Proof of Extraterrestrial Intelligence: The Cape Canaveral Apollo Program Chronicles

Excerpt

By Jim E. Oglesby
© 12-8-09

     I was born in Rincon, Ga. Rincon is located about 18 miles south of Savannah.

I served in the United States Navy as a third class Petty Officer aboard the USS Platte AO-24 during the Vietnam War. After the four-year Navy tour, I returned to Orlando, Florida, and worked the carpentry trade for my father, until I joined Bendix Launch Support in 1967.

I was 27 years of age at the time.

New Year's Eve weekend, 1967, I was visiting with relatives, Jon, brother-in-law, Sandy, sister and their family.

They lived in a mobile home on Sixth Street in Bithlo, Fl. Bithlo is located between Orlando and the Cape.

Note: When I arrived at their residence late that afternoon, the sun had set for at least a half-hour and faint pinpoints of light poked through the dark celestial canopy.

Jon and I were standing in the kitchen drinking coffee engaged in lighthearted conversation, while the family huddled together in the living room watching a classic Christmas movie on TV.

Suddenly a flash of amber light reflected through the kitchen window that faced east. I reached around and flung wide the front door, my heart pounded away in my chest, as I expected to see a meteor hit the ground!

Instead, my attention was drawn to an amber basketball sized swirling mass of energy, suspended in midair less than a hundred feet above and east of the mobile home!

The mysterious anomaly maintained the estimated hundred-feet distance above and east of the mobile home; however, just before it vanished from sight, its amber color illuminated the upper round structure, the underside, and the lower outer rim of a pewter metallic craft that measured perhaps 45 to 50 feet in diameter!

I gazed ahead looking east into the dark where the unidentified craft had just vanished into, yet I could make out the outline of the craft as it continued to glide out over the fields.

Then a beam of deep red cone-shaped light emanating from under the craft pierced the darkness, tracing the ground as it continued moving east.

The red beam winked out, then on, then off again. I just stood there, while my mind tried to cogitate what had just happened. I concluded that whether remote controlled or piloted by an occupant, the craft was under intelligent control and beyond our technology.

Then a pattern of flashing red lights appeared where the red beam had just winked out, and just above the shadowy tree line that lined up within the two poles that flanked the driveway.

The pattern of red lights rotated or appeared to rotate in a horizontal pattern around the circular craft and along the outer rim of the craft.
Moments later a second craft glided in from the right and converged with the original craft.

Then both craft rose and fell simultaneously, then drifted back and forth like two leaves caught on the wind and dropped below the dark topography and out of sight.

Then a low thumping distant vibration interrupted the mood; the vibration turned into the fast approaching sound of blades slicing through the cold night air, sounds I recognized as helicopters! Six of the metal birds moved in from the east in single file formation.

The choppers fanned out in an ever-widening circle, their bright beams performed aerial surgery on the dark terrain below as they moved back and forth above the general area for three or four minutes, while two jets flew low over the UFO targets area.

After a brief scan of the area, the choppers resumed single-file formation and headed back in the East-South-East direction of their original approach. The Jets banked, came back for another pass before heading back in the same direction as the choppers.

From 7:10-7:20 p.m., Saturday evening December 30 until 1:50 a.m., New Year’s Eve, I stood in one spot, my attention riveted out there, waiting. At 1:50 a.m. one of the craft began rising from the area that had harbored it for the better part of six hours! Yes. Two extraterrestrial spacecraft parked out in the middle of a field for SIX HOURS!

The flashing red lights that circled the lone ship's outer perimeter moved faster and faster in the 6-5-4-3-2-1, 1-2-3-4-5-6 sequence as it climbed steadily above the dark terrain below. Then the ship shot straight up, paused, accelerated to a greater height until the celestial vessel’s outer structure transformed into a glowing white magnificent craft.

The bright object shot straight up again, paused, hung in the dark starry sky. It then accelerated in one final ascending burst of speed, covering a vast distance. As I watched the radiant craft, now star-like in appearance as it hovered from its lofty position—the Eastern horizon exploded with a display of multi-brilliant colors.

Out of the myriad of colors, a fiery object thundered above the cold dark Atlantic Ocean.

The Air Force had launched a Minuteman Two Missile from its underground silo at Cape Canaveral Air Force Station.

