Journal of Surgeon Alfred L. Castleman.

24th.—No active work to-day, save of my mind. The condition of the country and of the army, past, present, and prospective, is the material on which it has worked. Notwithstanding that one year ago our little army had been repulsed at Bull Run, and the heart of the nation was sorrowful, yet the “whole broad continent was ours.” And with our little army in spirits, though momentarily baffled, we were almost unembarrassed to go where we pleased. The country, confident in its leaders, had risen as one man to sustain the best Government the world ever saw. Three hundred thousand troops were called for, and the question was not who shall be obliged to go, but who shall have the privilege of going. A few weeks later, this “Grand Army of the Potomac,” two hundred and twenty thousand strong, had, like the spirited steed, to be restrained by the strong arm of power from rushing forward to the contest. Summer passed, amidst impatient appeals of the men to be led against the enemy. Winter came, with joyful assurance that we were not to go into quarters, because they were soon to advance upon the enemy and to end the war. But spring found them still in canvas tents, impatient for the word to move. At length, with 130,000, shortly afterwards swelled to nearly 160,000 men, such as no General ever led to battle, we sailed and marched till we met the enemy, about three thousand strong, entrenched at Young’s Mill, when we turned around and marched back. After waiting till they had left, we again took up our march, and overhauled them at Yorktown, now increased to seven or eight thousand strong. Instead of crushing them at once, we settled down and digged, lest they should crush us. After they had tired of waiting for us, they quietly packed up and left our General, with his one hundred and forty thousand men, to enjoy his diggings in the swamps of Warwick. They went to Williamsburg, and having had plenty of time, they had swelled their force to about thirty thousand men. They gave us no time to dig here, but came out to meet us. They punished us severely, but were driven, and instead of following actively in pursuit, we settled down and cried for help! The patience of the soldiers was exhausted; their patriotism was worn out. The malaria of the marshes, and the fatigues of digging, produced low grades of fever which began to carry off the men. And on the 25th of June, although the muskets and the bayonets and the artillery of the enemy had scarcely marked our army, we brought out to meet the opposing foe, which had now swelled to a monster army, less than eighty thousand of the one hundred and sixty thousand men. One half of this eighty thousand dragged themselves to battle, but yet fought like heroes. And now that noble army, instead of moving where it pleased, as it could a year ago, is shut up in a little circuit, with a radius of less than a mile and a half, and cannot leave it. I am induced to hope that in all this there is nothing worse than incompetency. But I doubt the ability of any other set of honest men to use up such an army with so little fighting. There is another call for three hundred thousand men, but before it is filled I fear the hydra-head of party will rear itself and give us trouble. But in whatever manner raised, here this remnant of a great army must remain besieged until a new one is drafted, drilled, and brought to relieve us. Somebody has failed. The men have not.