Fort Ticonderoga

Edward W. Pell Fellow Ana Schmid has continued her archaeological work at Fort Ticonderoga, analyzing, cataloging, and photographing over 2,000 artifacts. This includes a group of bones that may point to an unexpected discovery at the fort—evidence of a centuries-old game.

Have you ever heard of the dexterity game "Knucklebones"? A predecessor to the modern game of Jacks, this simple pastime can be traced back several thousand years, with literary references to Trojan War soldiers casting dice known as "astragaloi" (anklebones). This game was most often played using actual ankle or knuckle bones, because their four distinct sides make them easier to stack and place on your hand. However, any type of four-sided bone of roughly the same size can be used to play. The game was a common distraction for both children and adults for thousands of years, staying especially popular during the war-stricken era of the 18th century. To play, place one knucklebone on the back of your hand, toss it high, and catch it with the same hand. Repeat with two knucklebones, then three, four, five, and so on, to see who can get the highest score. Soldiers stationed at forts frequently played games of dexterity and chance like this to pass the long waiting hours. It is likely that soldiers at Fort Ticonderoga played this game and others involving "dice" or "knucklebones."

Take a peek at these four non-butchered but extremely worn bones. They were part of a bag of 101 heavily butchered faunal bones, but only these four show no evidence of cutmarks. Use-wear analysis shows that the original shape of the bone has been heavily worn, making it difficult to determine what specific animal it came from—besides a large mammal. The bones are not worn from chewing, but rather as if they were heavily handled. This could be because they were thrown countless times across many different games and by many different soldiers. After further archaeological analysis, it could be theorized that these four bones might once have been the game pieces of a soldier or camp follower at Fort Ticonderoga.

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If you had smallpox in 1776, there was a 1 in 5 chance you would not survive. It was a brutal and devastating disease.

Americans at Ticonderoga fought for independence from smallpox at the same time they fought for independence against Great Britain.

In 1776, smallpox killed more American soldiers than British bullets did, but how to fight smallpox was hotly debated within the Continental Army. A Council of War on July 7, 1776, decided between remaining at Crown Point and moving to Ticonderoga. At that meeting they indirectly chose between two paths to defeat smallpox: quarantine versus inoculation.

Check out our newest video to watch the story of that choice, and of the second front in the ongoing war for independence. Link to watch in bio 🔗

On August 12, 1776—250 years ago today—General Horatio Gates sent Dr. Jonathan Potts a most intriguing letter. Gates, stationed at Fort Ticonderoga, had heard a rumor from Dr. Potts’ military hospital at Fort George. “I am inform’d,” he writes, “that the Baron de Woedkle some time before his Death, made a Solemn Declaration to you of matters that highly concern the Interest of the United States, you will please forthwith to Communicate to me the Substance of the Barons Declaration.”

Friedrich Wilhelm, Baron de Woedtke, was a cavalry officer who had made his name in the Prussian Army before his expulsion for marrying without the king’s permission. Woedtke traveled to America in early 1776. He made a good impression on the Continental Congress, despite knowing almost no English and little French, and was commissioned as a brigadier general. He joined the army’s invasion of and retreat from Canada, serving on the council of war that made the decision to retreat from Crown Point to Ticonderoga. Only a few weeks later, on July 28, he died at the Fort George hospital. He had earned a reputation as an inept alcoholic during his short time with the army. Many assumed that he died from the effects of alcohol consumption, although he may simply have died of disease.

Potts’ reply to this letter has not been found, so the substance of Woedtke’s deathbed declaration, if it existed, is unknown. What information could Woedtke have had that “highly concern[ed] the Interest of the United States”? His last surviving letter, written to Gates on July 20, urges the arrest of a Mr. Hare, who was falsely claiming to hold a commission as a major and pretending to have Woedtke’s approval—could the Hare situation have been weighing on his mind in the hours before his death, or did he have other information he felt the need to pass along? Unless more sources come to light, the baron’s deathbed confession will stay one of history’s mysteries.

