Bill Says: Please refer to Parts 1 & 2 if lost or just beginning this strange tale.
As I walked up to the Flight Chief, outside the MARS Station on South Base, he begin to brief me on what had happened...at least as far as he was able to determine to this point.
Two people were working the swing shift at the MARS Site tonight. One was a female Airman First Class, (two stripes) and the other, a male Buck Sergeant, (three stripes). Approximately 30-seconds before the emergency call was made, the two of them had been busy with their machines, when they heard a loud crash outside. Though the female airmen first believed one of the vehicles had been crashed into, it was the sergeant who suspected the main gate was being smashed into. Neither of them was armed.
The sergeant walked over to the one window that looked out toward the gate and he suddenly startled the young female airman, by giving off a half-scream - half gasp, before feinting to the floor with a wump-like sound. Unfortunately, this would embarrass the young sergeant for sometime.
Seeing her supervisor collapsed on the floor, she ran over to the telephone to call the Security Police. This is when she had shreiked into the mouth piece, hurting my ear, and feinted to the floor only a few feet away from the young sergeant. Now most of us thought a girl feinting, upon being freightned, wasn't all that abnormal, but the poor guy should've saught reassignment to another base after his feinting episode...That was until other events occured and we understood why he was so startled.
When the South Base patrol arrived on scene, he discovered the gate smashed inward and was smart enough to park outside and walk-in, not wanting to destroy the gate further and cover over any tire prints caused by the intruder. He took caution, but remembering there were at least two people working inside, he continued to advance. He saw the two vehicles parked inside by the one entry door, but no other vehicles parked inside the compound or outside the fence.
He found the front door unlocked and discovered the two people unconscious on the floor. He first checked to make sure they were breathing and then took a brief look around before calling in. A combat veteran, his sixth sense was buzzing and he didn't like the feeling and this is why he wanted to flight chief dispatched to his location. None of the equipment appeared to be missing, nor was it damaged. Both personnel were first incoherant with the Security Police and the ambulance personnel, spouting off about some strange creature of amazing size. Due to this, their squadron commander ordered hospital personnel to administer blood tests for possible alcohol or drug usage. Both tested out negative for both booze and illegal narcotics, and they had no record of prior illegal usage. This greatly relieved the MARS Station Supervisor, who first arrived at the site and then appeared at the hopsital to check on his people. He was happy to see that none of the expensive equipment was destroyed, but the damage to the main gate troubled all of us. Later, when the two people were able to talk with us, refusing legal counsel, their separate stories were the same and they never had time to create a fable before the interviews. Doctors verfieid they had behaved as if truly shocked and their feintings appeared to be real. They were still excitable, while talking with our investigators and I later typed up these interviews.
After hearing the crashing noise, the sergeant first looked at his assistant's troubled expression and walked over to the window, not knowing what he would find. He first saw that the gate was heavily damaged and then he saw something that reminded him of a giant bear- his word, not mine. He thought it had burst through the gate and was now in the compound and approaching the building. He added that this thing, for a better term, had these two radiating blue eyes, each one the size of a old-fashioned silver dollar. The eyes glowed, he had said. The thing was dark in color, even under the overhead security lights and all he could distingush was those weird eyes and that was all he could remember. But added that he had never seen such a creature before and especially around the site or even in the desert before that very strange moment. At the time, I thought it very bizarre how he couldn't remember more about the thing, but later....
Now the girl, who was 19-years old, she couldn't remember any shape or form what so ever. Just those radiating blue eyes staring back at her through a southside window, as the thing came closer and closer. That's when she collapsed and now doesn't even remember making the call to me on the emergency line.
Well, so much for interviews. We accomplished a thorough check of the place- inside and outside. I halfway expected to find a large California Grizzly, or maybe an escaped Gorilla, hiding behind the MARS Station. But we found no animal or some man in a animal suit playing some kind of joke. We also didn't find a motorcycle with a battering ram to take the gate down. One of our patrolman found a clump of hair on the gate, which was dark brown in color and felt strange, unlike any hair I could recall and it didn't feel like plastic or cloth. It was placed into evidence.
