Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, January 1, 1862

A great day of sport to usher in the new year. Amongst other amusements in our army, Hancock's Brigade "got up a time on its own hook." At twelve o'clock I went into the parade ground, and found about 10,000 people, soldiers and civilians, collected to witness the sport. Hancock's Brigade is composed of the 5th Wisconsin, 6th Maine, 43d New York, and 49th Pennsylvania Volunteers. The sport commenced by a foot race of one thousand yards, purse $20 for the first out, $10 for second. About twenty started. The 5th Wisconsin took both prizes. Then jumping three jumps, prize $15, won by a member of the 5th Wisconsin. Next, climbing a greased pole, first prize won by a member of 6th Maine. Second, by 5th Wisconsin. Next, a greased pig (a two hundred-pounder) with a face as long as the moral law, or as a "speech in Congress, shorn of his hair, the knot which had been tied in his tail to prevent his crawling through fence cracks, was untied, and his whole skin thoroughly "greased" with soft soap, was turned loose, with the announcement, "get what you can, and hold what you get." The holder was to have the pig and ten dollars. For this prize, there were about four thousand competitors. The word was given, and the "Grand Army of the Potomac" was at last on the move. This chase commenced a little before sun-set. Pig had one hundred yards the start. One fellow far outran all the rest, and as he drew close on to his game, piggy suddenly turned on him with a "booh," and the fellow ran t'other way as if he had seen a rebel. The whole crowd came rushing on piggy, expecting him to run; but piggy stood his ground and said "booh!" "The front line" suddenly brought a halt. But the rear, not prepared for so sudden a check, pressed forward, and the whole came down in a heap. A scream of "murder." Piggy answered "booh." At every "booh" a "line was swept away." The pile of humanity became impassable. Those in the rear, filed to right and left, and by a "flank movement" took piggy in the rear. And now came a hand to hand encounter. As the last streak of the expiring day shed its light upon the excited combatants, it revealed a living mass of four thousand people—and a pig; the pig crowning the heap at the moment when the ray withdrew its light. Night was then made hideous by the screams of murder and replies of "booh." Neither party could distinguish friend from foe; and as I retire for rest, the combat still rages. I do not permit myself to doubt, however, that the morning will bring us the news of "another great victory by the grand army of the Potomac."*

At twelve o'clock last night, just as the old year was being crowded out of existence to make room for the new, I was awoke by a gentle thumbing of a guitar. 'Twas right at the door of my tent. In a moment commenced at the other end of the tent, the soft, sweet notes of a violin; then, from all sides came up, low, soft, sweet sounds, as ever a band of small instruments poured forth. The music stopped for awhile, and a voice asked, "Shall we now strike up with the band?" "No! no! No drum, nor fife, nor horn; — they will disturb the sick, and he will not like that!!" Could a more delicate compliment than was conveyed in this remark have been devised by a soldiery whose business is pomp and noisy war? "He won't like it—it will disturb his patients." I appreciated this. It struck a cord which vibrated in unison with my pride, my vanity, my ambition. I of course acknowledged it; and so deeply felt the compliment that I record it, as worthy of my remembrance. "The hospital boys" got up a handsome supper to-night, at which the Surgeons were guests. It was a very pretty supper, and to me a pleasant affair.

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* Notice that in this athletic contest for prizes, three Eastern and one Northwestern Regiment engaged; all the prizes save one (climbing the pole, which was taken by a Maine sailor) were carried off by the one Western Regiment.

 

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, pp. 70-2

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, November 8, 1861

Night before last was made hideous by the yells and drunken orgies of officers, who, in obedience to the order that no work should be done on the Sabbath, omitted all duty, but to make amends, employed the day in getting beastly drunk, and the night in howling themselves sober. It is with deep regret that I notice the rapid increase of drunkenness in the army.

One day last week Colonel ———, of the — Regiment ——— Volunteers, appeared on drill, took Hardee's tactics from his pocket, and read aloud, in commanding voice, his drill orders. I took a little stroll the day after, and came upon a squad of the 43d New York Regiment, armed with sticks and corn stalks, with a quasi Colonel, reading orders from an old almanac. To my question what they were at, they replied "only playing ——— ———.”

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 50

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, October 21, 1861

Our camp here was made without consulting the Surgeons. It was laid out without order, and the tents are so close together that teams cannot pass through to remove its rubbish, its offal, and its filth. My Colonel, too, has interfered much with my sanitary orders, particularly those in reference to ventilation. The result is the largest sick list we have had, I have succeeded, however, in getting consent to move the camp to other ground, high and dry, where I am now engaged in ditching the streets, and staking out the ground preparatory to a move, where I hope we shall be able to reduce the list of sick. I believe I omitted in the proper place the record of the first death in our regiment. It occurred on the 3d of this month. The poor fellow died of Nostalgia (home-sickness), raving to the last breath about wife and children. It seems strange that such an affection of the mind should kill strong, healthy men; but deaths from this cause are very frequent in the army; the sufferer, towards the last showing evidences of broken down nervous system, accompanied by most of the symptoms of typhoid fever.

