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Note E.—Page 204.
The following extract from a narrative of the British attack on
New-Orleans by Capt. Cooke, late of the British army, will, perhaps,
not be without interest to many of my readers.
Camp before New-Orleans.
“I do not remember ever looking for the first signs of day-break
with more intense anxiety than on this eventful morning; every
now and then I thought I heard the distant hum of voices, then
again something like the doleful rustling of the wind before the
the effect of the momentary buzzing in my ears; all was silent—the
dew lay on the damp sod, and the soldiers were carefully putting
aside their entrenching tools, and laying hold of their arms to be up
and answer the first war-call at a moment's warning. How can I
convey a thought of the intense anxiety of the mind, when a
sombre silence is broken by the intonations of the cannon, and
when the work of death begins? Now the veil of night was less
obscured, and its murky mantle dissolved on all sides, and the mist
sweeping off the face of the earth; yet it was not day, and no object
was very visible beyond the extent of a few yards. The morn
was chilly—I augured not of victory, an evil foreboding crossed my
mind, and I meditated in solitary reflection. All was tranquil as
the grave, and no camp-fires glimmered from either friends or foes.
Soon after this, two light companies of the seventh and ninety-third
regiments came up without knapsacks, the highlanders with
their blankets rolled and slung around their backs, and merely wearing
the shell of their bonnets, the sable plumes of real ostrich feathers
brought by them from the Cape of Good Hope, having been
left in England. One company of the forty-third light infantry also
followed, marching up rapidly. These three companies formed a
compact little column of two hundred and forty soldiers, near the
battery on the high road to New-Orleans. They were to attack the
crescent battery near the river, and if possible to silence its fire under
the muzzles of twenty pieces of cannon; at a point, too, where
the bulk of the British force had hesitated when first they landed,
and had recoiled from its fire on the twenty-eighth of last December,
and on the first of January. I asked Lieut. Duncan Campbell
where they were going, when he replied, “I'll be hanged if I
know:” “then,” said I, “you have got into what I call a good thing; a
far-famed American battery is in front of you at a short range, and
on the left of this spot is flanked, at 800 yards, by their batteries on
the opposite bank of the river.” At this piece of information he
laughed heartily, and I told him to take off his blue pelisse-coat to
be like the rest of the men. “No,” he said gayly, “I will never
peel for an American—come, Jack, embrace me.” He was a fine
young officer of twenty years of age, and had fought in many
bloody encounters in Spain and France, but this was to be his last,
as well as that of many more brave men. The mist was slowly
clearing off, but objects could only be discerned at two or three
hundred yards distance, as the morning was rather hazy; we had
thrown up, whether from the enemy or not we could not tell; for
some seconds it whizzed backward and forward in such a zigzag way,
that we all looked up to see whether it was coming down upon our
heads. The troops simultaneously halted, but all smiled at some
sailors dragging a two-wheeled car a hundred yards to our left,
which had brought up ammunition to the battery, who, by common
consent, as it were, let go the shaft, and left it the instant the rocket
was let off.—(This rocket, although we did not know it, proved to
be the signal of attack.) All eyes were cast upward, like those of
so many astronomers, to descry, if possible, what could be the upshot
of this noisy harbinger, breaking in upon the solemn silence that
reigned around. During all my military services I do not remember
seeing a small body of troops thrown into such a strange configuration,
having formed themselves into a circle, and halted, both officers
and men, without any previous word of command, each man looking
earnestly, as if by instinct of his imagination, to see in what particular
quarter the anticipated firing would begin.
The Mississippi was not visible, its waters likewise being covered
over with the fog; nor was there a single soldier, save our little phalanx,
to be seen, or the tramp of a horse or a single footstep to be
heard, by way of announcing that the battle-scene was about to begin,
before the vapoury curtain was lifted or cleared away for the
opposing forces to get a glimpse one of the other. So that we were
completely lost, not knowing which way to bend our footsteps, and the
only words which now escaped the officers were “steady, men,” these
precautionary warnings being quite unnecessary, as every soldier
was, as it were, motionless like fox-hunters, waiting with breathless
expectation, and casting significant looks one at the other before
Reynard breaks cover.
All eyes seemed anxious to dive through the mist; and all ears attentive
to the coming moment, as it was impossible to tell whether
the blazing would begin from the troops who were supposed to have
already crossed the river, or from the great battery of the Americans
on the right bank of the Mississippi, or from the main lines. From
all these points we were equidistant, and within point-blank range;
and were left, besides, totally without orders, and without knowing
how to act or where to find our own corps, just as if we had formed
no part or parcel of the army.