The Flight Chief summoned me to the other side of the building, the same side where the window was that the female airman saw the thing. The Flight Chief had his flashlight aimed at the desert floor, adjacent the building. His beam was reflecting off a smashed Coke bottle, one of those little 8 ounce jobs. There was a foot empression, or what appeared to be a foot empression right on top of the bottle glass. I say on top, because the broken glass in the impression was driven down into the dirt. The investigator summoned by myself, made a plaster cast of the print and took all the glass into evidence. He had also taken a dozen or more photographs of the impression, this side of the building and of course the gate. We never found fresh tire tracks that could've come from a vehicle smashing its way through. Only the fresh tracks of the vehilces owned by the two airmen. The investigator also took impressions of the tire belonging to all the personnel who worked at the site.
It appeared to all of us that the bottle had recently been broken; the glass edges were clean and shiny. But the rest of the glass was dirty from long exposure. Now, from prior experience I know I could stand on one of those bottles and never break it and I weighed 300 pounds...remember I was 6'7" and not shaped like some dumpy basketball...okay. So, I had to figure this thing was heavier than I. We also noticed that to look through this window, as the young airman had stated, the thing had to be over 7 foot tall and closer to 8 feet in height. The building was split level, making the first floor over 3-feet above ground. The thought of such a thing sent a cold chill up my back and we tossed around all kind of ideas... was it NASA? Was it from a UFO.... or was it a prank?
When the cast impression was pulled it revealed a flat print just over 14-inches in length and 6-inches wide. There were no ridges, no marks or scars- a real flat foot. There was also no evience of any blood from breaking the bottle. Nothing else was found at the site.
The Flight Chief insisted I ride back with him, so I turned my keys over to another patrolman and reminded him the vehicle had transmission problems. He was to deadline it upon returning to SP Headquarters. I don't think my Flight Chief trusted me, he saw that look in my eyes and probably thought I'd be out scouring the desert for this thing. I admit the idea had run through my mind- but I had a lot of typing to do. We didn't have word processors back then, but at least my typewriter was electric and I had a lot of white out.
Oddly enough, the very next day the MARS Site was closed down. All the equipment was moved and placed into another facility closer to Main Base.
I finally finished my report, attached evidence sheets and interviews, and handed it over to my Flight Chief for him to review. I also added the needed information to my running police blotter. The blotter is always provided to the Base Commander so he can keep an eye on what was occuring around the base, so it was constantly reviewed for content, spelling errors and mistakes before being sent to the Base Command Post. I can't tell you how many times I had to redo my blotter before I could go home. Everything looked okay tonight and I returned to the dorm, letting the mid-shift desk sergeant take over the reins. The oncoming flight was briefed on the incident and warned to keep their eyes open. An extra two-man patrol was assigned to South Base.
The next morning, I was awakened by an unapologetic day shift patrolman with loud knuckles, advising me my presence was required at SP Headquarters. They wanted my blotter completely redone and all mention of last night removed. I was advised the incident report was gone and later discovered so was the evidence.
Although I felt it wrong to retype the blotter, I followed my orders. I also wondered why the day shift guy couldn't have done it, but then remembered my signature was required at the bottom of each page. So, it took me less than an hour to accomplish what they wanted. I had to redo it twice due to mistakes- I'm not at my best early in the morning. I also only used three fingers to type back then and now use five. Having been self-taught, I tried typing school and thought they were trying to break my fingers and went back to my method. However, over the years I've learned to be quite fast with my five finger method. It was either that or get off work a couple hours late. There was one such night that left me with over 20 incident reports and I got off work some 7 or 8 hours later. The base was having racial problems in the barracks. Still, for some reason they liked my calm composure on the desk- probably something from having the daylights all scared out of my in Viet Nam.
Will, nothing happened for the next few nights, except for the routine UFO sightings that were called in from off-base residents and the few obscene phone calls called in by my intoxicated buddies. But otherwise, it was quiet and I was once again pestering my Flight Chief to let me back on patrol- he wouldn't budge.
