Earth

by Timothy Good

As with “follow-up” experiences asserted by many contactees, we run into apparent absurdities and contradictions. To his credit, however, Monnet acknowledged as much himself, and sought explanations.

  While I was performing with the Philharmonia Orchestra at the Orange Festival in July 1978, I interviewed Monnet at his home in Sorgues, together with my friend Ben Cruft (also a violinist with the orchestra). Monnet spoke with conviction about his earlier contact experience. A manuscript with which he presented me—subsequently incorporated into his first book—provides some interesting information.

  Monnet claimed that the group that contacted him originated from “the star you call Vega [which] has fourteen planets, of which nine are inhabited.” He was informed that they had numerous bases within our solar system—on Mars, our moon, on one of Jupiter’s and on one of Saturn’s moons—and a number of bases on Earth.

  While my skepticism regarding much of the information later provided to Monnet endures, I am including the following, supposedly transmitted telepathically to him in July 1977, against the possibility that some important data may be contained therein. We must bear in mind that Monnet, a factory worker with but a scant knowledge of scientific matters, may well have misinterpreted some of the technical data:

  “The surface bases we have introduced on your planet are protected from sight by a powerful magnetic field acting on the molecules of a layer of surrounding air covering the places where the bases are constructed. The principle of this magnetic process is based on bending the molecules of air and taking the form of prisms to avoid the source of light. This process renders invisible every object which isn’t naturally compatible with the place, and renders it invisible in the range of this magnetic field. In parallel with that, we give out a wavelength acting on a precise part of the brain of the occasional person who approaches our installations. Our bases on your planet cannot be seen even from a height, remaining unnoticed by your aerial photographers….”5

  Pierre Monnet passed away in January 2009 at a hospital in Tarascon (Bouche-du-Rhône), aged seventy-eight—well short of the 120-year lifespan predicted for him by his alien contacts. Perhaps he became disillusioned toward the end—perhaps not.

  “I could not find then, neither can I find today, a single doubt in my mind as to the reality of my physical contact in 1951,” he emphasized in 1978. “For me, it has been the most extraordinary and also the most beautiful experience of my life. The story’s resemblance to science fiction does not make it any less true or real. It constitutes and perhaps shows the way to a marvelous future for mankind.”6

  “Since the initial appearance of these craft, the entire world’s defence chiefs have hidden the truth,” wrote Monnet in 1974. “From the outset, civil and military pilots, qualified personnel attached to aerial detection units, as well as astronauts, were sworn to secrecy if they spoke of what they had seen in the sky, on radar screens, or the signals coming in from the various artificial satellites revolving around the Moon, Venus, and from modules sited on Mars….

  “The phenomenon generates considerable anxiety among the world’s governments, who have only one method of holding back the moment of truth—to maintain the conspiracy. What the public should know is that all over the world, many contacts have been made and continue to be made between the average Earth person and the extraterrestrial representatives of a galactic civilisation which is scientifically, socially, and philosophically very much in advance of our own….”7

  A sketch by Pierre Monnet of one of the alien beings he encountered near Orange, France, in July 1951.

  Chapter Three

  Italian Developments

  The proverbial “little green men” have long been associated with aliens, despite the fact that very few encounters relate to such beings. In stark contrast to the Dworshak and Monnet cases is the one reported by Professor Rapuzzi Luizi Johannis, a well-known Italian author and painter in his time. Johannis experienced only one encounter—and it involved little green men. The following is for me the most convincing of such cases.

  On the morning of August 14, 1947, Johannis—a keen geologist—was making his way up a short valley called the Chiarsò, near Villa Santina, Carnia (Fruili) in northeast Italy. He had been following a path along the stream, which wound up through clumps of fir trees and deposits of alluvial rubble,1 when his adventure began.

