Part 2

The _Carolina’s_ fire was the signal to attack. Coffee, guided by Colonel Pierre Denis de la Ronde, whose plantation was near that of Villere, skirted the edge of a swamp to attack the enemy’s right flank while Jackson and Carroll struck from the front. Coffee’s powerful thrust sent the British 85th regiment reeling backward, permitting the Tennesseans to get behind the faltering line. Then by a “sudden movement Coffee was able to penetrate almost to the very heart of the British camp.”[21] The engagement quickly became one of great confusion. Coffee’s riflemen were so determined in pressing their advantage that they became somewhat disorganized, but never lost their poise. The invaders, on the other hand, could not regain the initiative against the surprise attack. Much of the battle was fought hand-to-hand.

A decided advantage to the Tennesseans was their use of long rifles against the shorter weapons of the British. Jackson’s men kept up a brisk, punishing fire for over two hours. Their excellent marksmanship drew praise from Major Latour, who noted in one spot a half dozen marks made by their rifle balls within a diameter of only four inches.[22] Little, if any, random shooting was done by the deliberate riflemen, who had been carefully schooled to take careful aim before firing.

The battlefield confusion became more pronounced when a heavy fog settled over the area and soldiers of both armies were captured after being separated from their comrades. The British gained some respite from their punishment when their Second Division arrived from Bayou Bienvenue and slipped behind Coffee’s rear. This advantage, however, was lost when a British commander failed to extend his line for fear of being cut off from the lake and boats. Finally, the Redcoats slowly retired from the battlefield to shelter under a river levee. By this time the fog was so heavy that pursuit would have entailed serious hazards to the Americans, including exposure to the _Carolina’s_ fire which had continued intermittently throughout the fight. Accordingly, Coffee also left the field, withdrawing about a mile and a quarter to De la Ronde’s garden to await the dawn.

Although the result could be regarded as indecisive, the Americans considered the outcome a victory since only 1,600 of their men had been pitted against some 3,000 British. There was also a considerable difference in the number of casualties: American losses totaled 95 killed and wounded and 75 taken prisoner, while the British lost 400 killed and wounded and 100 captured.

The significance of the night action of December 23 was the indication that a numerically inferior American force could hold its own against British invaders. The Americans, many of whom lacked formal military training, had faced British military might and had given no quarter. They felt strongly that they possessed the mental and physical equipment to withstand and, indeed, to hurl back almost any onslaught which might be thrown against them. The only question remaining in their minds was when their victory might come.

On the other hand, the outcome of the night struggle dismayed the British forces to the extent that they became overly cautious, and permitted Jackson valuable time in which to prepare his New Orleans defenses.[23] They could, however, take some satisfaction from the fact that they were not dislodged from their positions.

Some of the Tennessee casualties included Colonels Robert H. Dyer and John H. Gibson, who were wounded, and the capture of Majors David Hubbard and Charles Kavennaugh. The deaths of Colonel James Lauderdale and Lieutenant Samuel T. Brooks were serious losses to Coffee. Lauderdale, who had fought with unusual courage in the Creek War and was wounded at Horseshoe Bend, was still recovering from his wounds when he returned to active service with the Tennessee Mounted Volunteers. During the engagement which took his life, Lauderdale customarily overexposed himself in leading his men forward. But he fought to the last with the instinctive skill of a battle-tested soldier. Many were the eulogies expressed for Colonel Lauderdale, by none was more appropriate than that which appeared in the Nashville _Whig_:

With such examples as that of Lauderdale, which by their splendor and their number will soon constitute for us a national character capable of the sublimest efforts of steady fortitude and masculine courage, tho’ the enemy were to land a hundred thousand men on our shores we need not tremble—they would but serve to illustrate the invincible rigor of our free constitution, and the irresistible energy of our spirit.[24]

There were, of course, many individual acts of heroism performed by Tennesseans, some of which, fortunately, have been recorded. John Donelson, Coffee’s brother-in-law, captured an important British officer, Major Mitchell. Lieutenant William Trousdale, himself destined for later fame as governor of Tennessee, was in the company which captured a major, two lieutenants, and thirty privates. The intrepid Trousdale barely escaped while leading a charge against the British who were entrenched behind a fence and a river levee. Having already leapt upon the fence, Trousdale glanced behind him only to discover to his dismay that the company had been ordered to retreat, leaving him alone in the enemy’s fire. He scrambled down from the fence and escaped back to his lines amid a hall of bullets.

