than idle curiosity to induce me to undergo the same again.

29th.—It is a source of unspeakable gratification to me that after my long fights, the comforts of the suffering soldiers are being heeded; whether on account of my much importunity, or from the fact that the necessity of this course has become apparent to the Military Department, or that the new Surgeon General has directed his attention more particularly to it, it matters not. When I call for aid for the hospitals under my care I get it. All the surgeons in this department now have only to call for help to procure enough to clean, drain, and sweep camp grounds every day, to ask for the necessary food, medicine and furniture, and if they will then give their personal attention to it, they can have it. The scurvy has been rapidly increasing with us, but we have now the means of arresting it. Thanks to U. S. Sanitary Commission for the larger share of them.

Some mysterious movements are going on in this army. At night we look over a large flat covered with tents, lighted by camp fires, resonant with the sounds of living soldiers. In the morning that same flat is deserted and still, as if the angel of death had enjoyed a passover. What has become of the busy actors of the night, none who dare speak of it can conjecture. In fact, in the present perilous condition of the army all purposes are necessarily secret. Some think the troops thus disappearing are crossing the river and marching on Fort Darling. Some think they are moving down the river to possess ourselves of a fort which is being built to blockade the river and cut off our supplies. Others think Washington is again in danger, and that a part of this army is being shipped thither, whilst many others are of opinion that we are slowly and secretly withdrawing our forces, and that Gen. Smith’s division is to be left here as a blind and sacraficed to save the balance of the army. This would seem hard; yet when it becomes necessary, Gen. Smith will be found to be the very man, and his the very army to submit to the necessity without a murmur.

I am, however, of the opinion that the bulk of the rebel army has withdrawn from about us, and is after General Pope, and that we are taking advantage of their absence to escape from our present perilous position. General Pope’s antecedents warrant the belief that whatever is in his power to do for our relief will be accomplished to the utmost of his ability.

24th.—No active work to-day, save of my mind. The condition of the country and of the army, past, present, and prospective, is the material on which it has worked. Notwithstanding that one year ago our little army had been repulsed at Bull Run, and the heart of the nation was sorrowful, yet the “whole broad continent was ours.” And with our little army in spirits, though momentarily baffled, we were almost unembarrassed to go where we pleased. The country, confident in its leaders, had risen as one man to sustain the best Government the world ever saw. Three hundred thousand troops were called for, and the question was not who shall be obliged to go, but who shall have the privilege of going. A few weeks later, this “Grand Army of the Potomac,” two hundred and twenty thousand strong, had, like the spirited steed, to be restrained by the strong arm of power from rushing forward to the contest. Summer passed, amidst impatient appeals of the men to be led against the enemy. Winter came, with joyful assurance that we were not to go into quarters, because they were soon to advance upon the enemy and to end the war. But spring found them still in canvas tents, impatient for the word to move. At length, with 130,000, shortly afterwards swelled to nearly 160,000 men, such as no General ever led to battle, we sailed and marched till we met the enemy, about three thousand strong, entrenched at Young’s Mill, when we turned around and marched back. After waiting till they had left, we again took up our march, and overhauled them at Yorktown, now increased to seven or eight thousand strong. Instead of crushing them at once, we settled down and digged, lest they should crush us. After they had tired of waiting for us, they quietly packed up and left our General, with his one hundred and forty thousand men, to enjoy his diggings in the swamps of Warwick. They went to Williamsburg, and having had plenty of time, they had swelled their force to about thirty thousand men. They gave us no time to dig here, but came out to meet us. They punished us severely, but were driven, and instead of following actively in pursuit, we settled down and cried for help! The patience of the soldiers was exhausted; their patriotism was worn out. The malaria of the marshes, and the fatigues of digging, produced low grades of fever which began to carry off the men. And on the 25th of June, although the muskets and the bayonets and the artillery of the enemy had scarcely marked our army, we brought out to meet the opposing foe, which had now swelled to a monster army, less than eighty thousand of the one hundred and sixty thousand men. One half of this eighty thousand dragged themselves to battle, but yet fought like heroes. And now that noble army, instead of moving where it pleased, as it could a year ago, is shut up in a little circuit, with a radius of less than a mile and a half, and cannot leave it. I am induced to hope that in all this there is nothing worse than incompetency. But I doubt the ability of any other set of honest men to use up such an army with so little fighting. There is another call for three hundred thousand men, but before it is filled I fear the hydra-head of party will rear itself and give us trouble. But in whatever manner raised, here this remnant of a great army must remain besieged until a new one is drafted, drilled, and brought to relieve us. Somebody has failed. The men have not.

