by Gail Lukasik
Butler’s emphasis on the First Regiment’s skin color goes to his belief not uncommon at the time of the connection between the lighter skinned free men of color and their status in the color-caste system. Upon Butler’s arrival in New Orleans, he commented in an earlier letter to Stanton about the free men of color’s appearance. “In color, nay, also in conduct, they had much more the appearance of white gentlemen than some of those who have favored me with their presence claiming to be the ‘chivalry of the South.’”7
In his letter Butler was acknowledging the relationship between skin color and status among the free colored people.
“Eighty per cent of the free black population in New Orleans in 1860 had European blood, fewer then ten per cent of slaves in New Orleans had evidence of white ancestry. Because skin color and free status were highly correlated, many free blacks identified more closely with Southern whites. In this color-caste system, the closer one’s skin tone was to white, the higher the status.”8 Leon Frederic with his light complexion held a high place of status in this color-caste system.
Clearly, for Butler the men’s color was a political bargaining chip in securing the sanctioning of a black regiment.
For all Butler’s reassurances to Stanton about his colored regiment, he was wrong on two accounts. He hadn’t approached the Native Guards about serving in the Union Army; they approached him. And the one thousand men weren’t composed “altogether of freed men.”9 More than half the regiment was composed of fugitive slaves.10 These fugitive slaves, sharing little if any European ancestry, were dark skinned. And their appearance would indeed alarm the Southern whites.
On a bright fall afternoon in New Orleans, Leon Frederic and the First Regiment paraded down Canal Street. The city turned out to see the military parade led by the regiment’s commanding officer Colonel Stafford. A band played “Yankee Doodle” while flags flew and drums beat. Leon’s wife Philomene, his two sisters Rosa and Hermina, and his mother Roxelane Arnoux cheered him on. Brilliantly turned out in his Federal Blues, musket at the ready, Leon must have felt the stirrings of change on the horizon, the possibilities of equality that military service in the Union Army might afford.
An Englishman named Task observing the parade commented on how the white Southerners turned away in disgust at the display of fugitive slaves among the regiment’s aristocratic free men of color. Word would spread quickly through the white community that slaves were armed and fear and hostility would follow.11
Watching the parade Philomene must have heard the derisive comments made by the white Southerners. Herself, a light complexioned, free woman of color, she could have been standing with the white Southerners if she’d chosen to, her fair skin protected from the intense Louisiana sun by a silk parasol.
Did a shiver of dread run up her spine that warm afternoon, newly pregnant with their second child, my great-grandfather Leon Frederic, Jr., realizing the true danger her husband was in? After the parade, had she pleaded with him to resign? After all her own brother, Jules Lanabere, who’d been a private in the Confederate First Native Guards Militia, opted not to join the Union Army.
“Why do you have to do this?” I can hear her asking him. “I need you here with me when the baby comes. I can’t go through this without you. What if something happens?” There would be no need for her to say more, the loss of Emile, their first child, still raw.
Or perhaps she’d said nothing, understanding that her husband was a risk taker, a man who liked to gamble, whose own father, Ursin Frederic, was a veteran of the Battle of New Orleans. There was a tradition to be upheld. Like so many free men of color who’d won their freedom through military service, was Leon banking on full American citizenship if he and the other Native Guards distinguished themselves in battle? Once and for all they would prove that blacks were heroic, brave, and deserving of being citizens with full rights.
By January 1863 when Leon’s First Regiment reached Fort St. Leon on the west bank of the Mississippi River at English Turn, fifteen miles below New Orleans, they’d yet to engage in battle. They’d already endured prejudice at Camp Strong, located outside New Orleans near the Louisiana racetrack, from some of the white soldiers. When they left Camp Strong, they were subject to taunts and jeers in the streets. Not because they were Union soldiers but because they were black men who were Union soldiers. Even the fairer-skinned, free men of color were treated with scorn and hostility. After the parade on Canal Street, as expected, word had spread through the city that black soldiers had taken up with the enemy, and were armed with guns.12
Not allowed to fight, they were used as laborers. “In the six days since leaving Camp Strong, the First Native Guards and the Eighth Vermont Regiment opened fifty-two miles of railroad, built nine culverts, and rebuilt the bridge at Bayou des Allemands, which was 435 feet long.”13
The harassment and hostility from the white population in the surrounding area continued, and white officers refused to salute the black officers. Despite their ill treatment, their morale remained high. They were ready to fight; they wanted to fight. They hadn’t joined the Union Army to build culverts or rebuild bridges. There was no glory in that. By engaging in battle, they would prove they had the right to be American citizens.
Their commander, Colonel Spencer H. Stafford, agreed with them and on January 3, 1863, he wrote to General Nathaniel Banks, the new Commander of the Department of the Gulf, requesting that his men be allowed to fight.14
But notions that black soldiers were not fit for battle and could best serve as laborers prevailed. General Banks believed, as was common in that time, that Negroes were only capable of hard labor, sometimes comparing them to mules and horses in their usefulness. Also, there was an erroneous belief that blacks were immune to tropical diseases.
