Misc. Mental Musings

U.S. military personnel reviewing purported weather balloon fragments

found on the J.B. Foster Ranch outside Roswell, NM in 1947. [REF]

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Within days of this remote farmland discovery, all manner of administrative personnel, ranging from local police, to Air Force generals, had taken over the site.  

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A week later, the U.S. Army confirmed the crash, initially claiming to have recovered an airborne object of unknown origin, then quickly changing their tune to suggest the debris was remnants of a standard weather balloon.  From this point on, the public perception remained skeptical, despite the government’s attempts to downplay the event. 

 

The Roswell incident, combined with the alleged sighting of the original “flying saucer”, near Mt. Rainer, in Washington state, that same summer of 1947, brought alien space craft directly into societal consciousness.  First spotted by a civilian pilot, similar phenomena were observed by others in the area; anecdotes highlighted by the unfathomable speeds, odd shapes, and coordinated formations of these unidentifiable aerial craft.  

 

This pair of unique stories from the western U.S. quickly circulated the country, gracing the front page of newspapers from Chicago to Boston, New York to Miami.  UFO mania was born.  Today, Roswell, NM, just down the road from the desert crash discovery, still serves at the ultimate mecca, and epicenter, for extraterrestrial enthusiasts.  

 

By the late 1970’s, with shows like “Star Wars”, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”, and the aptly named “Alien” coming into vogue, the public’s appetite for otherworldly experiences was ripe.  It was time to fuel the growing fire, or put it out, hopefully in perpetuity.  

 

The mysterious intrigue surrounding Roswell, NM, which lay dormant for over three decades, happily obliged.  In subsequent years, there has been no shortage of crazies driving the narrative around UFO activity in this region, and resulting in countless alien conspiracy theories.  A few of the more relevant efforts are as follows.  

 

1978: Literary and documentary efforts, focusing on interviewing key personalities from the weather balloon incident, which sparked renewed interest in the original J.B. Foster Ranch event.  

 

1989: Compelling testimony and images, from seemingly credible scientific sources, providing engineering and medical explanations of extraterrestrial activity in the region during the 1950’s.

 

1992: Expanded commentary of the activities in the sky around New Mexico, suggesting multiple crafts, and numerous aliens, with claims so absurd that even some ufologists became skeptical. 

 

1995: A video showing dissection of a creature captured from a vessel which crash landed in Roswell, clearly fake, but purported to be based on real events. 

 

Not a bad portfolio of evidence, though absolute proof of an extraterrestrial encounter never materialized.

 

In the face of growing civilian skepticism and outcry, the actual crash source was finally confirmed in 1997, when the U.S. Air Force released a comprehensive report in hopes of quelling the increasingly rampant speculation.  Their conclusions were definitive, with numerous pages of appendix documentation.  

 

The object which fell to the earth on J.B. Foster Ranch was a top secret, high altitude, military balloon.  This device, with codename Project Mogul, was carrying a multitude of advanced electronic equipment designed to detect ongoing Soviet Union nuclear tests.  Thus, the necessity for secrecy during the entire Cold War era.

 

Also, a supplemental administrative release around this time revealed to the general public the existence of Project Blue Book.  This government program, formed in 1952, but with roots back to the historic events of 1947, was initiated to monitored UFOs.  Over the course of three subsequent decades, over 12,000 discrete observations were documented, only 700 of which could not be definitively attributed to naturally occurring phenomenon, or known aircraft technology, of the day. 

 

All the details from this formerly cloak and dagger organization now lie in the public domain, as a result of the Freedom of Information Act. 

 

In fact, the now accepted unidentified flying object, with the now ubiquitous UFO acronym, was originally coined by the U.S. Air Force, to describe 7 still unexplained aerial anomalies captured on film and radar over the Pentagon in 1952.  

 

Despite over half a century of improvements to aerial sensor equipment, and vastly improved understanding of human’s place in the universe, a multitude of unanswered questions remain.  As a result, ufology, and the associated intrigue, continues to flourish today. 

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November 29th, 1989: Heinrich Nicoll – Eupen, Belgium 
Sipping my thermos of strong coffee, I scan the desolate side streets from the passenger seat, as we cruise slowly along the main road.  

 

This night shift work is really screwing up my internal clock.  Granted, inhaling several liters of caffeine laced beverages likely doesn’t help.  I miss the days when I could spend the sunny afternoons enjoying an artisanal expresso with my mates, placing both the order, and the time, on the company dime.

 

Now, I’m forced to hang out in this tiny squad car, which reeks of cigarettes, with my novice partner.  Retirement can’t come soon enough.

 

Pretty much all of our normal complaints materialize at ground level: traffic violations, medical emergencies, and domestic violence complaints, are all within our purview.  Occasionally, we get a random underground issue, via a basement burglary, or stuck sewer.  Tonight, however, the activity of interest is in the sky. 

 

Our raised position, as we crest the hill on this quite thoroughfare, provides a perfect vantage point of the town below.  Regardless, I have trouble trusting my eyes, as the strange visage materializes.

 

In a wheat field out the side window to my right, contrast against the dark sky above, bright points of light become visible.  The corners offer up a triad of vibrant, continuous, white, dots, illuminating most of the ground below, similar to an athletic stadium. 

 

Even more attention-grabbing is the single center point of flashing orange, not as blinding, but equally vivid.  Like the rotating searchlight of a lighthouse, or the pulsing strobes of an ambulance, the entire blinding brightness takes nearly a minute to clear from my retinas.

 

Looking slightly skyward, one eye shielded by my large hand, and the other narrowly closed to the point of a squint, I’m able to determine the outer shape of the airborne vessel.  It’s an equilateral triangle, the dark grey perimeter is nearly imperceptible against the blackness of the evening sky, even with the radiance being emanated onto the ground below.

 

Between the blinding spotlights, and the low contrast of the outer shape, it’s impossible to ascertain the size or scale of this craft.  My innate senses tell me the object is larger than I want to accept.  The smooth lower surface of the machine appears to nearly scrape the tall spire of the local church, as it cruises overhead at an impossibly low, impossibly slow, orientation.   

 

I pull my gaze away from the sky, now viewed through the windshield of our cruiser, to my junior partner, seated in the driver’s seat.  It only takes one look at his white knuckles, clutching the steering wheel, and ashen face, painted with astonishment, to confirm the suspicion that my eyes aren’t deceiving me.  

 

We are both observing the same unique phenomenon, which has apparently descended from the heavens above.  At least I’m not delusional.  Still, maybe we should track this object for a bit, to confirm our sanity, before radioing the dispatcher.  No need to unduly become the laughingstock of the yard.   

 

Within half an hour of our initial observation, carefully tracking the craft slowly through the streets of Eugen, several civilians have approached our squad car with similar reports.  Up here on the border between Belgian and Germany, it’s important to be fluent in multiple languages, if you want to be in the public service’s employ.

 

Alternating between Dutch and German, we dutifully take down the witness testimony into our notebooks, unsure if this visage is a clever hoax drummed up by our teammates at the station, or a historical event which will inscribe our names in infamy.  I’m not enamored with either option.