HAVE UNUSUAL CAVES BEEN FOUND IN THE US?

Author Leland Lovelace told about such a discovery in Lost Mines and Buried Treasure.  Lovelace said two prospectors were searching for a gold strike in the desolate mountains of southwestern Nevada.  The two men were digging in the arid soil when a cave-in led them into a vast underground tunnel.  Following the passageway, they went deep into the mountain and entered a large subterranean room


The two astonished prospectors held their torches high and saw that the cave was furnished with chairs and tables.  The furniture was very large, as if manufactured for a race of giants.  Dishes cast from gold and silver were also found on the tables.  Other artifacts made from precious metals were discovered in the cavern.


Lovelace did not inform his readers as to what the prospectors did with their discovery.  We can assume they carried as much of the precious metal as possible from the scene, then melted down the objects for their gold and silver.  This often occurs when a gold-seeker finds a rare archaeological discovery.  Rather than risk the treasure being taken over by the state or federal government, these men play a game of "finder's keepers"r.


In 1904, a prospector named J. C. Brown claimed to have made an intriguing discover in the Cascade mountain range of California.  Brown had been hired by the Lord Cowdray Mining Company of England to prospect for gold in these isolated areas.  During his second trip into the Cascades, Brown found a man made tunnel carved into a solid rock wall.  According to old reports, a landslide had destroyed a rock wall that hid the tunnel entrance.


Brown followed the enormous tunnel through the mountain and came to a large, man made cavern.  The room was lined with sheets of tempered copper.  Strange circular shields hammered from gold were hung on the walls.  Unusual artifacts and statues were located in niches in the cavern walls.  Unusual drawings, strange art, undecipherable hieroglyphics and the skeletons of what was apparently a giant race were found in rooms leading off from the large cavern.


Unwilling to share his discovery with his English employers, Brown did not report the treasure cavern.  Instead, he continued to work for various mining companies for the next thirty years until his retirement.  Then, in 1934, he popped up in Stockton, California, with a map and an intriguing tale.  Within a few days, eighty people were willing to assist the now-aging prospector in getting the precious artifacts out of the cave.


On June 19, 1934, Brown and his followers traveled into the Cascade mountains.  They camped by a small stream, waiting until morning when Brown was to show the group an entrance into the treasure cavern.  However, during the night, the old prospector vanished.  He has not been seen since that night.


Fearing that Brown had somehow duped the eighty people, detectives on the Stockton police department investigated.  "Brown didn't take a cent from anyone," the detectives said after their check-out.


The police chief asked, "What was his game?"


The detective shrugged.


"Was he murdered out there?" asked the chief.


"He was probably an old liar who knew his time was up," replied one of the detectives.


"Brown was a kindly old gentleman of advanced years when he arrived in Stockton," a doctor wrote several yeas ago. "I was a curious young man at that time, always interested in occult lore.  Anything that smelled of adventure grabbed my interest.  Brown's stories were fascinating.  They may have been tall stories about mythical things by an old man looking for companionship.  Somehow, over the years, I've gained new respect for the old man.  I believe he was telling the truth.  I don't know his reasons, but I think he changed his mind at the last minute and decided not to reveal the location of the lost treasure vault of the Lemurian giants."


Another unusual mystery occurred when the miners at the Lion Coal Company in Watts, Utah, were drilling an eight-foot seam of coal a few years ago.  The miners were nearing the end of their seam when they pushed through the earth into a pair of ancient tunnels inside the mountain.


"The two tunnels were about two hundred feet apart," miners told newsmen after their discover.  "They were about six feet high, six feet wide, and several smaller shafts ran from both sides of each tunnel."


The mysterious tunnels were 450 feet from the nearest entrance.  Weather and erosion had erased any sign of an outside entrance.  "We couldn't find an opening," the miners agreed.  "There also wasn't any sign of tools or equipment that might have been used to make the tunnels."


At a news conference, a reporter asked, "Could these tunnels have been formed by some natural process?"


A miner shook his head.  "I've been underground for the past seventeen years.  I've drilled into a lot of pockets and cavities, but you know when they're formed by nature."


Subsequently, professor J.D. Jennings of the University of Utah checked out the mysterious subterranean shafts.  He stated they were man made.  However, he also doubted that the enigmatic tunnels were made by Indians mining in that area.


Who - or what - created the tunnels has remained a mystery.  Perhaps, in some manner, they are linked with the  hollow-earth mystery.  They may have been left by miners who supplied energy to an advanced civilization back in the dim mists of prehistory.

SASQUATCH MAILED HOME!

THANK YOU Ryan Combs

I have never been one for having an interest in the unknown
 or the paranormal, but when someone you trust tells of an
 experience from their past, sometimes you have to give the
 benefit of the doubt. I was reading Your True Tales about a
 month ago and came across a story that took place in New Jersey
 on or about the area of Doris Duke farms. After reading it my
 jaw dropped because this story gave the one that was told to
 me some validity. My grandfather told me this story back in
 1991, a few years before he passed away... and so it goes.

My grandfather worked from the late 1950s to the early '70s as
 a landscaper on the Duke Estate in Somerset, N.J. When he told
 this story to my sister and me, he was foggy when giving the
 exact dates, but he was still very sharp and explained it with
 incredible detail. My grandfather's job was to manicure and care
 for the lawns in the north section of the property (whatever that 
meant) and other various duties. He said that in the summer of
1972, one August afternoon, he was told by the head grounds
keeper that he would be working overtime and that he was needed
 because a shipment was being delivered from Wisconsin. They 
 needed about eight men to unload a crate and to bring it into the
 garden area.

