March 3d.—In the way of petty tyranny, it seems another Richmond has entered the field. Last week I was presented by some of my friends with a very pretty sword, as a testimonial of their respect and affection for me. To-day I am informed by General _____ that this cannot be tolerated. All the persecution which he and his satellites have heaped on me, have not been sufficient to alienate the affections of those for whom and with whom I have labored for the good of the regiment; but all those who have had any part in the presentation of that sword are to be punished, and this, too, at a time when all ranks, from Corporals to Major Generals, are receiving like testimonials! But (?) the head of this Brigade having failed to crush a Surgeon, aspires to a personal quarrel with privates and nurses. Magnanimous General! I have received a positive order, to-day, to ascertain the names of all who had any hand in the presentation of the sword, and to report them to headquarters, and I have just as positively refused to stoop to participate in any such dirty work. I leave all the honor to the Brigadier General, and after he has vented his malice on such of the privates as he can get other tools to hunt out for him, he is at liberty to try his hand on me again for this disobedience of his dirty order. The work is worthy of him, and of the tools he employs.
Journal of Surgeon Alfred L Castleman.
28th.—All the stirring news of yesterday did not uproot us. I begin to think that we are so deeply stuck in the mud that nothing can get us out, short of the sight of a rebel. That might galvanize us into a move.
This morning we received an order countermanding the last one to be ready, so that we are again unready. This is the last day of winter, and the coldest we have had. It snows and blows, and this is probably the reason of the countermand.
It seems to me a great shame that our soldiers have been kept here doing nothing all winter, and yet not one in fifty of them has been permitted to visit the National Capitol and learn something of the modus operandi of the Government for which he fights. Very few of them, I fear, will ever enjoy another opportunity to do so.
27th.—Three days ago we received orders again to be ready to move at a moment’s warning. But here we are yet. I was in Washington to-day. Went intending to. spend two days and witness the “doings of Congress.” But, on my arrival got intelligence that Gen. Banks had crossed the Potomac at Edward’s Ferry; that the Government had seized the Railroads here, and was sending off troops to his aid, and not doubting that this would start us also, I immediately returned to my post.
26th.—A pleasant little interlude to-day, to the troubles and hard work through which I have had to pass: At about twelve o’clock, a soldier stepped to the door of my quarters, and said that some friends wished to see me at the door. I stepped out and found my whole corps of hospital attendants, and the patients of the hospital who were able to be up, in a circle. The head nurse stepped forward, and in a very neat little speech, presented me, in the name of himself and the others, a very pretty regulation dress sword and belt. I replied to it as well and as appropriately as I could; the ceremony closed by a vociferous testimonial of kind feelings, and we parted. I confess that I have been highly gratified. The compliment was appreciated by the fact that it came directly from those who most intimately know me, both personally and officially.
21st.—No grounds yet on which to base an opinion as to when or where we shall go. One day brings us assurances that our Division will in a few days go to Annapolis to join the mortar fleet bound South. The next we hear that we are to advance and take Manassas. To-day we hear that we are shortly to go to Kentucky, and join the fighting army under Buell. There is also a rumor here that the rebels are leaving Manassas in great numbers. If that be true (the President and Gen. McClellan both believe it), we shall probably advance on that stronghold and occupy it ourselves until we are ready for the “on to Richmond ” move. But why, if we have been staying here all winter to “bag the enemy” at Manassas, do we now lie still and permit them to leave? This “gives me pause” in my opinions. I do not like such doings, nor can I quite comprehend such Generalship. But it is not for me to criticise the plans of educated military leaders. I presume they know much better than I, what is best to be done, and I shall still confide in their judgment and wisdom.
This, morning Brigade Surgeon _____, of Brigade _____, made the following statement on the investigation of my hospital management and condition: “I was Surgeon of a Regiment in the three months service; since then I have been Brigade Surgeon of four Brigades;” (including 18 regiments) ” I have seen no hospital fund anywhere as large as that of this hospital; I have seen none managed with more economy, nor any patients made so comfortable. I have seen no Surgeon anywhere who seemed to feel so lively an interest in the hospital and the welfare of his Regiment; I have seen no Surgeon who devoted so many hours in the service of the sick, as this Surgeon.”
This statement, coming officially from a Surgeon whose duty it has been to supervise the care of the hospitals and the treatment of the sick; from an officer whose business has for the last ten months brought him in contact with half the hospitals of the army of the Potomac, and whose headquarters have been for several months within sixty feet of my hospital, was gratifying to me, and entirely satisfactory to those whose duty it was made to investigate, and they so expressed themselves in dismissing the subject.