Again, as at Horseshoe Bend, the excellent teamwork of Jackson and Coffee was evident. Coffee’s troops bore the brunt of fire and, as disciplined fighting men, had carried the fight to the enemy. Their outward simplicity concealed the marrow of the born soldier, willing—perhaps eager—to endure any personal hardship to gain his mission. Governor William C. C. Claiborne of Louisiana noted this quality and wrote that the “Tennessee troops equal the high expectations which were formed of them; nor is it possible for men to display more patriotism, firmness in battle, or composure under fatigue and privations.”[25] It was evident that even after the December 23 engagement, the British were still inclined to underestimate American ability in massed battle array. It is just as well as they reasoned from a faulty premise and lacked the benefit of Latour’s estimation:

General Coffee’s Tennesseans, those modest and simple sons of nature, displayed that firm composure which accompanies and indicates true courage.... Instinctively valiant, disciplined without having passed through the formal training of reviews and garrison maneuvers, they evinced on this memorable night, that enthusiasm, patriotism, and a sense of a just cause, which were of far more avail than scientific tactics. The heroes of Wellington, who boasted of their military tactics and disciplined valor, were often doomed by woful (sic) experience, to appreciate the prowess of those warlike sons of the western country.[26]

V

Both armies now began in earnest to prepare for the impending big battle. The British ferried in several thousand more soldiers, bringing their number to approximately 8,000. General Sir Edward M. Pakenham, the Duke of Wellington’s brother-in-law, arrived on Christmas Day eager to add other laurels to his 22-year military career. His accomplishments already included his decisive attack as division commander at Salamanca in the Peninsula Campaign against Napoleon.

Jackson, although elated over the results of the initial encounter, realized that the British had come to fight, not as a striking force similar to that of the Washington foray, but as a conquering army bent upon seizing the Mississippi Valley. When, early in the morning of December 24, there was no move by the invaders, Jackson drew his army back about two miles to a point between the McCarty and Chalmette plantations and formed a line which extended from the Mississippi River on his right to a cypress swamp on the left.[27] The Rodriguez Canal, a large wet ditch five feet deep, ran in front of the works. There the soldiers worked feverishly day and night to erect strong breastworks. Carroll’s position was on an extension of the canal. Coffee, on the extreme left of Jackson’s line after a scare on December 28, extended his ditch and works into the swamp, eliminating almost any further possibility for a flanking attack. The entire line covered about three-quarters of a mile, with about two-thirds of this being across the open plain.

Although no general action ensued immediately after the night battle, conditions in the battlefield area were hardly tranquil prior to January 8. On the evening of December 27, the British rushed a strong force forward, causing Jackson’s advance guard to fall back under heavy cannon, rocket, and musket fire. Pakenham staged a reconnaissance in force the next day and before it was called off the British were able to install a sizable force behind a fence oblique to the American line. Carroll instructed Colonel James Henderson and a detachment of 200 men to sweep along a wooded area, make a turn to the right toward the river and thus cut off the Redcoats. Unfortunately, Henderson’s slant to the right was premature and left the British still well covered by the fence, and his detachment several yards away from the protective covering of the woods.[28] A burst of musketry killed Henderson and five men and the others fell back into the woods. In the noisy and heavy artillery duel of January 1, casualties on each side were few, but the Americans at the guns proved as keen marksmen as the Tennessee riflemen, and impressed the British considerably.

The British sentries were indeed terrified by the Tennesseans’ ability with their rifles. These sentries called the Tennesseans _dirty shirts_ because their brown hunting dress camouflaged them in the thick undergrowth and dry grass. These militiamen were not soldiers in the European definition of the word. Many were frontiersmen who had battled the wilderness and endured the merciless elements of nature. Small wonder it is that they were not awed by the polished legions poised for their defeat. In truth, their pride grew as they measured themselves against the reputation of their heralded foe.

They gained considerable satisfaction, for example, from their harassment of the enemy. One operation which they called the “hunting party” amounted to nothing more than slipping out at night and disposing of as many British sentries as possible. In one night’s effort, one old Tennessean killed three sentries, took their arms and accouterments, and returned before dawn boasting of his feat.

