CHAPTER 6
The Strategy
The Strategy there is an old story I once heard about keeping
secrets. A group of men were trying to protect their deepest secrets
from the rest of the world. They took their secrets and hid them in
a shack whose very location was a secret. But the secret location
was soon discovered and in it was discovered the secrets that the
group was hiding. But before every secret could be revealed, the men
quickly built a second shack where they stored those secrets they
still kept to themselves.
Soon, the second shack was discovered and
the group realized they would have to give up some secrets to
protect the rest. So they again moved quickly to build a third shack
and protect whatever secrets they could. This process repeated
itself over and over until anyone wanting to find out what the
secrets were had to start at the first shack and work their way from
shack to shack until they came to where they could go no further
because they didn’t know the location of the next shack.
For fifty
years this was the very process by which the secrets of Roswell were
protected by various serial incarnations of an ad hoc confederation
of top-secret working groups throughout different branches of the
government, and it is still going on today.
Were you to search through every government document to find the
declassified secrets of Roswell and the contact we maintained with
the aliens who were visiting us before and have been doing so ever
since, you would find code named project after code named project,
each with its own file, security classification, military or
government administration, oversight mechanism, some form of budget,
and even reports of highly classified documents. All of these
projects were started to accomplish part of the same task: manage
our ongoing relationship with the alien visitors we discovered at
Roswell. However, at each level, once the security had been breached
for whatever reason -even by design - part of the secret was
disclosed through declassification while the rest was dragged into a
new classified project or moved to an existing one that had not been
compromised.
It makes perfect sense, especially to those of us who understand
that the government is not some monolithic
piece of granite that never moves or reacts. To those of us inside
the military/government machine the
government is dynamic, highly reactive, and even proactive when it
comes to devising ways to protect its most
closely held secrets. For all the years after Roswell we weren’t
just one step ahead of people wanting to know what really happened,
we were a hundred steps ahead, a thousand, or even more. In fact, we
never hid the truth from anybody, we just camouflaged it. It was
always there, people just didn’t know what to look for or recognize
it for what it was when they found it. And they found it over and
over again.
Project “Blue Book” was created to make the general public happy
that they had a mechanism for reporting what they saw.
Projects
“Grudge” and “Sign” were of a higher security to allow the military
to process sightings and encounter reports that couldn’t easily be
explained away as balloons, geese, or the planet Venus. Blue Fly and
Twinkle had other purposes, as did scores of other camouflage
projects like Horizon, HARP, Rainbow, and even the Space Defense
Initiative, all of which had something to do with alien technology.
But no one ever knew it. And when reporters were actually given
truthful descriptions of alien encounters, they either fell on the
floor laughing or sold the story to the tabloids, who’d print a
drawing of a large headed, almond eyed, six fingered alien. Again,
everybody laughed. But that’s what these things really look like
because I saw the one they trucked up to Wright Field.
Meanwhile, as each new project was created and administered, another
bread crumb for anyone pursuing the secrets to find, we were
gradually releasing bits and pieces of information to those we knew
would make something out of it. Flying saucers did truly buzzover
Washington, D.C., in 1952, and there are plenty of photographs and
radar reports to substantiate it. But we denied it while encouraging
science fiction writers to make movies like The Man from Planet X to
blow off some of the pressure concerning the truth about flying
disks. This was called camouflage through limited disclosure, and it
worked. If people could enjoy it as entertainment, get duly
frightened, and follow trails to nowhere that the working group had
planted, then they’d be less likely to stumble over what we were
really doing. And what were we really doing?
As General Twining had suggested in his report to the Army Air
Forces, “foreign technology” was the category to which research on
the alien artifacts from Roswell was to be delegated. Foreign
technology was one of the great catch all terms, encompassing
everything from researching French air force engineering advances on
helicopter blades to captured Russian MiGs flown in from Cuba by
savvy pilots who could negotiate our southern radar perimeter better
than our own pilots. So what if a few pieces of technological debris
from a strange crescent shaped hovering wing turned up in an old
file somewhere in the army’s foreign technology files? If nobody
asked about it - and nobody did because foreign technology was just
too damned dull for most reporters to hang around - we didn’t have
to say anything about it. Besides, most foreign technology stuff was
classified anyway because it dealt with weapons development we were
hiding from the Soviets and most reporters knew it. Foreign
technology was the absolute perfect cover. All I had to do was
figure out what to do with the stuff I had. And General Trudeau
wasn’t in the mood to wait any longer.
