Revelation: Sudden changes; turbulence.
The balance of the American army was aligned just west of the Lacoste plantation boundary, starting at the river and extending inland for a distance of roughly four hundred yards. Closest to the river on the high road, Jackson placed the two six-pounder cannons and their crews, with a contingent of Marines in support. Next, posted from right to left, were the 7th and 44th US infantry regiments and Major Plauché’s battalion of Creole volunteers, which included Private René Bonet. Holding the left flank, Miguel Plicque was with Major Dacquin’s battalion of free men of color.
The continuing bombardment from the Carolina and the resulting confusion in the camp kept the British unaware of the American battle lines forming on two sides of their position.
At 8:00 p.m., General Jackson gave the order for the professional soldiers of the 44th and the 7th regiments to advance toward the Redcoats’ camp. The two cannons were rolled forward on the high road, accompanied by the Marines. The men of the 7th were the first to reach the edge of Lacoste’s plantation, where they stumbled into an English outpost. Although suffering casualties, the Yankees were able to push the Redcoats back toward their camp.
Now alerted to the American army’s presence, English General Thornton rushed every soldier he could toward the sound of the musket fire. Illuminated only by the moon, and obscured by the fog drifting from the river, the fight became a matter of firing at the flashes of the enemy’s muskets and then dodging before the enemy fired at the flashes of the Americans’ muskets.
As the English reinforcements arrived at the sight of the engagement, they spread to the left of the 44th regiment. The volunteer units on the far left of the American line, for unknown reasons, had not gotten the word to advance with the regular army regiment.
René, on the far left of Plauché’s Creole unit, was waiting in formation with a churning stomach. Despite the cooling night, sweat soaked his hands while he listened to the gunfire and the battle cries. He silently repeated the musket loading-and-firing procedure to himself; yet again, he found it somewhat calming. The next man to his left was a member of Major Daquin’s battalion; he was quietly saying the Lord’s Prayer over and over. René recognized the voice; it was Miguel, his father-in-law.
Suddenly came the command to move forward with caution and not to fire until given the order. In the darkness, it would be difficult to distinguish friend from foe. René gripped his musket, and Miguel stopped praying out loud as the battalions moved forward silently over the fields of the Lacoste plantation.
René’s head ached from the strain of peering into the darkness ahead. He could feel the bile rising in his throat and feared that he might not be able to contain it. Just as he was about to bend over, he heard someone shout the password, “Doodle,” followed by a silence that seemed to last an eternity. Instead of the counterword, “Yankee,” the next sound was a burst of musket fire and the thump of musket balls striking human bodies.
Automatically, René knelt on one knee and raised his musket to his shoulder, the ache in his head and the churning in his stomach suddenly gone. At the command “Au feu,” he pulled the trigger and immediately commenced the reloading routine that he had silently been repeating in his head.
A few yards to René’s left, Miguel and the rest of Daquin’s battalion also fired. Then came the order to fire at will.
The Redcoats, who had apparently believed that they outflanked the Americans, now found that their own flank had been turned. They began to withdraw. Amid their confusion and the darkness, the Redcoats’ musket balls flew ineffectively over the heads of the Americans. However, the Americans’ aimed fire devastated the English ranks, forcing them to retreat.
The word was passed from Plauché’s men to Daquin’s battalion to “fix bayonets and advance cautiously.” René’s exuberance at having survived his first firefight suddenly evaporated as he fumbled to remove his bayonet from its scabbard and fasten it to the barrel of his musket. He had done so easily while standing still in daylight at the Place d’Armes, but now it was dark and he was walking across a field while hoping not to encounter a Redcoat experienced in fighting with a bayonet. As he stopped to complete the task, he could hear what he believed to be such encounters just in front of him. The hair on his neck stood up, and his heart stopped beating when someone bumped into his back. René was about to spin around, bayonet ready, when he heard the curse in French. Grasping the stock of his musket just behind the trigger guard with his right hand, his left hand on the breech end of the barrel, he started forward.
Miguel, who did not have a bayonet, reloaded his musket. Although he had sheathed his six-inch hunting knife, concealed in its usual place under his trousers, on his right calf, it would be of little use against a Redcoat with a musket and a bayonet. In that case, he was ready to use his musket as a club in close-quarters fighting.
Carefully, slowly, he and René began to move. After they had advanced about twenty yards, they were relieved to receive a command to halt and assume firing positions. While a few of their comrades remained standing, others knelt. But the majority lay down on their stomachs. Whatever their posture, all eyes tried nervously to penetrate the dark and fog before them. But they had readied themselves.
“As we forgive those who trespass against us . . .”
Well, no, not really.
Periodically, disoriented English soldiers stumbled into their lines, where they quickly either surrendered or died.
“And deliver us from evil . . .”
S’il vous plaît.