Learn more about this letter (object ID MS.1952) on the Ticonderoga Online Collections database: https://fortticonderoga.catalogaccess.com/archives/29821

On August 4, 1776, Colonel Arthur St. Clair wrote to Dr. Jonathan Potts with good news. French Canadian informants had brought explosive intelligence to Fort Ticonderoga: a French fleet had sailed up the St. Lawrence River, and the British troops at Fort Saint-Jean were fleeing north. The news must have been a relief for the garrison, but that relief would not last long. By August 6, 1776—250 years ago today—the illusion of the French fleet and the British retreat was beginning to crumble.

On August 6, James Wilkinson, now serving on the newly christened Mount Independence, wrote to General Philip Schuyler in Albany. If Schuyler was at all buoyed by the informants’ report, this letter brought him back down to earth. “A Scout has… arrived from Canada”, Wilkinson writes, “who justifies our suspicion of our French Informants by differing with them on the most essential representations.”

Wilkinson does not give details from the report of the Continental Army scout, saying that “as Mr. Cuyler was an Auditor of the whole narrative I shall omit mentioning particulars”. Mr. Cuyler was likely Jacob or Abraham Cuyler, both of whom served on Albany’s Committee of Correspondence. Schuyler could get the full report in person from Cuyler once he returned from Ticonderoga. This report was likely much closer to the truth: there was no French fleet in the St. Lawrence, and the British were still at Fort Saint-Jean with no sign of a retreat.

Wilkinson’s letter may have been a disappointment to Schuyler, but it likely wasn’t a shock. The reference to “our suspicion of our French informants” suggests that not everyone had trusted their story. Incidents like this were common in wartime. Scouts and informants arrived with conflicting information, truth mixed with mistakes and outright falsehoods. The job of the army’s officers was to find the truth and determine what to act on. In this case, the false story did not derail the Americans. Rather than relaxing, they continued to reinforce Ticonderoga’s defenses.

Learn more about this letter (object ID MS.2085) on the Ticonderoga Online Collections database: https://fortticonderoga.catalogaccess.com/archives/30090

Lieutenant Edmund Munro was no stranger to war. During Seven Years’ War, he had served on the New York frontier as an ensign in Rogers’ Rangers and done garrison duty at Fort Ticonderoga and Fort Crown Point. At the close of the war, he returned to his hometown of Lexington, MA, where he worked as a cordwainer (a maker of shoes) and ran a short-lived potash works. He married Rebekah Harrington in 1769, and the two had four children in quick succession, although their first child died in infancy.

In April 1775, war came almost literally to the Munros’ doorstep. As part of the Lexington militia, Munro was present on Lexington Green for the skirmish with British soldiers that marked the opening of the Revolutionary War. He largely spent the first year of the war at home with his family, but in July 1776, war came calling again. Munro joined Colonel Jonathan Reed’s regiment of Middlesex County militia as a lieutenant and quartermaster. He left Rebekah, 5-year-old Beka, 2-year-old Pamela, and 9-month-old Edmund Jr. behind to march with Reed’s regiment to reinforce Ticonderoga.

On August 5, 1776—250 years ago today—Munro and his regiment had made it as far as Charlestown in western New Hampshire, where he wrote this letter to Rebekah. The letter carries “no news that is of any consequence”, Munro claims, but is filled with expressions of his love for his family. “My dear,” he begins, “These lines wait upon you with as sincere Love & respect as ever warm’d the brest of man… I wou’d have you write me every opportunity. You may Send Every Week.” He sends love to “Beka, Pamy, & the only Son” and closes the letter, “I am your Loving Husband till Death”.

Munro was a veteran and had risked his life before, but when he served in the Seven Years’ War, he was a young man, unmarried and unattached. Now, as a father and husband just past his 40th birthday, he had more to leave behind. He could only hope and pray that he would return unscathed from his time at Ticonderoga.

Learn more about this letter (object ID MS.1963) on the Ticonderoga Online Collections database: https://fortticonderoga.catalogaccess.com/archives/29989