Forts — A Visit to Fort Washington (Maryland)

Here’s a test. Name a battle from the War of 1812. It’s okay. Take your time.

Give up? Most people will eventually remember the Battle of New Orleans (probably because of that song), and, if you think long enough, you might come up with Fort McHenry, since it led to the birth of our national anthem. Beyond that, the war is largely a black hole in American history. When the enemy captures and burns your capitol, it’s not likely to be remembered fondly.

The British, you see, were fighting the French. I know, when were they not fighting the French? (Answer: when they were fighting the Spanish!) The king (possibly still bitter about the whole revolution thing) was mad that the former colonies were continuing to trade with the French despite the fact that the former mother country was at war with them. The Americans, it seems, had become rather fond of champagne, perfume and fancy underwear. The tension eventually caused an outbreak of hostilities in 1812, although the British weren’t terribly interested until 1814, since, by then, they had finally defeated Napoleon, and banished him to the island of Elba.

I mention this because the War of 1812 was the first time that the site of Fort Washington came into play, and Fort Washington was the next fort I visited after Fort Foote.

Fort Washington was originally called Fort Warburton. It was a very simple structure, completed in 1808 to protect the Potomac River approaches to the cities of Alexandria, Virginia and Washington, D.C. When, on August 19, 1814, British forces landed at Benedict, Maryland on the Patuxent River, and began moving toward Washington, DC from the southeast, the fort’s commander, Captain Samuel Dyson, was naturally quite concerned. After winning the Battle of Bladensburg — 6 miles east of Washington, DC — on August 24, the British spent a restful night in the nation’s capitol, but not before taking time to set fire to the government buildings.

On August 27, as British foot soldiers retraced their steps toward Benedict, the British fleet sailed up the Potomac and approached Fort Warburton. Dyson had a garrison of just 56 men, and, faced with the enemy land forces behind him and the enemy fleet in front of him, he did what any sensible commander would do under the circumstances; he used his 3,000 pound store of gunpowder to blow the fort to smithereens, and then ran screaming into the night (a court martial later found him guilty of abandoning his post and destroying government property).

From there, the British turned their attention to Baltimore, were repulsed at North Point, and at Fort McHenry, about which Francis Scott Key wrote a moving poem, and the rest, as they say, is history.

But it was from this inauspicious beginning as Fort Warburton, that Fort Washington was born. As early as 1794, the great general and the nation’s first president had recognized the need to construct fortifications on the high bluffs at this location, partly because it offered a terrific field of fire that would discourage enemy ships from advancing up the Potomac, and partly because it was right across the river from his house.

The War of 1812 had shown the young nation that real coastal defenses, capable of actual resistance, were necessary. Where they existed, such as at Fort McHenry, they had been successful. By 1824, Fort Washington was completed on the site of the less fortunate previous fort, and, I have to tell you, for a visitor, Fort Washington is fabulous.

As you can see, the location did not disappoint.

The purpose of the structure was simple: to contain and shelter as many weapons as possible, almost all of them pointed at the Potomac River. Coupled with Fort Hunt on the Virginia side, this would have made a considerable gauntlet for invaders intent on sailing up to Washington, D.C.

The early fort was improved in the 1840’s, and again in the 1890’s when eight concrete shore batteries were added to supplement the original casemate fort.

The fort was abandoned twice along the way — it was empty for nearly twenty years after the Civil War — but was reoccupied whenever foreign hostilities arose.

Finally, the site was turned over to the Department of the Interior, in 1946, right after World War II.

At some point, a small wooden lighthouse was constructed where the rugged spur of land extends furthest into the river. I wandered around for a few hours, and then found a spot on the bluff to watch the sun fall behind the distant trees.

If only I’d thought to bring champagne…