Back to the PawMark Article MenuSeptember 11, 2001
© 2001-2001 by Ed Presnall
All Rights Reserved
As Published World Wide on the Net
Ft Sheridan is located on a small peninsula jutting out
into Lake Michigan. The thought of the place brings
back fond memories of a cold, windy morning in
November when Race, my Field Spaniel, and I spent
a very cold, lonely hour and fifteen minutes searching
for the magic glove which earned him his VST title.When I moved to the Chicago area in December, I started teaching tracking at the Fort. It has become one of my favorite training locations. From some points on the ground a crystal clear lake awaits only a few yards from the base fence. In other areas barracks from the 40's tightly clutch their memories of war in another time. But throughout the base, the guards, military police and servicemen always stop to watch our dogs search for the invisible thread of the track they are following.
There is another VST test there this weekend. I was notified that I had made the draw along with my favorite Border Collie. We drove down early this morning for one last practice track and to help a student who drives in from Indiana with her Golden.
It was early and the cool breeze gently floated in from the lake. I drove through the site searching for the proper spot to lay a track. Finding the right location, I waved to a local guard, grabbed my gear from the Jeep and headed off to plot the track. I placed the start flag, dropped the first article and glanced at my watch. Noting the time on my map, I started off down the track. A few hundred yards later I sensed that the tension on the base seemed higher. Pausing for a moment, I noticed that the normally laid back and friendly policemen were intently making their rounds.
I stopped near the back door of the main administration building to place an article and quickly moved on. Turning away from the building I headed across the manicured lawn to find two policemen behind their patrol car blocking my way. They wanted to know what I was doing and what I placed near the doorway. I started to explain and then thought it might be easier to just show them my authorization. Reaching into my bag, I froze as I heard them both "slap leather" as their handguns not so magically appeared. Very slowly I removed the authorization and handed it over. They made a radio call and then apologized.
Standing on the track they told me of what they knew of the attack. Both were as shaken as I was and all of us had a job to do. They went back to their patrol and I finished plotting the track. I then sat in the Jeep and listened to the radio reports coming in from New York. Hearing what I thought was all there could be, I started out again to plot another track.
Completing it I met up with my student and we spoke sadly of the things that were happening. We were advised by another patrol to finish up and get off the base. We went to work and ran our tracks. Both of us were visibly distracted by the events and the emotion, which was pouring down our tracking lines to our dogs. We finished but not in the style or with the flair we knew both teams are capable of. In light of what was happening to our country, we shrugged our shoulders at our performance and headed home to our respected cities. As we got to the main gate, the HUMVEEs with 50 caliber machine guns were being moved into place. The local police force was now stopping every vehicle and demanding specific clearance to pass.
She drove south through Chicago towards her home in Indianapolis,
where buildings are being evacuated and the airport has been
closed down. I drove north, away from the big city, to the small
farm I live on in southern Wisconsin. The Fort had been to me a
safe, secure place to train has been turned into an armed camp.
A series of terrorist acts have changed my and millions of other
lives forever. The repercussions of these events have only started.
The next few days and weeks will tell us of the future of the
country and perhaps the free world.© 2003-1996 - Ed Presnall - All Rights Reserved