That night, the truck arrived and it was getting late. The men who
 were asked to stay for overtime were eager to get things done and
 over with and be on their way. When the truck pulled up, my
 grandfather said that the crate was about 8 feet tall and 5 feet wide. 
 When he asked what was inside it, the one in charge said they were 
 exotic trees.

What happened next was enough to make half of the team get up 
and walk off the job and not care about the consequences. 
When the men started pushing the crate off of the flatbed truck,
a blood-curdling scream was unleashed from within the box.
All of the men let go of their grip and the crate fell to the floor. 
As everyone jumped back, realizing that this was anything but a 
tree, the head keep did all he could to 'save the contents' real
identity and said that there was a black bear inside of it.

While the men were regaining their composure, most of the
helpers walked off the job. They said they didn't want to get
hurt or mauled dealing with a wild animal without the proper
safety equipment, so off they went, including my grandfather.
Only two men stayed to finish what they were asked, and so 
this is what was told to my grandfather.

The two remaining men managed to get the load onto a dolly
and then drag it into the garden compound. While guiding the
crate down the main path, balance was lost and the crate came
off the wheels. The hard hit was enough to crack the side of the
crate and loosen the side panel, which fell off and exposed the
contents. What the two remaining men witnessed that night 
was enough to make them seek employment elsewhere.

What I am telling you was how it was told to me. Inside the
crate sat a creature that had the shape of a man, but was 
anything but a man. They couldn't give a height measurement
ince the creature was in a sitting position, but they said it was huge
It had the shape of a man with a very large frame, only it was 
covered with black hair. The "creature" was strapped down and
had shackles on his legs and feet and arms. The face didn't look
like a man, but had some human features. The workers said it
looked more like a monkey or a gorilla. The hair was extremely
long and dirty. At one point, one of the men said they thought that
this "thing" was trying to speak or communicate with words,
but all it did was keep on drooling. They were under the
impression that this creature was heavily sedated because
it couldn't keep his head up straight; it rested its head on its chest.

A couple of inches away from the creature's head was an 
empty water bottle nailed to the wall. On the other side of the
creature was an IV stand connected to the wall and stuck to 
its arm. It might have been used to feed this "creature" during
its transport. One of the oddest parts to this story was that my
grandfather was told that this creature was sitting on a rocking
chair! I could never understand this. After thinking about it, though,
I think it was maybe to prevent this "thing" from getting cramps
during the move. They also said that the odor was overpowering
and enough to make anyone pass out -- the combined smells of
urine, waste and body odor was rank.

My Grandfather stuck by this story until the very end. About 
two weeks before he passed away, my sister reminded me to 
bring it up again and confront him, which I did. There was no
need to go over the story again because we both knew how it
went. I just asked him, "Papa, remember the crate you had to 
move in Jersey?" He just looked at me, smiled and said, "Of
course." I said, "Did you embellish at all?" He said, "No, there
was no reason to. It happened the way I said it happened." I 
said, "Because now would be the time to tell me."

He looked at me and said, "You want to know if I embellished
the story. The truth is that I am guilty of the opposite." There
was so much that I left out... the story was just the beginning. 
Remember something, I worked there for two more years after 
that. There are things that a young mind should not hear." I said,
"But I am not a child anymore. I am sure I can handle what it is
that you have to say."

Grandfather said, "Tomorrow I will finish the story. Come back
 tomorrow." But there was no tomorrow. Grandfather passed 
away at 2 a.m. at New York Hospital. This is a true story.

CLOSE ENCOUNTER IN CAMBODIA - FINAL

BOSTROM:  What do you think the diameter was?
Joe:  It's hard to judge because we were a little distance from it.  I would say that it was at a bare minimum of 50 feet.It could have been as far across as 150 feet.  It was very difficult to judge.  It was a mirrored surface.  So you're looking at something and the jungle is being reflected and its really hard to judge the size.  I know it was at least as tall as a five story building.  What didn't make any sense is why it should be spheroid.  Whatever propulsion system it required, I don't know.  Perhaps it's some type of anti-gravity drive and you'd have to have everything centered.
BOSTROM:  Was it round like a ball?
Joe:  Round like a ball.  Perfectly round as far as I could tell.  There was one symbol on the side of what appeared to be, I would say, black paint.  Either this, or there was just no coating on this area, of a simple symbol of an arc.  Almost like a pyramid with a line drawn underneath it.


We returned to base.  The Thais of course weren't going to say anything to anybody.  They saw nothing.  They heard nothing.  They were just along for the ride, which was a typical reaction for the Thais. They didn't want o get involved.  They were quite shaken by it as we were.  It took us approximately three days to get back to the border.
BOSTROM:  What did everybody talk about on the way back?
Joe:  Absolutely nothing.  We decided on the way back that nobody say anything.  We didn't hear anything.  We didn't know anything about it.  We got back to the base and the first thing we did was head for a hot shower, because you had to pull all the lice off you and everything else and felt pretty darn dirty.


