The Opelousas Post Militia in the American Revolution

The Opelousas Post Militia in the American Revolution

A LITTLE KNOWN STORY OF THE ACADIANS WHO WERE VICTORIOUS AGAINST THE BRITISH

By John Francois

The event described below took place in the summer of 1779 in Louisiana, but you’ll rarely read about it in the history books. Even among history aficionados, few realize the crucial role one group of Louisianans played in America’s gaining independence from Britain. This is their story.

In the torrid summer heat of late August 1779, the men of the Opelousas Post Militia were called to a special muster by their post commander. The puzzled men made their way across the surrounding prairies by horseback, wagon, cart, and on foot. Most were in their twenties and thirties. (Males under fifteen and over forty-five were exempt from militia service.) Upon arriving, they were informed that war had been declared between Spain and England, and that the Spanish Governor-General, General Gálvez, was calling them to duty. They were ordered to make preparations to leave their families and farms for an indefinite period of time, and to join other militia units at San Gabriel (today’s St. Gabriel) on Bayou Manchac.

Spain had joined France in the war against England two months earlier, in June—one year after the French had been enticed to support the American rebellion in the English colonies along the Atlantic coast. The two countries were each still smarting from their territorial losses to England at the 1763 Treaty of Paris, which had formally ended the French and Indian/ Seven Years War (1756-63). France had lost her North American claims to Canada and to Louisiana, among other possessions. Spain had lost her Florida colonies at Mobile and Pensacola, though it did gain—thanks to the secret Treaty of Fontainebleau made between the French and Spanish in 1762—the entire western Mississippi River Valley from the Appalachians to the Rockies, along with New Orleans. By joining the new war with France, Spain saw a chance to recoup her losses.

Gálvez had been aware for some time of rumors of war with England. He received official word from Havana in mid-August of 1779 that war had been declared, and he was ordered to attack the English at Mobile and Pensacola. He knew, however, that he first needed to protect his provincial capital of New Orleans from the English forces just up the Mississippi at Fort Panmure, Natchez. He also anticipated that the attack would begin from the recently-constructed fort at Baton Rouge.

As Gálvez was gathering his resources, a devastating hurricane swept out of the Gulf of Mexico and struck New Orleans, causing great destruction. Most of the homes in the city and surrounding countryside were damaged or destroyed, leaving the local citizenry naked to the elements. Cattle that had been rounded up to feed Gálvez’s troops on his planned march upriver were scattered and lost in the surrounding swamps, where they were bitten by poisonous snakes and attacked by alligators. Four of his gunboats were sunk at the river dock by the fury of the storm.

After a several days spent helping his unfortunate townspeople recover as best he could, plus recovering his gunboats, Gálvez knew that the palisade defenses of New Orleans had been rendered useless by the storm and that he could no longer delay his march. Gálvez also knew that Lt. Col. Dickson, the English commander at Natchez, would soon learn what desperate straits New Orleans was in, and assuming he, too, had learned of the war declaration, would move quickly. Dickson had a force of about five hundred men which included four hundred professional soldiers (including Hessians, the auxiliary soldiers from Germany that Britain hired), plus his civilian militia of about one hundred men. New Orleans would be ripe for British plucking. Gálvez had only a small cadre of roughly 175 professional soldiers, plus some three hundred “raw” recruits who had arrived earlier from Mexico and the Canary Islands. Gálvez desperately needed more manpower. Not having the time nor the means to send for troops from Havana, he had no choice but to call to duty his civilian militias scattered throughout the province at such places like the German and Acadian coasts, Pointe Coupée, Natchitoches, Gálveztown, Attakapas, and Opelousas, among others.

Meanwhile back in Opelousas, the militiamen, having seen to their families and taken care of personal business, mustered on the appointed day. From there, they made their way to Church Landing (today’s Washington) on Bayou Courtableau, which flowed directly into the Atchafalaya Basin. We can assume (for lack of records) that the Opelousas militiamen embarked by various water crafts (skiffs, canoes, fishing boats, etc.) to cross the basin’s roughly thirty-five-mile expanse of swamps and slow-meandering bayous, as well as of the Atchafalaya River itself. After what had to be a difficult and fatiguing crossing, they arrived at the Mississippi River, crossed it, and made their way to San Gabriel, the designated mustering place. There they rested with other arriving militias and awaited further orders. On September 6, Gálvez arrived.

All along, Gálvez had indicated to his militia commanders that they were only going to be used as a defense force in the case that the English attacked. Now he told them the truth: they would be used to support his regular troops in an attack on the recently-constructed Fort New Richmond at Baton Rouge, intending to take it before Dickson arrived. To do that, some of the units—including the Opelousas Militia—first had to take Fort Bute (also known as Fort Manchac), a smaller fort which was just across Bayou Manchac from San Gabriel. Taking the commander by surprise, the militiamen won Fort Bute in a short fight on September 7. Only one man, an English soldier, was killed. Five English soldiers, however, escaped to bring news of the assault to the fort commander at Baton Rouge.

Dickson had just arrived at Baton Rouge. Learning of the situation and not knowing the strength of Galvez’s forces, he decided he would defend Fort New Richmond and send for help from Pensacola. Gálvez, having lost the advantage of surprise, saw he could not take the fort by direct attack without suffering great losses, and decided instead to lay siege to it. By a clever ploy, and under cover of darkness, he managed to place the cannon he’d brought by gunboats near enough to the fort to fire into it at point blank range. After a few hours of this cannonading, Dickson—learning that relief troops from Pensacola could not arrive in time to save him—surrendered on September 21.

After Dickson’s surrender, all Louisiana militiamen were given combat pay and released with the heartfelt thanks of General Gálvez. The Acadians of the Opelousas Post Militia, no doubt very proud of what they had helped to achieve, had the satisfaction of taking part in wreaking their vengeance upon the hated English, whose government had deported them from their beloved Acadie twenty-four years earlier.

The story of the men of the Opelousas Militia is told in François’ historical novel The March, which will be available during the Commemoration of the Opelousas Post Militia on October 16 at Le Vieux Village Park in Opelousas. Everyone is invited to attend this Commemoration and to assist, by their presence, in this signature event.

John François lives in Lafayette and is the author of six historical novels. In researching his genealogy, he found one of his ancestors, François Pitre, listed on one of the rosters of the Opelousas Post Militia.