15th.—What a week of news, opening on us with intelligence of the capture of Fort Henry, with its list of high-bred prisoners. Scarcely had the sound of the cheers and the hurrahs died away, when Burnside startled us with an artillery discharge of news. To-day, whilst we were brushing out our “hollering organs” with alum swabs, when the startling intelligence from Fort Donelson, the most glorious of which is the capture of the arch-traitor, Floyd; and what a disappointment that not a throat in our whole Division can shout “Hang him!” loud enough for Floyd to hear it. Hold on for awhile; send us no more such news at present. As this poor old “grand-mother” of armies is to do no fighting, wait at least till the throats of our soldiers so far recover that they can do the shouting over victories in which they are denied the privilege of participating. We have lain still here till we have grown into old fogyism—gone to seed. So little advance, so little progress have we made, within the memory of any here, that should Methuselah offer us to-day a shake of his hand, we should wonder whether it was yesterday or a week ago that we parted from him, so little has been the change here since his advent, and so much would he look like all around him.
9th.—The Court of Inquiry to examine into the conduct of my hospital affairs yesterday, decided that they would not investigate—that the accusations were the result of personal ill feelings. At least, so a member of the court informed me. I begged him to insist on an inquiry, and the court has reconsidered its action, and will investigate. I hope there will be a full expose of the whole conduct of the hospital. I have long desired it.
February 7th.—Still all is uncertainty here as to what is in store for us. Some are of opinion that we are to accompany the next squadron to the South; some that we go to Norfolk; others that we shall next week move on Manassas. My own opinion is that we shall remain where we are till about the first of April, then advance on Centreville, and if successful to Manassas, and thus to follow up our victories as long as we can win them.
To-day our Regiment is scouting. This morning a body of Cavalry went out from our Brigade, and returned about ten o’clock, bringing in six rebel cavalry men as prisoners. But some of our own men are missing. We immediately sent out two regiments to reconnoitre. They have returned with thirteen prisoners. Two of the Cameron Dragoons are wounded, but not badly.
31st.—As a relief to the dullness induced by bad weather, and disappointed hopes that something will turn up to awaken the activity of the army, I am constantly amused by the merry chirpings of myriads of “crickets on the hearth.”[1] Now and then after night-fall a little mouse, nearly white, suddenly appears amongst them, and such a scampering, “such a gettin’ up stairs I ever didn’t see.” Mousey looks around for a little while as if surprised at their timidity, then sets up a-beautiful little song of his own, much resembling the trilling efforts of the young canary. Yes, I have the reality of a singing mouse; and at all hours of the night, either he or the crickets may be heard, in their cheering and now familiar singings. A few nights ago I heard a sound as of some small animal struggling in the water. I arose quickly, and on striking a light, found my little musical companion struggling in the water-pail for dear life. He had “leaped before he looked.” I had him. I warmed him, and dried him, and then I let him go. And why should l not have let him go? True, I sometimes see him gliding away with stolen portions of my dearly-bought cheese. Now and then the print of his little foot, just pulled out of Virginia mud, is found on my butter roll. Once, as I was preparing for breakfast, I found the little fellow taking his morning bath in my cream cup. But what are all these? The cheese I can afford to divide with him. I cut the print of his little foot from my butter roll, and enjoy what is left all the better. Though I lose the cream from my coffee, I become more attached to the cup, because it has afforded pleasure to my little friend. Have we any roses without thorns, good people without failings, or friends without faults? When I examine the catalogue of my friends, should I strike off every one who has a failing, I fear I should have very few left. Go on, then, little mousey, this world was intended alike for you and me. There is not a night but your little song more than pays me for all your depredations of the day, and for all my interest in and affections for you.
[1] My quarters are now, an old farm house with one room, with an immense rough stone chimney, and a flag-stone hearth.
28th.—To-day I was admitted as a witness to the arcana of a field Court Martial, and of all the ridiculous farces in the name of justice, to excite mirth, indignation, pity, and disgust, commend me to a field Court Martial. I will not spoil the ludicrous impression left on my mind, by any attempt to describe the scenes I witnessed to-day. The grey goose has yet to be hatched which can furnish the pen capable of even approximating it. Oh, talent of Barnum! How does it happen that in all your searches after the wonderful and the curious, you have overlooked that nondescript of wonders, a field Court Martial? Strike quickly on this hint, and there is a fortune ahead.
