March 24th.—We have had a very fine run for about thirty hours, having left Alexandria at 6 P.M., on the 23d, laid too over night near Fort Washington, and at 10 P. M., after having passed Mount Vernon, Ocoquan, Aquia, and many other points noted in this war, have come to anchor off this point.
Journal of Surgeon Alfred L Castleman.
March 23rd.—At one o’clock this morning, met Major M. in Washington, who informed me that the absent officers of our Brigade had been telegraphed to rejoin their regiments immediately, to embark at 8 this A. M. Left on first boat for Alexandria, and found the most of my Brigade embarked. I had just time, before going on board, to write and copy the following note:
Alexandria, March 23, 1863.
My Dear: ‘Tis Sunday, and here I am surrounded by all “the pomp and circumstance of war;” troops embarking, flags flying, martial music from a dozen bands all around me. My own Regiment is this moment marching on board the steamer Canonicus; and amidst the confusion and turmoil of troops marching, almost over me, transportation wagons wheeling within a few inches of my feet, and amidst every conceivable noise, I sit down in the street, with an old box in front of me, to write these few words, thinking that they may interest even you. * * * In a few hours the distance between us will begin rapidly to increase. How long will the increase continue? God only knows. I hope soon to be turned homeward.
This is such a time as Alexandria never saw—it is to be hoped may never see again. There seems to be but little interest or excitement in the city. Scarcely anybody out to witness this solemn—this imposing pageant. I know not .what else to call it. Are the people here rebels at heart? I fear as much so as South Carolinians. We are not informed of our destination, but I still believe it to be Norfolk, and if successful there, then to Richmond. We are now Called on board. Farewell.
March 22nd.—Ordered this morning to Washington to look up hospital stores and boxes, which are scattered “to the four winds.” This is the first time since the organization of the Regiment that it has moved without my personally superintending the packing and forwarding of the hospital stores, and the first time they have got scattered. “What you would have well done, do yourself.” I fear many of them will be lost.
In passing, I here note two circumstances, that I may not forget them. In addition to the poisoning of three men at Flint Hill by a mistake in medicine, yesterday I discovered that the dispenser, imposed on me by Gen. H_____, was himself taking pills of Unguentum—blue mercurial ointment— instead of blue pill, which had been prescribed for him, and was giving another man saltpetre instead of the sulphate of cinchona—innocent mistakes, to be sure, but indicative of the fatherly care which our General is manifesting towards the soldiers under his command. He refuses to restore my druggist, though he is made aware of these repeated and dangerous mistakes. The other circumstance: During all winter, when no fighting was to be done, our Brigade held the advance of the whole army. All the hard and dirty work fell on us—picketing, chopping, ditching; but we held the advance, the post of honor, were to have the first chance in the fight, and we grumbled not at the hardship and exposure. The time came for attacking Centreville and Manassas. We were ordered forward, when, to our exceeding mortification, we found that 40,000 troops had been thrown in advance of us. Our Brigade has not been permitted even to see Centreville and Manassas. They were occupied by our army before we were started. What means this? Has our Brigade commander lost the confidence of his superior officers, and as a consequence been thus disgraced? We are now near Alexandria, but not in advance. There are from 40,000 to 60,000 troops in advance of us.
March 20th.—All quiet. No move.
March 19th.—The wolf has not yet come, and two of the five days’ rations are consumed.
March 18th.—All quiet yet; no embarkation; no move
March 17th.—To-day our sick, instead of being put into General Hospital, are marched from depot to the camp. McDowell’s Division is ordered back to Arlington Heights. We are sending to Washington for our tents. Our General Smith is building stables, and it looks as if we were again settling down. What does it mean? Is there another change of programme? and are we not to embark after all? Have we discovered the muzzle of another wooden gun, which we must besiege for nine months? Many of the troops begin to question McClellan’s claim to infallibility. I have to regret that I have again failed to prevail on the Governor to interest himself in getting me transferred to another Regiment, where I could be much more useful. The opposition which I meet here from some of my superior officers, is rapidly destroying the interest which I have felt in the Regiment. (At night) a great hurrah and rejoicing in camp, in consequence of an order to prepare, immediately, five days’ rations, and to be ready. This may mean, embark, but our Gen. McC. has so often cried “wolf” of late, that when the wolf does come, we may not be ready. Shall we embark tomorrow?
