My best friend and I were on a 3-day Revolutionary War encampment at Fort Ticonderoga with our historical re-enactment group. The two of us, sharing a tent on the campsite of the fort grounds, were assigned the 3:30 AM guard duty post, where we and the other re-enactors assigned to guard duty at the same time were to "defend" the campsite for the following hour. We had only the lanterns we held as light, for there are no nearby cities, stores, or other sources of modern technology -- so all of our surroundings were accurate to the 18th century with no intrusions from the contemporary world. My friend and I chose adjoining posts on the far side of the campsite, so we would meet each other at the corner of the tent lines every few minutes to chat. As I was marching, I sighted an iridescent white mass slowly moving over the hill towards our camp -- the mass slowly took shape as the forms marched closer to us: I could make out a French Regular on foot marching next to a French Cavalry officer on horseback. Their uniforms were sharp and clear -- down to the colors of their cockades and the dapples of the gray horse. Meanwhile, my best friend was marching her post when a sudden wind extinguished the candle in her lantern -- which left her in complete darkness. She reported back to headquarters to get a match to re-light her candle. She marched back to where she had left the unlit lantern on the grass near our tent, and the candle would not light. She tried and tried until the wick finally caught fire -- that is when she heard the hoofbeats of the advancing French Cavalry. She quickly ran to me in fright, abandoning her post. She told me of the sound, and I just pointed at the figures still marching at a quick step towards our camp. A tree hanging over the path on which the Frenchman walked caught my eye at that moment -- I saw a third iridescent figure crouched on a low branch. The form jumped to the ground in front of the French soldiers -- and I identified his uniform as that of a French scout, or maybe a French Rifleman. The three soldiers stood in the middle of the dirt path and conversed (in audible French) for about twenty minutes -- the remainder of the time before dawn broke. My best friend and I continued to march our posts, but with our eyes glued on the Frenchmen. As dawn started to approach, the Cavalry officer and French regular turned and marched back the way they had come, and the scout ascended the tree, returning to his post. As the sun rose further, the soldiers vanished. We know this is true because of the history of the fort -- formerly French, known as Fort Carillon in the French and Indian war, and the nearby soldier's burial site, not to mention that the fort has a rich paranormal history.

Submitted from: Jordan and Georgeanne, New York, USA