A little incident to-day. A reconnoitering party went out this morning towards Vienna and Flint Hill. At noon, a courier came in with a report that they were fighting. I was ordered to take an ambulance and join my regiment "in the direction of Vienna" immediately. On starting, I met with Surgeon Thompson, of the 43d N. York Vols., told him I was going in search of an adventure, and invited him to go with me. He accepted. We reached our outer lines "in the direction of Vienna," but had not found my regiment. To Surgeon T.'s question, "What now!" I replied that my orders were to "go till I found my regiment." "But are you going to cross the lines into the enemy's country?" My orders are unconditional; will you go with me further?" "Certainly," said the Doctor. Shortly after leaving head-quarters, we met the 1st Regt. Regular Cavalry, who told us they had left one man badly wounded between Flint Hill and Vienna. This man we determined to rescue, if possible. We found him in a house in Vienna. I had now obeyed my order, though I had not found my regiment, and I determined to take this man back with me, though the enemy were all around us. One ball had passed between his ear and skull, a second had passed through the leg, a third had entered the back, just below the shoulder blade, but had made no exit. He was suffering severely from pain and difficult respiration. He could not ride in an ambulance, so Doctor T. volunteered to return to our lines for litter-bearers and an escort, whilst I should remain with our newly made friend. I confess that as I caught the last glimpse of the Doctor's fine black horse dashing over the hill, there was at the ends of my fingers and toes a sensation very much akin to the "oozing out of courage." I was alone in the enemy's country. But there was no other way now, so I dressed the wounds, and waited his return, with what patience I could. He soon returned. We started the man in the direction of our lines, under an escort of eight men.

We mounted our horses, and paying but little attention, got some mile ahead of our escort, when suddenly, eight horsemen, well mounted and armed, came bearing down on us, evidently intending to surround us. They were about a quarter of a mile off when first discovered. "We are in for a trip to Richmond," said Doctor T. "Is it not safer," replied I, "to fight than to be taken prisoners by these fellows?" "I'm in," said the Doctor. We drew our revolvers and waited, one of us, I am certain, in considerable trepidation. By this time they were in hailing distance. We called them to halt, when, to our mutual disgust, we found that we were friends—they were cheated of the capture of two very fine looking rebel officers," and we of a short road to "that borne whence no traveller returns.” A little after dark we reached camp with our man. In civil life, it will hardly be credited that the commanding officer of this regiment, when he found his man so badly wounded, ordered him to be taken from his horse and left, whilst the horse was to be taken away; yet the man states that such is the fact, and that he saved himself from such a fate by drawing his revolver and threatening to shoot the first man who should approach him for that purpose. After the regiment left him, he managed to sit on his horse till he reached Vienna, about three miles from where he was shot.

Since last date, we have had an opportunity of learning something of the military qualities of our brigade officers. We have not been before on ground where we could have our brigade drills; but here we have them.

General Smith, who commands the Division, is a stout, short man, rather under size, from Vermont, I think. He is taciturn, but exceedingly courteous and gentlemanly, and firm and decided. Of his mental calibre, we have not yet had an opportunity to judge. It is a strange paradox of human nature, that whilst we acknowledge that a vast majority of our mentally big men are quiet and reserved, yet when we meet a stranger, if he says little, we fall at once into the opinion that he knows little. How this is with General Smith, I do not know. I am much disposed to construe his quiet and courteous manner favorably; but I confess that whispers from the grove have rather prejudiced me against him.

Brigadier General Winfield Scott Hancock is the very antipode of General Smith. He is fully as long as his name, with title perfixed, and as for quiet and courtesy—Oh, fie! I saw him come on to the field one morning this week, to brigade drill. He was perfectly sober. He is one of those paradoxes who believe that one man, at least, is to be known by his much talking. He became excited, or wished to appear so, at some little mistake in the maneuvering of his Brigade, and the volleys of oaths that rolled and thundered down the line, startled the men with suspicion that they were under command of some Quarter Master lately made General, who mistook the men for mules, and their officers for drivers. He must be a facetious chap, that General, to wish to excite such suspicions. I think he hails from Pennsylvania, but nobody seems to know much about him, except from his statement that he has been seventeen years in the service, and knows all about it." Wherever he has been, he has certainly acquired a perfect intimacy with the whole gamut of profanity.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 44-7