The battle of New Orleans Journal of Genevieve Gibbs Bourgeois January 8, 1815

My name is Genevieve Gibbs Bourgeois. My name is British because my mother fell in love with an enemy. I do not hate her for this, but accept him as an enemy yet my own blood. I am the wife of Francois Bourgeois. I began my journey when I realized I had to stay with my husband and have our family together during this gallant war. We just now have a 4 month new-born beautiful little girl. She’s our world. Her name is Charlotte Bourgeois. It’s a hard decision whether to go with him into war, or just to leave him and be on my own safely away from it all without the family behind him. My love for him is far too much to leave and not become a family. Whether it was to cook food for my husband when his day is over, wash the clothes and dishes, or to get the food again for the next day.

. December 17, 1814 The next day I woke up to tend the fire and make breakfast. Charlotte woke up filling the quiet morning with a smile that could brighten up anyone’s day. Francois woke up with a face of confusion. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and held Charlotte in his arms like never before. He pulled me over and told me he would march wherever General Jackson told him to march. I stared at him for a long time with teary eyes. I didn’t know what to think. Should I have been grateful that he wants to fight for us or to beg him not to go because of what could happen during the war? I walked away and served breakfast to him and fed Charlotte. The evening went on and Francois left for training with the men. I prepared pork stew with our families slave, Cherry, and left it to cook on the fire as I left with Charlotte to go see my friend Georgina. Surprisingly Georgina’s husband, Etienne, has also decided to go to march with the battalion. Georgina and I talked about this and had decided to march with the 1 st Battalion of Free Men of Color in order to keep our family together. I left back and the stew was ready to eat. Francois came back exhausted. Cherry accidently dropped some stew on the ground. Francois reaction was so horrible. I got him another bowl to eat. He ate the stew and headed straight to bed. I stayed up with Cherry to wash the dishes and had my mind filled with thoughts of what could happen and if me and Charlotte should follow him into war.

December 21, 1814 I’ve decided to follow my husband to meet the British. We packed everything we needed and headed off to the encampment. I had to pack my sewing kit, because I loved to sew. I had to get my mind off of this war somehow. As for everything I’ve packed for this trip, our servant, Cherry, had come with us. She was the best servant anyone could ask for. She carried the clothes, kits, and everything I could think of that we needed. As we arrived to the camp, I saw Georgina. We stayed in the tent next to hers and unpacked everything into it. We both went off together and met the other followers. While everyone was settling down and getting ready, all of the men went off to go prepare for any surprise attacks. All of the followers got together around the fire and decided to prepare dinner for our men together. The men were back during night time with starving bellies waiting to eat with bowls and spoons in their hands. They ate and the followers cleaned up everything. Later that night, all the men headed off to bed. While they were sleeping the followers had the rest of the stew and bread. We cleaned up the rest of everything and tried to tend the fire for the next morning.

December 23, 1814 As days went by, the biggest fear of our lives was here the British had reached Chalmette and the soldiers were marching to meet them. The men were preparing to go off to the battle. All of the camp followers woke up and sat in front of their tents with worried faces. Francois gave me and Charlotte a kiss goodbye, with tears rolling out of our eyes. I wished now that he wouldn’t have gone because I know I could lose him. They left and were on their way to the destination. I prayed that he comes home safely with all of his limbs protected and safe. We women packed our camps and followed behind.

On December 30, 1814 My worries for my husband go far and beyond. As I sit here and prepare dinner I can’t help, but wonder if he’s safe and alive. During this time I imagined the tragedy of my life without him when the war ends. ….I have no more to write for today.

The End. January 8, 1815 it has been days since I’ve finally came back and wrote in this journal. It has been hours since I’ve seen him. Today was finally the day. The men came back, some injured, some sick, some healthy and strong. Hours passed and we saw the troops come in all together. I didn’t see Francois. I was in tears, but as soon as the men cleared and parted to their wives I saw him! Now the happiest tears were running down my face as he ran and picked me up into his arms. We had won the war!