PHOENIX: (Projekt Saucer series)

by W. A. Harbinson

  Meanwhile, the sightings continued. By the end of June, it had become apparent that there was a considerable build-up of sightings in the eastern United States. In Massachusetts, New Jersey and Maryland jet fighters were scrambled almost nightly for a week, but always foiled when their radar-locks were broken by the abrupt, swift manoeuvres of the UFOs. On July 1, many UFOs were sighted over Boston, then began working their way down the coast. The same day two UFOs had come down across Boston on a southwesterly heading, crossed Long Island, hovered a few minutes over the Army’s secret laboratories at Fort Monmouth, then proceeded towards Washington DC. A few hours later, the first report from Washington DC was submitted by a physics professor at George Washington University.

  For the next couple of weeks, reports about Washington DC sightings poured in at the rate of twenty or thirty a day and, according to Ruppelt, unknowns were running about 40 percent. Finally, according to the Washington Post, last night, July 19, the greatest flap of them all had begun, with UFOs being tracked all over the capital and the restricted corridor around the White House filled with interceptor jets trying to chase UFOs.

  Immensely frustrated and angry, Dwight finished reading the report, then passed the paper to Bob. By the time Bob finished reading it, he, too, was furious that the ATIC had not been informed about the event.

  ‘Damned lucky we were coming here anyway,’ he said. ‘Otherwise they’d have kept us locked out. Why the hell would they do that?’

  ‘Maybe it was just an oversight,’ Dwight replied without conviction, staring up at the sunny sky in the vain hope of seeing his first UFO. ‘The heat of the moment, and so on. They’re probably all frantic by now and just forgot to put the call through.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Bob said doubtfully, also glancing automatically at the empty sky over Virginia. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

  When they were inside the Pentagon, that immense five-sided building in Arlington County, Dwight demanded an urgent meeting with Major Dewey Fournet, their UFO liaison man in the capital. Entering his office, located on the fourth floor, they found him in the company of Colonel Donald Bower, the intelligence officer from Bolling AFB, located just east of National Airport, across the Potomac River. Neither Fournet nor Bower looked pleased with this visit.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ a harassed Fournet said, waving his hands as if to defend himself. ‘I know what you’re going to say.’

  ‘So, what happened?’ Dwight asked.

  ‘We’ve just been too damned busy,’ Fournet replied. ‘It was an oversight, gentlemen.’ Dwight glanced at Major Bower. ‘I don’t believe that. Seems to me, you just wanted to keep us out. Why is that, Major?’

  ‘You’d have received a full report in due course,’ Major Bower said, his gaze steady and hard.

  ‘Your report, not ours, Major,’ Dwight replied. ‘It’s not the same thing.’ He removed his gaze from Bower and fixed it on Fournet instead. ‘So what are the facts, sir? Is the report in the Washington Post correct?’

  Fournet shrugged. ‘Yeah, essentially correct. At 11.40pm the ARTC radars at Washington National Airport, about three miles south of the centre of Washington DC, picked up eight unidentified targets near Andrews AFB, Maryland, twenty miles east of National Airport and in direct line with National and Bolling. The objects were flying at approximately 100 to 130 miles per hour, then suddenly accelerated to fantastically high speeds and left the area. They soon returned, en masse. During the night, tower operators and the aircrews of several airliners saw unidentified lights in the same locations indicated by the radar. Before the night was out, and while interceptor jets tried and failed to catch them, the unidentified targets had moved into every sector covered by the radarscopes, including the prohibited corridor over the White House and the Capitol building. The climax came in the early hours of the morning, when the operators in the control tower at Andrews AFB, in response to an ARTC traffic controller’s query about a target directly over the Andrews Radio range station, located near their tower, reported that a large, fiery, orange-coloured sphere was hovering in the sky directly above them.’

  ‘Weather?’

  ‘An analysis of the sightings has completely ruled out temperature inversions. Also, the radar operators at Washington National Airport and Andrews AFB - plus at least two veteran airline pilots - have all sworn that their sightings were caused by the radar waves bouncing off hard, solid objects.’

  ‘Oh, boy!’ Bob said, glancing at Dwight. ‘This sounds really good.’