22nd.—I have received letters from my family to-day. One of them says, “We are not feeling well this morning.” “Who is not, and what is the matter? It is a dreadful thought that we must be thus separated from family without the slightest prospect of being able to see them when we know they are suffering.

18th.—I regret exceedingly to feel that there may be too much truth in the following extract of a letter received today: I would not libel my fellow officers, but I have no hesitation in declaring that, notwithstanding I have spent fifty years of a life of excitement in this little world, I have witnessed more drunkenness amongst officers of the army within one year, than I have seen in the same class of men in all my fifty years of civil life. The letter says: “After you left me I was lonely, rarely having any of the officers call at my tent. I spent my time, when not engaged in official duties, in reading and in writing. This was rather agreeable, notwithstanding I could hear in all the tents around me the social hiliarity of officers visiting each other. It seemed pleasant to me, and I sometimes almost envied them. One morning there could be seen in my tent three boxes. On the end of one, in large print: “Prime Bourbon;” on another, “1 Doz. each Old Q and Cogniac;” the third, ” Fine Sherry.” On top of the boxes sat three bottles, each marked correspondingly with the box from which it was taken; and by side of the bottles, glasses, and a bucket of ice water. It soon began to be found out that I had .the shadiest, airyest tent, and that I was one of the most jovial fellows on the ground. Privates, who had previously frequented my tent for instruction and advice, disappeared, cocked hats and shoulder straps crowded about me; I had a good cook, and occasionally my friends dined with me. * * * * * Can you imagine how, after my long seclusion, I enjoyed this change of socialty? Let me tell you: I have become most supremely disgusted with myself, my liquors, my comrades, and almost feel that the world, or at least the military portion of it, is a failure. Thank God my liquors are gone; my friends and I now know each other, and those who loved me for my good liquors will love me no more forever. A few with whom I was thus brought into contact, are fine fellows, and our intimacy will continue.”

The enemy are attempting to blockade the river below us, and thus cut off our supplies. Should they succeed, we must capitulate, or fight our way to Fortress Monroe, a distance of seventy or eighty miles, without provisions.

In the year that we have been in the field our fine army has been frittered away, without having accomplished anything. I fear General McClellan is a failure. I would not be an alarmist, but I fear that without a change of leaders our cause must be abandoned. The ring of General Pope’s proclamation is right, just right, I cannot take one exception. But the expediency of its coming from General Pope is questionable. I have not too much confidence in the disinterestedness of our Potomac officers, and this proclamation may be applied by some of them personally, and make trouble. Nevertheless, the tone of it is right. I hope he will be able to come up to “the sounding tenor of the munifesto.”

13th.—One year ago this day, the —— Regiment of —— Volunteers entered the service of the United States. It then numbered between ten and eleven hundred of the finest troops that ever went to battle. Its history in that brief period, though sad, is briefly summed up. On the 19th of June, 1861, the regiment was organized. On the 24th of July following, it took up its hurried march, to aid in arresting the tide of retreat which was rushing from Bull Run on Washington, and was, I am told, the first Western regiment which passed through Pennsylvania to support our beaten friends. Early in August it reached Washington, was shortly after brigaded under command of General R—— K—— , a Commander in all respects worthy of the position he held. The measles, in its very worst form, had broken out in camp, before the regiment left the State of ——, and from severe exposure on a most hurried journey, much sickness prevailed for a time after its arrival at Washington. General K ——, being endowed with feelings which could never witness suffering without sympathy, fully realized the fact that sick and feeble men were an encumbrance to the army. He was constantly on the watch, and every means in his power was employed to preserve the health and energy of his men; nor did he permit either vanity or vindictiveness to interpose between his Surgeons and their proper duties. The restored health and vigor of his men responded beautifully to his care and his efforts.