The rocket had fallen probably in the Mississippi, all was silent,
nor did a single officer or soldier attempt to shift his foot-hold, so
cannon to guide our footsteps, or as it were to pronounce with loud
peals where was the point of our destination, well knowing that to
go farther to the rear was not the way to find our regiment. This
silence and suspense had not lasted more than two minutes, when
the most vehement firing from the British artillery began opposite
the left of the American lines, and before they could even see what
objects they were firing at, or before the intended attacking column
of the British were probably formed to go on to the assault. The
American artillery soon responded, and thus it was that the gunners
of the English and the Americans were firing through the
mist at random; or in the supposed direction whence came their respective
balls through the fog. And the first objects we saw, enclosed
as it were in this little world of mist, were the cannon-balls
tearing up the ground and crossing one another, and bounding
along like so many cricket-balls through the air, coming on our left
flank from the American batteries on the right bank of the river,
and also from their lines in front.
At this momentous crisis a droll occurrence took place; a company
of blacks emerged out of the mist, carrying ladders, which
were intended for the three light companies for the left attack, but
these Ethiopians were so confounded at the multiplicity of noises,
that without farther ado, they dropped the ladders and fell flat on
their faces, and without doubt, had their claws been of sufficient
length, they would have scratched holes and buried themselves from
such an unpleasant admixture of sounds and concatenation of iron
projectiles, which seemed at war with one another, coming from
two opposite directions at one and the same time.
If these blacks were only intended to carry the ladders to the
three light companies on the left, they were too late. The great
bulk of them were cut to pieces before the ladders were within
reach of them; even if the best troops in the world had been carrying
them, they would not have been up in time. This was very
odd, and more than odd; it looked as if folly stalked abroad in the
English camp. One or two officers went to the front in search of
some responsible person to obtain orders ad interim; finding myself
the senior officer, I at once, making a double as it were, or, as
Napoleon recommended, marched to the spot where the heaviest
firing was going on; at a run we neared the American line. The
mist was now rapidly clearing away, but, owing to the dense smoke,
troops to our right.
We now also caught a view of the seventh and the forty-third
regiments in echelon on our right, near the wood, the royal fusileers
being within about 300 yards of the enemy's lines, and the forty-third
deploying into line 200 yards in echelon behind the fusileers.
These two regiments were every now and then almost enveloped by
the clouds of smoke that hung over their heads, and floated on their
flanks, and the echo from the cannonade and musketry was so tremendous
in the forests, that the vibration seemed as if the earth were
cracking and tumbling to pieces, or as if the heavens were rent asunder
by the most terrific peals of thunder that ever rumbled; it was
the most awful and the grandest mixture of sounds to be conceived;
the woods seemed to crack to an interminable distance, each cannon
report was answered one hundred fold, and produced an intermingled
roar surpassing strange. And this phenomenon can neither be
fancied nor described, save by those who can bear evidence of the fact.
And the flashes of fire looked as if coming out of the bowels of the
earth, so little above its surface were the batteries of the Americans.
We had run the gauntlet, from the left to the centre in front of
the American lines, under a cross fire, in hopes of joining in the assault,
and had a fine view of the sparkling of the musketry, and the
liquid flashes of the cannon. And melancholy to relate, all at once
many soldiers were met wildly rushing out of the dense clouds of
smoke, lighted up by a sparkling sheet of fire, which hovered over
the ensanguined field. Regiments were shattered and dispersed—
all order was at an end. And the dismal spectacle was seen of the
dark shadows of men, like skirmishers, breaking out of the clouds of
smoke, which majestically rolled along the even surface of the
field. And so astonished was I at such a panic, that I said to a retiring
soldier, “have we or the Americans attacked?” for I had never
seen troops in such a hurry without being followed. “No,” replied
the man, with the countenance of despair, and out of breath, as he
ran along, “we attacked, sir.” For still the reverberation was so
intense toward the great wood, that any one would have thought
the great fighting was going on there instead of immediately in
front.
Lieut. Duncan Campbell, of our regiment, was seen to our left
running about in circles, first staggering one way, then another, and
at length fell upon the sod helplessly on his face, and again tumbled,
and when he was picked up, he was found to be blind from the effect
slight wound in the leg, and also ripped the scabbard from his side,
and knocked the cap from his head. While being borne insensible
to the rear, he still clenched the hilt of his sword with a convulsive
grasp, the blade thereof being broken off close at the hilt with grape-shot,
and in a state of delirium and suffering he lived for a few days.
The first officer we met was Lieutenant-Colonel Stovin, of the
staff, who was unhorsed, without his hat, and bleeding down the
left side of his face. He at first thought the two hundred were the
whole regiment, and he said, “Forty-third, for God's sake save the
day!” Lieutenant-Colonel Smith of the rifles, and one of Packenham's
staff, then rode up at full gallop from the right, (he had a few
months before brought to England the despatches of the capture of
Washington) and said to me, “Did you ever see such a scene?—
There is nothing left but the seventh and forty-third! just draw up
here for a few minutes, to show front, that the repulsed troops may
re-form.” For the chances now were, as the greater portion of the
actually attacking corps were stricken down, and the remainder dispersed,
that the Americans would become the assailants. The ill-fated
rocket was discharged before the British troops moved on;
the consequence was, that every American gun was warned by such
a silly signal to be laid on the parapets, ready to be discharged with
the fullest effect.
