Retrievals Of Craft And Bodies (Part 2)

The Evidence for Extraterrestrial Colonization of Earth: Alien Base

While it is widely believed that the first recovery by US military forces of a crashed UFO took place in New Mexico in July 1947 (the so-called Roswell Incident), there are intriguing stories of UFO recovery operations some years earlier.

‘NORTH OF GEORGIA’, USA

According to another of Leonard Stringfield’s sources, a crash of an unknown craft took place in a state ‘north of Georgia’ during the summer of 1942. The source, given the pseudonym Mary Nunn, served in a key civilian capacity in one of the two armed forces at the time of the incident.

Nunn claimed that a spacecraft had crashed at an Army base, causing damage to a building and minor ruptures to the side of the craft. Described as generally round in shape, the craft was 15 feet wide and 10 feet high, divided into three main sections: a control room, a compartment with four seats and a bottom bay equipped with a trap-door exit. In the control section was one large window and a number of smaller windows around the sides. The craft was silver in colour with markings on the inside as well as the outside. There also were crew members, Stringfield was told: The four crew members, taken alive, died about two weeks later of apparent starvation.

Described as five feet tall, weighing about 90 to 100 pounds, the skin . . . was a milky white, smooth like a baby’s, and without hair. Facial features were generalized; the eyes large and black like bug eyes, ears were small, lips thin slits. The fingers, numbering five, were long, bony; the feet flat, about size 6 with half-inch bony toes. The female had small breasts and, according to the source, the race could reproduce but there was no hint as to their genitalia . . . They had teeth, very white, wide and short. I asked about nourishment, how it was digested and eliminated. No answers . . .

Communications were telepathic but when I asked about other details, anatomical, organic or emotional or about their craft, propulsion and all the other usual questions, came silence; that was it . . .

ENCOUNTER WITH A GROUNDED CRAFT ANDAVIATRIX

In 1943 Daniel Leger (whose 1941 observation of German aircraft in pursuit of unknown objects is described earlier) was conscripted by the Germans for Service du Travail Obligatoire (compulsory working service) at a labour camp in Gdynia (renamed Gotenhafen by the Germans), north of Gdansk, on the Baltic coast of Poland. Leger had obtained permission from the head of camp to visit Exelgroud, near Gdynia. Because transportation was not available, he set out on the sunny afternoon of 18 July on foot, by way of a short cut over the sand dunes running along the beach.

Reaching the top of a dune, Leger observed a peculiar metallic object, of a greyish aluminium hue, embedded in the sand. Approaching the device, he saw a human figure crouched on the ground, attempting manually to remove the sand that covered the lower part of the object. Although only the back of the figure was visible, Leger noted that it was a woman, with long blond hair, slim waist and broad hips. He assumed that she was a German Air Force pilot, because at that time there were a number of female Luftwaffe pilots in Exelgroud, as well as female technicians who loaded and transported torpedoes at the local German naval base. Leger was reluctant to make his presence known, but the woman seemed to have been aware of him. She turned around and stood up, revealing her height to be about 1.75 metres — above average for her sex.

The aviatrix wore a tight-fitting one-piece suit of dark-brown cloth, without pockets or fasteners, emphasizing her feminine form. The witness also observed a pair of pads on each calf, the upper part of which appeared like boots, of the same colour, forming an integral part of the suit. A four-inch-wide belt encircled her waist, the same colour as the suit, with the exception of a square silvery buckle. Her features were regular, with white skin, devoid of any kind of cosmetics, but with slightly slanted, Asian-like eyes. Her hair, parted equally, fell freely down her back. The only other visible part of her body was her long, slim hands, with short-cut nails, ‘like a pianist’, lacking any nail varnish.

The craft, embedded in the sand, looked like a ‘colonial hat’. Later, as it took off, Leger could see that it was constructed like two plates joined together, separated by a middle section consisting of two rings with a black line between them. The craft was estimated to be about six metres in diameter and two metres in height. Several square portholes with rounded edges were spaced on the upper section, the exact number being indeterminable. No insignia, seams, weldings or connections were apparent on the upper part, which seemed to be made in one piece.

The aviatrix began talking to Leger in a language he could not interpret. Although it sounded quite guttural, it corresponded with neither German nor Polish. Because the most common sounds were vowels and diphthongs, he assumed it was not Russian. (Years after the war, Leger met Tahitians, whose native tongue sounded similar, though by no means identical, to that of the aviatrix.) In any event, Leger had the impression that she understood his French (this was just an impression, not a certainty). Gesturing animatedly with her hands while talking, she gave him to understand from this that she wanted him to continue the work she had left off, removing sand from the craft. Leger, being accustomed to obeying orders from the Germans, went about this task, and after some 10 minutes succeeded in freeing the ‘new fighter plane’ from the sand.

The woman appeared to be happy about this and, smiling contentedly, continued talking with Leger. Suddenly realizing with some surprise that he did not understand a word, she finally pointed to the sky, tapped her chest with the palm of her hand two or three times, and did the same to him. She then placed her hand on her buckle, whereupon a rectangular opening immediately became visible on the lower part of the craft’s hull. First, a panel appeared on the hitherto seamless hull, then the panel was withdrawn several centimetres into the object and slid aside. The woman entered her craft after indicating to Leger that he should move away. The panel closed, leaving the hull looking as if the door did not exist.

Through one of the portholes, Leger observed that the interior was devoid of instruments. He saw the aviatrix sprawling ‘on all fours’ — or rather, in a stretched position — in the middle of the floor, as if she was driving a motorbike in a competition. (Investigator Jean Sider remarks that although this seemingly ludicrous detail tends to minimize credibility in the report, it was precisely this detail that led him to believe in the reality of the incident, based on comparison with a little-known 1954 case — see p. 170.) A slight rumbling sound could be heard and two rings on the craft began to rotate at an ever- increasing speed; the lower one clockwise and the upper one counterclockwise.

The dark stripe separating the rings became luminous and began to vibrate, at which point the craft rose from the ground, slowly at first, then suddenly accelerated and disappeared in a northerly direction, at a speed far in excess of any German aircraft with which the witness was familiar.

Although Leger had touched the hull of the craft a few times while removing the sand, he did not notice any untoward physiological effects, during neither the hours nor the days following his adventure. Convinced that he had just witnessed the landing of an experimental aircraft, he quietly continued on his walk to Exelgroud, deciding not to discuss the experience with others