Journal of Surgeon Alfred L Castleman.

12th.—Am not well to-day. Have diarrhœa, and at midday had high fever. How much I miss the tender care of my family in sickness. Am much better to-night, but feel sad. Have been reading Ernest Linwood, and, by contrast, it has recalled pleasant family scenes, which I miss in my sickness. I wish I had not written my last letter to my family. I felt badly when I wrote it, and spoke harshly of officers. ‘Twas wrong, but I cannot recall it. Oh, if every thought is a material thing, an entity, and goes forth to make a part of the great mental and moral atmosphere, how is it possible that, with the great preponderance of evil imaginations there can be moral or mental advancement? We should be as careful of our thoughts as of our acts.

11th.—A mail to-day. One, only one little letter from my home, and that thirteen days old! The bearing of General ― towards me for a few days has been greatly changed? What is it to mean. * * *

Last night Prof. Lowe, the aeronaut, staid with us. He went up in his balloon, and took drawings of the enemy’s fortifications. Says they are the most formidable he has seen during the war. Nothing doing by the army to-day. Gen’l. McC. visits us. He has had a council of war. Result of it of course not known.

10th.—Fell back to-day about a mile and a half out of reach of enemy’s shells. Patience and endurance of everything, without expression of thought, can scarcely be considered a virtue, even in a military subordinate. The Western Army is all activity and execution. No. 10 taken, Beauregard whipped on his own ground, all our armies accomplishing glorious deeds, except this poor old thing of the Potomac, called an army: Nearly a year has been spent by us in squatting around in sight of the enemy, rushing forward to-day, till within fighting distance, to-morrow falling back, as if afraid that some one might get shot. Here we have been for five days in sight of the enemy we came to capture or destroy, and this morning, because they threw a few shells into our camp, we are falling back! We are within twenty miles of one of our principal military stores and depots, with our men and animals starving. My ambulance horses-have not had a mouthful of any thing to eat for nearly three days, and to-day they are expected to draw the heavy ambulances over the worst roads I ever saw. Yes, here we are, in a “cul de sac,” the rivers on either side of us held by the enemy, the ground in front blockaded by them, and their pickets jeeringly calling across the little creek to know whether we are not most ready to fight. Who is to blame? Many of us begin to question the ability of General McClellan.

If we can get forage and rations here, I think we must make some kind of a fight before we get away. How much of a fight, I cannot tell. It is surprising how man is modified by habit. During the late skirmishes, we who are not engaged, sat in our tents, smoking, singing, jesting with as much indifference as we would sit by our fires at home and listen to the falling of the axeman’s blows. True, we sometimes notice the sounds of a report heavier than usual, and “wonder how many that shell did for.” Would such indifference have overtaken us, if we had been kept engaged in the ordinary duties of an army? I verily believe not. It is the offspring of a kind of desperation. We came to effect something. We have been disappointed, and are growing careless of consequences. Nor are the moral habits of the men less changed. Stealing is becoming a pastime with them, and is scarcely looked on as a crime.

General McClellan’s command has dwindled down to three corps d’armee, and I regret to say that the opinion is beginning to be held by many, that he is not competent to the command of even this force.

No mail now for ten days. This is very hard; harder even than to sleep out and go hungry. Even now our families may be suffering, dying, and we have no means of knowing it. Well, in time of war this is necessary, and perhaps it is all for the best. God controls and directs.

9th.—Rained hard all day. But little done to-day. 6th Maine regiment went out in afternoon, got one man mortally wounded in a little skirmish. Roads so bad that I fear we shall have to fall back to-morrow.

