Following the American Civil War Sesquicentennial with day by day writings of the time, currently 1863.

Journal of Surgeon Alfred L Castleman.

31st.—We were awoke this morning at daylight, by the pattering of rain on our faces, and at once went to work preparing to meet the foe, and perhaps to fight the battle decisive of the war and the fate of our poor “friend-ridden” country. Oh, my country; both you and your friends are making a history, and when it is written, may I be there to help. * * * But we are preparing for fight. Must all of our great battles be fought on Sundays?

10 1-2 A. M.—”Fall in, fall in.” The rain pours whilst we march and counter march for an hour, forming into line of battle. Why spend so much time at what could have been done in twenty minutes. No need of delay, now that Pope is whipped.

We have remained all day at Centreville. No advance by either party. I have a bad cold to night, and lie down with wet feet, and between wet blankets, and yet with this discomfort, how enviable my condition compared with that of thousands whom, and whose families our tardiness has doomed to a life long intensity of pain or misery.

30th.—We can distinctly hear the fighting beyond Centreville; yet we move slowly, and in that direction. This fight has been going on for two days, with great advantage of numbers and position on the side of the enemy, and yet we stop to rest every half hour, when no one is tired. The troops have had no marching for a week. What can our delay mean? God send it may not be the jealousy foreshadowed in a letter written to my wife a week ago. Go on! go on! for God’s sake, go on. The whole army says go on, and yet we linger here. We stop an hour in the suburb of Fairfax, whilst the sound of the fight is terrible to our impatience, and we tarry here.

5 P. M.—We have just reached Centreville. The battle rages in sight, yet we stop again to rest when no one is tired, but all anxious to rush on. After having “rested” for two hours, we moved slowly forward for two miles, when we met a courier, who exclaimed: “Oh, why not one hour earlier!” Close on his heels followed the flying crowd, again overpowered, beaten and whipped at Bull Run, the disastrous battle field of last year, and we too late to save it.

Alas, my poor country! and must you at last be sacrificed to the jealousies, the selfishness, the ambition, the treachery or the incompetency of those to whom you have entrusted your treasure, life, honor, every thing? Grouchy failed to come. So did Hancock, Franklin and McClellan. There may be good reasons for our delay, and we not be permitted to know what they are. The subordinate is forbidden to discuss the merits or the motives of his superior, but we must not be blamed for thinking. Pope was whipped. Thousands of our neighbors and our friends died on that bloody field, whilst struggling to hold it till we could reach and save them, and the joyous faces of many officers of our Army of the Potomac made us think that the whipping of Pope and the slaughter of his men, had something to do with their joy. We could not help thinking, and the army regulations will be lenient with us, if we will only not tell our thoughts. But there is one subject connected with this, on which I am inclined to think that, if spirits ever talk, those of the slaughtered there will cry aloud, in spite of the army regulations. Whilst we rested for hours in sight of the battle field, couriers came to us from the Medical Director of General Pope’s army, asking that our Surgeons might be sent forward to the aid of the wounded, as they were suffering dreadfully and falling faster than their Surgeons could take care of them. On receipt of this message, I saw a Surgeon ride up to General Hancock (who was lying on the ground) and asked permission to go to their aid; the General abruptly ordered him back to his regiment! I could not learn that a single Surgeon to us permitted to go forward!

Having met the retreating crowd, and night having come on, we fell back about two miles, now tired and dispirited, and threw ourselves on the ground in and around the fortifications at Centreville, and by 12 o’clock we were all resting, preparatory to another fight to-morrow.

29th.—Struck tents near Alexandria, at 10 A. M., and have marched in direction of Fairfax Court House, I suppose to go to Bull Run, to reinforce General Pope, who with fifty thousand men is now engaged with Jackson and Longstreet’s army, over one hundred thousand strong. I hope to God that may be our destination, and that we may be in time. We have marched to-day only about six miles. The day is beautiful and cool, the roads fine. Why do we not go further. Is it because we have other destination than what I hoped?

28th.—The news of the morning confirm the rumors of yesterday in reference to our disgrace at Manassas. The enemy caught the garrison there asleep, took eight guns, and captured or routed our force there almost without a fight. The Jersey Brigade, which left here yesterday morning, having no knowledge of the taking of the place, went up and were captured. Pope’s communication with Washington is entirely cut off. If I am not mistaken in the character of Gen. Pope and his army, Jackson and Longstreet will have a lively dance before they succeed in capturing him. McClellan, they say, is in high glee. Significant!