BOSTROM:  The boy that got knocked down, was he alright?
Joe:  He was alright at that point  At that point he was fine.  He seemed to be just fine.  He was a corporal and went to his barracks.  I was in officer's barracks.  A fellow from the Provost Marshal's office came in and informed me that I had to report to the Captain's office immediately  I said, do I have time to rinse off?  He said, just barely.  He said put on some clothes and get over there.  They want to talk to you right now.  I asked him what it was about.  He said, I don't know, they won't tell me, just get your tail over there, it's something very heavy.  He said they were quite confused about something  I walked into the Captain's office.  We were met by the captain, a couple of majors, a Colonel and some civilians.  If you've ever worked with anybody with the "firm" they reek of it.  You generally expect them in gray flannel suits and white socks but these fellows just reeked of the "firm" and (name withheld) was in it.
BOSTROM: __________?
Joe: ______________, this gentleman rode with MJ.
BOSTROM:  The what now?
Joe:  MJ - Majestic 12.
BOSTROM:  MJ-12?
Joe:  Right.  The only way we ever heard him call it was MJ-12 or MJ.  We knew he worked for that.  We didn't know what the heck it was.  The only thing we knew was that any enemy aircraft that was sighted had to be reported to him.  Any photographs we took had to be given to him.  They were overly concerned about enemy aircraft, unusual sightings, things like that.  Just anything out of the ordinary.  So we dealt with him sometimes almost on a daily basis.  He'd call us in occasionally to look at photographs and say, what is this?  And we'd say that's a Russian gun ship; it has so much armament - OK that's what I want to know, thank you very much, discuss this with no one and have a nice day.  He was very single sided with information.  We gave him everything.  He told us nothing  Absolutely nothing.  He was a cold blooded man.  I don't think I ever saw the man sweat.  Most of the time he wore a black suit or a dark gray flannel suit.  When you are in Thailand and it's at that point in the year it's somewhere between 97 and 100 degrees, 100 to 110% relatively humidity, it's so hot you get heat that's like fog.  And he was cold blooded.  I've never seen another human being in my life like that.  I don't think I ever saw him sweat except for this incident.  And he had a cold sweat going into this.  He ended up taking his jacket off.  You never see him outside of a jacket.  They sat us down and they grilled us for that day at least 3 1/2 to 4 hours.  And they kept asking the same questions over and over.  And I was trying to find out who it was that told them because when we got back together later nobody had said anything.  So something, or somebody, snitched and said well you don't tell anybody you told.
BOSTROM:  Someone would have had to run in immediately and tell them.
Joe:  We hadn't been back more than an hour.  We usually took a shower, got cleaned up and got a little rest before we were debriefed because that could sometimes take many hours.  It was very interesting.  They even sequestered us in our quarters.  We were told not to have any outside activities at all and meals would be brought to us.  We were not to talk to any unauthorized personnel which meant them or someone directly with authorization from the Provost Marshal's Office.  Then we spent the next 3 to 3 1/2 weeks talking to various people, some of which I don't know who in the heck they were.  Several were psychologists.  It was very obvious by the kind of questions we were being asked and they started dragging out the ink blots.  If your familiar with the Military when they generally bring in the ink blots and try to make it sound like something of a sexual nature they leave you alone. They figure this guys healthy, this guys fine and get out of my office - you are alright.  We went on with this for two or 2 1/2 weeks then they started using narcohypnosis.
BOSTROM:  How did that operate?.
Joe:  Essentially they sit you in a chair, make sure your nice and comfy.  Hook up the sphygmomanometer, blood pressure tape, and get you highly relaxed using soothing music sometimes, and give you an injection of a basically, what is called a hypnotic drug.  There were drugs like Seconal, Scopolamine - the type that have a tendency to reducing what they call psychic resistance.  You get your body as relaxed as possible and you loose your will.  They actually hypnotize you at that point.  It's a combination of drugs and hypnosis.  It's my understanding we were trained in our training to go through tortures and things like that.  There wasn't a one of us that couldn't pass a polygraph test and lie about his age, the color of his mother and the color of the sky.  They had us as well covered as they could in case we were captured we knew how to respond  The only thing I can say that occurred during that time was that in one way or another they altered our memories.  Now, I do not know whether they.. we saw something else... or they gave us a different memory and that's what we ended up with or what we saw was much worse than occurred and I toned it down.  I do know that every one of us still have occasional nightmares about it and we get flashes of things that are just an incredible blood-bath.  George was reassigned from our unit after we had all cleared through medical and psychological.  I was called into the Captain's office, approximately what would have been 6 or 8 weeks after the incident to identify a body they told me was George.  Now I'd seen the man on the base a few days before.  The body they showed me was far, far decomposed.  Even in the jungle where you have rapid decomposition.
BOSTROM:  But you couldn't positively identify the body?
Joe:  I couldn't identify it as George.  The flesh was all liquified.
BOSTROM:  So for all you could see it may have been someone else.
Joe:  The only thing I can say is his tissue had seemed to suffer from some kind of extreme disruption - like every cell wall had been broken.  Like you see with a cold sore. It's called lisodumine when the cells rupture and the virus comes out for some kind of bacteriological agent in it that affected it.  I don't think it was the latter.  I think whatever happened to him - whether they transferred him to show me the body and say that's George.
BOSTROM:  Why would they show you a body you couldn't identify?
Joe:  The people we were dealing with were very, very careful about covering all avenues.  They never left a thread hanging - and I don't know - I lost all track of it at that point.  As far as I knew he was dead.  Why, I was called in to identify the body and sign the papers.  The only way I could identify him was his dog tags.  The usual thing was that during combat, because of the nature of our unit. dog tags were retrieved by a ranking officer and returned to you when you returned to base.  We carried what was called T8407-?-T101 which was called a get-out-of-jail-free card.  It was a cardboard card with two sides and department logo on one side to say the individual was  allowed to be carrying strange and unusual weapons, may or may not be in uniform and not to be detained for any reason whatsoever.  If this card is found on a body it is to be burned with the body and reported to a telephone number state side and a group to contact and it went back to combak.