“Come on, Phil, let’s go. “ The general’s voice suddenly filled the
room over the blown speaker hum of my desk intercom. I put down my
coffee and headed up the stairway to the back door of his inner
office. This was a routine that repeated itself three, sometimes
four times a day. The general always liked to get briefed in person
because even in the most secure areas of the Pentagon, the walls
tended to listen and remember our conversations.
Our sessions were always private, and from the way our conversation
bounced back and forth among different topics, if it weren’t for his
three stars and my pair of leaves, you wouldn’t even think you were
listening to a pair of army officers. It was cordial and friendly,
but my boss was my boss and, even after we both retired like two old
war horses put out to pasture, our meetings were never informal.
“So now you figured out how the package arrived?” he asked me
after I sat down. I had figured it out by going through all of the
files I could get my hands on and tracing the path of the Roswell
information from the 509th to Fort Bliss and from there to Wright
Field, the dissemination point.
General Trudeau motioned for me to sit down and I settled into a
chair. It was already ten thirty in the morning so I knew there’d be
at least two other sit down briefings that day.
“I know it didn’t come by the parcel service, “ I said. “I don’t
think they have a truck that big. “ “Does that help you figure out what we should do?” he asked.
Actually, knowing how the material got into the Foreign Technology
files was critically important because it meant that it was
dispatched there originally. Even if it had been neglected over the
years, it was clear that the Foreign Technology desk of the R&D
system was its intended destination, part of the original plan. And
I even had the documents from General Twining’s own files to
substantiate this. Not that I would have ever revealed them at that
time. General Twining, more than anyone else during those years
after the war, understood the sensitive and protected nature of the
R&D budget. And now that I understood how the camouflage was to take
place, I also saw how brilliant the general’s plan was. R&D,
although important and turning over records like topsoil from the
Nazi weapons development files captured after the war, was kind of a
backwater railroad junction.
Unnoticed by most officers on their way to the top and not called
upon in the late 1940s to do much more than record keeping, it
turned out to be the perfect hideaway when the CIA hirelings came
sniffing through the Pentagon in the early 1950s looking for
anything they could find on the Roswell technology. Unless they were
part of the working group from the start, not even members of the
Eisenhower White House National Security staff knew that R&D was the
repository of Roswell artifacts. I was there. I can vouch for that.
In fact, it wasn’t until I saw the files for myself and reverse
traced their path to my doorstep that I realized what General
Twining and the working group had accomplished. By the time I had
arrived at the White House, though, it was all ancient history.
People were more worried about the sighting information deluging
Project Blue Book every day than they were about the all but
forgotten story of Roswell.
But my mind was drifting and the general was still speaking. He
wanted to know what my research had uncovered and what I had learned
about Roswell during my years at the White House, what I’d seen, how
far the concentric circles of the group and the people who worked
for them went.
“Phil, we both know that the package you have is no surprise, “ he
said very flatly.
I didn’t respond substantively, and he didn’t expect me to, because
to do so would have meant breaching security confidentiality that
I’d sworn to maintain when I was assigned to the NSC staff at the
White House.
“You don’t have to say anything officially, “ he continued. “And I
don’t expect you to. But can you give me your impressions of how
people working for the group talked about the package?” “I wasn’t working for the group, General, “ I said. “And whatever I
saw or heard was only because it happened to pass by, not because I
was supposed to do anything about it. “
But he pushed me to remember whether the NSC staff had any direct
dealings with the group and how much the Central Intelligence
staffers at the White House pressed to get any information they
could about what the group was doing. Of course I remembered the
questions going back and forth about what might have happened at
Roswell, about what was really behind Blue Book, and about all those
lights buzzing the Washington Monument back in 1952. I didn’t have
anything substantive to tell my boss about my involvement, but his
questions helped me put together a bigger picture than I thought I
knew.
From my perspective in 1961, especially after reviewing
everything I could about what happened in the days after the Roswell
crash, I could see very clearly the things that I didn’t understand
back in 1955. I didn’t know why the CIA was so aggressively agitated
about the repeated stories of flying saucer sightings or why they
kept searching for any information about the technology from
Roswell. I certainly didn’t volunteer any information, mainly
because nobody asked me, about having seen parts of “the cargo” as
it passed through Fort Riley. I just played position, representing
the army as the military member of the National Security Staff, but
I listened to everything I heard like a fly on the wall.
