GEORGE GLEIG WAS a member of the British force that approached New Orleans. Full of themselves after the sack of Washington, Gleig and the British expected little trouble from the motley army Andrew Jackson, the American commander, had gathered in front of the city. “From the General down to the youngest drum-boy, a confident anticipation of success seemed to pervade all ranks,” Gleig recounted. Intelligence added to the British confidence. Deserters from the American lines spoke of the fright and despondency that pervaded the city. “They assured us that there were not at present 5,000 soldiers in the state; that the principal inhabitants had long ago left the place; that such as remained were ready to join us as soon as we should appear among them; and that, therefore, we might lay our account with a speedy and bloodless conquest.” The city would be a great prize. “The same persons likewise dilated upon the wealth and importance of the town, upon the large quantity of government stores there collected, and the rich booty which would reward its capture.”
The Mississippi River below New Orleans was infamously treacherous, besides being fortified against shipborne assault. The British accordingly chose an oblique approach, via Lakes Borgne and Pontchartrain. The operation proceeded smoothly. “The place where we landed was as wild as it is possible to imagine,” Gleig recorded. “Wherever we looked, nothing was to be seen except one huge marsh, covered with tall reeds; not a house, nor a vestige of human industry could be discovered; and even of trees there were but a few growing upon the banks of the creek. Yet it was such a spot as, above all others, favored our operations. No eye could watch us, or report our arrival to the American general.”
The British edged closer to their objective, coming out on the Mississippi below New Orleans but above the last American fort. “Looking up towards the town, which we at this time faced, the marsh is upon your right, and the river upon your left,” Gleig wrote. “Close to the latter runs the main road, following the course of the stream all the way to New Orleans. Between the road and the water is thrown up a lofty and strong embankment, resembling the dykes in Holland and meant to serve a similar purpose, by means of which the Mississippi is prevented from overflowing its banks and the entire flat is preserved from inundation. But the attention of the stranger is irresistibly drawn away from every other object to contemplate the magnificence of this noble river. Pouring along at the prodigious rate of four miles an hour, an immense body of water is spread out before you, measuring a full mile across and nearly a hundred fathoms in depth.”
What Gleig and the British didn’t realize was that Andrew Jackson now had the British precisely where he wanted them: pinned between the marsh and the river. They discovered their predicament soon enough. The British had made camp and were preparing to settle in for the night. “About half-past seven o’clock, the attention of several individuals was drawn to a large vessel, which seemed to be stealing up the river till she came opposite to our camp, when her anchor was dropped and her sails leisurely furled,” Gleig recalled. “At first we were doubtful whether she might not be one of our own cruisers which had passed the fort unobserved and had arrived to render her assistance in our future operations. To satisfy this doubt, she was repeatedly hailed; but returning no answer, an alarm immediately spread through the bivouac, and all thought of sleep was laid aside. Several musket shots were now fired at her with the design of exacting a reply, of which no notice was taken; till at length having fastened all her sails and swung her broad-side towards us, we could distinctly hear some one cry out in a commanding voice, ‘Give them this for the honour of America.’ The words were instantly followed by the flashes of her guns, and a deadly shower of grape swept down numbers in the camp.”
It occurred to the British that they had fallen into Jackson’s trap. Between the marsh and the river, they could only go forward toward his well-defended lines or back whence they had come. The latter course was never considered. This was the army that had defeated Napoleon; it would not retreat before a frontier general who had fought enemies no more formidable than Indians. So forward the British went.
They learned that Americans held different ideas of warfare than Europeans did. The British closed upon the American lines until the pickets of the two sides were within sight of each other. The British awaited the main battle; the Americans did not. “While two European armies remain inactively facing each other, the out-posts of neither are molested, unless a direct attack upon the main body be intended,” Gleig explained. “Nay, so far is this tacit good understanding carried that I have myself beheld French and English sentinels not more than twenty yards apart. But the Americans entertained no such chivalrous notions. An enemy was to them an enemy, whether alone or in the midst of five thousand companions, and they therefore counted the death of every individual as so much taken from the strength of the whole. In point of fact, they no doubt reasoned correctly, but to us at least it appeared an ungenerous return to barbarity. Whenever they could approach unperceived within proper distance of our watch fires, six or eight riflemen would fire amongst the party that sat round them, while one or two, stealing as close to each sentinel as a regard to their own safety would permit, acted the part of assassins rather than of soldiers and attempted to murder them in cold blood.”
The British commander, Edward Pakenham, ordered his men to erect batteries. This they did with great skill and energy, working around the clock until thirty big guns were brought to bear against the American defenses. The job was finished on the last night of 1814. The next day dawned gloomy, but brightened as the morning wore on. Gleig and the British were surprised to see the Americans celebrating the New Year. “The different regiments were upon parade, and being dressed in holiday suits, presented a really fine appearance,” Gleig wrote. “Mounted officers were riding backwards and forwards through the ranks, bands were playing, and colours floating in the air. In a word, all seemed jollity and gala.”
