And now finally we have the conclusion of the Field School saga. If you haven't read parts one and two, then I suggest you do so. You can find them here and here.

So I want to start this article off by saying that we found the moat at Fort Caswell!

Well, I technically didn't.

That honor goes to the incredible team that was working in those pits. They were pretty isolated from the main group of diggers, but they quite literally moved tons of dirt. We were all working in our own ways to cover the objectives that I outlined in part one, but I absolutely have to tip my hat to the west moat team. I don't think I ever saw a team work as diligently and effectively as them. Andy, Tarecka, Kailie, Chris, Emily and Denis, they are true champs when it comes to how hard they worked to find that moat.

Please join me for a round of applause for these champs!


That's the moat wall they're standing on.

They were able to uncover the brick tops of the moat wall, but unfortunately due to a high water line, they were not able to dig down to find the floor of the moat. This was a bit of a problem for one key reason: People loved to use moats as trash bins. And that's what archaeology is all about. You can learn a lot from the refuse that people leave behind. In fact several writings about Jesus were found in a massive trash pile in Egypt.

So what were some of the artifacts that were found?

I'm glad you asked.

Unfortunately there were not a ton of artifacts at this site, and that is most likely due to the fact that the Confederates evacuated the fort and then set the place on fire. But here are some things we did find.

An 1850's Army officer's coat button


A 1906 Silver Dollar

A Civil War Minie ball

A lovely pair of scissors

And some lovely ceramic

Mostly what we found were nails, brick and slate. Seeing as those were the three main building materials used in the Citadel, it only makes sense that we sent enough nails to the lab to drive the lab techs crazy. The brick, on the other hand, wasn't quite as valuable to us, so we made a couch out of them.

Arguably the most comfortable thing to sit on out there.

See the dig turned out to be so much more than a bunch of work. We got the chance to bond with each other, making memories that we will cherish for the rest of our lives. For "legal" reasons I'll speak about the Pirate bar in general terms. Some of us went to the Pirate bar for a "leadership planning meeting". Our waitress's name was squirrel, and eventually we all had enough to drink that one of us had created a special squirrel call to get her attention. She probably got tired of us really quickly, but when we ran up a bar tab over $400, she took it in stride with the very generous tip we left her.

There was a night of karaoke at a different bar and grill within walking distance of the condos. The place was so thick with the smell of grease, that I still have the smell of mini tacos and pizza logs on some of my clothes. Here's a tip: Hire Tom and His Angels to perform renditions of "YMCA" and "It's Raining Men" for your next bar mitzvah or wedding, you will never regret it.

One day a colleague of Tom and Vinnie came to visit the site. His name was Jack Bernhardt, and he was one of the coolest guys I have ever met. He had brought his Martin guitar with him to the condos, and I was honored to share a beer with him and play some folk tunes with him with my Yamaha.

I still want to apologize to Andy for keeping him up (he was supposed to be sleeping in the living room where we were playing), but he grabbed a beer and was more than willing to listen and enjoy.

Speaking of Andy, he taught me a great deal about the finer points of beer.

See, Andy is a lovely British chap who complained about any beer that I tried to give him because "American beer is like making love in a canoe. It's f**king close to water." I still like to think that I won in the end, because he recently moved to North Carolina, away from all of his porters and stouts.

Time to get used to all of the wonderful American beers, Andy, Cheers!

So in the end, I spent four weeks toiling under the hot sun and digging in glorified sandboxes. Everyone who went to field school will agree that it was the most rewarding trip of a lifetime. We were the first people to uncover and hold these pieces of history in our hands since they had been left there. If that doesn't cause some sort of existential bewilderment, then I don't know what will. We got the chance to connect with each other and share the joy of digging, chilling on the beach, taking day trips to sites and museums and relaxing in a hot tub that never got hot.

The maintenance guy even claimed to have fixed it! It was only slightly bubbly.

In the end, I can't look at sandwiches the same way again. My toenails have finally grown back after nearly a year. I look for other field schools online when I get really bored and start itching for adventure. I can't drink beers the same way (okay maybe you won Andy).

And lastly, I have a respect for all of the people who went on that trip. I hope we all stay in touch in the many years to come, and I hope we can plan a reunion. Maybe this time I won't have to wrap duct tape around my hand to stop bleeding. I wish I could go on with more about what happened at field school, but as an illustrious person said to me the other day, "That would be telling stories outside of school," and he would deny everything.

Thank you all for an amazing experience!