Journal of Surgeon Alfred L Castleman.

23rd.—A week ago to-day was the battle at Lee’s Mill, and though there has been daily fighting ever since, and calls to arms almost every night, sometimes two or three times a night, there has been no battle worthy of the name. The artillery have been firing at long range, with occasional infantry firing. Two Federal officers, Col. Cassiday and Major Crocker, deserted to the enemy to-day. Charles F., of Company K, had his leg shattered by a musket ball—the first man of our Regiment seriously hurt by the enemy, although we have now been in the field nearly eight months. Whilst I was dressing his wound a little circumstance occurred illustrative of the tender sympathies which some military officers feel for their men. Gen. H was passing and looked in. ” How are you, my man?” asked the General. “Oh, General, I am suffering terribly; but just set me up before the damned rebels, and I’ll fight whilst I breathe.” “I am sorry to see you wounded my man. We need your services in these times.” That’s it; not a word of sympathy for his “suffering terribly;” not a word of approbation for his bravery; no thanks for his having done his duty like a man. All sorrow for loss of service. He has fought his fight, and henceforth is a useless appendage to the army. “Poor old horse, let him die!”

The newspapers, containing accounts of last Wednesday’s fight are now being received by us. They state our loss at thirty-two killed, and speak of our artillery as “mowing down the enemy by acres.” Now, this is all stuff. We might as well tell the truth. Our cause does not need the bolstering aid of falsehood. I have myself seen over fifty of the killed. And, then, I was by the side of our batteries during the hottest of the fight, within five hundred yards of the enemy’s fort, not a twig intervening, and at no time could there be seen an average of fifteen men to “the acre.” What ever others there might have been there were so concealed in rifle pits and behind parapets as to be entirely secured against the “mowing down” process of our artillery. This system of falsifying and exaggerating is a positive injury to our cause. The soldiers are losing confidence in reports, and even in official statements. Even the newsboys are being infected, though I heard one this morning, wittily burlesquing the reporters by crying “Morning Republica-a-n. Great battle in Missouri. Federals victorious. Their troops retreating in good order! Wonder if it will not awaken the reporters to a sense of their ridiculous statements.

If we have another battle here, it will be a desperate one. No stronger position could have been selected by the enemy, and they are well fortified. Jeff. Davis is here, and in the field. Magruder is here, and they are being rapidly reinforced. I do not like this way of marching up to an enemy, and then sitting down quietly and waiting for him to get ready before we attack him. ‘Tis not the Napoleonic style. But there may be good reasons for it which I do not comprehend. I am not a military man, and shall be careful how I condemn the plans of my superiors; but I do not like that style of fighting. Would it not be singular if Yorktown should decide the fate of this revolution, as it did that of “our revolution?”

22nd.—Nothing of general importance to day. There was an alarm, and in anticipation of an attack we were held in line of battle for about half an hour in a driving rain, then dismissed to quarters.

21st—Occasional firing between the batteries on Warwick Creek to-day, without results worth noting. Sickness among the troops rapidly increasing. Remittent fever, diarrhœa, and dysentery prevail. We are encamped in low, wet ground, and the heavy rains keep much of it overflowed. I fear that if we remain here long we shall lose many men by sickness.

This neck of land, between Yorktown and Jamestown, it seems now is to be made the point d’appui of the armies in Virginia. If we can, and will break up this army, it will put an end to the war, and until this army is overcome or dispersed, be it a month or a year, there will be no progress in the direction of a satisfactory peace. We are getting forward our siege guns, concentrating forces, in a word, preparing for battle. My request to be relieved of the Brigade Surgeonship is to-day granted, and I return to the charge of my regiment.

19th.—A flag of truce on the enemy’s parapet. A proposition to suspend hostilities and bury the dead. We crossed the creek and brought over the bodies of 35 (instead of 20, as previously stated) Vermonters, killed in the fight on the other side of the creek. Nothing of importance to-day. All quiet, remaining in camp.

18th.—Severe picket firing occasionally through the night, by which the army was twice called out. No fighting to-day, but our troops are still throwing up earthworks on the battle field of the 16th. Wrote General H. to-day, asking to be relieved from serving longer on his staff.