An observation from 2012: The march back to Alexandria was likely on the 15th. Please see discussion in Ron Baumgarten’s comment below. – Mike Goad, 3-18-2012
Alexandria, 16th.—Received orders last night to march at 4 this A. M. Simultaneously with the receipt of the order came a northeast wind and heavy clouds. The clouding up kept pace with our preparations to march, and such a day of rain I have not witnessed in Virginia. To-night, after a march of twelve miles through mud and rain, the men lie out without shelter, except the little tents debris, which in time of rain are good for nothing. I shudder when I think of them, exposed, after a hard day’s march, to the driving storm. And whilst they are thus exposed, I feel almost guilty that I am in a fine hotel, by a fine coal fire, “comfortable and cozy.” But sickness brought me here. For three nights I have not slept, and last night I had an attack of cholera morbus. This morning, being sick and worn out, I asked permission to return to Vienna, (two and a half miles), and come in by rail. Permission was denied me. Sick or well, I must march, and look after the management of ambulances, and transportation of hospital stores. Arose at three o’clock, working part of time, and the rest cholera-morbus-ing till four. Started with the Brigade, but at Fairfax, for the first time since I entered the army, had to fall out. Went to bed, slept two hours, arose, took a cup of coffee, mounted my horse, and pressing my way through dense masses of the army for five or six miles, overtook the Brigade. When within a few miles of this city I was so sick that I insisted on being permitted to seek lodgings out of the weather, and having received permission, came on here. Have got dry and warm, and am now feeling better. I am gratified to learn to-night that my two poisoned boys are doing well, though it will be a long time before they entirely recover.
When I left Fairfax this morning the scene was grand beyond description. The soldiery, densely filling the road, leading from the town, had been pouring steadily forward for more than two hours. I looked back, and as far as the eye could reach down the two roads coming in, the dense body blocked them in both directions. The three roads presenting a long blue line rendered more striking by the glare of the bayonets, which at a short distance looked like a solid body of glittering steel over the blue bulk below. How far back the lines extended, I could not see, but I pressed forward for six miles, through the dense crowd. Verily, the army is now in motion.
16th.—’Tis Sunday morning. Returned to my regiment this morning; found all quiet. No one yet knows our destination. But from the fact that some forty river steamers await us, we infer that we are not going to sea. A singular fact, worthy of note: On our arrival here to embark, not a steamer had coaled, and there was no coal to take on!!— Why is this? ‘Tis terrible to even suspect that treason may be at work in the very heads of our departments.
Vienna, March 15th.—Did not lie down last night, but worked in separating and disposing of my sick. Most of them I have brought to this place to embark such as cannot march to Alexandria, by rail. The Brigade did not meet me here, as I expected, and I got to it at Flint Hill (where I left it) last night. I cannot look upon our possession of this place and the railroad without deeply feeling how much we have been outwitted. Here we have been held still with 150,000 to 200,000 men, since July last, by a little village mounting wooden guns. Poor McClellan, I fear a wooden gun will be the death of him yet, though his failure here may be attributable to the interference of others. I will not hastily condemn him.
March 14th.—Received orders early last night to hold ourselves ready to move at a moment’s notice. A few minutes after receiving the above notice, I was ordered to return immediately to Camp Griffin, to look after my sick there—to send such as could not be moved with the Brigade to General Hospital, and the rest to camp, and then to rejoin my Regiment. Our destination is still unknown to us, but we expect that we go either to Norfolk or to join Burnside in the Carolinas. We have been outwitted here, and the rebel army which should have been captured has escaped us.
I fear that my mission here is a failure. My friends expected me to be useful to the Regiment, and if I have had one predominant wish, it was that the expectation might not be disappointed. “The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun.” I am in its deep, dark shadows, and fear it will be a long night before I can emerge from the darkness which envelopes the hope. I shall go on and do the best I can in the face of the interference of the military department, but must not be held responsible for consequences, as I am but a subordinate.
