CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY ONE: THE FEW, THE BRAVE, THE FORT MIFFLIN REBELS

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY ONE: THE FEW, THE BRAVE, THE FORT MIFFLIN REBELS

Okay, I promised a tour of a Revolutionary War fort – Fort Mifflin in Philadelphia – and here it is: It was a dark and stormy night, and Washington was trying to cross the Delaware without getting killed by Brits. How did he manage this? The brave soldiers holding down Fort Mifflin against a formidable Redcoat force made it all possible. At least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. And there is more than a kernel of truth to this. Up until November 15, 1977, the Brits had been kicking Revolutionary ass up and down the Atlantic Seacoast. They were coming in for the kill with a fleet of warships headed up the Delaware River chasing after Washington’s tattered troops. But the few, the brave, the proud soldiers defending Fort Mifflin held them off long enough to let Washington and his troops escape and make it to Valley Forge for the winter. (Yes, that Valley Forge and yes, that horrible winter). This is the way the story is told by the historians at Fort Mifflin:

“In the early years of the American Revolution, Fort Mifflin was an ill supplied, poorly constructed fortification on an island 500 yards from the Pennsylvania shore. Despite its shortcomings, the fort on Mud Island was destined to play an important role in foiling the British campaign to defeat Washington’s Continental Army.

“In July of 1777 the British Army, commanded by General Sir William Howe, engaged in a series of battles with General George Washington that would last until winter. Howe planned his strategy at the British headquarters in New York, loaded the occupying troops onto approximately 240 British naval vessels and sailed out of Sandy Hook to pursue Washington and his men.”

Interjection: Who has 240 naval vessels? In 1777? The British Empire, that’s who. See what I mean about being outmanned, outgunned, outshipped? Back to the narrative:

“After sailing into the Atlantic, the British fleet moved quickly out of sight, misleading Washington and his army of their whereabouts. The fleet was first spotted at the mouth of the Delaware Bay, and then reappeared off Cape Charles, VA.”

Second interjection: Where can you hide 240 naval vessels? I guess it was pretty easy in 1777, not so much now with radar, AIS, sonar, drones, and the omnipresent NSA. Back we go:

“The British troops disembarked at the Head of Elk (Elkton, MD) and took a few days to recover from their journey before setting out towards Philadelphia. After skirmishes with the rebels at Cooch’s bridge on Delaware’s Christiana River and at the Kennett Meeting House, the armies finally met head on at Brandywine Creek.

“During the remainder of September and into early October, the Continental Army failed to overcome the British at the battles of Brandywine, Paoli, and Germantown. They also suffered humiliation when the British Army triumphantly marched into Philadelphia. Once there, Howe prepared to definitively defeat the American rebellion.”

“A fleet of British ships sailed up the Delaware River with munitions, clothing, food, and much needed supplies. For the British Army and Navy, it became a race against time. Should the fleet be able to resupply the troops in the occupied city before winter, the British could descend upon the beleaguered and exhausted American forces, defeating them in the War for Independence.”

Third interjection: See what I mean? If our brave soldiers could just delay the British ships long enough – not even get an outright victory – Lord knows, they were not equipped to do that – they could keep the hopes of independence alive. And more importantly, they could keep Washington’s men alive to fight another day – in the spring. Back to the climactic finish:

“Between the British ships on the Delaware and their troops in Philadelphia sat a humble fort built of wood and stone, defended by some of the most determined men of the American Revolution. Fort Mifflin would not allow the British Navy to go easily into Philadelphia. For seven weeks, fighting against cold, hunger and despair, with only scarce supplies, the soldiers on Mud Island fought to hold on to Fort Mifflin.”

And you probably thought I was laying it on too thick. These guys were on a mission to save the New World for democracy, no matter what the personal sacrifice – and against all odds. To put salt in their wounds, a British guy, Captain John Montresor of the Royal Engineers, had designed Fort Mifflin in 1771-1772, and so, at General Howe’s request in 1977, he shared with the Brits his knowledge of the “weak” spots in the fort’s defenses, so they could focus on them and pummel the rebels into submission. Under the heading “Design and Destruction”, the Fort Mifflin historians wrote: “Having designed the Fort as a river defense, Montresor knew he needed to draw around the back channel to the west, and bombard the fort’s weakest point: the wood and earthen walls.” And that’s exactly what the Brits did.