BOSTROM:  Is that about all you can remember?
Joe: Well that's the problem.  If we really sit down and try to pressure us through it, you get confused.  I talked to a couple of fellows that were involved in it and they have the same kind of problem. Slowly but surely, things emerge and over the years more and more has come up.  It was years before I ever had a desire at all to talk about it.  Not because it was frightening because the "firm" told us not to or that they were going to place it under the National Security act, but because I absolutely had no desire whatsoever to talk about it.


BOSTROM:  Do you remember any other details such as how they entered the craft?
Joe:  It was like a section slid down.  Like it just created itself on the side and slid down.
BOSTROM: Do you remember a ramp?
Joe: It slid down and it tilted down to the ground had a stair on it and formed a ramp for them to walk right up with steps on it.
BOSTROM:  Did it look like they were walking on steps?
Joe:  It had steps on it because they were stepping and it wasn't like they shuffled on the ramp.  Their gait was very smooth, almost unerring and they covered a lot of ground in a little bit of time.  But the main problem is like I said, if we sit down and try to really go through the details and think hard about it I end up almost with an anxiety attack.  Whatever it was that they did to bury those things is pretty permanent.  Over the years, I still occasionally have nightmares about it.  I'd wake up in a cold sweat and I'd remember for awhile.  It's frustrating.  I find myself angry because I don't know what the heck they did to us.
BOSTROM:  Do you know one or two of the people and can you get a hold of them today?
Joe: Yes, there's five or six I could get a hold of.  Most of them just refuse to talk about it at all.  Two of them I know still work for the "firm."  They are active so they're not going to talk about it.  Bill suffers from delayed stress syndrome and when he came home he was never the same.
BOSTROM:  Has someone contacted you lately on this?
Joe:  I still have some friends with the "firm."  I did some work for them after I was discharged from the service.  One of them called me on a very friendly basis just as a friend.


BOSTROM:  What is the "firm?
Joe:  When you hear people involved in security; I'll let you in a little secret here.  They never call a certain agency of the government the company.  They like to call it - it's referred to as the "firm."  Again, what we were with was literally a front for that agencies military part which we are not supposed to have one of... it had one.  Recently there have been little leaks about that.  I did find out that a few weeks after we had our incident there were at least two more.


One of which, some fellows were pinned down and two of those little fellows stepped out of the woods.  One of them threw a small object out between them and the Phaphet Lao that had them pinned down.  They described it as a darkness grenade instead of a smoke grenade.  It put up enough of a partition of darkness that they were able to escape and they came back.  Regardless of how tight security is on a base like that everybody more or less sleeps in the same bed.  Many things get out.  These guys came back and immediately came down - what the hell did they do to you guys when you saw that thing and they went through the same procedure.  Recently I was talking to a good friend of mine who was in Thailand with the Air Force and we were talking about it and laughing about the fellow from the "firm" calling me and he said what happened when I told him and he looked at me and said, "Oh, you boys!" because he'd heard about the incident and people took it either with great hilarity - it was the funniest thing they had ever heard, or quite a few people were scared and we never did find out what Uncle Sam had determined about it. I can well imagine what they determined about it.  We were all on drugs or swamp gas but they never released that information to us.


BOSTROM:  Did you hear of any other cases like that in the region?
Joe:  There was quite a few.  They were always seeing them.  Even back in World War II in Burma.  They had the Foo Fighters.  Fellows kept seeing them follow along the aircraft.  The only thing I can say is whoever or whatever these humanoids are is they are very interested in our work here.


BOSTROM:  What did the guys that saw the smoke bomb say about the craft?
Joe:  They didn't see a craft.  All they saw was the fellows that we had seen - some of the smaller ones.
BOSTROM:  They just appeared there?
Joe:  They heard a noise out in the jungle and these two fellows came in and they heard it over the gunfire so evidently whatever it was - was very, very loud.  These fellows peeked out - looked around - looked at them and they see them clearly.  They turned to each other and whatever discussion they had- one of hem reached up and threw a small object and they said it was small enough - it couldn't be any smaller than a tennis ball and it went off with a loud pop.  Not an explosion but a pop.  It's just like dark gas.  It came up like smoke does but it was darkness and they looked at each other and said "what the hell is this? and one of them said, "I don't care, let's get out of here."  So they high-tailed it out.  It took the Phaphet Lao back far enough that they couldn't pursue them.  They never seen anything like that and never did we.


BOSTROM:  Did they take their clothes to check for residue?
Joe:  They'd done that several times.  They took our fatigues.  Other than that, one of the most interesting things about this - our memories were never exactly the same.  Whatever they did it altered our memories - affected it with great permanence, but there is no such thing as a total block.  Those things come in surges.  I know that up to that point in time, I've always been fascinated with the idea - had always want to believe in it, but never really saw enough that really made me believe that they're was any such thing. Whoever, or whatever, I'm convinced that they're not present populace of this earth?
BOSTROM:  You don't care about my recording this?
Joe: No, I have no problems with it at all.