17th.—When I dropped down last night on my bloody litter, new thoughts overwhelmed me, and I could not sleep. It was our first battle, and we had been repulsed. I never saw the stars shine so brightly through the leafless trees, and the scene was calculated to excite the active workings of the mind on the occurrences of the day. I wrapped my head in my blanket to shut out the view. When I uncovered it this morning, I looked around on new scenes. The beautiful level field between me and the enemy, which yesterday presented a surface even as a floor, was now thrown into great ridges, a quarter of a mile long, mounted with cannon, bristling with bayonets, and covered with men ready to renew the contest. Our army had thrown them up in the night, as a protection against the enemy’s fire. Shortly after sunrise the troops were seen marshalling for the contest. The cannonading commenced, but in a short time began to slacken. By eleven o’clock A. M. all was quiet, save the tramp of men and horses, and an occasional oath from the commanding officers, and a little later we were all on our march back to the very ground we left yesterday. Why we have abandoned the contest I do not know.

I had a skirmish with my General to-day. He questioned my motives. I replied tartly. We quarrelled, and to-morrow I shall ask to be relieved from serving longer on his staff.

I6th.—Left camp at 8 this A. M., Gen. Brooks’ Brigade having the advance, with Gen. Hancock’s at a respectful distance in the rear. Then came the third, under General Davidson, and so on. Marched one and a half miles, and halted in line of battle. At the same time, 10 A. M., our artillery (Mott’s Battery) opened fire about a mile in advance of us. This is the first time we have had a near prospect of a general battle, and the effect on the bearing and conduct of our men surprised me. Were they burning with impatience to join their friends in the fight? In trepidation lest the danger approach nearer? Weeping to think how many of us before night must bite the dust? Rejoicing that this fight may terminate the war, and with it our privations, hardships, toils and dangers? Weeping over the fate of friends now falling in the fight? Not a bit of these. For myself, so soon as the firing commenced I rode up to Major ______, and we exchanged an expression of our wishes in case of serious accident to either of us. That arranged, he remarked, “Well, Surgeon, should you be killed it will be only for an hour or two. You will then wake up, (the Major is a Spiritualist) rub your eyes, look around you for the boys, but soon realize your new position.” We parted. I rode along the line of Hancock’s Brigade to see the effect on them. I first came on a group of men talking “horse talk,” and playing with their horses. Whilst I was listening, General H______ rode up, gave some general direction about ambulances, and casually remarked that Mott was having a hard time. I asked, What? He replied laughingly, that his “big French artillerist” had been killed, and that he had several others badly wounded. This Frenchman is said to be the best artillery officer in the service, and thus is his death announced to those for whom he has fought and died. Who knows how many ties of home, of country, of family, he has severed in our cause? I felt hurt, made no reply, but passed on to the 49th Penn. Regiment. Their band were lounging on their drums and horns as listless as personifications of ennui. Along the regimental line were quartettes interestedly engaged in the melancholy occupation of “old sledge.” At the other end of the line the staff officers, including the Chaplain, were lounging around, and seemed to be digging into their brains for something to think about. The Sixth Maine exhibited about the same degree of interest; whilst the 43d New York were amusing their Irish fancies by counting the reports, and now and then exclaiming, “By Jabers, but that shot tould some of your last stories,” and other similar remarks, showing that they had not become quite as much hardened as those around them. Rode back to the head of the line to see if the Brigade Staff realized any more fully the importance of our situation. I, of course, expected to find in Gen. H______ about two hundred and fifty pounds of animated and dignified humanity, surrounded by his staff of well dressed, well mounted officers, dashing from point to point on the field, holding everybody and everything in readiness for the conflict. What an illusion! I found the General stretched upon the dried grass, his elbow on the ground, his head in his hand—that laugh! Why the General nodded so low that a stub of old grass has run into his nose, set it a bleeding, and he sprang up with such an oath as none but he could utter. The scene was so ridiculous that even the common soldiers could not restrain a “guffaw.” Major L_____, a few feet beyond, lies on his stomach so fast asleep as not to be disturbed by the loud guffaw of the soldiers. To such a state of hardened carelessness have we been brought by a few months of constantly disappointed expectations.

In the afternoon moved down into the open field where the artillery fight was going on. Brooks’ Vermont Brigade engaged the enemy, keeping up a sharp fire across the creek, (Warwick). The artillery firing became still more constant. Our sharpshooters picked off their gunners, our batteries dismounted several of their guns, and three Vermont companies dashed across the creek in the face of the enemy’s infantry fire, drove a body of them from their rifle-pits, but were compelled to fall back (not being supported), leaving about twenty of their number dead on the field. We have no better fighting men than this Vermont Brigade, composed of the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th Regiments. For the small number engaged this has been one of the most fiercely contested battles of the war. The engagements of artillery and musketry have been terrific.