Now for a real treat. The last days of the Battle for Fort Mifflin are vividly and oh so articulately described by a 17 year old American rebel. Here is boy wonder, Private Joseph Plumb Martin, in his own words:

"Well, the island, as it is called, is nothing more than a mud flat in the Delaware lying upon the west side of the channel….Our batteries were nothing more than old spars and timber laid up in parallel lines and filled between with mud and dirt. The British batteries in the course of the day would nearly level our works, and we were, like the beaver, obliged to repair our dams in the night. During the whole night at intervals of a quarter or half an hour, the enemy would let off all their pieces, and although we had sentinels to watch them and at every flash of their guns to cry, “a shot”, upon hearing which everyone endeavored to take care of himself, yet they would ever and anon, in spite of all our precautions, cut up some of us. The engineer in the Fort was a French officer the name of Fleury, the same who struck the British flag at the storming of Stony Point. He was a very austere man and kept us constantly employed day and night; there was no chance of escaping from his vigilance….What little provisions we had was cooked by the invalids in our camp and brought to the island in old flour barrels: it was mostly corned beef and hard bread, but it was not much trouble to cook or fetch what we had.

“We continued here, suffering cold, hunger and other miseries, till the fourteenth  day of November. On that day, at the dawn, we discovered six ships of the line, all 64s [?], a frigate of 36 guns, and a galley in a line just below the chevaux-de-frise: a 24 gun ship…her guns said to be all brass 24 pounders, and a sloop of six guns in company with her, both within a pistol shot of the Fort, on the western side. We immediately opened our batteries upon them but they appeared to take very little notice of us. We heated some shot, but by mistake 24 pound shot were heated instead of 18, which was the caliber of the guns in that part of the Fort. The enemy soon began their firing upon us and there was music indeed.

“The cannonade continued without interruption on the side of the British throughout the day. Nearly every gun in the Fort was silenced by midday. Our men were cut up like corn stalks…. As soon as it was dark we began to make preparations for evacuating the Fort and endeavoring to escape to the Jersey shore. When the firing had in some measure subsided and I could look about me, I found the Fort exhibited a picture of desolation. The whole area of the Fort was as completely ploughed as a field. The buildings of every kind [were] hanging in broken fragments, and the guns were all dismounted, and how many of the garrison sent to the world of the spirits, I knew not. If ever destruction was complete, it was here. The surviving part of the garrison were now drawn off and such of the stores as could conveniently be taken away were carried to the Jersey shore.

“I returned directly back into the Fort to my party and proceeded to set fire to everything that would burn, and then repaired immediately to the wharf where three bateaux [boats] were waiting to convey us across the river…

“Here ends the account of as hard and fatiguing a job, for the time it lasted, as occurred during the Revolutionary War. Thomas Paine, in one of his political essays, speaking of the siege and defense of this post, says, “They had nothing but their bravery and good conduct to cover them.” He spoke the truth.”

I know that the average life span of men and women in the 1770’s was probably not more than 40 years, but still – after just 17 years on this earth, Private Martin was being bombarded by the guns on British frigates and had to burn down his own fort before escaping to “the Jersey shore”. Yes, before the Jersey Shore was a horrible reality show, it meant salvation for a small band of rebels who, plagued by hunger and cold, staved off the British to allow Washington and troops to get to a place of safety for the winter. Even as the last group of about 40 rebels burned down the fort, they cagily and proudly flew the flag of independence over the fort, so as to lead the British to believe they were still inside defending the fort, when in fact they were rowing away to Jersey with their muffled oars in the middle of the night. Hats off to Private Martin and the Fort Mifflin survivors.

A word about the reference to the chevaux-de-frise: This was an underwater construct/device that was placed in the Delaware River to destroy the British ships, as they moved toward Fort Mifflin and up river. In 1775 the Pennsylvania General Assembly appointed 25 men to the Committee of Safety, which was headed by Benjamin Franklin. Their job was to protect Philadelphia against all enemies. In order to do this, they asked shipwrights and architects to submit designs for a defense system for the Delaware River. The design that was chosen was the “chevaux-de-frise”, an open box with heavy timbers at the bottom and plank sides. Long logs with pointed iron spikes were stuck up at an angle from these boxes to impale ships. The boxes were filled with 20 to 40 tons of stones and sunk in the river to create blockades at strategic points in the Delaware River. These defenses worked to an extent, but they did not impale all the British ships by any means and were not able to prevent the bombardment of Fort Mifflin.  In fact, the British succeeded in raising two of the chevaux-de-frises out of the water, to allow their warships to pass unharmed.