FOOTNOTE:


Joe has returned to active duty with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel.

CLOSE ENCOUNTER IN CAMBODIA

The following article was sent to me by a member in Illinois.  What is intriguing is the mention of MJ12 way before we ever heard of it publicly.  This is Part 1 as this is very long.

CLOSE ENCOUNTER IN CAMBODIA - 1971

By Peter A. Bostrom

ABSTRACT:  The following is word-for-word as transcribed from a tape interview by myself with a retired military "Special Forces" officer who served in Thailand during the Vietnam War.  This is an account of a close encounter with several EBEs and their space vehicle.

Unlike other countless reports of similar "high strangeness" meetings with extraterrestrials this account is maybe even more interesting because it happened in "war time" surroundings in Cambodia, a country out-of-bounds for US troops at the time, plus there is mention of MJ12 as a government entity who was involved with the gathering of information about Unidentified Objects in the air space in and around Thailand and it shows how determined the government is to extract all information it can on the subject.  Also there is mention of another strange encounter from the same general area.

I will use the name Joe in place of this gentleman's real name.  I spoke with Joe off and on for several weeks.  When he spoke about this encounter he never changed his story and I believe he wants to give the true account as he himself believed it happened.  As my conversations continued with Joe he said he had a message that he could freely speak about the subject of his encounter with the extraterrestrials in Cambodia and anything else concerning the subject "since this information will be made public in the near future anyway," but he was not to specifically indicate the true reason why he was in Cambodia.  This "other officer" also talked about the UFO subject in general saying such things as the Roswell crash really happened and described precise methods of how people are taken to see the alien vehicle and bodies using high security procedures in transporting these people who need to go there for various reasons. He also talked about two different alien beings.  One name he used was the "Grays" and the other was the "Nordics."

TRANSCRIBED ACCOUNT

Joe:  Basically I will describe what happened.  In September 1971 I was stationed with the Army in Thailand.  Originally a routine mission in Cambodia close to an area called Tonle Sap just south of Angkor Wat, where the temples are.

We had gone on a previous mission in answer to some problems and had gone back in on a search and destroy mission.  This area we were mainly concerned about was insurgents from the Khmer Rouge - Pol Pot's people.  They were really wreaking havoc at the time with the local indigenous personnel.  We were after one group and when going through the jungle we heard some noises coming from a hidden area.

BOSTROM:  You heard a noise?

Joe: We heard some noises that sounded like generators or machinery.  Something with a hum.

BOSTROM:  So that's what attracted you?

Joe:  Yes, we assumed they had some kind of refueling station or something out there.  It's quite common for the Khmer Rouge and Phaphet Lao to use a high clearing in the jungle to make an artificial clearing for refueling helicopters, things like that.  They didn't have too many.  Most of them were Russian made - and they could refuel them - and we thought we really struck on a good one this time or thought they were building equipment buildings or bunkers or such.

When we came into the clearing we were quite surprised to find something quite unlike what I've ever seen before.  At the time I held the rank of Lieutenant. We had with us approximately fourteen Special Forces, of our country, and several dozen Thai arranged with us.

BOSTROM:  So you were in Special Forces?

Joe;  Yes, I was originally with the 101st Airborne Special Tactical Unit.  We were reassigned 506th Air Calvary sent to Thailand.  They were with the auspices of a group we won't discuss for obvious reasons.  During this time there had been several reports of some strange instances.  We more or less "poo-pooed" them thinking they were people getting scared in combat.  You have a few guys taking drugs, we didn't have anybody in our unit that was. You just don't really know.  Things come out of the jungle.  You see them flying through the trees and it looks quite different than it would in broad daylight in an open area.

We entered the clearing.  It was almost spherical in shape suspended on four legs.  The base of which it looked like it touched the ground.  I couldn't really tell if it was actually on the ground or not and there were a number of - the best description I could say, were humanoids.  It's difficult to remember for a couple of reasons that we'll get into a little later.  There were at least as many of them as there were of us.

BOSTROM:  How many do you think"

Joe:  I would say there was anywhere between 16 to 21.  There was quite a few.  There wasn't just a handful of fellows out there in the jungle. 

Their appearance was not that of any human being I'd ever seen on earth.  Skin was a grayish whitish color.  They were wearing what appeared to be a one piece jump suit which was silver in color.  Much like the metalized Mylar like a heat suit. It didn't appear to be a pressure suit of any kind.  We found out later that it was quite a strong material.  When we approached they really didn't notice us at first and when they did they turned toward us.  Some of the fellows were carrying items; the only way I can describe it, are some type of instruments.  