  “As I emerged from one of these clumps of fir,” he wrote in his richly detailed report, “I noticed, at a distance of about fifty meters from me, a large lenticular object of a vivid red color. When I had arrived at a spot a few steps from the ‘thing,’ I was able to establish the fact that it was a disc—seemingly of varnished metal [and] having the shape of a lens and a low central cupola with no apertures. At its tip a sort of shining metallic antenna, of telescopic form, was protruding….

  “The object, some ten meters wide, was embedded, to the extent of about a quarter of its length, in a great transverse cleft in the friable rock of the mountain side, and was at a height of about six meters above the bed of the stream. I decided that I would climb up there and see what it was…. I looked round to see whether there was anybody about who—should the need arise—could help me. It was then that I perceived, at a distance of fifty meters or so from me, two ‘boys.’ At any rate, that is what they seemed to be, at first. I shouted to them and pointed to their disc. And then I started toward them. When I had halved the distance between them and myself, I stopped, petrified.

  “The two ‘boys’ were dwarves, the likes of which I had never seen nor even imagined. They were coming toward me slowly, with tiny strides, their hands at their sides and their heads motionless. When they had come to a few paces from me, they halted. I had no strength left. I seemed to be paralyzed, or to be dreaming. But I was able to observe them in every detail. And those details have remained impressed upon me. However, I must confess that the dominating sentiment in me then was one of enormous astonishment combined with fear….

  “They were no more than 90 centimeters in height, and were wearing dark blue-colored overalls made of some material that I would not know how to describe. ‘Translucent’ is the only term for it. They had collars and rather deep belts, all of a vivid red color. Even the cuffs and the shins of the legs ended in ‘collars’ of the same type. Their heads were bigger than the head of a normal man, and gave them a caricaturish aspect. But I think the sight of their ‘faces’ would have put an end to anybody’s desire to laugh.

  “At this point, I am obliged to explain that the terms I have used in this description are purely indications, and are of a purely anthropomorphic nature, because I don’t know, today, whether those things that I have defined as nose, mouth, eyes, and hands were like that….

  “They had no signs of hair, but in place of it they were wearing a sort of dark brown tight-fitting cap, like an Alpinist’s bonnet. The ‘skin’ of their faces was an earthly green. The only colour that comes close to it is the plasticine commonly used by sculptors, or of clay dipped in water. The ‘nose’ was straight, geometrically cut, and very long. Beneath it was a mere slit, shaped like a circumflex accent, opening and closing again at intervals, very much like the mouth of a fish.

  “The ‘eyes’ were enormous, protruding, and round. Their appearance and color were like two well-ripened yellow-green plums. In the center of the eyes I noticed a kind of vertical ‘pupil.’ I saw no traces of eyebrows or eyelashes, and what I would have called the eyelids consisted of a ring, midway between green and yellow, which surrounded the base of those hemispherical eyes, just like the frame of a pair of spectacles.

  “I remained there in astonishment, for what seemed an interminably long time, gazing at the two extraordinary creatures. I think the silent confrontation lasted no more than two or three minutes. Then I raised my arm with the [geologist’s] pick and waved it in their direction and then in the direction of the disc and, in an agitated voice, I shouted and asked who they were,
where they came from, and if I could be of any help. They wheeled round very quickly and I can’t remember what I said after that, for things began to happen fast. I now believe that the two beings had interpreted my precipitate gestures as being threatening….

  “One of them raised his right hand to his belt, and from the center of the belt there came something that seemed as though it might be a thin puff of smoke. I now think it was a ray or something of the sort. Anyway, before I had time to move or do anything, I found myself laid out full length on the ground. My pick shot out of my hand, as though snatched by an invisible force. Only once in my life have I had the experience of a violent electric shock [and] as soon as I was struck by that ray, I felt a similar sensation. Moreover I felt myself deprived of all strength and all my efforts to raise myself meant an expenditure of energy that was beyond me.