  ‘That’s hardly the right word to use,’ Bower said. ‘It certainly didn’t seem good to the top brass of the Pentagon. Nor did it seem good to President Truman, who personally witnessed a UFO skimming right around the White House. In fact, at ten this morning, the President’s air aide, Brigadier General Landry, called me, at Truman’s personal request, to find out what the hell was going on.’

  ‘Oh?’ Dwight said, amused. ‘And what did you tell him?’

  ‘I hedged my answers,’ Bower replied, ‘because, truthfully, I couldn’t explain the sightings away.’

  ‘On behalf of the Air Force,’ Fournet said, ‘public relations officer Al Chops has given the press an official “No comment” on the sightings, but the reporters are still massed down there on the first floor, all baying for more. In the meantime, we’re investigating the affair. That’s all we can tell you.’

  ‘Fine, Major,’ Dwight said, taking note of Bob’s cynical sideways glance and deciding not to raise any awkward points. ‘Have you any objections to me doing my own investigation for the ATIC?’

  Fournet glanced uneasily at Major Bower, who did not seem too pleased. Nevertheless, he said, ‘Of course not, Cap’n Randall. Why should we mind?’

  ‘Here,’ Fournet said, trying to look helpful as he handed Dwight a manila folder. ‘Two of the first reports submitted. One is the unofficial report from the Andrews AFB tower operators; the other is from an F-94C pilot who tried to intercept unidentified lights. I should warn you that these are just off-the-cuff, preliminary reports. More detailed, more accurate versions will be drafted and signed at a later date. But you might find them helpful for the time being.’

  ‘And as I said,’ Major Bower added, ‘you’ll be receiving our official report when it’s been completed.’

  ‘I look forward to it,’ Dwight said, then he and Bob saluted and left the office.

  ‘Bullshitter,’ Bob whispered as they walked along the spoke-like, windowless corridor in one of the five concentric rings of the building, heading for the small office used by the ATIC when visiting here. ‘That Bower’s the one who stopped us from being informed - maybe because the President is now involved. Whatever was flying around here last night, they sure as hell don’t want us to know about it.’

  ‘Well, we’re going to get to know about it,’ Dwight said determinedly as he unlocked the door of the office at the far end of the corridor. ‘We’ll complete a thorough investigation and find out just what the hell those interceptor jets were pursuing in the restricted corridor around the White House. No intelligence officer from Bolling AFB is going to stop me - not Bower and not anyone else.’ He and Bob entered the office, switching on the light and closing the door behind them. It was a small, square-shaped room with no windows and nothing on the walls. Outside was US Highway 1 and, beyond it, the Potomac River, but they couldn't see either from this gloomy cell. Dwight placed his briefcase on the desk and gazed at the bare wall. ‘I want to speak to the chief radar operator at Andrews AFB and the F-94C pilot who put in this report,’ he said, fanning himself with the manila envelope. ‘Get on the blower, Bob.’

  As Bob took the wooden chair beside the desk and picked up the phone, Dwight kicked off his shoes and massaged his hot feet through his socks. Bob flipped open the manila envelope, checked one of the two reports, then asked for the senior traffic controller in the Andrews AFB control tower. After a short wait, he nodded and Dwight picked up the other line.

  ‘Captain Chapman? This is Captain Dwight R
andall of the Air Technical Intelligence Centre, Wright-Patterson AFB, Dayton, Ohio. I’m here at the Pentagon with Captain Bob Jackson to check out yesterday’s UFO flap. We thought you might be able to help us out.’

  ‘I put in a report to Major Bower,’ Captain Chapman responded, sounding uneasy. ‘Yes, Captain, I’ve got it right here. I believe you were in charge of operations when that huge, orange-coloured sphere was observed over the Andrews Radio range station, located near the control tower.’

  ‘Oh, yeah... that.’ Chapman sounded even more uncomfortable. ‘It wasn’t huge; it was large.’

  ‘Says right here it was huge.’

  ‘We were all pretty excited at the time. It was large, not huge.’

  ‘You saw it?’

  ‘Well, yeah, I saw it... but when we checked the data later, we realised it was only a star.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It was only a star.’

