In the darkened realm of Allhallows Kent, there stood a fortress shrouded in a sinister aura, beckoning intrepid souls to embark on a full-blown ghost hunt. Its name whispered with trepidation, was Slough Fort, a dwelling that harbored a history steeped in despair and dread.

Born in 1867, this D-shaped bastion rose from the earth, its purpose to guard against unseen perils lurking along the vulnerable stretch of the River Thames. Amidst a time of tension with France, the fort stood resolute, a sentinel of fear, prepared to repel any enemy landing that dared to breach its formidable walls.

Initially, seven 7-inch rifled breech-loaders, those instruments of death, found their abode within the fort's casemates. A trio of officers, accompanied by one NCO and a legion of seventy-five other souls, served as its garrison, prepared to defend their post against the encroaching specter of doom.

But fate, that wicked mistress,…