When Jackson was finally in position, his force of some 5,000 presented a heterogeneous array of the unlikeliest components for an army. The blue-coated American regulars anchored one end of the line and Coffee’s militiamen the other. In between were various groups such as the Louisiana militia; New Orleans volunteers; Mississippians; battalion of free men of color; Louisiana Creoles; and the recently arrived Kentuckians. The Baratarian pirates had their cannons, ranging in size from 6- to 32-pounders, loaded and ready to fire on signal. The breastworks were five feet high, and were considered by Jackson to be impenetrable by small projectiles. Pakenham apparently did not share this view. His plan of attack was now devised, and before the misty morning of January 8 was gone, the Americans and British engaged each other in their last great struggle.

VI

General Pakenham, realizing that further delays would only give Jackson additional time in which to make his position more secure, concluded that a day-break frontal attack would break the resistance of the Americans. He was still not convinced of their ultimate ability to withstand Britannia’s veterans. Strangely, he was joined in this opinion by his supporting officers, although they had witnessed the bravery and skill of the American in arms in both night and day engagements.

Sitting in the top of a tree, surveying the American works on the afternoon of January 7, Pakenham was inclined to agree with a deserter to his ranks that the weakest point in the American position was the extreme left, where some of Coffee’s militiamen stood knee-deep in the swamp. So far as he could determine, the outlook appeared good that the morning would bring a memorable victory. His plan called for three columns to attack. The smaller one, numbering about 800 men, was to invest the American right. Two thousand soldiers were in the middle column, while the 4,000 on the British right were to storm Coffee’s militiamen and attack Jackson’s rear. To begin the attack, 1,400 troops would be transported across the Mississippi by boats brought in from Lake Borgne to capture an American battery erected there to rake the British ranks.

Jackson also was observing Pakenham on the afternoon of the seventh and he concluded that a major assault upon his works was imminent. Fascines and scaling ladders were in evidence, as were additional troops which had arrived the previous day under the command of Major General John Lambert, who had sailed from England at the end of October. Jackson’s plan of defense, a simple one, was designed to frustrate and repulse the British onslaught. The riflemen were numbered “one” and “two.” At the signal, the “ones” would fire first, step back, reload, and then wait for the “twos” to fire.

The night hours wore slowly on until the first vestiges of morning light which was hardly perceptible because of the low-hanging fog. Every Tennessean fingered his trigger, checking occasionally to see if his trusty long knife was in place should hand-to-hand struggle become necessary. Finally, when the rolling mists parted, there was seen a red line advancing across the plain of Chalmette toward the American entrenchments. When Jackson saw this, he felt that the plan of attack would fail because no frontal attack could storm his entrenchments. Coffee strode up and down his line encouraging his men to remain steady and to withhold their fire until “one could see their belt-buckles.”[29] On and on the silent line flowed, until it seemed like a great red carpet across the battlefield. Coffee recalled seeing the provocative scene of Redcoats advancing “in solid column in superior numbers and great order.” Within a few moments a mighty blast of artillery mowed down entire columns, but failed to halt the now surging tide streaming dangerously near the entrenchments. The British had come to within forty yards of Coffee’s flank before he roared: “Now men, aim for the center of the cross belts——fire!”[30]

The smoke from the long rifles hung so heavy in that misty morning that Jackson, slightly to the right of center, could not ascertain the result of the militiamen’s blast. So with Abner Duncan and Tom Overton he rode to Coffee’s end of the line. A few moments later there was another sharp, ringing volley, and Jackson increased his horse’s gallop. When he was within 100 yards of Coffee, the smoke lifted just enough for the surprised commander to see the British “falling back in a confused mass with the first ranks of their column ... blown away.”[31] So far as Coffee was concerned, the grape and canister were “nothing to the carnage of our rifles and muskets when they (the British) reached them.”

General Carroll also caught the force of the attack when nearly 2,000 men bore down upon the center of his line. As before, his rifles answered with an authority which inspired one officer to write: “The determined firmness of the men, silent as death at their posts, convinced me that on that day they would add fresh laurels to those already won by Tennessee.”[32]

Regrouping, the British line advanced a second time only to be cut down again. It was now apparent that Pakenham’s well devised plans had gone awry. The depleted columns which did reach the works could not scale them because an Irish regiment and a West Indian regiment, entrusted with the responsibility of carrying the fascines and scaling ladders, had failed in their duty. A major, a lieutenant, and twenty men finally pressed across the ditch on the American left, and the two officers started up the works. The major was riddled immediately with bullets, but the lieutenant managed to scale the top and demanded the surrender of a couple of militia officers facing him. To this demand they suggested that he look behind him, which he did and discovered to his consternation that the men whom he thought were following him “had vanished as if the earth had opened and swallowed them up.”[33] Of greater consequence to the British, however, was the death of General Pakenham, who had been cut down as he attempted to arouse his stricken troops for another assault.