  Dwight glanced at Bob who, holding the phone to his ear, merely shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘I don’t get this, Captain,’ Dwight said. ‘I have your report right in front of me and it clearly describes the object as a - quote - huge, fiery-orange-coloured sphere.’

  ‘It was a large star. I know it was. When I submitted that report, we were all pretty scared and excited. I now regret that description.’

  ‘Okay: it was large. However, I find it hard to credit that seven trained radar operators would mistake a large, fiery, orange-coloured sphere for a star.’

  ‘The heat of the moment, Captain. We all make mistakes. I’m going to change that description when I redraft the report. What we saw was an exceptionally bright star. That’s all there is to it.’

  Dwight took a deep breath, glanced at Bob, who shrugged again, then let his breath out in an audible sigh. ‘The report also states that you and the six other traffic controllers on the shift saw this object, or star, hovering over the Andrews Radio range station, at precisely the same moment the radar operators at National Airport reported having a target over the very same location.’

  ‘I can’t account for that, Captain, except to say that the radars all over Washington DC were going crazy last night and a lot of atmospheric anomalies are suspected. What we saw was a star.’

  ‘Okay, Captain, thanks.’ Dwight pressed the phone-cradle down, cutting Chapman off, then said, ‘Get on to that guy in charge of the astronomical charts and ask him if there were any unusually bright stars in the sky last night.’

  Bob leafed through his notebook, dialled a number and asked for Air Force corporal Alan Collins. After explaining what he wanted, he sat waiting, drumming his fingers nervously on the desk and studying the ceiling. Eventually he nodded, went, ‘Mmmmm, thanks corporal,’ and dropped the phone back on its cradle. ‘Nope,’ he said. ‘No exceptionally bright stars where that UFO was seen. None at all, Dwight.’

  ‘Damn! Is the pilot of that F-94C available?’

  Bob tugged the second report out of the manila folder, checked it, and said, ‘Yeah, he’s located at Bolling AFB - where our good friend, Major Bower, also comes from. You want me to try him?’

  ‘Damned right, I do.’

  Tracking down the pilot took a lot longer, but eventually Bob nodded again at Dwight and the latter picked up the phone. After introducing himself, he said, ‘I’d like to hear in your own words exactly what you thought you were pursuing last night.’

  ‘It was a ground light reflecting off a layer of haze.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A ground light reflecting off – ’

  ‘I heard you, Lieutenant, I just don’t believe you. I have your report right here and it says that the lights were high up in the sky, in the restricted air corridor around the White House, and that they descended, ascended, hovered, and shot off at incredible speeds.’

  ‘An optical illusion, Captain.’

  ‘But the report – ’

  ‘I wrote it in the heat of the moment, right after landing. I was pretty nervous and excited, Captain, not too sure of what was happening, but when I’d settled down and spoken to Major Bower, I realised that I’d misinterpreted what I’d seen.’ Bob silently gave the thumbs-down.

  ‘You spoke to Major Bower?’ Dwight asked.

  ‘That’s right, Captain. Right after I landed. All of the pilots at Bolling were interrogated about what they had seen by the base intelligence officers.’

  ‘And after interrogation, you were persuaded that what you had seen was not a lot of unidentified lights that made extraordinary manoeuvres over the White House, but simply a ground light reflecting off a layer of haze.’

  ‘That’s correct, Captain.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, Lieutenant, that seems a pretty ridiculous statement, given that this report – ’

  ‘I’m redrafting it, Captain, to make it more accurate.’

  ‘Given that in this report,’ Dwight insisted, ‘you say that the lights repeatedly disappeared and reappeared in the sky before eventually shooting away.’

  ‘An optical illusion caused by the layer of haze.’

  ‘No, Lieutenant, not possible. According to your statement, the disappearances and reappearances described by you were matched exactly by the radar readings - same location, same time.’

  ‘According to Major Bowers, the radar operatives later said they’d been mistaken. Given that, I can only confirm what I saw.’

  ‘A ground light reflecting off a layer of haze.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘And that’s what’s going into your redrafted report?’

  ‘Yes, Captain.’

  ‘Thanks, Lieutenant.’ Angry and frustrated, Dwight dropped the phone, then glared at Bob, who was shrugging and spreading his hands in the air, signifying defeat. ‘Major Bower,’ Dwight said.