Lest you think that the history of Fort Mifflin ended when Private Martin and the remaining rebels burned it down and headed for Jersey, here is a brief summary of some post-Revolutionary War activities at the Fort:

The British captured the fort in November, 1777, what was left of it, when the American troops evacuated on the 15^th of November. For number freaks, there were 400 American soldiers trying to hold off more than 2000 British troops and 250 ships. It was on November 10 that the Brits began their fiercest assault with nonstop cannonading the Fort from their ships. Of the 400 rebels, 250 were killed or wounded.

The U.S. Army started to rebuild Fort Mifflin in 1794 and kept building on that site for the much of the 19^th century. Pierre L’Enfant, the designer of Washington, D.C., also designed the post-revolutionary Fort Mifflin. The new assemblage of buildings – barracks and casemates, a citadel, a blacksmith shop – was officially named Fort Mifflin in 1795, in honor of Major General Thomas Mifflin of the Continental Army.

Fort Mifflin housed prisoners from 1863 to 1865 during the Civil War – Confederate soldiers, Union soldiers, and political prisoners – not nearly to the same extent as Fort Delaware – but one hanging occurred during that period that was notorious. The Union Army accused William H. Howe, a Union soldier, of desertion, and somehow found him guilty of the crime of murder. He was housed at Fort Mifflin in January, 1864. He led a group of 200 prisoners in trying to escape in February 1864, but failed. Then he was placed in solitary confinement. He wrote twice to President Lincoln asking for clemency. But later in 1864 Howe was executed by hanging on the gallows built right next to the guardhouse where he was kept prisoner in his last days. Tickets were sold to the public – SRO, no doubt.

The Army Corps of Engineers set up shop at Fort Mifflin in 1866, and they repaired and “modernized” the fort. They actually built a torpedo casement in 1874/75, for the purpose of lowering torpedoes into a pool of water and then propelling them under the moat water into the Schuylkill River. I don’t know who they were preparing to torpedo, but had an enemy ship come up the Schuylkill after 1876, it would have had to deal with more than a few chevaux-de-frises trying to impale it. The torpedo casement still exists – you can see it with your own eyes if you don’t believe me. It’s called East Magazine and it is located right next to Casement # 11, the entrance to which was sealed off when the torpedo casement was built. Be careful, though, as there is a lot of reported ghost activity around Casement #11.

During World War Two, the Army placed anti-aircraft guns at the fort to defend the Fort Mifflin Naval Ammunition Storage Depot and the U.S. Naval Shipyard in Philadelphia. In 1942 the Army stationed Battery “H” of the 76^th Coast Artillery Regiment, the first African American Coast Artillery Unit in the history of the United States, at Fort Mifflin. The military branches stopped using Fort Mifflin in 1954 and in 1962 the fort was deeded to the City of Philadelphia by the federal government. Somehow, even with the decommissioning and sale of the fort, the Army Corps of Engineers has maintained a presence at Fort Mifflin. That is why it is called the oldest active military base in the U.S. and the only fort that goes back to pre-Revolutionary War days. Per Wikipedia, “Fort Mifflin is the only military base in use that is older than the nation itself.”

Okay, that does it for your tour of Fort Mifflin. Tips are appreciated.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY: THIS WILL LEAVE YOU IN STITCHES

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY: THIS WILL LEAVE YOU IN STITCHES.

 A wrong has finally been righted! It’s taken two years, but the wood strip that Dudley’s Marina ripped off the stern of Slow Motion has been replaced. And the memory of Dudley’s simply awful docks and pilings is fading away, finally. That wood piece nearly hit me in the eye when Dudley’s dock plank yanked it off. But now there is no sign of that near tragedy – hurray! This is a great day for Slow Motion. Thank you, Admiral, for your fine carpentry skills and for your ability to work in the middle of the hottest, most humid summer in Delaware City history. So what if you have to change shirts 4 times a day. You have your Diet Peach Iced Tea to keep you cool. And you just worked a miracle, turning Slow Motion’s stern into the brightest, whitest, cleanest, whole-est stern in the western boating world. No more will new trawler owners look down their noses at Slow Motion’s peeling paint and the missing wood. They’ll look with envious eyes at her pristine new stern in all its glory. Oh yeah. Life is good with a master carpenter who has an indomitable work ethic.