During the struggle, several Tennesseans became mixed with the Kentuckians and one of them was accidentally killed by a Kentucky sharpshooter when a gun discharged prematurely. One Tennessean, remembered only as Paleface, remained with the Kentuckians throughout the battle. A gaunt little man, Paleface received the sword of a surrendering British officer and, in the closing minutes of the fight, killed at nearly 300 yards a retreating Redcoat who was making obscene gestures at the defenders.

As the firing died down, captives began to trickle into the works, one of whom was a young man about 19 or 20 years old, apparently in great pain. He was assisted by several Kentuckians who sought to alleviate his suffering by removing his accouterments. At the same time a Tennessean returned from the river with a tin coffee pot filled with water. The stricken soldier asked if he could have just a drop. “Oh yes!” said the Tennessean, “I will treat you to anything I’ve got.” After taking two or three sips out of the spout, the young man returned the pot, sank backward, took a gasp or two, and died.[34]

By now, the tide of battle was receding as the aggressors retired from the field “under cover of a very thick fog.”[35] When the smoke and fog lifted, the gallant defenders witnessed a sight which would forever be etched upon their minds. Before them were the tortured forms of the dead and dying, many of them convulsing in the agonies of death. Across the battlefield, there also arose sounds which would reverberate across the years in their memories—the groans and lamentations of fallen men. Witnessing that scene, few could dispute Coffee’s conviction that the “famous campaign against Orleans is at rest at present, and has thus far been marked with better fortune to the American arms than anything heretofore known.”[36] Over 2,000 British were either dead, wounded, or missing, while the American loss stood at seven killed and six wounded.[37]

Thus, within two hours the Battle of New Orleans belonged to history. General Lambert, the only remaining British officer of general rank, covered the retreat and that afternoon assumed the melancholy task of retrieving and burying the dead. The bodies were delivered to the British lines by the Tennesseans and Kentuckians on the unused scaling ladders they found strewn across the battlefield. The dead soldiers were interred in a site on the Bienvenu plantation. Ironically, some British officers were buried in Villere’s garden, which had been their headquarters prior to the battle. It was not until the night of January 18, however, that the entire British army withdrew from its encampments and returned across Lake Borgne to their fleet still anchored in deep water between Cat and Ship islands. Their departure was carefully observed by Jackson, who distributed his forces to protect every approach to the city should the frustrated enemy attempt to strike another blow.

VII

On January 21, 1815, Tennessee was “revered, and General Jackson idolized” by appreciative citizens of New Orleans who filled the city’s streets to cheer the army during its victory march through the city. Included in the festive occasion, arranged as an outpouring of the city’s gratitude, was a “triumphal arch, adorned with wreaths, supported by eighteen pillars (one for each state) and eighteen damsels, the fairest in the city, bearing a motto emblematic of the state she represented.”[38] Flowers were scattered in abundance along the entire route. While the period of rejoicing was still in progress, Mrs. Jackson arrived in the city on February 19th in time for a grand ball given in the general’s honor on Washington’s birthday.

Praise was showered upon the Tennesseans, particularly the Coffee militiamen who, from the inception of the campaign, had carried the heaviest burden of battle among the American troops. From the time they departed Fayetteville in early October, they had been almost constantly in the saddle or on foot, often wading through muck, and stoically enduring privation. This patient endurance of any test they were called upon to face, drew from Robert Butler, Adjutant General, Seventh Military District, this comment:

To the Tennessee mounted gunmen, to their gallant leader, brigadier-general Coffee, the general presents his warmest thanks, not only for their uniform good conduct in action, but for the wonderful patience with which they have borne the fatigue, and the perseverance with which they surmounted the difficulties of a most painful march, in order to meet the enemy—a diligence and zeal to which we probably owe the salvation of the country. Ordinary activity would have brought them too late to act the brilliant part they have performed in the defeat of our invaders.[39]

Resolutions of thanks and gratitude were also tendered the Tennesseans by the Louisiana Legislature which, however, failed to include any recognition of Jackson. In a note to that body, Coffee courteously thanked them for the recognition, but added that the highest honors given to anyone connected with the defense of New Orleans rightfully belonged to General Jackson.