Some time in September the regiment was transferred to the brigade of Gen. —— S—— , and although after this transfer their position subjected them to more labor and exposure, their health and comfort whilst under his command were looked after with such care and solicitude that their efficiency continued to improve, and on the 1st of October, not a man had died in camp, or had been killed or wounded in battle. About that time they were transferred to the brigade of Gen. ——. This General showed himself possessed of one very Napoleonic trait of character, that when an object is to be attained the lives of men are not to be estimated. The men were exposed and hard worked. The efforts of the surgeons were not seconded. Their advice was disregarded. Sickness increased. The men became jaded and dejected, and the frequent passing of a squad to the solemn tread of the dead march, and with arms reversed, told sadly that another foe was at work. The cool days of November brought hopes of restored health and vigor, but continued severity of discipline and disregard of sanitary demands, blasted the hopes and brought even more frequent processions to the grave.

The New Year came without a death on the battle-field, but with greatly thinned ranks. The winter passed with constant work and constant exposure, without an enemy in our field. The men sickened of the work of the menial, and panted for that of the soldier. The battle of Drainesville was fought in our hearing, but we were not permitted to participate. Their spirits were buoyed up by promises that soon we should have the enemy at Manassas “in a bag,” and then we should have only to go forward and capture them. But notwithstanding these promises we were compelled to chop, to dig, to do picket duty, and to see them going away before our very faces without being permitted to prevent it. So great had been our losses that recruiting officers had been sent off, and men were added to the regiment sufficient to swell its original number to between eleven and twelve hundred.

On the 23d March, 1863, the regiment (in the same brigade) embarked at Alexandria, for the Peninsula between the James and York Rivers. On its arrival, hard work, hard marches and exposure seemed the order of every day. Numbers were discharged from service daily, on account of constitutions broken by excessive demands on the nervous energy of the men. They were anxious, whilst able, to be led to battle, but for them only drudgery was reserved; and although for weeks our regiment has been within sight of the enemy, or within hearing of his guns, never to this day has it been permitted to attack.

At Williamsburg it fought on the defensive, and scarcely had it engaged till it was ordered to fall back. By declining to obey that order it at last found an opportunity of its long wished for ambition, to distinguish itself in fight. In that fight, despite the order of its General, it saved the battle of Williamsburg—the Army of the Potomac. The regiment lost in the fight nine killed, and seventy-one wounded. It fought that day under Gen. Hancock, and this is the battle in which Gen. McClellan telegraphed that “Hancock’s success was won with a loss of less than twenty in killed and wounded!” Was the Commander-in-Chief ignorant of the facts about which he telegraphed? Or did Gen. Hancock need some “setting up?” However this may be, the Commander-in-Chief publicly declared to this regiment that to it he owed the victory, and promised that it should have “Williamsburg inscribed on its banner.” Notwithstanding this promise, “Williamsburg” got on to other banners, but never found its place on that to which it was promised. Why?

Experience seemed to have taught no good lessons. Large demands continued to be made on the energies of the men. They sank under the efforts, and on the retreat before Richmond, when at the battle of White Oak Swamp, and Malvern Hills, all the force of active and robust men were needed. This regiment which had brought to the field eleven hundred of as good men as ever went to war,[1] which had not lost thirty men in battle, now tottered feebly into line with only two hundred and twenty-seven muskets, borne by men feeble, emaciated, and as nearly spiritless as it is possible for ambitious and energetic men to be.

I omitted to record, in the proper place, that though the regiment was in the fight on the night of the 27th of June, doing great execution, not a man was killed, and only twelve wounded.