Didn't see any weapons anywhere.  Made a quick judgment.  It didn't look like any weapon I'd ever seen so I thought it could be safe.  We had a young corporal with us.  Well, this was his second time in combat and he didn't react very well.  These, well, I'll call them aliens; one of the aliens turned toward him with something in his hand which he evidently thought was a weapon of some type and he felt threatened and let loose a short burst of fire from a Browning FNFAL which is literally a three way Winchester.  It has a 150 grain slug; the same hitting power as the 30-0-6 out to 15 yards.  About the shortest burst you could fire on full auto is somewhere between 8 and 12 rounds, which of a distance from 30 to 35 feet where it struck this fellow would devastate a normal human being.  The only thing I can justify, we wear flack jackets most of the time.  The material, whatever it was, is of the same material as the "second chance" like we had which was a compact, lightweight bullet proof vest.  I've been struck several times with slugs with those - rib cage broken, you get bruised very badly.  You feel like you are going to die, but as a general rule, unless its an armor piercing slug or some type of Teflon siding jacket, they don't penetrate.  I've never seen one penetrate.  I've seen 50 caliber shells go through but nothing much smaller than that.  Nothing except for that high caliber and high velocity will pierce it.  Occasionally a tracer will burn a pretty good size hole in it.  When it struck this fellow he went down - dropped like a stone, like he was dead.  We assumed he was dead.

Out of the group most of them were all approximately the same height.  I would say some were five foot or less; maybe four foot eight inches - in that range. They were very, very small people.  More like dwarfs in nature and perfectly proportioned.  The arms didn't seem to be any longer than they should be.  Except for one fellow who was about five-six or five-seven.

He intervened at this point.  I pushed the weapon down that George had in his hand.  I thought, "God" this guy is going to kill us. At this point I was terror stricken.  We didn't know who these guys were.  Something like this happens - all the science fiction movies you've ever seen in your life run through your mind.  You think "Oh my God" are they going to pull out ray guns?  Are they going to atomize us, or are they going to turn us into rabbits or pigs or something like this?

BOSTROM:  Did any of them ever say anything?

Joe:  Never heard a single word.  This fellow turned to me evidently knowing that I was platoon commander.  He raised his hand with palm out and fingers up in just a peaceful gesture and stopped and walked over to George and struck him on the cheek and it wasn't a real heavy blow.  It was something like you'd smack your child to get his attention, but the effect was devastating.  George went down like a limp rag, just like an electric shock had gone through him. The only thing I could figure is either this fellow is lots stronger than we can imagine he was or he did something else.  You've seen blows even in martial arts that don't appear to be very heavy but have a devastating effect.  He went down like a stone - just a limp rag.  He recovered very quickly.  About that time I was trying to pull him up, I didn't know what we were going to do at that point.  I didn't want anybody else to fire because I figured if we open fire on these guys - we were dead.  I was scared.  I soiled my pants at that point - a nervous reaction.  I didn't know quite what to do.  

With the exception of George, we were all veterans of at least 20 to 15 fire fights.  We were relatively well seasoned combat veterans.  It could have been George's third time out, it must have been his first or second,  I would say probably second and he was green and he panicked and I thought, well, he just paid the price for it.  This fellow just killed him.  He recovered.  I tried to pull him up and turned around about the time the fellow being shot got up and  brushed himself off - and I thought "on shit" these fellows are going to wipe us out.  If an FNFAL didn't take him down in 8 to 12 shots that is one tough little hombre.  The only thing I could figure is that the material is tough enough that it acted as a cushion just like a vest.  The fellow was visibly shaken.  He didn't seem to be in tip top shape but he obviously wasn't dead and there weren't any marks on him

We spent many times picking slugs out of our flack jackets and they'd get too worn and we'd just replace it.  It smarts.  It will knock you out cold sometimes from the impact.  Its like having a very large electric shock run through your body.  What takes people out, knocks them out flat, is not the actual impact of the bullet but the nervous reaction of the impact and it will literally lay you out flat before you hit the ground.  Every muscle in your body goes rigid.  So they have basically the same physiological reaction that we do.

When he turned to me and made a gesture to stop I thought OK, then everything is going to be alright.  George recovered and he turned around again and placed his palm up toward me again to stop and I had a feeling that everything was OK.  I had a very strong impression.  I'm not going to say that it was some kind of telepathic message.  It didn't really seem like anything like that.  It seemed like "Hey, it's cool, he panicked and I understand the situation."  

At this point they packed up all their little instruments, packed themselves back into the craft and left almost soundlessly.There was a little noise.  It sat there on the ground as what looked like a quadruped with four legs resting on the ground with pads on them retracted back into the body of the craft which was spheroid and then it just lifted straight up off the ground.  I didn't see any visible means of propulsion.  There was a little noise.  It was hard to tell if it was just the wind blowing through there or what.  It was just like an instantaneous burst of speed.

(To be continued)

BIG BEN

By Michael Farmer


Working in a retirement home one can hear many an odd tale and run into many sorts of characters.


This tale relates to a gentleman only known as "Big Ben."  He was so dubbed because he weighed in excess of 300 pounds and needed help getting up and out of bed.


I encountered Ben in 1990.  He told me how he had been an Operative with the OSS just after the Second World War.  He was living in Cuba at the time.  They wanted him to send them any intelligence that he could.  He tried to back out but the "Company," as he called them, indirectly threatened his family.  He "joined" after Castro took over.

He was retrieved by a Company boat.  It appeared to be a small fishing trawler but its holds were jammed tight with weapons and radio/radar equipment.  He was brought back to the United States via Miami.  From there he was sent to Virginia for training and eventually Washington, DC for his assignment.


They were simple, he told me laughingly.  They were simply to discredit these new "Flying Saucer witnesses."  He was so good at what he did he was reassigned to a Top Secret division that analyzed UFO evidence and then summarily debunked it "scientifically."