  “Meanwhile, the two midgets were coming toward me, and they halted at a spot two meters from me, where my pick had fallen. I managed to roll over on to one side and saw one of them bend over and pick up the tool, which was longer than he was. And this is how I was able to see his green ‘hand’ quite distinctly. It had eight fingers, four of them opposable to the others! It wasn’t a hand: it was a claw, and the fingers were without joints. I also noticed the chests of the two beings were quivering; like a dog’s chest when it pants after a long run.”

  Johannis finally was able to manage a sitting position. “Meanwhile, the two entities had arrived beneath the disc. I saw them climb up, slowly but surely, to the cleft in the rock and disappear into the disc itself, which was embedded almost vertically in the rock. A few more minutes elapsed, and then the strange object shot straight out from the rock and rose into the air. A cascade of stones and earth fell down on to the bed of the river….

  “The disc remained there stationary in the sky, like an enormous suspended gong. I could distinctly see its sharply cut flange four or five meters from me, and for a moment I was seized with terror that it was going to come down and cut me in half…. I think I shouted at the top of my voice. At any rate, I am certain that I made every effort to get up and escape. The result was that I kept falling back again, supine and racked with pain. Meanwhile, the disc had tipped slightly away from its vertical position, then tilted slightly. Then it suddenly grew smaller,2 and vanished.

  “Immediately afterward, I was struck by a tremendous blast of wind which rolled me over and over on the ground and filled my eyes with dust. I ended up against the stones in the river-bed and remained there for I don’t know how long. Finally I managed to get into a sitting position again, and it was then that I looked at my wrist watch. It was 09:14. But it was only at about midday that I was in a fit state to get back home. In the meantime, I even slept for an hour. All my bones felt as if they were broken and my legs were weak and trembling….

  “I looked in my rucksack for my thermos flask of coffee and was not surprised to find it shattered to pieces, but what did surprise me was not being able to find any trace of its metal casing. Also gone were my aluminum fork and an aluminum can that had contained my cold lunch. I had to be content with bread soaked in coffee and throw away the salami and all the rest. Finally, I should add that I searched in vain for my pick, which would have been very useful to me at that point as a walking stick.”

  Aftermath

  Johannis reached Raveo at 14:00 and promptly went to bed, explaining to the proprietress at the inn where he was staying that he’d fallen from a rock. The following morning, armed with another pick—and a revolver—he returned to the spot.

  “Naturally, there was nobody there,” he said. “I climbed right up to the cleft in the rock since I thought the two creatures might have thrown my old pick—to which I was very attached—in there, but I found nothing.”

  Later, he made inquiries in Raveo as to whether anyone had noticed any kind of “aeroplane” in the sky. Two people told him, independently, that they had: in one case at 08:30 and in the other at approximately 10:00. One of the witnesses said he noticed a “red globe being carried aloft by the wind” behind the mountain on the slope on which the village lies.

  “At that time,” wrote Johannis, “I tried to explain my strange adventure in many different ways, but none of them having anything whatever to do with flying saucers or other craft of extraterrestrial origin. At first I thought the ‘saucer’ was an experimental machine of the Allied Forces which were then in occupation of the Campoformido aerodrome in the Fruili area. My next thought was of some device of Russian origin. Finally, I wondered about some unknown civilization still hidden away in some unexplored regions of the world like the Matto Grosso of Brazil. The most absurd hypotheses could be adapted to fit my extraordinary adventure. But not one of them was satisfactory, since not one of them could account for the presence of the two men.”

  Although pilot Kenneth Arnold’s famous sighting of what were dubbed “flying saucers” by the press in the United States—which occurred in the state of Washington on June 24, 1947—had been reported worldwide, flying saucers generally were not known about in Italy in the summer of 1947. Johannis decided therefore to tell no one of his experience. It was not until two months later, when he sailed for the United States, that he heard about the Arnold sighting. During a subsequent five-year stay in America, he read everything he could about the subject and in 1950 decided to relate his experience to two trusted friends, whose names and addresses were given to the Italian group which published this account. In 1952, on returning to Italy, he decided to approach a newspaper office.

