Hobbled on Barlow's Knoll
In commemoration of the 158th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg, I will be presenting on the blog three relatively obscure accounts of the battle, each highlighting a different portion of the field on each of the three days of the fight. For the first installment, First Sergeant Mark A. Knowlden from Co. K of the 75th Ohio Infantry wrote his brother and sister about two weeks after the fighting ended, giving us very personal account of his experiences at Barlow's Knoll on the first day of Gettysburg.
The 11th Army Corps went into action mid-afternoon on July 1st and soon found itself locked in the jaws of a surging Confederate assault. It was Chancellorsville all over again as Jackson's old corps, now under Richard "Baldy" Ewell, gave the 11th Corps another frightful chewing and sent them sprawling in retreat. The Buckeye sergeant lost his shoe and had his foot badly injured by a shell while retreating towards Gettysburg and was "gobbled" by the pursuing Confederates.
Hospital, 11th Corps, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
July 17, 1863
I am still alive and have lost no part of myself- I had my
left shoe torn off my foot by a shell; I did not like it much for the shoes
were new. I bought them from a sutler and paid $3.50 for them, ahem! The Rebels
did not care for anything, they did not care whether they killed or not, but I
did. I tried to kill every time I shot. A man in my company had had a cannon
ball pass through him; we were marching by the left flank, the ball passed in
front of me and struck him under his knapsack in the small of the back, nearly
cutting him in two. There were two men killed the first day; there were only
seven men (eight including myself) in the company as eleven were away on a
scout. Of us eight, two were killed and four were wounded. I know I sent one grayback
to his long home; he turned two or three somersaults down a hill, but they made
some of us turn over I tell you.
They drove some of our division back across the field and
our regiment was ordered to charge. We fixed the bayonets, cleared the field,
and charged into the woods on the other side and there I was knocked down by a
ball, it burned my forehead it came so close, but a miss is as good as a mile.
I soon got to my feet as the regiment had fallen back across the field. I
picked up a gun that lay alongside me; it had a load in it. I jumped to a tree
and there were four Rebels within 30 feet of me and I dropped one of them. I
tell you the rest sent bullets close to me, but I got out of the woods.
Then I was between the fire of our own men and the Rebels.
I got about halfway across the field when I heard a man say “Sergeant!” I
turned and looked, and it was a man in my company shot through the thigh. I
helped him to a fence corner and then left him; he laughed and as I started away,
he laid on his back and said, “Goodbye sergeant, we may never meet again.”
I got to the regiment or to a squad of our men with our
flag and colonel. The flag staff was cut in two, the flag in ribbons, but it
waved from one side to the other. Men of different regiments were scattered
around; I tried to get them to rally around our flag and was then struck in my
foot with a piece of shell. It tore my shoe all to pieces; my left arm was
numbed; I did not know what did it, but it soon became alright.
We had to fall back again through the town of Gettysburg,
but I could not get away fast enough. I got into a wheat field and tried to
crawl out, but I had about a half dozen Rebels on top of me in a few minutes. “Halt
you damned Yankee, halt!” I could not run so I had to stop- they took me back
to the rear. I had no haversack or canteen; the latter I had given to a wounded
man and my haversack had been cut off of me. I could not have lost it any other
way, so I had nothing to eat that night. It was rather cool, and I only had my
rubber blanket, I froze part of the night and slept the rest. The next morning,
they marched us back, so I got some rags and tied up my foot. I got an old
stick for my cane and did the best I could.
The Rebs marched me about one mile with 30 men from my
regiment as prisoners. The Rebels had about 2,000 of us, over 100 officers
among them. They wanted us to take the parole, but we would not take it; a
parole on the battlefield is not legal. One of the Rebel officers came to me
and said, “What are you doing here? Are you not wounded in the foot?” I
answered that I was. “You ought to have been left at the hospital.” I told him
they made me march along and we will soon be retaken said I. “Do you think so?”
I told him I did. “Why we drove you yesterday!” And we will drive you today, I
said. “We are going to Washington and Baltimore.” I wish you’d let me know when
you start, I said.
“You
must have a great deal of confidence in your army here.” I told him I had, and that
the Rebels would get the damndest licking they ever got and would leave
Pennsylvania a damned sight faster than they came. He started away and I
stopped him and told him we did not starve them when they were prisoners; they
had killed a cattle about 100 yards from where I was and told him I wished he
would give me a hoof or a horn. He left and I did not see him again until they
commenced to retreat. He saw me hobbling
over the stones with two of my men helping me. I could not go any farther as my
foot became so sore that I could not move it. We were then at Monterey Springs,
Pennsylvania after marching for two days. He ordered me to be left at a house
there and paroled. I was left but he told me I stuck it out well. “I think you
are going a devilish roundabout way to Washington and Baltimore,” I said. He
looked at me and laughed, then turned and left.
I
tell you on that march we were nearly starved. I had no shoe on my sore foot
and the stones would cut the rags off; sometimes I would step on a sharp stone
and the fire would fly edgeways out of my eyes. I had to stop and take the parole,
so you see I am a paroled prisoner. I do not like it, but I cannot help it. I tried
to get away but could not. My foot is about well. I wish I could get to my
regiment which is in front. The last report I heard from them it mustered 72
men. The 75th is about “played out.” I think we will have to go home
and recruit.
Your absent brother,
Mark
Source:
Letter from First Sergeant Mark A. Knowlden, Co. K, 75th Ohio Volunteer Infantry, Xenia Sentinel (Ohio), September 1, 1863, pg. 4
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