General Trudeau’s questions forced me to ask myself what the big
picture was that he saw. He was obviously
looking for something in my descriptions of the architecture of the
group, as I had learned it
from my review of the history, and of the starters on the lower
security classification periphery as I understood it from my
experience at the White House. He really wanted to know how the
bureaucracy worked, how much activity the group itself generated,
what kinds of policy questions came up in my presence, and whether I
was asked to comment informally on anything having to do with the
issues of the group.
Did Admiral Hillenkoetter host many briefings for President
Eisenhower where Generals Twining, Smith, Montague, and Vandenburg
were present? Gen. W. B. Smith had replaced Secretary Forrestal
after he committed suicide during the second year of the Truman
administration. Were Professor Menzel and Drs. Bush and Berkner
visitors to the White House on regular occasions? Did they meet at
the White House with Admiral Hillenkoetter or the generals? What was
the level of presence of the CIA staffers at the White House through
all of this? And did I recognize anyone from the Joint Research and
Development Board or the Atomic Energy Commission at any briefings
chaired by Admiral Hillenkoetter?
Through General Trudeau’s questions I could see not only that the
general knew his history almost as well as I did about how the
original group was formed and how it must have operated, but he also
had a sense of what kind of problem was facing the military R&D and
how much leeway he had to solve it. Like most ad hoc creations of
government, the group must have at some point become as self-serving
as every other joint committee eventually became the longer it
functioned and the more its job increased. As the camouflage about
flying disks grew, so did the role of the group.
Only the group
didn’t have the one thing most government committees had : the
ability to draw upon other areas of the government for more
resources. This group was above top secret and, officially, had no
right to exist. Therefore, as its functions grew over the next ten
years to encompass the investigations of more flying saucer
sightings and the research into more encounters with alien aircraft
or with the extraterrestrials themselves, its resources became
stretched so thin that it had to create reasons for drawing upon
other areas of the government.
Accordingly, task-defined subgroups were formed to handle specific
areas of investigation or research. These had to have had lower
security classifications even if only because the number of
personnel involved couldn’t have been cleared that quickly to
respond to the additional work the group was taking on. In fact, the
work of the group must have become unmanageable. Bits and pieces of
information slipped out, and the group had to determine what it
could let go into the public record and what had to be protected at
all costs. As in the story about the shacks, the group members
retreated to create new protected structures for the information
they had to preserve.
The official camouflage was sagging under the weight of the
information the group had to investigate and the pressure of time
they were allotted. Soon the military representatives found, just as
we did in Korea, that they really couldn’t trust the career
intelligence people, especially the CIA, because they seemed to have
a different agenda. Maybe the military became resistant to giving up
all the information it was collecting independently to the central
group? Maybe, in the absence of any actual legislation establishing
how the group’s work was to be paid for, the military saw valuable
and fundable weapons opportunities slip through its fingers to the
CIA’s budget? Maybe - and I know this is what happened - a power
struggle developed within the group itself.
The whole structure of the working group had changed, too, since the
late 1940s when it was formed. What started out as a close-knit
group of old friends from prep school had become an unmanageable
mess within five years. Many pieces of the pie were floating around,
and the different military branches wanted to break off chunks of
the black budget so that you needed an entire administration just to
manage the managers of the cover-up.
Therefore, at some point near
the middle of the Eisenhower administration, seams opened up in the
grand camouflage scheme where nobody knew what anybody else was
doing. Because of the cover-up, nobody really had a need to know, so
nobody knew anything. The only people who wanted to get their hands
on information and hardware belonged to the CIA, but nobody, even
those who vaguely understood what had happened fourteen years
earlier, trusted the CIA. Officially, then, nobody knew nothing and
nothing happened.
Through the 1950s a cascade effect developed. What had started out
as a single-purpose camouflage operation was breaking up into
smaller units. Command and control functions started to weaken and,
just like a submarine that breaks up on the bottom of the ocean,
debris in the form of information bubbled to the surface. Army CIC,
once a powerful force to keep the Roswell story itself suppressed,
had weakened under the combined encroachments of the CIA and the
FBI. It was during this period that my old friend J. Edgar Hoover,
never happy at being kept out of any loop, jumped into the circle
and very quietly began investigating the Roswell incident. This
shook things up, and very soon afterward, other government agencies
- the ones with official reporting responsibilities - began poking
around as well.