Agents, according to Ben, were standardly issued black suits for, as he put it, "scarin the folk that seen them ships" and a James Bond like kit that could make a murder look like an accident or suicide.


He said he told me so that a guilty man could die an innocent death. (He died two months later of emphysema.)


From Ohio he next found himself assigned in Nevada.


Ben had been born into a Catholic family.  His father was half American Indian, half Mexican.  His mother was a devout church goer.  His father stuck more to the old Indian ways.  It was here in Nevada that Ben began his spiritual quest.  Previous to that he had been an agnostic.


The thing that Ben claimed changed him was a Top Secret project that the Air Force and the Department of Defense were working on.  It dealt with recovered aliens and hardware.Its members were dubbed "gems" and he thinks that the mission was named "Project Ruby" or "Project Garnet."


He claims that in the mid 1960s he met up with a small grey skinned humanoid that communicated via telepathy or a series of dog like grunts and whines.  Ben swore that Stephen Spielberg must have met up with an alien because they are partial to M&Ms and ice cream and ET showed such a liking to Reeses Pieces!


The aliens normal food was a processed cake consisting mainly of plankton and vegetable matter and until the process was perfected at least three casualties resulted.


He said they were a simple folk, and in some ways surpassed humans, and in others they were awed with human's philosophical outlook.  They worshiped a Supreme God, which was a duality, both male and female and was referred to as simply "The Consciousness."  The beings he encountered were neither male nor female, yet he said you just "knew" their gender.  Their life spans were normally 200 to 300 earth years but on earth considerably shorter.


Ben died, as I said, of emphysema.  He had no survivors, yet three young men driving a luxury car and wearing business suits came to claim his remains and possessions, meager as they were; an electric razer, a bottle of Old Spice, two shirts and three pairs of pants and his ragged Bible.  They took Ben and buried him in some Veteran's Cemetery, even though he had never been a member of the military.

The Ultimate Deception

THE ULTIMATE DECEPTION

Helga Morrow lives in Tucson, Arizona.  The following is an annotated copy of an article she wrote in the Sedona Chronicles magazine.


My father hid behind the cloak of an average "John Doe draftsman," a typical 9 to 5 type of guy, when in actuality he was a very well known scientist.  Knowing what I do now, it is obvious to me that, due to the nature of his work, he had access to some very top-secret information.


In May 1952, he came home from a trip very upset, distraught and totally out of control.  His calm facade and usual cool demeanor had vanished.  He barely said anything to Mother, brother and me.  Since I always sat next to him at the end of our sofa, I noticed him writing.  More and more, endless writings. Oddly enough, he got up in the wee hours of the morning and wrote and wrote and wrote 'till dawn.  The more he wrote, the more distressed he became.  It got worse.  He started crying, the tears flowing down his cheeks.  I felt then, and still feel, he was hiding something so horrible that he didn't dare speak out.  His incessant writing seemed to be a silent scream.  He appeared not only distraught but scared to death for me and the rest of the family.  His bottled up secrets were gnawing at him constantly.

My mother sat in her corner in total silence when he was upset and my brother "took off" so he wouldn't get in the way.

He seemed to be getting worse and worse every day.  He had always been interested in my school work, but somehow, this trip home, he never shared with me about my homework.  I felt alone, as if he were a stranger in our midst.  His face became that of a frightened man

All I did was say, "What's wrong, what can I do to help?"  That did it!  He jumped up, thrust his notes in my face and screamed, "It's all lies!  Lies!  They are lying to all of us.  This whole world is a damned lie!  You should not have been born.  They are only going to select certain ones.  The little man has no say, we are nothing.  They are planning a damn war in 1966 where the blacks and the whites will kill each other off so a certain part of the population will be thinned out.  The war will be devastating, the likes of which we've never seen in America in this century.  A blood bath.


SELECTIVE BREEDING


"It is useless for you to have  a child, although if you select the right person to breed with, there may be hope for you.  Otherwise, they will check out the child's background (the father) and it will be another reject.  For God's sake, check out the father of your unborn child.  Make damn sure his background is clean - no alcoholics, nothing but pure, healthy mental and physical bodies, no criminals or convicted felons and, above all, above-normal intelligence and attractive appearance - an intelligent jerk won't do either.  Those who have inbred (certain ethnic groups) because of their religion have innate blood diseases and will be eliminated as inferior unless they intermarry."


I said, finally, after this strange tirade, "What are you screaming for Daddy?  I just want you to tell me now why are you screaming at me?  I did nothing wrong"


He yelled, "After they have messed up this planet they are going to start over again some where else, on the moon, on Mars - they are putting us there in colonies.  They are being set up now.  The governments of the world are all conspiring to set this up!


I thought he had flipped.  Not saying anything, my mother ran to the phone and called the police.


"You will see mass destruction in your lifetime.  When you're 55 you will remember my words.  They may kill me, but my words will live on.  You will find out who I really am..."


With that the police came to the door.  My mother and brother finally got their way.  Daddy was severely clubbed with their night sticks until his unconscious body was dragged into the paddy wagon.


My mother told the cops, "He's a nut who believes in flying saucers, and I want him behind bars in the nearest mental institution."  We had no car and went to the police station in the police car.  It was a horrible nightmare.