Then the bright craft zipped to the right, zipped to the left, performed a vertical Z-pattern all in one continuous flowing streak of light, against a background alive with a myriad of shimmering, stars.

The bright object then floated down like a glowing snowflake before it shot to the left, paused, and to my astonishment drew near the cone section of the fast-rising Minuteman Two Missile!

That moment seemed forever before the glowing craft darted to the right paused again then streaked off to the south and vanished from eyesight.

I stood there for the longest time, not moving, immobilized in time as it were, as I gazed out into the dark, starry, infinite universe while images of the awesome spectacle lingered in my mind and tugged at my heart.

Indeed! The mind-boggling and awe-inspiring anti-gravity feats the bright craft displayed as it zipped back and forth across the sky so effortlessly had left me spellbound, but the brilliant white glow that emanated off the celestial chariot had touched me deeply.

Tuesday, February 13, 1968 between 7:20-30 p.m. The Moon phased in at waxing gibbous, that is, ninety-nine percent of its visible surface reflected like a large luminous globe above the eastern horizon.

The temperature expected to plummet to 34 degrees before sunrise, yet, oblivious of the bone-chilling cold night, I left my observation post on the porch and moved to a new place on the front yard near the edge of the street. I gazed out across the road and then something caught my attention.

A mysterious flashing blue light (FBL) appeared straight away above the field across the street. I estimated the flashing light’s distance from where I stood roughly two hundred yards, although at the time calculating the distance of an unknown anomaly with a flashing blue light that zipped back and forth and without so much as a whisper of sound didn’t enter into my mind at all. A week went by before I finally got around to calculating the distance.

As soon as my attention locked onto the FBL, it disappeared but reappeared a hundred yards to my right.

As soon as I located and focused on it, again it disappeared and reappeared in its original place directly in front of me. As soon as my attention settled onto it again, it vanished again, except this time it reappeared to my left and at the same distance relative to my position as it had appeared to my right.

What with the mysterious blue light, appearing and reappearing back and forth, it hadn't occurred to me at the time to scan the area close to the FBL for physical characteristics. Although a round bright moon provided sufficient illumination, several factors did come into play that night—distance, darkness, and an intense focus on the FBL. The last thing I had on my mind was wondering if the mystifying anomaly had solid properties.

But, I did consider the possibility that the FBL might have been connected to and/or part of a remote probe, as it seemed just the right distance away and out of viewing range as it were, therefore significantly reducing the possibility of my eyes registering physical characteristics.

One day at work, Bill Barber, a work associate and friend, approached me and expressed an interest in the unusual claims that I had become vocal about in and around the machine shop where I worked.

We hit it off right from the get-go and soon became good friends, so I had no problem inviting Bill to join me on what would become an eventful and a most memorable March 6 Wednesday evening.

Bill was born in High Springs, Florida, about a three and a half-hour drive from Titusville, the town he later moved to with his wife Cheryl.

I’d been at my post as usual and as night began to fall, my attention was drawn to a glowing-red cigar-shaped craft, and not unlike the one I had encountered on the night of February 17 while on my way back home from a previous rendezvous with the remote probe.

At the time, I was clueless as to why the cigar-shaped craft had appeared above the orange grove. But, the glowing objects starting point at the extreme west corner of the grove; the oblique angle it navigated coupled with the actual distance it glided above the grove to the point where it paused and hovered above State Road 420 would later prove to be two significant pieces of a much bigger picture.

Then the red glow vanished or so it seemed, until I saw what appeared at first as a golden patch of light that spilled out into the darkness and located exactly in the same area where the glowing red craft had seemingly vanished from moments earlier. I believe the patch of golden light could have come from a small window positioned on the right side of the craft but it would be anyone’s guess what the patch of light might have been.

Then, my attention focused on a pair of headlights coming around the curve on 420. Moments later, car lights passed directly below the spot where the glowing red craft had appeared less than a minute earlier before it vanished from sight. I watched the car lights as they weaved through the washed out muddy path, the short cut to Sixth Street. Moments later, a white Mustang pulled into the driveway. It was Bill and Cheryl Barber. They quietly joined me on the porch.