After leaving Camp Strong, Leon must have written to his wife Philomene of his frustrations at the Native Guards’ treatment. Though no letters have survived, I imagine his words.
February 6, 1863
My Dearest Philomene,
Your letter arrived by the evening train and put my mind at ease. To hear you are well is all I need to sustain me. You need not fear. I’ve been in no battle only a skirmish, which by now you may have heard about. We protected the rail and drove out the Rebs. The officers seem pleased with us. The only thing your husband may die of is hard labor and frustration. I know not how many miles of railroad we opened, how many culverts we built. The locals being none too happy to see us hurled slanders our way. But I am heeding your advice and kept my temper though I was hard pressed to do so seeing how quick I am to anger when the cause is just. But I’m a soldier now and must keep myself in line or so I’m told. But contrary to what your father may think of my foolishness in enlisting, my spirits remain high.
I share with you a rumor that ran through the camp you may find of some humor. The white officers think Negroes are not susceptible to swamp diseases. I can hear you laughing at that. Maybe that is why they use us so poorly, digging and building. Not letting us fight. When all we want to do is fight, really fight in a battle.
There is a young colored officer that I’ve become acquainted with. His name is Lieutenant John Crowder. I have engaged him in conversation and have learned of his humble beginnings, being born a slave. He’s a smart one having taught himself to read and write. He abides no liquor and does not smoke but can be persuaded to partake of a game or two of cards.
Listen to no rumors that the colored soldiers are not to be paid. You must free your mind of that. They are sure to pay us.
Kiss Mama for me and tell my sisters that they are to be of help to you when your time comes. I know you favor Bernard if it’s a boy seeing as that’s your father’s name. Sometimes I think you abide him too much. In this one thing I will not bend. Grant me this necessity, that the child if it is a boy bear my name. It is a good name and has served me well. Say you will grant this wish to your husband.
It is very cold here and the light goes.
Your lovi
ng husband,
Leon
On February 12, 1863, Leon is reported on the muster roll as a deserter from Fort St. Leon. On March and April’s muster roll he is present. A “RETURNS” card appears in his file as well. From the explanation given in “Compiled Military Service Records,” a returns card was issued for a soldier upon his return to his regiment. For his desertion, his pay was stopped and he owed the US government one hundred dollars.
Puzzling over his desertion and return to his regiment the following month, I can only posit theories as to why he was marked as a deserter. His wife Philomene Lanabere Frederic had given birth to their first child, a son Emile, in October of 1861. Seven months later on May 21, 1862, Emile died. The death record erroneously identifies Emile as a daughter and gives no cause of death. But the record does state that Emile was the legitimate daughter of Philomene Bernard with Leon Frederic, “f. m. color” (free man of color). His wife heavily pregnant with their second child, was Leon worried about Philomene and decided to take a temporary leave from his unit to see her, to reassure himself that she was in good health?
Ike Edwards, the amateur military historian, provided another, less complex explanation. “You were marked ‘Deserted’ if you were not there for roll call.”
Whatever the reason, whether he missed roll call or left to visit his wife in New Orleans, Leon returned. By March 1863, he was back with his regiment, soon to be tested in a battle that amounted to a massacre for the men of the First and Third Regiments of the Native Guards. This little-known, yet historic battle, would rival the heroic assault of the Fifty-Fourth Massachusetts at Fort Wagner in July 1863.
From the onset the Native Guards were treated poorly, given obsolete rifle-muskets and cast-off uniforms. Wood floors for tents were given to the white soldiers, while the Colored Native Guards had to be content with dirt floors. By April 1863, they had yet to be paid.15
Finally in March the First Regiment was moved from Fort St. Leon to Baton Rouge, where they joined the Third Regiment. But they weren’t called into service. Their idleness, of course, bred discontent among some of the soldiers leading to infractions. One incident of particular note involved Lt. John Crowder.
Baton Rouge
April 27, 1863
My dearest wife,
Mama’s letter arrived with the good news of our son’s birth and your good health. That you honored my wishes and named him Leon brings me much joy and good spirits. Tell me, does he thrive? Who does he favor? Just as soon as I can I will come home.
By now you’ve heard of the colored officers who resigned. Fret not about this. We men are staying strong and will not desert. That officer that I told you about, John Crowder, stays the course and vows never to resign. Though I had to warn him to be careful. I overheard Captain Lewis say he wants to get John out. He dislikes him greatly because of an incident that occurred.
Young though John is he had the grit to have a soldier arrested who did a lewd expression in front of a visiting lady. Captain Lewis who viewed this despicable action did nothing to discipline the soldier. So John took it upon himself to handle the matter.
When I told John to be wary of Lewis he says he wants to fight him in a duel.
I had to contain myself not to laugh at his notions of chivalry. He is only sixteen and will soon learn the foolishness of such ideas. Were we not so young once and so foolish.
With all my heart and love,
Leon
Baton Rouge
May 6, 1863
My darling Philomene,
I pen you good tidings today we were paid for five months. As soon as I can I will send money your way. Tell your father that he need not worry about your needs. I will send money by Mr. Johnston who I expect to come. Let me know that you have received such. How does my son? Does he thrive?