For all intents and purposes, the original scheme to perpetrate a
camouflage was defunct by the late 1950s. Its functions were now
being managed by series of individual groups within the military and
civilian intelligence agencies, all still sharing limited
information with each other, each pursuing its own individual
research and investigation, and each - astonishingly - still acting
as if some super intelligence group was still in command. But, like
the Wizard of Oz, there was no super intelligence group. Its
functions had been absorbed by the groups beneath it. But nobody
bothered to tell anyone because a super group was never supposed to
exist officially in the first place.
That which did not exist
officially could not go out of existence officially. Hence, right
through the next forty years, the remnants of what once was a super
group went through the motions, but the real activities were carried
out by individual agencies that believed on blind faith that they
were being managed by higher-ups. Remember the lines of cars at gas
pumps during the fuel shortage of 1973 when one driver, thinking a
gas station was open, would wait at a pump and within fifteen
minutes scores of other cars pulled up behind him? Lines a mile long
formed behind pumps that were never open because there was no gas.
That’s what the great flying saucer camouflage was like by the time
President Kennedy was inaugurated.
“There’s nobody home, Phil, “ General Trudeau told me as we compared
our notes at that morning’s briefing. “Nobody home except us. We have to make our own policy. “
I was a soldier and followed orders, but Trudeau was a general, the
product of a political process, stamped with congressional approval,
and reporting to a civilian executive. Generals are made by the
government, not by the army. They sit between the government and the
vast military machine and from the Army Chief of Staff all the way
down to the brigadiers at bases around the world, generals create
the way military policy is supposed to work. And on the morning of
this briefing over cups of coffee in his inner office of the third
floor of the Pentagon, Lieutenant General Trudeau was going to make
policy and do the very thing that over ten years of secret work
groups and committees and research planning had failed to do:
exploit the Roswell technology.
“I need you to tell me you found a way to make something out of this
mess, “ General Trudeau told me. “There must be some piece of
technology in your file that’ll make a weapon, that we can use for
one of our helicopters. What do we have in there, Phil?”
Then he
said. “Time is now of the essence. We have to do something because
nobody else will. “
In the great cloud of unknowing that had descended upon the Pentagon
with respect to the Roswell
package, the five or six of us in the navy, air force, and army who
actually knew what we had didn’t confide in
anyone outside his own branch of the military and certainly didn’t
talk to the CIA. So, in a way that could only happen inside the
military bureaucracy, the cover-up became covered up from the
cover-up, leaving the few of us in the know free to do whatever we
wanted.
General Trudeau and I were all alone out there in so far as the
package went. Whatever vestige of the group remained had simply lost
track of the material delivered to Foreign Technology fourteen years
earlier. And the general was right, nobody was home and our enemies
inside government were capitalizing on whatever information they
could find. The Roswell package was one of the prizes, and if we
didn’t do anything with it, the Russians would. And they were onto
us.
Our own military intelligence personnel told us that the Soviets
were trafficking so heavily in our military secrets that they knew
things about us in the Kremlin before we knew them in Congress. The
army at least knew the KGB had penetrated the CIA, and the
leadership of the CIA had been an integral part of the working group
on flying disks since the early 1950s. Thus, whatever secrets the
group thought they had, they certainly weren’t secrets to the KGB.
But here’s what kept the roof from falling in on all of us. The KGB
and the CIA weren’t really the adversaries everybody thought them to
be. They spied on each other, but for all practical purposes, and
also because each agency had thoroughly penetrated the other, they
behaved just like the same organization. They were all professional
spies in a single extended agency playing the same intelligence game
and trafficking in information. Information is power to be used. You
don’t simply give it away to your government’s political leadership,
whether it’s the Republicans, the Tories, or the Communists, just
because they tell you to. You can’t trust the politicians, but you
can trust other spies. At least that’s what spies believe, so their
primary loyalty is to their own group and the other groups playing
the same game. The CIA, KGB, British Secret Service, and a whole
host of other foreign intelligence agencies were loyal to themselves
and to the profession first and to their respective governments
last.
That’s one of the reasons we in the military knew that the
professional KGB leadership, not the Communist Party officers who
were only inside for political reasons, were keeping as much
information from the Soviet government as the CIA was keeping from
our government. Professional spy organizations like the CIA and the
KGB tend to exist only to preserve themselves, and that’s why
neither the U.S. military nor the Russian military trusted them. If
you look at how the great spy wars of the Cold War played out you’ll
see how the KGB and CIA acted like one organization: lots of
professional courtesy, lots of shared information to make sure
nobody got fired, and a few human sacrifices now and then just to
keep everybody honest. But when it came down to loyalty, the CIA was
loyal to the KGB and vice versa.
