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Heavily Investigated

The dead at Fort William Henry never quite got the memo that the war ended. Visitors on candlelit tours swear they feel eyes tracking them across the parade ground — soldiers still furious at the intrusion, some say, since disembodied voices have reportedly scolded guides for setting foot where they don't belong. Then there's the Limper, shuffling through the barracks on uneven footfalls; the Slammer, who introduces himself by slamming doors in your face. Hundreds of men were massacred here in 1757 and buried in the soil beneath your feet. Stand still long enough and the place seems to notice.

Ordered by Sir William Johnson in September 1755, Fort William Henry guarded Lake George's southern shore — a vital corridor between New York and Montreal. In August 1757, French General Montcalm besieged the fort with roughly 10,000 troops, forcing a British surrender. What followed became notorious: allied Native warriors attacked the departing garrison, with death tolls ranging from dozens to over a thousand. The fort burned, then lay forgotten for two centuries — until 1950s excavations turned up the bones. The replica museum stands on those same grounds today. Naturally.