10 o’clock, P. M.—The warring of the passions, the physical straggles and strifes of the day, are hushed in darkness. Oh, to how many, hushed forever! In the last half hour the firing has ceased. I have walked the round of my regiment, lying on their arms in the open field, to see if any were sick after the fatigues of the day; and having retired into the deep woods alone, and ate a little cold supper, now sit on a litter, bloody, dyed with the blood of the dead, whom it has been all day carrying, (my lantern between my knees) to make this note of the sad occurrences of the day. We attacked the enemy, and have been repulsed.

I have not had time to finish my article, commenced weeks ago, which was to write down the U. S. Sanitary Commission, and I am glad of it, for here again we have been made to feel that the Commission is a power for good. Whilst the officials have been wrangling over the question as to how the hospital stores of the army got lost in the move from the Potomac to the Peninsula, and whilst the soldiers have been suffering for want of them, this Commission has been actively devising means to supply the much needed articles, and, behold! right in the midst of the battle to-day, whilst Generals were inquiring of Surgeons : “Have you the necessary comforts for the wounded?” and whilst Surgeons were anxiously enquiring what they were to do in the absence of them, this Commission drops down amongst us—from some where—their wagons are unloaded, and the wounded made comfortable. That “writing down” article will not spoil by a little more keeping.

15th.—Another fine day spent in camp waiting for better roads. I am getting out of patience with red tape. Since our arrival at Fort Monroe, we have been without many hospital stores absolutely necessary to the comfort of sick and wounded. Three weeks ago, drew for articles to make up our loss. Notwithstanding that we have been almost constantly since in face of the enemy, frequently fighting and constantly expecting a general engagement, the supplies are not furnished, but all this time spent in enquiring “how were they lost,” as if that would comfort the suffering army. At night received orders to be ready to move at 7 A. M. tomorrow, and yet without hospital supplies. Poor men!

14th.—Have just received an order from Division Commander S― , to see that every regiment in my Brigade has a wagon set aside for the exclusive use of the hospital, to take steps at once to see that all of my regiments are amply supplied with every thing necessary for the comfort of the sick and wounded, and to report the sanitary condition of my Brigade early in the morning. This indicates a forward movement, and although a change of weather, or a variety of other circumstances may alter the plans, I doubt not the present intention is to go forward during the week. I am quite recovered from my sickness, and although I sleep in the hot and in the open air, generally, I never enjoyed better health. Visited Warwick Court House to-day, and spent much of the afternoon in musing over the musty records of two hundred years ago. Jamestown must have been a small affair then, and it has wonderfully “held its own.” The date of these records runs back to within a very few years of the organization of the first government in Virginia, when the blue laws of Connecticut were recognized as patterns of wisdom, even here, and tobacco was a legal tender. Brought away a few sheets, over which I expect to while away many otherwise lonely hours. This country presents subjects of study and reflection, as well for the moral as for the physical historian. Compare its age with its progress, its appearance with that of other districts differently conditioned. The face of the country presents large tracts of low, wet land, intersected by extensive ridges of rich rolling timber—if in a proper state of cultivation, a beautiful farming country. It is surrounded on all sides by the finest navigable waters, with one of the finest climates in the world; nearer to markets, both foreign and domestic, than any country of the same extent on the continent, and though it has been settled for two hundred and fifty years, we may travel for miles through an almost unbroken forest; or, if we chance to find an opening made by the work of man, it is some insignificant field worn out by the culture of tobacco till it would produce no more; then, like an old horse, turned over to fate. This little field perhaps will have in its midst an old house, after the fashion of the peasantry of George the Second, which will exhibit to the eye the same broken panes which disfigured it a hundred years ago, and grate upon the ear the same harsh sound of rusty, broken hinges, which answered on the swinging of the door to admit the tax-gatherer of England’s king, two centuries before. Oh, Slavery! if these be thy doings, and thou art doomed now, all the sufferings of widows and orphans, all the sins of this wicked world will be atoned in thy crucifiction. Aye, this war is but one of the links in the great chain of events wrought by Providence countless centuries ago, to draw forward the car of progress to its final goal.