I believe they had a rationale for what they did. I know they
thought the rest of us were too stupid to keep the world safe and
that by sharing information they kept us out of a nuclear war. I
believe this because I knew enough KGB agents during my time and got
enough bits and pieces of information off the record to give me a
picture of the Soviet Union during the 1950s and 1960s that’s very
different from what you’d read on the front page of the New York
Times.
CIA penetration by the KGB and what amounted to their joint spying
on the military was a fact we accepted
during the 1950s and1960s, even though most of us in the Pentagon
played spy versus spy as much as we could;
those of us, like me, who’d gone to intelligence school during the
war and knew some of the counter espionage
tricks that kept the people watching you guessing. We would change
our routes to work, always used false
information stories as bait to test phones we weren’t sure about,
swept our offices for listening devices, always
used a code when talking with one another about sensitive subjects.
We had a counter intelligence agent in the
military attaché’s office over at the Russian consulate in
Washington whose friends in the Soviet army trusted the
KGB less than I did. If my name came up associated with a story,
he’d let me know it. But he’d never tell the
CIA. Believe it or not, in the capital of my very own country, that
kind of information helped me stay alive.
It was very disconcerting that the CIA had a tail on me all
throughout my four year tenure at the White House.
I was mad about it, but there was nothing much I chose to do. Then,
when I came back to Washington in 1961 to
work for General Trudeau, they put the tail back on and I led him
down every back alley and rough
neighborhood in D.C. that I could. He wouldn’t shake. So the next
day, after I told my boss what I was going to
do, I led my faceless pursuer right to Langley, Virginia, past a
sputtering secretary, and straight into the office of
my old adversary, the director of cover operations Frank Wiesner,
one of the best friends the KGB ever had. I told
Wiesner to his face that yesterday was the last day I would walk
around Washington without a handgun. And I
put my .45 automatic on his desk. I said if I saw his tail on me
tomorrow, they’d find him in the Potomac the next
day with two bloody holes for eyes; that is, if they bothered to
look for him. Wiesner said, “You won’t do that,
Colonel. “
But I reminded him very pointedly that I knew where all
his bodies were buried, the people he’d gotten
killed through his own ineptitude and, worse, his cooperation with
the Russians. I’d tell his story to everyone I knew
in Congress. Wiesner backed down. Subsequently, on a trip to London,
Wiesner committed suicide and was
found hanging in his hotel room. I never did tell his story. Two
years later in 1963, one of Wiesner’s friends at the
agency told me that it was “all in good fun, Phil. “ Part of an
elaborate recruitment process to get me into the CIA
after I retired from the army. But I went to work for Senator Strom
Thurmond on the Foreign Relations Committee and then Senator Richard
Russell on the Warren Commission instead.
Our collective experience dodging the CIA and the KGB only meant
that when General Trudeau wanted the CIA kept out of our
deliberations at all cost, it was because he knew that everything we
discussed would be a topic of conversation at the KGB within twenty
four hours, faster if it were serious enough for the KGB to get
their counterparts in the CIA to throw a monkey wrench into things.
How do I know all this? The same way I knew how the KGB stayed one
step ahead of us during the Korean
War and were able to advise their friends, the North Koreans, how to
hold POWs back during the exchange. We
had leaks inside the Kremlin just like they had leaks inside the
White House. What General Trudeau and I
knew in Army R&D, our counterparts in the navy and air force also
believed. The CIA was the enemy. You trust no one. So when it became
clear to the general even before 1961 that no one remembered what
the army had appropriated at Roswell, whatever we had was ours to
develop according to our own strategy. But we had to do it so as not
to allow the CIA, and ultimately our government’s enemies, to
appropriate it from us. So when General Trudeau said we have to run
radio silent on the Roswell package, I knew exactly what he was
talking about.
Logic, and clearly not my military genius, dictated the obvious
course. If nobody knows what you have, don’t announce it. But if you
think you can make something out of what you have, make it. Use any
resources at your disposal, but don’t say anything to anyone about
what you’re doing. The only people in the room when we came up with
our plan were the general and myself, and he promised, “I won’t say
anything if you don’t, Phil. “
“There’s nobody in here but us brooms, General,“ I answered.
So we began to devise a strategy. “Hypothetically, Phil, “ Trudeau laid the question out. “What’s the
best way to exploit what we have without anybody knowing we’re doing
anything special?” “Simple, General, “ I answered. “We don’t do anything special. “
“You have a plan?” he asked. “More of an idea than a plan, “ I began. “But it starts like this.
