Journal of Surgeon Alfred L Castleman.

30th.—Left Hagerstown at 8 this forenoon. Stopped five hours at Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and now again am on the way to ——, and I hope to meet with no more delays.

31st.—Reached home a little after midnight, found my family all well, and I verily believe are glad to see me.

[The month of October was spent away from camp, and I omit my private journal during the time.]

29th.—To-day received the anxiously expected furlough, and now for my dear, dear home, from which I have been absent for nearly a year and a half. Now for a visit to my dear wife and children! I have ridden since night to Hagerstown, where I shall stop till morning, then hie me onward. My hand is very painful and much swollen, but I anticipate no results from it more serious than severe pain.

28th.—Rode to Sharpsburg to-day to procure some medicines, of which we are sadly deficient. Found a purveyor there, but he had no medicines except morphine and brandy. I passed over Antietam battle-field. The smell was horrible. The road was lined with carriages and wagons conveying coffins and boxes for the removal of dead bodies, and the whole battle-field was crowded with people from distant States exhuming and removing the bodies of their friends. ‘Twas a sad, sad sight, and whilst the world is calculating the chances of war, and estimating its cost in dollars, I am dotting down in my memory the sad scenes I witness as small items in the long account of heart-aches.

27th.—” All quiet on the Potomac,” and no movement of troops to-day.”

26th.—Another quiet day in camp. I applied to-day for a furlough, which I doubt not will be granted. I have worked hard and constantly for sixteen months, and as I am now for a time disabled, I can conceive of no reason why I may not be relieved for a few weeks. No attempted solution yet of the question “Why did not McClellan crush or capture the rebel army after the battle of Antietam?” This question is made peculiarly pertinent by the fact, now ascertained, that we had on the ground the morning after the battle, a force of men (not one of whom had been in the battle of the day before) nearly if not quite equal to Lee’s entire army.

25th—Well, Gen. Lee is, safely to himself, out of Maryland, into which he came in the confident expectation of adding at least fifty thousand men to his army, but which he left with fifteen thousand less than he brought in.

My hand is excessively painful, though all constitutional symptoms have left. Suppuration has fairly set in, and I no longer feel any uneasiness as to results.

24th.—All quiet this morning. The day is beautiful and bright. I am feeling badly, but as my wound has began to superate, I think I shall be better shortly. I have great confidence in the recuperative power of my constitution, and trust it will be sufficient to eliminate this poison.

We have now had time to look over the late battles and to reflect on the results. We have successfully fought the whole force of the enemy for five days. We drove them at every place, and on the sixth day we permitted them, worn out, discouraged, and out of rations, to depart unmolested. They admitted to our wounded, whose haversacks they robbed, that all they had to eat was what they had taken from our wounded. Gen. McClellan’s aims were satisfied with clearing Maryland of the enemy, when destruction or capitulation should have been demanded. This I do not doubt will be the verdict of history. But how terrible was our loss! Nine Generals fell, killed or wounded, in their determined efforts to vindicate McClellan. All in vain.

We are again on the sea of uncertainty, in relation both to the character of our leaders, and the prospects of the country.

23rd.—Hung around, and did not get into motion till to 2 P. M. Marched four or five miles down the river and bivouaced. The pain in my finger grows more severe and extends to the scapula. It is a sickening pain and proves to be the result of a scratch by a spiculum of bone, whilst I was examining a gangreuous wound at Antietam (dissecting wound). I cannot say that I apprehend danger from it, but I wish it were well.

General Hancock has been removed from the command of our Brigade, and we have had a whole week of quiet, without the startling profanity to which we were becoming accustomed. For a whole week, I am not aware that a single officer of our Brigade has been “d—m-d to h-ll.”

Monday, 22nd.—A beautiful morning and all quiet, except that the officers are pitching tents and fixing up tables, as if for a stay. But that is no indication of what is in store for us; even before night we may be ordered to pull up and move again. But this would be very cruel. Our poor, worn out enemy, having fought and been driven for seven days, and now being entirely without provisions, must be exhausted and need rest. How cruel it would be to pursue him, under these circumstances. The kind heart of our Commander can entertain no such idea.

In the afternoon, I rode up to Williamsport and found the town full of soldiers. A little incident occurred, which I shall notice. Walking through the streets I encountered a young lady, fresh, rosy, plump and pretty. Her look told me that she would like to speak to me, but she was hesitating as to the propriety of doing so. I spoke, and she at one commenced a conversation on the war. She said that last night there were three thousand rebels encamped near by, and that we might easily have captured them. She pointed out to me with much military tact, how they might have been surrounded, and then said she could not get any one to come in the night and inform us, though only two miles away; that she got ready to come herself, but (with tears and sobs) that her father would not let her, and only because it was night. Poor child, I did want to kiss her.

Not for the sake of the kiss. Oh, no!

But only for sympathy, you know—you know.

I have suffered some to-day, from a most singular pain in my finger. It is peculiar, and runs up the lymphatics to the arm and shoulder. Ordered to move at 7 tomorrow morning.