the Wanderling

"In 1955, eight years after the Roswell crash, a meeting between the biosearcher and famed radio broadcaster Frank Edwards, a known UFO advocate, occurred. Two years later the biosearcher met with famed astronomer Dr. Lincoln La Paz. Sometime after the meeting with Edwards, but before the meeting with La Paz, the biosearcher, who was known to have visited the debris field within days of the crash, went back to an area in the hills directly up and beyond the debris field to obtain 'something' he buried there ten years previously."(source)

In connection to the above quote, the question arises if there is any truth to the rumor that the "something buried" recovered from the Roswell debris field of 1947 turned out to be a potential destructive device similar to a hand-held pistol, albeit from an advanced alien culture?

In standard Roswell lore the rumor of a pistol-like device bearing similarities to a science-fiction type ray gun having been found at the debris field remains at the most vague or not discussed at all. None of the big movers in the field who write book after book on Roswell or blog on the internet into infinity seldom if ever bring it up. Although Memory Foil has long been part of the history and lore of Roswell because some of it apparently fell into the hands of civilians much to the dismay of the authorities, any weapon of sorts, hand-held or otherwise, has never come to light on an official basis --- and, IF one fell into the hands of authorities (i.e., the government) or IF they confiscated one, even after all of these decades, no one is talking. As for the why the big movers who write book after book on Roswell or blog forever into infinity on the internet going over and over about Roswell, rehashing and regurgitating the same old stuff, but still never have time to bring up the possibility of a ray gun is quite simple --- they were left out of the loop.

As for me though, the potential possibility of a Roswell ray gun is quite different. The answer to the question was set into motion one day through first hand knowledge when I was visiting my Uncle in Santa Fe, New Mexico when he took a small bag containing broken pieces of red and black plastic and dumped them on the table in front of me. He told me he had meticulously picked up the pieces strung out in a long line in the dirt near where I had buried a red and black hand held toy film viewer in July of 1947 in the hills up and behind the debris field related to the Roswell Incident. The celluloid film strip found along with the pieces of the viewer, although highly faded where it had been exposed to the sun and weather, still had enough of the film left curled together and untouched that I was able, after carefully unrolling it, to identify it as being Don Winslow of the Navy, the same film strip I had left in the viewer when I buried what I called a time capsule.(see)

The big thing for me though was not the pieces of the plastic viewer, but that my Uncle the Biosearcher, as alluded to in the quote at the top of the page, had gone back to the debris field ten years after the fact in the first place --- especially so going over the area up and behind the field close enough that he was able to find my old film viewer. I knew he had buried something he found on the debris field somewhere near where I buried my time capsule, and had done so on the same day but without me in attendance. The only thing I could think of was that he went back to retrieve whatever he buried and in the process of trying to locate it ran across the pieces of my viewer. What was really odd about the whole thing is that we had been seeing each other on and off regularly since 1968 after a long lull of having not done so. He had returned to the debris field in 1957 and in all the years that followed he never mentioned one word to me that he had gone back nor that he had returned with what he was able to find left of the film viewer. He only revealed he had possession of the pieces when I showed him my map and intention of going back myself.

A few years before my uncle died he embarked on a personal expedition to explore Machu Picchu high in the Andes of South America. Afterwards he traveled over to the Brazilian side to bio-search along the upper reaches of the Amazon when he broke his leg. Returning to the United States, weak from the complications of that break, with dementia sneaking in and his body defenses down, cancer took over and he died a couple of years later at age eighty-six.

As quick as I found out after his return he was ill I went to see him. It was then I discovered he was actually on a serious downhill trajectory. I knew a huge fund of otherwise unknown or purposely withheld information would no longer be able to tapped when his mind disappeared and he was gone. He always seemed so together and wise, but in those last few years I could see him slipping and I knew there were many, many things that would go unanswered when the time came. One among those many things, after I learned he had returned to the debris field ten years after the event was what if anything did he retrieve and if he did retrieve something what was it and what happened to it?

I was sitting in a chair beside my pretty much bed ridden uncle as he was inching towards the end of his days discussing any number of subjects and topics ranging from a 23 year old B-29 pilot named John Noble Cumming killed when his Superfortress crashed during a "hump" related bombing run over the Himalayas headed toward Japan in World War II and how Cumming was connected to my uncle's fellow New Mexico WPA artist colleague Peter Hurd, to the beautiful, more than enigmatic and mysterious Hope Savage, Savage being a woman from the 1950's era of Allen Ginsberg and the Beat Generation that I knew and met, who simply just disappeared one day walking into oblivion while traveling in India. From there it was on to the Kingman UFO that crashed in 1953 to our experiences in the pit houses at Meteor Crater and a giant feather as long as a mans outstretched arms, five feet or more in length I remember as a young boy, telling me the following:

"Without my knowledge he had kept it carefully wrapped and tied in soft buckskin, hidden away from prying eyes all these years. He told me he 'was getting up there' and wanted to ensure the correct 'passage' of the feather. He said for me to secrete the feather away and arrange to have, upon MY death, someone very close to me take it to the crater and in a certain rite, burn it."