I was eager to tell Bill about the mysterious craft I had just seen as it hovered above his car before his headlights rounded the curve on 420. After I informed him of that fact, he looked at me and said, “You’re telling me that we passed right under a glowing red UFO!” I nodded. Bill shook his head then replied, “I just got a chill man you telling me that. Cheryl shook her head as she slipped inside and joined the Baker family who were watching one of their favorite TV programs.

Bill and I remained on the porch. I restated the previous New Year’s Eve weekend events while we gazed out into the dark starry sky.

Midnight Cheryl came out sleepy-eyed and ready to return home. We called it a night.

Sunday night, March 17, after the evening meal, Jon and I filled our coffee mugs, went outside and paused about halfway between the trailer and the street.

The awkward stillness of the night was broken when we both started talking about the mysterious sphere we had witnessed the previous night. Besides the sheer impact it had on our sense of reality, we now knew that the blue sphere was probably an ET probe, designed and engineered to gather information about us. Jon agreed with my assessment and expressed concerned.

While we continued discussing that night’s event I would scan the sky, then turn my attention back to my brother-in-law.

I just happened to look north and that was when I saw an amber cone-shaped beam of light, just appear low on the horizon. The beam just popped on. Like someone hit a switch. It reminded me of a stationary flashlight aimed down at the ground and at an oblique angle. The fact that the beam was at an angle and not aimed directly straight down, I speculated that the light’s source might also have been positioned at an angle. A speculation that proved later to be true.

I pointed to the unusual light that had appeared in the dark sky, north of where we stood and low on the horizon.

Jon paused, stared at the beam of light, shook his head as if to say, “this is too much!” turned and went back inside the trailer.

The amber beam winked out. On the night of March 6, I had observed an event that involved a cigar-shaped glowing-red craft as it moved obliquely above the orange grove on the north side of State Road 420. An event unclear to me at the time, yet on this night I had just watched an amber beam of light, as it appeared low on the horizon and positioned left of the March 6 sighting.

I stood there just staring out at the arbitrary spot where the amber light had just winked out. Then I realized that the two previous nights, March 11 and March 12 respectively, Vern Bauer and I had watched the remote probe coming out of and going into that same general area. Hmm, a probe active in the area north of our position on the front lawn and now an amber cone-shaped beam of light had appeared in the same general area.

I retired to my room, entered the sighting in the journal, and called it a night.
Sunday, September 15, 1968.

The lunar body in waning crescent with 42% of its’ surface illuminated had dropped below the western horizon, another dark night for Florida’s east coast.

Around 9:30 that evening, my mother, Naomi, my niece, Michelle, Larry Kelly and a friend that he brought along, all showed up and on time as I had asked them to. Unfortunately, hordes of annoying mosquitoes also arrived on time.

We swatted and fought off the blood extractors because nobody thought to bring along repellent.

It was all that I could do to persuade my mom and niece to hang in a little while longer while I swatted at the persistent little buggers, obviously, Kelly and his quiet sidekick had accumulated their own share of bites, but they did not voice their opinions to the contrary.

We were standing by the big metal gate when an amber cone-shaped beam of light appeared a hundred feet above the orange grove and positioned near the grove’s northeast corner. I had seen that beam of light before but never as close as this! Everyone stared transfixed at the funnel of light as it hung there above the orange grove on that hot muggy mid-September night.

I shook off the hypnotic allure of the light. I then reacted by climbing over the gate and proceeded to run as fast as I could through the sandy open lane that extended north through the middle of the grove. I paused at the end and while my heart pounded; I glanced left where the white sandy trail flanked by the citrus orchard on the left and the stand of cypress trees that bordered the lake’s shoreline on the right faded into the darkness.

Moments later, Larry and his friend had caught up with me. Compelled, I took off running west over the white sandy trail between the last row of citrus trees contrasted by the white sandy shore line to my right, all the while, instinctively cognizant of the amber beam of light that winked-out moments earlier.
I continued running as fast and as hard as I could yet I was ready to turn on a dime and run for my life in the opposite direction if something unexpected, perhaps unthinkable, happened.

Suddenly, a strange dark shape loomed in front of me. I stumbled headlong into a huge pile of cast-off orange tree debris and by the time, I regained my composure and got up, Larry and his friend also crashed headlong into the debris and me. A scene delivered straight from a Three Stooges folly.