It’s what you asked: If we don’t want anybody to think we’re doing
anything out of the ordinary, we don’t do anything out of the
ordinary. When General Twining made his original recommendations to
President Truman and the army, he didn’t suggest they do anything
with this nut file other than what they ordinarily do. Business as
usual? That’s how this whole secret group operated. Nobody did
anything special. What they did was organize according to a business
plan even though the operation was something that hadn’t been done
before. That’s the camouflage: don’t change a thing but use your
same procedures to handle this alien technology. “ “So how do you recommend we operate?” he asked. I think he already
figured out what I was saying but wanted me to spell it out so we
could start moving my nut file out of the Pentagon and out of the
encroaching shadow of the CIA. “We start the same way this desk has always started : with reports,
“I said. “I’ll write up reports on the alien
technology just like it’s an
intelligence report on any piece of foreign technology. What I see,
what I think the potential may be, where we might be able to
develop, what company we should take it to, and what kind of
contract we should draw up. “ “Where will you start?” the general asked.
“I’ll line up everything in the nut file, “ I began. “Everything
from what’s obvious to what I can’t make heads or tails out of. And
I’ll go to scientists with clearance who we can trust, Oberth and
von Braun, for advice. “ “I see what you mean, “ Trudeau acknowledged. “Sure. We’ll lineup
our defense contractors, too. See which ones have ongoing
development contracts that allow us to feed your development
projects right into them. “ “Exactly. That way the existing defense contract becomes the cover
for what we’re developing, “ I said. “Nothing is ever out of the
ordinary because we’re never starting up anything that hasn’t
already been started up in a previous contract. “ “It’s just like a big mix and match, “ Trudeau described it.
“Only what we’re doing, General, is mixing technology we’re
developing in with technology not of this earth, “ I said. “And
we’ll let the companies we’re contracting with apply for the patents
themselves. “ “Of course, “ Trudeau realized. “If they own the patent we will have
completely reverse-engineered the technology. “ “Yes, sir, that’s right. Nobody will ever know. We won’t even tell
the companies we’re working with where this technology comes from.
As far as the world will know the history of the patent is the
history of the invention. “ “It’s the perfect cover, Phil, “ the general said. “Where will you
start?” “I’ll write up my first analysis and recommendation tonight, “ I
promised. “There’s not a moment to lose. “
“The photographs in my file,“ I began my report that night over the
autopsy reports, which I attached,
show a being of about 4 feet tall. The body seemed decomposed and
the photos themselves aren’t of much use except to the curious. It’s
the medical reports that are of interest. The organs, bones, and
skin composition are different from ours. The being’s heart and
lungs are bigger than a human’s. The bones are thinner but seem
stronger as if the atoms are aligned differently for a greater
tensile strength.
The skin also shows a different atomic alignment
in a way that appears the skin is supposed to protect the vital
organs from cosmic ray or wave action or gravitational forces that
we don’t yet understand. The overall medical report suggests that
the medical examiners are more surprised at the similarities between
the being found in the spacecraft (note: NSC reports refer to this
creature as an Extraterrestrial Biological Entity [EBE]) and human
beings than they are at the differences, especially the brain which
is bigger in the EBE but not at all unlike ours.
I wrote on into the first of many nights that year, drafting rough
notes that I would later type into formal reports that no one would
ever see except General Trudeau, reaching conclusions that seemed
more science fiction than real. I was most happy not because I was
finally working on these files but, oddly enough, because when I sat
down to write, I believed these reports would never see the light of
day. In the harsh reality of the everyday world, they sound, even
now as I remember them, fantastic. Even more fantastic, I remember,
were the startling conclusions I allowed myself to come to. Was this
really I writing, or was it somebody else? Where did these ideas
come from?
If we consider similar biological factors that affect human beings,
like long distance runners whose hearts and lungs are larger than
average, hill and mountain dwellers whose lung capacity is greater
than those who live closer to sea level, and even natural athletes
whose long striated muscle alignment is different from those who are
not athletes, can we not assume that the EBEs who have fallen into
our possession represent the end process of genetic engineering
designed to adapt them to long space voyages within an
electromagnetic wave environment at speeds which create the physical
conditions described by Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity?
(Note for the record: Dr. Hermann Oberth suggests we consider the
Roswell craft from the New Mexico desert not a spacecraft but a time
machine. His technical report on propulsion will follow.)
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