Lt. Crowder was by my tent earlier for a game of cards and something in his presence makes me think we may finally see fighting. He showed me a talisman that he wears under his coat. He sent for it from home. He kept touching it from time to time, and I asked what he had there. He informed me that it is his good luck talisman. I need no such thing for luck. I make my own luck.
Your loving husband,
Leon
In 1863 all that remained to getting control of the Mississippi River and cutting off rebel supplies via the Red River were the Confederate troops entrenched at Port Hudson, which was fourteen miles north of Baton Rouge. The Confederate troops had been driven to the Port Hudson garrison by the Union troops. In advance of an all-out assault, on May 23, the First and Third Regiments of the Native Guards joined Banks’s army at Port Hudson.16
The Wednesday morning of the assault began with Brigadier General William Dwight, Jr., the Union general in charge of the Native Guards, getting drunk before breakfast. Dwight hadn’t studied the maps and knew nothing of the terrain where the black troops would advance.
When questioned by General Nelson what the ground would be like, he said the approach was “the easiest way to Port Hudson.” There was nothing easy about the approach or the terrain. The Native Guards were being sent on what amounted to a suicide mission. Well fortified, the garrison at Port Hudson had earthworks along the brow of an elevated bluff and twenty siege guns and thirty-one field pieces inside.17
The surrounding area provided additional protection from advancing soldiers with natural gullies and felled trees. Dwight ordered the First and Third Native Guard Regiments on the extreme right. They formed a line of battle in a willow tree swamp.
Ordered to move forward, their advance was covered by two brass guns from the Sixth Massachusetts Artillery. But the Confederates answered with a vengeance and the Sixth Massachusetts retreated leaving the Native Guards on their own.
The Native Guards made six to seven charges under heavy fire and were slaughtered. It was reported that Captain Andre Cailloux, one of the remaining black officers, continued to charge. Though his shoulder was shattered by grapeshot, he carried his saber in his one good arm. The flag bearer was shot down and another man picked up the flag and charged on, when he was shot, another picked up the flag.18
Confederate soldier Walter Stephens wrote in his diary of the battle, “There were also several charges made on the Fifteenth Arkansas and First Mississippi, and on the extreme left were two negro regiments, who charged us. We drove them back and cut them all to pieces.”19
An account from P. F. DeGourany, a Confederate soldier, appeared in the New Orleans Weekly Times. “How many of the poor wretches perished in the fatal trap into which they had been so unwisely driven I cannot say. During that day and the next we could hear the groans of the wounded that had fallen among the willows, and the dead lay festering in the hot sun, creating a sickening stench. Unable to stand this, some of our boys started the next morning on a blackberrying expedition, as they styled it with grim pleasantry.”
The ill-fated and impossible assault by the Native Guards—who after leaving the shelter of the willow trees, had to cross a marsh littered with fallen trees and in some places six feet deep and then charge up an incline, all the time the rebel sharpshooters sitting high on a bluff, picking them off—was dismissed by Dwight.
When told of the casualties and impossibility of the task, Dwight would not rescind his orders. “Charge again.”
Nelson knowing the foolishness of the order told the Native Guards to remain in their positions in the willow trees and continue to fire on the rebels even though there was no possibility of them hitting any of them. He reasoned that since Dwight had no intention of leaving his tent, the sound of the rifles would make him think that his order to charge again was being obeyed.
As the afternoon wore on, the Native Guards continued to fire from the willow trees, though they were out of range of the sharpshooters, the Confederate guns continued to shell the willow grove shattering limbs.20
None of the Union assaults were successful. Finally at 5:30 p.m. someone raised a white flag to call a temporary cease-fire so that the woun
ded could be treated. More than 450 Union soldiers were dead, thirty-six were Native Guards. The number of Union wounded and missing was over fifteen hundred. In the First Regiment, Leon’s regiment, three officers and ninety-two men were wounded. One of the officers killed was Lieutenant John Crowder who refused to resign and believed he could move up in rank if he held steady. The Third Regiment reported thirty-eight wounded.21
All the Union dead and wounded soldiers were taken from the battlefield except the soldiers along Telegraph Road, where the Native Guards had begun their attack.
The day after the battle (May 28, 1863) Walter Stephens Turner recorded in his journal: “The enemy have buried all their white men and left the negroes to melt in the sun. That shows how much they care for the poor ignorant creatures. After they are killed fighting their battles, having done all they can for the Federals then for them to let the bodies of the poor creatures lie and melt in their own blood and to be made the prey of both birds and beasts.”
Turner’s entry is a blazing criticism of the Union officers, illustrating the total disregard the Union officers had for the colored troops who’d given their lives for their country.
When the stench became unbearable, Colonel Shelby of the Thirty-Ninth Mississippi sent a message to Banks asking permission for his men to bury the dead. Reportedly Banks said there were no Union soldiers in that sector. Maybe he thought Shelby’s message was a trick or maybe he was that heartless.22
Leon Frederic survived the assault at Port Hudson and was not among the wounded. What must he have thought that evening and the days to come as the rotting stench of his fellow Native Guards lay open to the elements? Did he still think his military service would move him and his race toward citizenship? Was he still betting on beating the odds?