The misty field of battle was now inundated with wounded officers
and soldiers, who were going to the rear from the right, left,
and centre; in fact, little more than one thousand soldiers were left
unscathed out of the three thousand who attacked the American
lines, and they fell like the very blades of grass beneath the scythe
of the mower. Packenham was killed; Gibbes was mortally wounded;
his brigade dispersed like the dust before the whirlwind, and Keane
was wounded. The command of his Majesty's forces at this critical
juncture now fell to Major-general Lambert, the only general left,
and he was in reserve with his fine brigade.
The rifle corps individually took post to resist any forward movements
of the enemy, but the ground already named being under a
cross fire of at least twenty pieces of artillery, the advantage was all
on the side of the Americans, who in a crowd might have completely
run down a few scattered troops, exposed to such an overpowering
force of artillery. The black troops behaved in the most shameful
manner to a man, and, although hardly exposed to fire, were in abominable
consternation, lying down in all directions. One broad
shoulders of the Americans, was as terrible in their eyes as a panther
might be while springing among a timid multitude. These black
corps, it is said, had behaved well at some West India islands, where
the thermometer was more congenial to their feelings. Lieut. Hill
(now Capt. Hill) said, in his shrewd manner, “Look at the seventh
and the forty-third, like seventy-fours becalmed!” As soon as the
action was over, and some troops were formed in our rear, we then,
under a smart fire of grape and round shot, moved to the right, and
joined our own corps, which had been ordered to lie down at the edge
of the ditch; and some of the old soldiers, with rage depicted on their
countenances, were demanding why they were not led on to the assault.
The fire of the Americans, from behind their barricades, had
been indeed so murderous, and had caused so sudden a repulse, that
it was difficult to persuade ourselves that such an event had happened—the
whole affair being more like a dream, or some scene of
enchantment, than reality.
And thus it was: on the left bank of the river, three generals,
seven colonels, and seventy-five officers, making a total of seventeen
hundred and eighty-one officers and soldiers, had fallen in a few
minutes.
The royal fusileers and the Monmouthshire light infantry, from
the beginning to the end of the battle, were astounded at the ill success
of the combat; and while formed within grape range, were lost
in amazement at not being led on to the attack, being kept as quiet
spectators of the onslaught.
About an hour and a half after the principal attack had failed, we
heard a rapid discharge of fire-arms, and a few hurried sounds of
cannon on the right bank of the river, when all was again silent, until
three distinct rounds of British cheers gladdened our ears from
that direction, although at least one mile and a quarter from where
we were stationed. They were Colonel Thornton's gallant troops,
who were successful in the assault on the American works in that
quarter, the details of which, for a brief space, I must postpone.
For five hours the enemy plied us with grape and round shot;
some of the wounded lying in the mud or on wet grass, managed to
crawl away; but every now and then some unfortunate man was
lifted off the ground by round shot, and lay killed or mangled.—
During the tedious hours we remained in front, it was necessary to
lie on the ground, to cover ourselves from the projectiles. An officer
of our regiment was in a reclining posture, when a grape-shot passed
opening his eyes, and looking at his wounds, he said, “Carry me
away. I am chilled to death;” and as he was hoisted on the men's
shoulders, more round and grape shot passed his head; taking off
his hat, he waved it; and after many narrow escapes, got out of
range, suffered amputation of both legs, and died of his wounds on
ship-board, after enduring all the pain of the surgical operation, and
passing down the lake in an open boat.
A wounded soldier, who was lying among the slain, two hundred
yards behind us, continued, without any cessation, for two
hours, to raise his arm up and down with a convulsive motion,
which excited the most painful sensations among us; and as the
enemy's balls now and then killed or maimed some soldiers, we
could not help casting our eyes toward the moving arm, which
really was a dreadful magnet of attraction; it even caught the attention
of the enemy, who, without seeing the body, fired several
round shot at it. A black soldier lay near us, who had received a
blow from a cannon-ball, which had obliterated all his features;
and although blind, and suffering the most terrible anguish, he
was employing himself in scratching a hole to put his money into.
A tree, about two feet in diameter and fifteen in height, with a few
scattered branches at the top, was the only object to break the monotonous
scene. This tree was near the right of our regiment;
the Americans, seeing some persons clustering around it, fired a
thirty-two pound shot, which struck the tree exactly in the centre,
and buried itself in the trunk with a loud concussion. Curiosity
prompted some of us to take a hasty inspection of it, and I could
clearly see the rusty ball within the tree. I thrust my arm in a
little above the elbow joint, and laid hold of it; it was truly amazing,
between the intervals of firing the cannon, to see the risks
continually run by the officers to take a peep at this good shot.
Owing to this circumstance, the vicinity of the tree became rather
a hot berth; but the American gunners failed to hit it a second
time, although some balls passed very near on each side, and for
an hour it was a source of excessive jocularity to us. In the middle
of the day a flag of truce was sent by Gen. Lambert to Gen.
Jackson, to be allowed to bury the dead, which was acceded to by
the latter on certain conditions.”
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