Then.... sorry, you have to wait for the next part.
As I walked up to the Flight Chief, outside the MARS Station on South Base, he begin to brief me on what had happened...at least as far as he was able to determine to this point.
Two people were working the swing shift at the MARS Site tonight. One was a female Airman First Class, (two stripes) and the other, a male Buck Sergeant, (three stripes). Approximately 30-seconds before the emergency call was made, the two of them had been busy with their machines, when they heard a loud crash outside. Though the female airmen first believed one of the vehicles had been crashed into, it was the sergeant who suspected the main gate was being smashed into. Neither of them was armed.
The sergeant walked over to the one window that looked out toward the gate and he suddenly startled the young female airman, by giving off a half-scream - half gasp, before feinting to the floor with a wump-like sound. Unfortunately, this would embarrass the young sergeant for sometime.
Seeing her supervisor collapsed on the floor, she ran over to the telephone to call the Security Police. This is when she had shreiked into the mouth piece, hurting my ear, and feinted to the floor only a few feet away from the young sergeant. Now most of us thought a girl feinting, upon being freightned, wasn't all that abnormal, but the poor guy should've saught reassignment to another base after his feinting episode...That was until other events occured and we understood why he was so startled.
When the South Base patrol arrived on scene, he discovered the gate smashed inward and was smart enough to park outside and walk-in, not wanting to destroy the gate further and cover over any tire prints caused by the intruder. He took caution, but remembering there were at least two people working inside, he continued to advance. He saw the two vehicles parked inside by the one entry door, but no other vehicles parked inside the compound or outside the fence.
He found the front door unlocked and discovered the two people unconscious on the floor. He first checked to make sure they were breathing and then took a brief look around before calling in. A combat veteran, his sixth sense was buzzing and he didn't like the feeling and this is why he wanted to flight chief dispatched to his location. None of the equipment appeared to be missing, nor was it damaged. Both personnel were first incoherant with the Security Police and the ambulance personnel, spouting off about some strange creature of amazing size. Due to this, their squadron commander ordered hospital personnel to administer blood tests for possible alcohol or drug usage. Both tested out negative for both booze and illegal narcotics, and they had no record of prior illegal usage. This greatly relieved the MARS Station Supervisor, who first arrived at the site and then appeared at the hopsital to check on his people. He was happy to see that none of the expensive equipment was destroyed, but the damage to the main gate troubled all of us. Later, when the two people were able to talk with us, refusing legal counsel, their separate stories were the same and they never had time to create a fable before the interviews. Doctors verfieid they had behaved as if truly shocked and their feintings appeared to be real. They were still excitable, while talking with our investigators and I later typed up these interviews.
After hearing the crashing noise, the sergeant first looked at his assistant's troubled expression and walked over to the window, not knowing what he would find. He first saw that the gate was heavily damaged and then he saw something that reminded him of a giant bear- his word, not mine. He thought it had burst through the gate and was now in the compound and approaching the building. He added that this thing, for a better term, had these two radiating blue eyes, each one the size of a old-fashioned silver dollar. The eyes glowed, he had said. The thing was dark in color, even under the overhead security lights and all he could distingush was those weird eyes and that was all he could remember. But added that he had never seen such a creature before and especially around the site or even in the desert before that very strange moment. At the time, I thought it very bizarre how he couldn't remember more about the thing, but later....
Now the girl, who was 19-years old, she couldn't remember any shape or form what so ever. Just those radiating blue eyes staring back at her through a southside window, as the thing came closer and closer. That's when she collapsed and now doesn't even remember making the call to me on the emergency line.
Well, so much for interviews. We accomplished a thorough check of the place- inside and outside. I halfway expected to find a large California Grizzly, or maybe an escaped Gorilla, hiding behind the MARS Station. But we found no animal or some man in a animal suit playing some kind of joke. We also didn't find a motorcycle with a battering ram to take the gate down. One of our patrolman found a clump of hair on the gate, which was dark brown in color and felt strange, unlike any hair I could recall and it didn't feel like plastic or cloth. It was placed into evidence.