Pakenham gave the order to fire. “Our batteries opened, and the face of affairs was instantly changed. The ranks were broken; the different corps dispersing, fled in all directions, while the utmost terror and disorder appeared to prevail. Instead of nicely dressed lines, nothing but confused crowds could now be observed; nor was it without much difficulty that order was finally restored.”
When it was, American guns answered the British fire, and a tremendous artillery battle ensued, lasting the entire day. The British matched the Americans salvo for salvo until the late afternoon, when the invaders ran short of ammunition. Jackson’s cannoneers, sensing the British weakness, redoubled their efforts, pounding the British with fire from guns mounted in front of them, guns on ships in the river, and guns on the river’s far bank. The British were forced to abandon the batteries they had established with such effort and fall back to more defensible lines.
Pakenham realized time was working against him. More American troops were arriving in Jackson’s camp each day; the British force was as large as it was going to get. Pakenham resolved on a bold stroke. He would divide his army, sending part across the river to capture the American batteries there; just as it succeeded, his main force would assault the American lines. Crossing the river required getting boats from Lake Pontchartrain to the Mississippi, which in turn required digging a canal between the two bodies of water. Once more the British bent their backs to hard labor; by January 6 they had succeeded well enough to start the transit of the boats from the lake to the river. By the following day the boats were ready to launch into the great stream.
That night the British parties assigned to cross the river set out. They intended to surprise the American artillery crews and capture the guns. They would send up a rocket signaling success and would turn the guns against Jackson’s line. On the rocket signal, the main body of the British would charge the American front. The old confidence returned to Gleig and his fellows. “Our numbers amounted now to little short of eight thousand men, a force which, in almost any other quarter of America, would have been irresistible,” Gleig said. Reports and rumors placed the American troops at perhaps three times that many, but the Americans were known to lack experience and presumed to lack discipline.
The British plan faltered even before the battle commenced. The boats encountered a current stronger than their helmsmen and rowers had ever experienced. The craft were swept downstream, leaving the soldiers miles to march once they landed. Pakenham awaited the signal that the American guns had been taken. The signal didn’t come. He waited longer. Still no signal. Yet with his main army already in motion, he couldn’t well call off the battle. And his pride as a British soldier wouldn’t allow it. Daylight revealed the approach of the British to the Americans, who commenced a withering fire. The front ranks of the British troops suffered terribly. “They were mowed down by hundreds,” Gleig wrote.
Pakenham gave the order to charge, hoping the units across the river would achieve their objective at any moment. The result was one of the most appalling disasters in British military history. The redcoats marched into the teeth of Jackson’s guns. Row after row went down, yet the line pressed forward until it reached the American fortifications. Ladders had been assigned to the assault teams but had been abandoned under the duress of the deadly fire. “To scale the parapet without ladders was impossible,” Gleig wrote. “Some few, indeed, by mounting upon another’s shoulders, succeeded in entering the works, but these were instantly overpowered, most of them killed, and the rest taken; while as many as stood without were exposed to a sweeping fire, which cut them down by whole companies. It was in vain that the most obstinate courage was displayed. They fell by the hands of men whom they absolutely did not see; for the Americans, without so much as lifting their faces above the rampart, swung their firelocks by one arm over the wall and discharged them directly upon their heads. The whole of the guns, likewise, from the opposite bank”—the ones that were supposed to have been captured—“kept up a well directed and deadly cannonade upon their flank; and thus were they destroyed without an opportunity being given of displaying their valour.”
Pakenham did what he could to rally his men. Galloping conspicuously to and fro, he shouted at the troops to follow him against the American lines. In the act, he was hit in the leg by an American musket ball, which killed his horse and threw him to the ground. He seized another horse and remounted, only to be hit by another ball, this time fatally. Two other British generals took up where Pakenham had left off; they were quickly wounded and had to be carried off the field. “All was now confusion and dismay,” Gleig recorded. “Without leaders, ignorant of what was to be done, the troops first halted and then began to retire, till finally the retreat was changed into a flight, and they quitted the ground in the utmost disorder.”
The battle ended with the British army broken and the Americans in complete command of the field. Yet it wasn’t until the following day that the extent of Britain’s debacle became apparent. The senior surviving British officer requested a truce so that the two sides could bury their dead. Jackson consented. George Gleig accompanied one of the British burial crews onto the battlefield. “Of all the sights I ever witnessed, that which met me there was beyond comparison the most shocking and the most humiliating,” he wrote. “Within the small compass of a few hundred yards were gathered nearly a thousand bodies, all of them arrayed in British uniforms. Not a single American was among them; all were English.”