Yes, we are still docked at the Delaware City Marina. However, that has not stopped me from making a 5 day round trip to California last week. My dog, Zorro, is still the sweetest dog in the world – and smart! He had something that looked like a cut on his paw, so we went to see Dr. Sage, his new vet, and when she asked to see his paw, he turned toward her, and lifted his injured foot and put it right into her waiting hand. No, she didn’t say: “Give me your paw.” She used vetspeak and asked him if he would turn around and let her examine the injury to his right paw. I swear he understood every word. And he gave her the right paw. On the day of my departure, as I awoke at 4 a.m. to go to the airport, Zorro came running to my room to say goodbye, and he was there, head hanging down, as I went out the door 20 minutes later. This guy knows how to get to me. He and Ruby and I had great walks/hikes in the park during my short stay. Lucy Gracie joined us most of the time, so Zorro had his harem. Of course, he had to show off in front of them by herding a calf back to its mama – all in a Blue Heeler’s day’s work. The highlight of the California trip was a visit with Marie, who is out of the hospital after a six week ordeal battling infection, which followed a one week stint for surgery to remove a tumor. She still does not feel well and the docs are uncertain about their diagnosis, but for all that, it was great to talk with her for more than an hour. She looks as young as she was when she joined the DA office more than 25 years ago – this, in spite of the fact that she has had five different cancers at the tender age of 57. Give her a break, O Mighty Spirit – give her a speedy recovery and years and years to enjoy grandchildren.

My hosts in California were, as always, Royal and Brenda and Olivia, who are Zorro’s foster parents. Royal is publishing a political blog, Monterey Bay Partisan, which is much more enlightening to read than the Monterey County Herald. That rag has become a few pages of news from sources outside the county, ads and obits. There is an opinion page, but it contains things like: “We Have a Serious Water Problem” (duh) and “Public Education is in Trouble” (double duh). In other words, the new editor keeps telling us stuff we already know, and stuff which is not Monterey County-directed. Of course, when you live in another county and have been made the editor of that county’s paper AND the Herald, with no pay increase, you may not be motivated to get involved in Monterey County or to learn enough about its issues to write knowledgeable editorials. Anyway, Thank God for the Monterey Bay Partisan, which covers distinctly Monterey County stories. And thank you, Royal, for the delicious ribs from the grill. They were the best!

Oh yes, the reason for going to California was to have Mohs surgery on the tip of my nose, which had some squamous cells, according to a biopsy from a Maryland dermatological group. That group offered a Mohs surgeon to remove the cells, but the surgeon was a one note doc. He could remove the cells, but could not restore my nose after the surgery. This would have meant wearing a bandage over my nose until I found a plastic surgeon to stitch me up. I am not fond of this two-step process. And with Dr. Greg Morgenroth, the best Mohs surgeon in the world, I never had to wait for the stitching after the surgery. He has a one-stop shop, because he is both a Mohs surgeon and a plastic surgeon. At the Admiral’s urging, I tried to locate such a versatile doctor on the East Coast near Delaware City. I thought I had found such a rare bird at the University of Pennsylvania, because his web site said that Dr. Miller did Mohs surgery and the follow-up reconstruction. So I called to make an appointment. His pleasant staffer said that because he was so popular, the first date she had for me was in the last week of August – and that was for a “consultation”, not the actual surgery. The first date for the surgery was the last week of September. I asked for assurance that Dr. Miller would do both the surgery and reconstruction at one sitting. And the assistant said he would decide whether he could do the reconstruction at the August consultation. What? How do you know just by looking at the tip of my nose if you can sew it up again, after taking out the offensive cells? I had heard enough. The next call was to Dr. Morgenroth’s office to see how long I would have to wait. I called on a Monday, and they were ready for me the next day. Wow! I asked about an appointment a week from that Tuesday, and they had an opening then too. So with a little help from Delta, using my miles to get a ticket, I made it to California and had the surgery July 29. That’s July – uh-huh – not September. And Dr. Morgenroth put 12 of the tiniest stitches in the end of my nose, after scraping off the squamous cells (one scraping – a miracle!). He is the best!

The Admiral said I have to blog about the process of getting the stitches removed today, August 5. So here goes. The Admiral had called MedExpress, an “urgent care” facility near Delaware City, to ask if a doctor there would remove the stitches from the Mohs surgery. They have to be removed a week after the surgery, and I only stayed in California one more full day after my appointment. Dr. Morgenroth looked a big peeved that I wasn’t returning to his shop for stitch removal, which would have guaranteed that his high quality work was honored and protected by the P.A. in his office who would have removed the stitches. It was pretty foolish of me not to stay for the removal. However, the Admiral seemed to have found a very good alternative – albeit an unknown stitch remover in Delaware. I had suggested that I return to the dermatology group Maryland that did the biopsy, but the Admiral said we really did not need to travel several hours, since MedExpress had personnel who could do the removal. This morning we headed to MedExpress, and I walked up to the window with my surgery aftercare paper from Dr. Morgenroth and asked for someone to remove my stitches. The receptionist furrowed her brow and said she would have to check with the doctor. I told her I had called before coming and was assured that the doctor would do the job. She went to find the doctor, and when she returned, she said the doctor flat out refused to do the stitch removal, because it was “cosmetic” in nature and they didn’t do any cosmetic work. She apologized for the wrong information I had been given. I told her I needed to get the stitches removed – could she ask the doctor for a referral? She furrowed her brow again, but went back into the clinic. A few minutes later she returned with a list of four cosmetic surgeons in the area. With one more apology by her, we were out the door and I was dialing the first name on the list.