  ‘Intelligence chief of Bolling AFB. He also talked to the Andrews AFB radar flight controllers and radar operatives. Looks like a snow job.’

  ‘Which confirms that they didn’t call the ATIC because they didn’t want us snooping around. They’re putting the lid on this thing.’ Dwight hammered his fist on the table. ‘Well, damn them, I won’t let them. Let’s get a staff car and travel around a bit - Washington National Airport, Andrews AFB, airline offices, the weather bureau, and anywhere else we can think of. Damn it, let’s do it.’ Dwight picked up the phone and called the Pentagon transportation section.

  ‘Hi. Captain Dwight Randall of the ATIC speaking. I need a staff car for a couple of hours and – ’

  ‘Did you say the ATIC?’ the corporal at the other end of the line asked. ‘That’s right. The Air Technical Intelligence Centre. I need a staff car to – ’

  ‘Just a moment, sir.’ There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by whispering, then the corporal came back on. ‘Sorry, sir. Did you say Captain Dwight Randall?’

  ‘Yes, corporal, and – ’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid I can’t help you. Regulations say that we can’t make staff cars available to anyone other than senior colonels or generals.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘Sorry, sir, but those are the regulations.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Just recently, sir.’

  ‘Dammit, corporal, I want that staff car!’

  ‘Sorry, sir, I can’t help you. Not unless you get authorisation from a senior colonel or general.’

  ‘Alright, damn you, I will.’ Dwight pressed the cradle down. ‘Can you believe this shit?’ he said to Bob. ‘New regulation says we can’t have a car unless we’re senior colonels or generals.’

  ‘New regulation invented just for us,’ Bob said. ‘Why not try General Samford? He’ll be obliged to help you.’

  ‘Why not?’ Dwight said. When he tried to contact the general, however, he was told that Samford wasn’t in his office. When he asked the secretary to track him down, he was told that Samford couldn’t be found. ‘To hell with this,’ Dwight said, slamming the phone down and then putting his shoes
on again. ‘Let’s go down to the finance office and charge a rented car to expenses. They can’t argue with that.’

  But they did. When Dwight and Bob put their request to the heavy, grey-haired lady in the Pentagon finance office, she looked embarrassed, checked their names again, then said nervously: ‘Sorry, sir, but I can’t do that. Policy is that if you don’t have a staff car, you use city buses.’

  ‘Ma’m, this is a matter of extreme urgency and one requiring a lot of travelling. We don’t know the bus system and it would take us hours to get to all the places we need to visit.’

  ‘Sorry, sir, but I still can’t help you. If it’s that important, I suggest you use a cab and pay for it out of your per diem.’

  ‘I can’t afford to do that, Ma’m. This job is going to take a couple of days and requires travelling all over Virginia. At nine dollars a day per diem, I can hardly – ’

  ‘Besides,’ the lady said, examining Dwight’s papers, ‘this travel order only covers a trip to the Pentagon - not Washington, and certainly not a trip around Virginia. In fact, according to this, you’re supposed to be on your way back to Dayton by now.’

  ‘Well, I’m not going. This work is more important, and I’m pretty sure - ’

  The lady sighed and handed back his travel orders. ‘Unless you’re willing to go through all the red tape of getting these orders amended, you won’t be able to collect any per diem. Also, you’ll be technically AWOL.’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’

  ‘No, sir, I’m not. If you don’t head back to Dayton today, you’ll both be classified AWOL. I can’t help you, sir.’

  Clenching his fist around his damned travel orders, Dwight stormed out of the finance office, followed by Bob. He was just about to head back to his office, when Bob stopped him by tugging at his elbow.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We’ve gotta leave,’ Bob said. ‘We can’t afford to be AWOL. If they’re really trying to stop us, they’ll use the AWOL as an excuse to tan our hides. We’ve got to go back, Dwight.’

  ‘No, damn it, I won’t let them give me the runaround this way. I have friends at Andrews AFB, so let’s go there and ask them to call Wright-Patterson for permission to stay in this area for another week or so. That’ll enable us to continue our investigations without the help or hindrance of the bastards in here.’