This is an epitomized history of one regiment for a year.

The signs of the times portend that we have done “playing war.” Our Generals have now been taught a lesson of realities, which it is to be hoped will be heeded. Our muskets will hardly be seen guarding the property of rebels, whilst these are shooting down our men in the battle. Contratrabands are being taken into the employment of the government, and are relieving the soldiers of much hard and depressing labor. As matter of economy, the regimental brass bands are being discharged. This is pretty hard, but as economy is necessary to a proper and successful prosecution of the war, we submit cheerfully. Our good band then will no more carry us forward in pleasing imagination to the land of “Dixie,” nor ‘backward to the melancholy ” days of Auld Lang Syne,” the “Star Spangled Banner,” will not again wake our drowsy energies “At the Twilight’s Last Gleaming;” nor shall we be awoke in the “Stilly Night,” by the romping, rolicking music of “The Girl I Left Behind Me.” We shall part with regret, not only the band, but with particular members, whose conduct has on all occasions been courteous and gentlemanly. Their leader has also made himself useful by his peculiar talent for scouting, often learning almost instinctively the position and strength of the enemy.

[1] The physical superiority of the Western over the Eastern regiments was illustrated in the athletic exercises on first of January, at Camp Griffin. [See journal of that date.]

12th.—This night closes the period of one year’s service in the United States. One year ago to-morrow, our regiment changed its situation from State to United States, and when I review that period, and recall the sufferings I have witnessed, the treason and incompetency which have thwarted the well laid plans of the government, the repeated failures of our leaders to embrace most favorable opportunities to crush the rebel armies and to arrest the war, I despair of accomplishing decisive results till we have a change of leaders. But I have a gratifying consciousness of having, up to the ability which God has given me, performed every duty to my country with as little selfishness as man’s frailty will permit. I cannot recall an instance where fatigue, the fear of danger, or even sickness, has been permitted to interpose between my comfort and my efforts to relieve the sufferings of the soldier in whatever form presented. I have had much reason to regret that my efforts were not more effective, but never that I have neglected their performance; nor has it been a source of less thankfulness to me that I have been so small a portion of time unable to labor.

4th.—The President, I see, has made another call for three hundred thousand men. Before this war is over, we shall have to resort to drafting. I regret that it was not done in the first place. Then the vast majority of the able bodied men willing to go, would have shamed down the unwilling ones from complaining. As it is, now that most of the willing ones are in the field, I fear that a draft will cause trouble. I should much have preferred, as it is put off to this time, a conscript act, requiring all able-bodied men to organize and hold themselves ready to act when called on. This would have given us an irresistable army, and all would have been treated alike.

Our regiment, which has heretofore borne more than any other, suffered terribly in the late retreat. I am vain enough to attribute this to the change of sanitary measures adopted during my month’s absence. General ——’s pride could never brook the small show of my regiment on his “dress parades.” My plan was, that when a man began to sicken I took him at once from all duty, and had him nursed and cared for till well. Hence, in time of quiet, I always had a large number excused, but when we came to action, or to a hard march, there were few regiments in the army which could compare with us, either in numbers or endurance. During my absence of a month, this thing was reversed. Men were kept on show as long as their legs would bear them up, the General’s vanity was gratified, but when we came to a forced march, we were found to be in most miserable, plight.

4th.—The fourth has come and gone, but brought no fight, and our great Republic has passed another anniversary, if not in safety, in integrity, for its flag yet floats over the loyal men of every State, and the sunset salute of thirty-four guns, proclaims that we are yet an integral. But for the bombast of General McClellan’s proclamation of to-day, we should feel sad. That makes us laugh. Shut up in a little bend of the James River, not daring to venture a single mile from his encampment, he commences digging and peeping from his ditch to see that Lee is not in sight, he cries thus: “On this, our Nation’s birthday, we declare to our foes, who are rebels against the best interests of Mankind, that this army shall enter the Capital of their so-called Confederacy.” Stuff! Has he forgotten that last winter he promised that under him we should have no more defeats?