 

27th.—One year ago to-day I received notice to be ready to march with three days rations, at a moment’s notice; and three days less than a year ago we settled down near this place to bag the army of rebels at Manassas and to close the war. We then stayed settled till they left us. We followed to take them wherever found; overtook them at Young’s Mills, on the Peninsula. After a while we followed them to Yorktown. Again sat down and dug holes to bag ’em. They went away, and we followed to take them at Richmond, but they getting out of patience at our tardiness, stopped, and we blundered on them at Williamsburg, where they saved us the trouble and mortification of digging, dying and waiting, by coming out and attacking us. Having blundered into this fight, we followed on to Richmond. For weeks and weeks we digged and died again, giving the enemy time to collect his forces from all parts of the country, when he came out, and instead of being quietly bagged, drove such of us as were living from our pits, and now here we are back again with our National Capitol in sight on one side, and the guns of the pursuing rebels in hearing on the other. Last night he burned one of our bridges between here and Manassas, and this morning it is said and believed he captured, within our hearing, a brigade sent out to aid Gen. Pope, whilst here sit we idle all the day. Have the people yet begun to question the infallibility of Gen. McClellan? If ever there was an abused army on the face of the earth, this is one, and it will yet pass into a by-word that McClellan holds the army, whilst his Generals abuse it or use it for their own ambitious or mercenary purposes.

It now looks as if we need not leave this ground to fight, but that the enemy will advance and give fight on this very spot. Even now, whilst I write this sentence, five of the 12th Pennsylvania Cavalry, of a company left at Manassas, ride into camp. They say they were surprised this morning, (the old story,) and that these five are all that escaped. Pope they say is surrounded by Jackson. I admire this man Jackson. He has snap in him, and deserves to succeed. Admiration of him, and of his energy, are unmistakable all through our lines. Our men are discouraged, disheartened, and constantly express the wish that they had such a General to lead them to honorable battle.

Late at Night.—Oh! could I have been proved a croaker, an alarmist, an anything rather than witness what I have seen to-day. Another Bull Run. My writing has been arrested by the noise of teams on the road. What a sight! The road for miles crowded with straggling cavalrymen, infantry, and hundreds of contrabands with their packs and babies, all fleeing from the fight begun last night at Manassas. Miles of teams, batteries of artillery, retreating here in sight of our Capitol, before an enemy whose Capitol we were to have danced in a year ago! Have I misjudged our leaders in my frequent bewailings? Have I croaked without reason? Would to God I had, instead of having to witness the scenes of this day. I am impatient for the advance of the enemy, and hope he will be at us by the next rising of the sun. After the late disgraceful scenes, my mortification prompts me to wish that we may settle this matter now and here. What has this Army of the Potomac done? What attempted? But hold! A rumor is just here that Gen. McClellan has stopped the running of the ferry boats between Washington and Alexandria, and that he has ordered all the water conveyances now in the river to lay alongside of the docks at Alexandria. What does it mean? Is it only a camp rumor? I hope so, for if true it can mean nothing short of a preparation to embark the retreating masses. I will not believe this, for it would imply that we mean to yield our defences here—our strong forts—without any attempt at defence. I will not credit it, for give the enemy possession of Arlington Heights, and Washington cannot hold out a day. Eight months ago we boasted an army 700,000 strong. Where are they, and what doing? We are driven back here. Buell is in danger at the South. Forts Henry and Donelson surrounded for want of troops to defend them. Morgan unsupported in Kentucky. At this rate what will be worth that political advancement for which our Generals plan and sacrifice each other? What place will the nation have worthy a man’s ambition? If it be through tribulation that a nation is perfected, what a perfect nation we soon shall be. I have for a long time wished to resign, but I cannot now; my regiment is in danger, and I must see it through. Then for home.

26th.—I have been to Washington and Georgetown today, and really enjoyed the scenes of civil life. There is a rumor to-day that our worn-out regiment is to go to Baltimore to guard the Fort there. To the regiment generally this would be a god-send, but I confess that for myself I prefer the active duties of the field.

25th.—At 1 o’clock this morning we stopped two miles from Alexandria, on the Fairfax Pike, and bivouaced. I threw myself on the ground and slept an hour or two; woke up shivering with cold. I arose, walked a mile to start the circulation, then found a large gutta percha bed cover, wrapped myself in it, and contrived to sleep warmly till the bright rays of the sun in my face called me to consciousness again. Our regiment is very much dispirited, and almost reckless.

24th.—The great size and draft of our ocean steamer made it necessary for us to lie by last night, and we are this morning running into Aquia Creek.

When we arrived we found no orders awaiting us. Immediately dispatched the steamer Montreal to Washington for instructions. Whilst waiting for dispatches from Washington, we have listened to a good sermon on deck, from our Chaplain. At half-past 12 o’clock the dispatch boat returned from Washington with orders to proceed immediately to Alexandria, and disembark.

Five months ago yesterday, we embarked at the very dock at which we now lie, to take Richmond. Now, at the end of the five months, we have arrived at the same spot, with nearly a hundred thousand less men than we took away, having expended $70,000,000, and accomplished nothing else which we undertook. It is vain to deny that our campaign has been a monstrous failure, that the men have lost confidence in their leaders, and that they are feeling, in a great measure, indifferent to the result. At 8 p. m., we are again ashore at Alexandria, and the scream of the locomotive, the rattling of the cars, the voices of women and children, with other signs of civil life, break so strangely on our ears. I feel deeply anxious as to the result of General Pope’s fight yesterday. The enemy have got between him and Washington. We can hear nothing from him and all is uncertainty in regard to his little army. God help him!

