“Thinking this the weakest portion of our line, and seeing ununiformed men behind the trifling defenses, General Pakenham thought it the best thing to begin his attack by carrying this part of my line with the bayonet. On the 3d of January I had ordered that each rifleman’s powder-horn be filled, and enough lead for 100 bullets issued, besides good material for bullet-patching be furnished. This order required every soldier to thoroughly clean his rifle and put a new flint into the hammer; so we were ready as we could be for the attack. “There was a very heavy fog on the river that morning, and the British had formed and were moving before I knew it. The disposition of the riflemen was very simple. They were told off in numbers one and two. Number one was to fire first, then step back and let number two shoot while he reloaded. About six hundred yards from the riflemen there was a great drainage canal running back from the Mississippi River to the swamp in the rear of the tilled land on which we were operating. Along this canal the British formed under the fire of the few artillery pieces I had, near enough to them to get their range. But the instant I saw them I said to Coffee, whom I directed to hurry to his line, which was to be first attacked: ‘By ——, we have got them; they are ours!’ Coffee dashed forward, and riding along his line, called out, ‘Don’t shoot till you can see their belt-buckles.’ The British were formed in mass, well closed up, and about two companies front. “The British, thus formed, moved on at a quick step, without firing a shot, to within one hundred yards of the kneeling riflemen, who were holding their fire till they could see the belt-buckles of their enemies. The British advance was executed as though they had been on parade. They marched shoulder to shoulder, with the step of veterans, as they were. At one hundred yards’ distance from our line the order was given, ‘Extend column front. Double quick, march! Charge!’ With bayonets at the charge, they came on us at a run. I own it was an anxious moment; I well knew the charging column was made up of the picked troops of the British army. They had been trained by the duke himself, were commanded by his brother-in-law, and had successfully held off the ablest of Napoleon’s marshals in the Spanish campaign. My riflemen had never seen such an attack, nor had they ever before fought white men. The morning, too, was damp; their powder might not burn well. ‘God help us!’ I muttered, watching the rapidly advancing line. Seventy, sixty, fifty, finally forty yards were they from the silent kneeling riflemen.