Fortunately, by now my eyes had adjusted somewhat to the darkness and as I looked out from behind the gigantic tumbleweed of rubbish, I saw it—there fifteen yards away the faint outline of a cigar-shaped craft blended almost seamlessly into the dark terrain!

Faint phosphor-green patches of light flickered and danced around the ship's midsection. My heart raced and I felt my body sway back and fourth as I tried to cogitate the spectacle before me. An eerie stillness permeated the immediate surroundings laced with a strange energy that could only have come from the hovering ship. I purposely held my breath as adrenaline pumped through me; it was as if the involuntary act of breathing had somehow impeded my brain’s ability to accurately assess our predicament.

I was ready to bolt—then vehicle headlights unexpectedly illuminated the darkness!

I crouched down and safely peeked through the debris and while my brain attempted to process data unknown to it and at a fantastic rate, I managed to estimate the distance (on the fly) of the initial headlights at a 100 feet east of the ship and 50 feet or less from our position. The vehicle, dark blue or black, then pulled forward and drew near the ship.

I turned and ran as fast as I could toward the big gate. I could hear Larry and his friend right behind me running as fast as they could to keep up with me and put as much distance between them and what they too had observed.

As I ran, adrenaline-powered images of what I had just experienced flashed in my mind; the eerily faint outline of the ship, the green glowing shimmering patches that faded in and out along the ship’s outer perimeter, and the car head-light beams that ripped through the dark. As my mind reeled to take it all in, I realized that something big had just occurred.

I climbed over the big gate and my need to run dissipated—no sooner did my feet hit the ground on the other side, Larry and his friend scrambled up and over the gate, their eyes full of fear mixed with wide-eyed excitement.

My mom and niece obviously sensed that something was not right and both headed for their car. I turned my head to the left as I listened for sound, any sound, like the roar of an automobile engine or headlights coming our way. I stared deep into the open lane not knowing what might happen next. Might there be government agents in the car, and if so, had they spotted us running for our lives; or perhaps the ETI saw us and may have decided that we had stumbled upon a highly sensitive clandestine operation and we had to be silenced.

Perhaps this time I had gone too far but now I had relatives, a work associate, plus his friend, involved.

No car lights and no sounds just an eerie silence. Larry nodded to his friend and they headed for their car.

My rationale—the dark sedan driver was human—most likely a Government, Military or NASA official sent to rendezvous with Extraterrestrial Intelligence!

In a sparsely populated non-descript dot on the map named Bithlo. A quiet area made to order for the Extraterrestrial's clandestine highly sensitive operations near the Cape.

During the Apollo Program, the ETI took full advantage of the perfect meeting place, situated between the back end of fenced-in orange groves armed with “No Trespassing” signs and near the shoreline of a pristine kidney-shaped body of water named Lake Pickett.

With the incredible Sunday night events less than 24 hours old, after work the next afternoon, I drove along State Road 420, looking for another entrance into the groves. I knew of only one gate in/out of that section of orange groves—the Big Gate where we had gathered last night.

Well, I did find another smaller gate where the dark sedan could have entered/exited the grove last night; a smaller wire gate situated several hundred feet west of the big gate.

Because we were so focused on what had just happened north of where we stood outside the Big Gate, the previous night, the dark sedan could have easily slipped through the alternate gate, turned right and headed for its east coast destination.

With last night’s extraordinary event still fresh in my mind, I now had the final piece needed to complete the Big Picture. Now, all that remained was bringing all the pieces together and so I began that process.

During the March 6 sighting of the glowing red cigar-shaped craft, it had become as clear to me as the aqua-green waters that embodied the kidney-shaped lake, that the craft had either dropped off or picked up envoys that night at the north west end of the orange grove.

The ship then glided (as I had observed on that night) diagonally above the grove and paused above State Road 420.

Because it paused for a moment that night, I had the great fortune of observing the ship until it moved forward and vanished into the night.

It also became clear to me that the March 17 sighting of the amber beam of light had come from the cigar-shaped craft and on that night had either dropped off or picked up envoys —a fact I could now confirm.

After each meeting, the human officials and ET Emissary/s had exited the open wire gate west of the main gate, turned right, drove several miles, intersected with Highway 50, another left turn and from there proceeded to their destination, the Cape and or Kennedy Space Center.

See Also:

~ ALIEN INTERVIEW ~
A Review

Confessions of An Alien Hunter

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