Fort George G. Meade: The First 100 Years

SCRAPBOOK MEMORIES
Master Sgt. Leann M. Whitley (Ret.)
In the 80s, there wasn’t a Visitor Control Center. We were an open post, we were “The People’s Post.” There was actually
a sign that said that. The lifestyle was friendly and relaxed and everyone felt relatively safe as acts of terrorism against
the United States or our allies had yet to rear its ugly head.
The local community and general public were allowed onto the installation to use Fort Meade facilities. We hosted
the Capitol Jazz Festival, an annual carnival and other events at Burba Lake. The Victory Day Celebration for soldiers
and annual Armed Forces Week displays at three area malls are just some examples of our interactions as an open post.
Despite our leniency at allowing access to the installation, Fort Meade’s mission remained to prepare for the contingency
of war and to provide support to organizations, personnel and activities.
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(Above) Fort Meade's main gate at Reece Road.
Carroll Sykes – Remembering September 11 th
I was a member of the garrison staff who had assembled for our regular weekly staff meeting. The meeting was
underway when, at around 9:30 a.m., John Nance interrupted the discussions to inform us that a plane had crashed into
the World Trade Center.
We all assumed this would turn out to be some sort of accident. Nothing more than a “pilot error” caused by
someone who veered off course.
Minutes later, someone else interrupted the meeting to say the crash was a possible terror attack. Needless to say, the
meeting abruptly ended. Within the hour, the Installation Emergency Operations Center activated our 24/7 operating
status while the installation’s Force Protection Condition was immediately elevated from Condition Normal to Delta.
Throughout the rest of the day, a solemn pale clouded the staff. Everyone was glued to a television, contacting
family members, searching for any new information. I was unable to leave the EOC since I was the Antiterrorism/
Force Protection Officer at the time. My wife, Fran, called several times during the day to see if I was alright. She had
been receiving calls from relatives who wondered where I was. They knew I worked for the Army and thought I could
possibly be working at the Pentagon when American Airlines flight 77 crashed. I, along with several others from the
staff, spent the night at the installation reviewing plans and tightening security. After 16 years, we still relive the grim
events of that day and reflect on a way of life that was taken from us, and will never return again.