The Flight Chief summoned me to the other side of the building, the same side where the window was that the female airman saw the thing. The Flight Chief had his flashlight aimed at the desert floor, adjacent the building. His beam was reflecting off a smashed Coke bottle, one of those little 8 ounce jobs. There was a foot empression, or what appeared to be a foot empression right on top of the bottle glass. I say on top, because the broken glass in the impression was driven down into the dirt. The investigator summoned by myself, made a plaster cast of the print and took all the glass into evidence. He had also taken a dozen or more photographs of the impression, this side of the building and of course the gate. We never found fresh tire tracks that could've come from a vehicle smashing its way through. Only the fresh tracks of the vehilces owned by the two airmen. The investigator also took impressions of the tire belonging to all the personnel who worked at the site.
It appeared to all of us that the bottle had recently been broken; the glass edges were clean and shiny. But the rest of the glass was dirty from long exposure. Now, from prior experience I know I could stand on one of those bottles and never break it and I weighed 300 pounds...remember I was 6'7" and not shaped like some dumpy basketball...okay. So, I had to figure this thing was heavier than I. We also noticed that to look through this window, as the young airman had stated, the thing had to be over 7 foot tall and closer to 8 feet in height. The building was split level, making the first floor over 3-feet above ground. The thought of such a thing sent a cold chill up my back and we tossed around all kind of ideas... was it NASA? Was it from a UFO.... or was it a prank?
When the cast impression was pulled it revealed a flat print just over 14-inches in length and 6-inches wide. There were no ridges, no marks or scars- a real flat foot. There was also no evience of any blood from breaking the bottle. Nothing else was found at the site.
The Flight Chief insisted I ride back with him, so I turned my keys over to another patrolman and reminded him the vehicle had transmission problems. He was to deadline it upon returning to SP Headquarters. I don't think my Flight Chief trusted me, he saw that look in my eyes and probably thought I'd be out scouring the desert for this thing. I admit the idea had run through my mind- but I had a lot of typing to do. We didn't have word processors back then, but at least my typewriter was electric and I had a lot of white out.
Oddly enough, the very next day the MARS Site was closed down. All the equipment was moved and placed into another facility closer to Main Base.
I finally finished my report, attached evidence sheets and interviews, and handed it over to my Flight Chief for him to review. I also added the needed information to my running police blotter. The blotter is always provided to the Base Commander so he can keep an eye on what was occuring around the base, so it was constantly reviewed for content, spelling errors and mistakes before being sent to the Base Command Post. I can't tell you how many times I had to redo my blotter before I could go home. Everything looked okay tonight and I returned to the dorm, letting the mid-shift desk sergeant take over the reins. The oncoming flight was briefed on the incident and warned to keep their eyes open. An extra two-man patrol was assigned to South Base.
The next morning, I was awakened by an unapologetic day shift patrolman with loud knuckles, advising me my presence was required at SP Headquarters. They wanted my blotter completely redone and all mention of last night removed. I was advised the incident report was gone and later discovered so was the evidence.
Although I felt it wrong to retype the blotter, I followed my orders. I also wondered why the day shift guy couldn't have done it, but then remembered my signature was required at the bottom of each page. So, it took me less than an hour to accomplish what they wanted. I had to redo it twice due to mistakes- I'm not at my best early in the morning. I also only used three fingers to type back then and now use five. Having been self-taught, I tried typing school and thought they were trying to break my fingers and went back to my method. However, over the years I've learned to be quite fast with my five finger method. It was either that or get off work a couple hours late. There was one such night that left me with over 20 incident reports and I got off work some 7 or 8 hours later. The base was having racial problems in the barracks. Still, for some reason they liked my calm composure on the desk- probably something from having the daylights all scared out of my in Viet Nam.
Will, nothing happened for the next few nights, except for the routine UFO sightings that were called in from off-base residents and the few obscene phone calls called in by my intoxicated buddies. But otherwise, it was quiet and I was once again pestering my Flight Chief to let me back on patrol- he wouldn't budge.
Then.... sorry, you have to wait for the next part.
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