  “I went to Milan and called upon the director of L’Europeo. There I was told that the subject was an interesting one but that, in order that it could be published, authenticated, it was necessary for me to furnish ‘proofs’ of its authenticity. I replied that, if on that morning in August 1947 I had imagined that I was going to encounter creatures from another world, I would certainly not have hesitated for one moment to take along a whole troop of journalists, cinematographers and (why not?) a company of soldiers too….”3

  In a letter in 1964 to Gianni Settimo, director and founder of the Centri Studi Clipeologici in Turin, Johannis enclosed sketches he had made to illustrate his report, published for the first time in their journal,4 adding some relevant remarks:

  “… As I told you, at such a distance in time, many of my recollections—exact enough at the time—have weakened and have consequently become a little confused. I refer particularly to the exact appearance of the ‘bodies’ of the two ‘beings’ met by me, as well as the shape of the eyes, since I am no longer certain whether they were vertical or horizontal slits or whether there weren’t any pupils at all.

  “When I sent my account of the episode from America to the Italian weekly L’Europeo, I sent it with a sketch of the ‘pilots,’ but when I came back to Europe that sketch was not returned to me because their editorial office had lost it. That sketch was done by me two months after the encounter, and consequently was much more faithful a reproduction than the ones done by me now.

  “However, generally speaking, the front view of the ‘head’ can be taken (apart from the pupils) as corresponding to the absence or not of ears or something similar that I can’t recall absolutely. The sketches of the complete figures are to be considered as rough and approximate outlines and consequently of purely general value….”5

  In assessing Professor Johannis’s report, we have to take into consideration the fact that, in addition to being well known as a painter, he was a prolific author who wrote at least fifteen books of science fiction. Of course, he could have invented the story. Though to what end? As far as I am aware, the story was never marketed separately nor incorporated into any of his books, and it did not appear in print until 1964, in a relatively obscure Italian UFO magazine.

  “I am at present inclined to believe that the two pilots were nothing more than two robots, whereas in 1947 I was convinced that I had met real and actual extrater
restrial beings,” wrote Johannis in 1964. “I believe that old pick of mine is now in a museum on some other planet. And I hope that somebody up there is trying to decipher the marks cut in the handle….”6

  A Flying Saucer Lands in the Italian Alps

  As Britain’s distinguished researcher Gordon Creighton pointed out in his accompanying notes to this report, there are striking resemblances—disc shape, low central cupola, and shiny metallic antenna—to the disputed photographs of a flying disc and its humanoid occupant taken in 1952 by the thirty-year-old Italian engineer Giampiero Monguzzi, in the presence of his wife, on the Alps (see photo section).

  Many researchers have arbitrarily confuted the photos, insisting that models were used. Having a particular prejudice to antennae sticking out of flying saucers and aliens wearing Apollo-type spacesuits (if long before such were used), I initially thought the same. But later, as an experienced photographer, I noted that the depth of field and everything else in the pictures appear proportionately correct in comparison with his written report. And in addition to parallels with the Johannis case, there are others.

  Monguzzi’s pictures are widely known among students of the subject. His actual report, however, is not.

  On the morning of July 31, 1952—a few days after a second wave of flying saucer sightings was reported that month and tracked over Washington, D.C.—Monguzzi and his wife were on a climbing trip near the Cherchen glacier on the Italian side of the Bernina massif, a little to the south of St. Moritz.

  “Suddenly, I felt something uncanny around us,” begins his account. “A cold wind had been blowing all the time from the summits, and we had just remarked that it sounded like a music chord, similar to that heard in the sails of a boat. But quite suddenly, this noise had stopped completely although we could still see the wind blowing up snow on the mountain rims. And then we noticed that we couldn’t even hear our own heavy footsteps on the gravel and icy ground, and we could no longer hear our voices, though we were quite near each other. I saw my wife’s mouth move but failed to detect a sound. It was an uncanny, compact silence which surrounded us, a strange kind of vacuum.7