8th. —There is almost a mutiny this morning. No rations, and unless there should be better things before night, I shall not be surprised at any violence. Before leaving Newport News I laid in a supply for myself and servant for two weeks, but for two days I have been dividing with my hospital attendants, and my supply is about exhausted. When I awoke this morning, my fire was surrounded by men and officers clamoring for something to eat. They had some how got it into their heads that the hospital should be able to remove all the ills that flesh is heir to. I cooked what I had, and distributed till all was gone. Although hungry, I think I feel better to-night, than if I had permitted my mess chest to have remained locked by the key of selfishness. At night—a few boxes of hard bread have partially calmed the angry storm which has been rising. But two or three hard crackers to a man who has not had a meal for three days, is but small satisfaction. We are promised, however, beef, pork, bread, sugar and coffee in the morning, and how many hungry men are hopefully looking for the morning, that the cravings of exhausted nature may be gratified. The rain still pours, and if it continues another day the roads will be impassable for teams, and we shall be compelled to fall back to some point where we can be provisioned by water. We are within four miles of two of the finest navigable rivers in the world. The mouths of both of them are held by us, and that of neither is twenty miles away; and here we are, almost starving for want of transportation. This all seems to me an indication of an unaccountable oversight somewhere—” shiftless!” If we had, before coming here, on our way, conquered twelve miles of one of these rivers, we should have had good water transportation for all our rations. But holding the mouths, we have advanced, satisfied to permit the enemy to hold the rest. What a climate for mud and rain; and what a country and people for poverty and indolence. Though we are almost in sight of the historical cities of Yorktown and Jamestown, the country is not half so far advanced in improvements and culture as the new State of Wisconsin, or even the still newer and wilder Minnesota. What a curse is slavery! I do not like the brigadeship. It places too great a distance between the sick and the Surgeon.

7th.—Some fighting to-day, by small bodies, with slight loss on either side. In the afternoon, finding our camps commanded by the enemy’s guns, we started suddenly on a move of what we were told was to be a mile or two. The rain poured in torrents, and, instead of marching a mile or two, we kept on the move until late in the night. Many of the officers made the soldiers carry their (the officer’s) tents on their shoulders, and this, in addition to gun and knap sacks, and whilst the officers rode unincumbered. In the organization of an army under a republican government, was such a distance between officer and soldier ever contemplated? We halted about ten o’clock, drenched with the still pouring rain. The men are almost starved, having been for nearly two days entirely without rations, and lie to-night in pools of water.

6th.—Accompanied the Brigade to-day on a reconnoisance. Frequent skirmishes with small bodies of the enemy. One man in Company F received a slight flesh wound in the thigh —the first blood spilt by our Regiment in the cause. We encamped to-day near “Lee’s Mill,” on the narrow neck of land spoken of yesterday, and about four miles from Yorktown. The whole distance between the James and York Rivers here is only about seven miles. Warwick Creek, emptying into the James, rises about two miles from Yorktown, and a small creek emptying into the York River takes its rise amongst the sources of Warwick Creek, so that the two rivers are here nearly connected by these two creeks. These creeks have wide, marshy bottoms, now deeply overflowed by means of dams thrown across at short distances apart by the enemy. And the whole western border of these marshes, now lakes, are strongly protected by earthworks, mounting heavy guns. This lake, or marsh, we must now cross before we can advance on Richmond. The enemy’s force here we do not know, but suppose it to be inconsiderable. This is a very strong point, and if well manned it is almost impregnable. My opinion is, that they have but a small force here. This, however, is a matter of conjecture. All are expecting a big battle at this point.

5th.—A day of cooling rain, and warming excitement. Marched three miles, and found the enemy strongly entrenched behind a line of fortifications, on a narrow neck of land between the York and the James Rivers. Artillery duel at long range began about 12 o’clock, in which we had quite a number killed and wounded.

4th.—Moved at 6 A. M.—After a march of twelve miles in direction of Yorktown, (at about 3 P. M.) came upon the enemy’s entrenchments at Young’s Mills. They fired a few shots, wounding one man of 5th Vermont in the shoulder. They then retired, giving us possession. Their barracks here were built of logs with good fire places and chimneys, and were very comfortable—far superior to any which our troops had had during the winter. We encamped for the night in sight of the deserted fortifications.