MEN IN TRENCH COATS


Mother told me we could see Daddy every Wednesday.  A dear friend and coworker from Martin Marietta (name withheld) drove us.  There he sat in his barren room.  No voice, no emotion, no eye movement.  He looked as if he were in a catatonic state.  


Later, I noticed men (in trench coats) questioning my mother at home.  She always said they were friends from the Martin company.  Frankly, I knew she didn't know who the heck they were.  I'd come home from school and I'd see them leave.  Looking back now, I'd say they looked very much like the Secret Service men I've seen many times since.


The men in trench coats always came once a week to bring my father's paycheck and ask about his progress.  They were very interested in what Daddy had said before he left.  Mother was told to burn his writings which she did, however, I still remember some of them.


The news from the hospital was that Daddy was coming home for a visit in August.  I was happy.  Even though he had survived the brutal shock treatments, his well-being was precarious.  My father spoke in soft, guarded sentences.  It was just polite family conversation.  Nothing earth-shattering happened during the visit.  Again, we bade farewell and he went back to the hospital.  A few weeks later, in September, he was released.  Oddly enough, during this very traumatic experience, he was still carrying a top-secret clearance with his company. even after three to four months in the hospital.  Evidently, he was too important for them to fire.


ALTERNATIVE THREE


Alternative 3, by Leslie Watkins with David Ambrose and Christopher Miles (published by Sphere Books, England) is one of the most controversial books of our time.  At one point it was permanently removed from bookshelves and banned worldwide.  It tells about colonies being formed on the moon and Mars, populated by the foremost people in every field of endeavor (whether kidnapped, selected or persuaded) in an attempt to save the best segment of the population from the certain disaster of the greenhouse effect.  These colonies are purported to house everything from selected breeders to scientists.  It's clear to me now that my Father was worried about my chances of being "selected" if I were to breed with the "wrong type" of specimen.  He was terrified that my offspring would not be good enough to be among the selected few to survive and propagate in the new colonies.


No one knew of his breakdown or his affiliation with flying saucers.  The hospital diagnosed him as paranoid-schizophrenic because he talked about flying saucers and aliens.  But the doctors assured my mother this was harmless illusion, that he'd get out of it eventually.


Well, things were all quiet, until we got news from Daddy that he was to live permanently in Denver, Colorado.  Mother refused to go because of the high altitude in Colorado.  A lot of engineers who had transferred to Colorado had died of heart attacks (seemingly because of the thin air).  Many of my father's fellow engineers dropped dead within one to two years of being transferred there.  On some occasions, my school called my mother to find out who I was or what kind of American I was.  The neighbors were also questioned.


On very rare occasions, I'd sneak into my father's bedroom and look at the pictures of the flying saucers.  Not even my mother knew about them.  But I knew his secret hiding places and I knew I was being prepared for something in the future.  Age 5 seemed so far away.  When I figure it out in 1952, 1992 seemed so distant.  I pictured myself as an old lady.  But something in this madness made sense; someday I would be able to share my story safely.


I think he knew that the real issues were hidden behind smoke screens, and that, unfortunately, the smoke screens were what made headlines.  He believed that racial wars were not spontaneously triggered by a minor incident but by well planned, clandestine operations, in an attempt at genocide - to "thin out" the population.  He saw the women's movement, even abortion rights, as the eventual control of women for selective breeding.  He always said communism was a joke to create friction between believers and non-believers, a cloud to obscure truth.  The stupidity of Lincoln was to have freed the slaves and then not give them real freedom.  This, he thought, was the injustice that would lead to racial wars.


He also mentioned that I should have only one child if I did decide to breed.  Love was not in his vocabulary, except to love one's fellow man, as in mankind.


 He told me that there would be a time when beings the government deemed inferior would not be allowed to reproduce, that the government would eventually decide for us.  "That is why it's important for you to breed with the right person, at the right time, when you grow up.  Breeding is more important.  An intelligent female with a below average male will produce inferior children.  It's a question of breeding only superior beings with superior beings.  They won't be hurt - just not allowed to breed, so their inferior genes will become extinct.  This is the only way the human race can breed out criminals, murderers, violence, diseases and genetic disorders.  This is what they have achieved in other star systems.  This is not the only star system.  There are endless varieties of galaxies.  They walk among us, breed with us and have integrated into our civilization.  We (the scientists) are working on this now."


What about our 'gifted children" programs?  How are these children being observed?  What statistics are being  gathered and what are they used for?  Where is the information going?


My father felt that our seed must be perfect - strong - so that no one person or group could take away our rights of make us prisoners on Earth or on another planet.  Mental and spiritual training are vital to strength, as is discipline.  The incorruptible who adhere to the will of God will survive on this planet.  Speak and live only the truth!
_____________


I believe that Helgas father knew what was coming in the future and the powers that be did not want him to let people know so they locked him up and probably kept him drugged.  I found this a very important article because of what is taking place right now.

Hi Aileen,
  This article on Helga kind of corresponds with a book I just read (and bought).  It is called: BATTLE HYMN.  The author is John Scura/Dane Phillips.  It is a very scary book.  The author is a journalist along with his co-author.  They have dug up a lot of information and they give references to look up.  I did on  one of them about the Health Care Section 2521 which (they) said was implemented.  It has NOT been implemented yet.  The other one they did research on was the Codex Alimentarious Bill 4872.  It HAS been passed and in place.
  By the way the author was on C2C about a month ago.  Although I bought the book, I think you can get it from your public library.