Okay, here’s where it gets interesting – or sadistic – or both. The first cosmetic surgeon worked alone, and he never, never, never took the stitches out of another cosmetic surgeon’s patient. If he did not do the surgery, he was not touching the stitches. All right, I thought, a prima donna. Let’s move on to a group of cosmetic surgeons, where at least one of them might have a little common sense and compassion to take out the stitches. Furthermore, I was asking for a Physician’s Assistant on staff, because they are usually the expert stitch removers. The next office I reached had about 10 plastic surgeons (not sure about the number of PAs). Surprisingly, each of them had the same verkakte “policy” – if you are not their patient, they will not remove your stitches. I said I wanted to become their patient today for the purpose of stitch removal. And the receptionist said but you are not their patient, so don’t bother to come here. None of them would remove the stitches, according to her. So who knew that cosmetic surgeons do not have anyone on staff for the sole purpose of removing stitches, whether or not they have done the surgery? I certainly didn’t. The Admiral says it’s most likely something their liability insurance companies make them do – or not do—so they can’t be sued for a botched stitch removal case on a patient who had not been stitched up by them. I hope it’s the evil, narrow-minded bean counters at the insurance companies behind this loathsome policy, but I fear that the cosmetic surgeons themselves may not see stitch removal as a money maker, so why waste anyone’s time on it? At this point, the Admiral was talking about going to a hobby store to get some kind of very sharp, small instrument (an X-acto knife) to remove the stitches himself. I’m sure he would have done a fine job. But I pressed the receptionist for the large cosmetic firm for an alternative, and she suggested a hospital emergency room.

Of course! Why not the most expensive treatment option in the entire medical system? Let’s overburden our emergency rooms! Why didn’t I think of that? Well, rather than travel to a nearby emergency room to get a quick turn down, I called the closest ER, Christiana Hospital ER, and asked the ER administrator if I could get the stitches on the tip of my nose removed. She said “Yes” without hesitation. So we were off – just 3.8 miles more to sit in an ER, as ambulances brought real emergencies into the back entrance, and wonder if my turn would ever come. The big sign in the waiting room said that patients were called based on the seriousness of the condition. Hello! It was important to me to get the stitches removed a week from the surgery date, but I didn’t see this condition competing well with heart attacks, stab wounds, or even the flu. As it turned out, Tuesday morning was a slow time for the Christiana ER, so my wait was limited to about 20 minutes. I was ushered to an examining room and a petite PA named Robin showed up shortly thereafter. She looked at the stitches and said they were the smallest she had ever seen (Dr. Morgenroth is an artist!). She worked slowly and meticulously with the worst pair of scissors – three times the size of what was needed for the job. Fortunately, she was very careful and she was able to remove the stitches without tearing the skin or causing bleeding. So there is a chance, a pretty good chance, that my nose will heal well – and Dr. Morgenroth’s excellent work will not have been done in vain. Thank you, Robin, for having small hands, for being patient, and for caring about your work. Score one for ER Physician’s Assistants.

But is this the health system we want? I thought that if you had health insurance, you would be seen by a specialist, when you need one. You would not be thrown into the Emergency Room mix with people with real emergencies. You would not be overtaxing that resource for things that could be done in a doctor’s office. And you would be able to have a simple procedure like removal of stitches done by someone who does that for a living, like a PA in a dermatologist’s office or a cosmetic surgeon’s office. I bet if states allowed PAs or nurse practitioners to put out their own shingles, these independent health workers would not have turned me away. There should be at least one PA in Delaware who has her/his own office who is trained to remove stitches. That is not too much to ask for in a rational world with a rational health care delivery system. I bet Germany and even Canada have PAs who remove stitches. Ah, the health care system – the “care” part is almost non-existent, hidden among the layers of bureaucracy and the ruthless decisions of insurance company adjusters, who apparently never have a sick day in their lives. I feel a longer rant coming on, but it’s time to say “Good night”. In the next exciting chapter, the Admiral and I visit a – you guessed it – a revolutionary fort. Read on!