On Board Ocean Steamer Arago,”
In Chesapeake Bay.

August 23rd.—We have now, at least for the present, bid farewell to “the Peninsula,” the land of blasted hopes, the place of our disappointments, the hot-bed of disgrace to the finest army of modern times. General Pope having drawn off the rebel army to give us an opportunity to escape from our perilous position, we passed from Harrison’s Point to Hampton without a fight or without a hostile gun being fired. Never since the retreat of Napoleon from Moscow, has there been so disgraceful a failure as this Peninsula campaign indeed, not then. For, although Napoleon failed in the object of his enterprise, before he retreated he saw the Russian Capital in flames and his enemy abandon his stronghold, whilst we witnessed the daily strengthening of the enemy’s capital, and were driven out of the country we went to chastise, without having accomplished a single object of our visit.

Our destination is not yet revealed to us. We suppose it to be Aquia Creek, thence to reinforce General Pope, but I fear it will be such a reinforcement as will not benefit the country or raise the reputation of our already disgraced army.

The jealousy of our commanders towards General Pope is so intense, that if I mistake not, it will, on the first occasion, “crop out” in such form as shall damage our cause more than all the cowardice, incompetency and drunkenness which have so far disgraced our campaigns. General Pope’s advance proclamation was construed into a strike at McClellan’s manner of warfare, and, notwithstanding that the former has publicly disclaimed any such intention, there has existed an intense bitterness between the friends of the two ever since, nor is it lessened by the subsequent failures of McClellan and the reported successes of Pope. It is interesting, but saddening, to witness the brightening of countenances among some of the staffs of the army of the Potomac, whilst listening to or reading the reports of the repulses of General Pope. Stonewall Jackson’s official report of his “splendid victory” over our army of Virginia, has caused more joy amongst them than would the wining of a splendid success by McClellan himself. Our Generals seem to have forgotten that this is the people’s war, not their’s; that it is waged at the cost of the treasure and of the best blood of the nation, not to promote the ambitious views of individuals or parties but to protect the people’s right to Government. I begin to fear that patriotism as an element of this army is the exception, not a rule. Many years ago Pelham said to an officer during a European war, “If you would succeed, conduct yourself as if your own personal ambition was the end and aim of the nation. Let others take care of themselves.” Bulwer was a judge of human nature.

The more I witness of the workings of this government, and of its influences on men and on their aspirations, the more do I become satisfied that time and increase of population must ultimately bring a separation of the States. There is more territory than can be satisfactorily governed in republican form. This State of Virginia alone possesses all the requisites of a great nation. Its navigable fronts communicating with the ocean, exclusive of its sea coast, equals that of almost any nation on the globe. No one, who has not actually traversed its great Chesapeake, its Rappahannock, York, James, Elizabeth, Potomac, Ohio, and other rivers, can form the least idea of the vast commercial resources and advantages of this great State. Add what might be, must be, will be, its agricultural and mineral wealth, and it becomes a mighty nation of itself. Look again at the vast Northwest, at the immense region south of Mason and Dixon’s Line, at the great Pacific slope, and we see a territory capable of sustaining its hundreds of millions. With all this vast population, under a republican government, each individual eligible to and struggling for power, not limited in numbers by a circle of nobility, and no power on earth can hold together, in brotherly love, so vast a crowd of stragglers for place. Separation of the States or formation of a stronger government, is, to my mind, but a question of time and of denseness of population, and I cannot but look on the present straggle more as a war for the maintenance of government against anarchy than as a determination to hold in one Union, and under one Government, sister States, which can never live together in amity. Let this war be prosecuted and fought to the bitter end, let us establish beyond all controversy, the now questioned fact, that man is capable of self government, under a republican form, and then, if a part of the States are dissatisfied with a government which they cannot control, call a convention of the States or of the people, and let the “wayward sisters depart in peace.” During the contest for the annexation of Texas, I opposed it on the ground that we had already more territory than republicanism could govern. For the same reason, the present secessionists advocated the measure. The Mexican war was brought about for the same purpose, and as a link in the great chain, the annexation of Cuba was eagerly sought after.

We are feeling sadly anxious for our little army on the Mississippi. We seldom hear from them directly, and scarcely know what credit to give the newspaper accounts. Even official reports can no longer be relied on. Pope and Jackson have just fought a battle at Cedar Mountain. Each, in his official statement of it, has caused great rejoicing amongst his friends. Do they both tell the truth when both claim a “decisive victory?”

21st.—Camped last night in sight of Big Bethel, and left this morning at 5 o’clock. After a brisk march of four hours, we reached Hampton, (12 miles.) As we reached the summit of a ridge and the Roads, and the shipping two miles off suddenly burst upon the view, how intensely did I realize the feeling of a scarred leader in a ten year’s war, when, on his return he caught the first glimpse of his native land—

“Italiam, primus conolamat Achates.”