The Boy and the Giant Feather

Cumming and I having met and known each other was a huge fly in the ointment for my uncle. Although he was comfortable with all kinds of out of sequence things in his life he wasn't always receptive if he didn't initiate it himself or it didn't involve him specifically, re the following with me being in Calcutta an all:

"I just happened to be in Calcutta at the same time meeting with the merchant marine and it wasn't long before we ran into each other. Joining the group in Calcutta was an artist war correspondent for Life Magazine named Peter Hurd who was covering the Army Air Forces' worldwide air transport system. Hurd was on his second assignment after England, Europe, and Africa for Life Magazine and in doing so ended up for a time in India.

"My Uncle was a fellow New Mexico WPA artist colleague and friend of Hurd. When Hurd was in India creating paintings he met a friend of my uncle, a 23 year old B-29 pilot named John Noble Cumming. Since we all came together at the same time and same place in Calcutta I met Cumming as well."

John Nobel Cumming

The problem my uncle had with Cumming and me was that Cumming died June, 28 1944 when his B-29 crashed, meaning I would have had to have been in Calcutta sometime prior to the crash in order to have met him. In 1944 the me that my uncle knew was only about 6 years old. The meeting between Cumming and me in 1944 I was around 25 years old. No matter how many times I explained it my uncle always feigned ignorance.

Continuing to jump between subjects, out of the blue he returned to the previously mentioned viewer pieces he had given me some years before asking what I had done with them. I told him I wasn't sure but I thought over time I eventually just threw them away or they ended up in a box stashed away somewhere, possibly in a connex container on my younger brother's property in Oregon. Then he asked me if I remembered the toy ray gun or disintegrator pistol I used to have as a kid. First thing I thought of was my Buck Rogers U-235 Atomic Pistol which I told him I still had and that it was still in fairly good shape except the red flasher up in the little windows didn't work so hot any more. He looked puzzled as if he didn't know what I was talking about telling me the ray gun he was making reference to didn't have little red windows. Picking up a scrap of paper I sketched out what the gun looked like. He inturn, after seeing my sketch, drew his own picture of what he remembered the pistol looked like. Right away I knew what he was talking about. It wasn't the Buck Rogers U-235 Atomic Pistol but another toy gun I had as a kid called the Hiller Silver Atom Ray Gun.

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He told me what he buried that day in 1947 up and behind the debris field was something he found while searching for one of the so-called anomalous I-beams with suspected alien Hieroglyphic Writing on them, or for that fact, anything with hieroglyphs on it. He didn't find any pieces, scraps, items, or objects with hieroglyphs he was readily willing to admit to, but he did find what appeared to be a weapon --- a pistol of sorts, although possibly a little bit smaller in overall handling size than one of our hand held pistols such as a Colt .45 for example, but, except for how light it was, still generally comparable in shape and handling to a pistol.

He said as a pistol it reminded him looks-wise a great deal like the toy gun I used to have (i.e., the Hiller Atom Ray Gun). Now, if what he found and then later buried was actually a hand-held weapon, i.e., a pistol or not, he didn't know because at first he never made an attempt to figure out how it worked --- or if it even worked. For one thing he had no clue what the results would be either to himself or what would happen to anything in front of it. All the same, to him, in the infamous form follows function sort of way, what he found was a pistol. Now, if it was a classic science-fiction ray gun, blaster, or disintegrator of some type and if using it would have unleashed a powerful electromagnetic pulse, high energy electron, proton or photon plasma or particle beams, fired a projectile or released poisonous gas, he didn't know --- he just did not want it to fall into the wrong hands. Hence his decison to remove it from the equation by burying it and not telling anybody, even me. He figured since nobody of any note except possibly the famed astronomer, mathematician and meteorite hunter Dr. Lincoln La Paz really knew he was out there, and La Paz nor anybody else knew he found it, without consultation, he buried it on his own deep enough and far enough away from the debris field nobody would ever find it.(see)

In 1962 the company that produced collectable baseball cards, Topps, began making a series of collectable cards called "Mars Attacks," with some of the set up art done for the cards by my favorite artist/cartoonist Wally Wood (favorite if you don't count film animator Tex Avery). In any case, when my uncle began skirting the issue regarding the object he found at the debris field having all the potential possibilities of being a handheld sidearm type pistol from an alien culture, maybe even a ray gun of some sort, the first thing I pictured in my mind's eye was a Mars Attacks type weapon disintegrating everything in it's path, leaving nothing but bare bones not unlike what is shown below --- with my uncle on his part, exhibiting absolutely no inclination, no matter how small or minor, to alleviate any such similar apprehension I might realistically harbor myself:

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In April of 1947, a few months before my uncle would come across and bury his find in the hills above the debris field, a then major in the U.S. Army named Philip J. Corso, who would eventually became an intelligence officer for General Douglas MacArthur during the Korean War and a close friend of SAC commander General Curtis Le May, began a three year stint stationed at Fort Riley, Kansas.

Fifty years later, in 1997, Corso wrote a book published under the title The Day After Roswell. In the book, according to Corso, on Sunday, July 6, 1947 while serving as post duty office over the 4th of July weekend, he became aware that apparently the day before a convoy composed of at least five two-and-a-half-ton military trucks and side-by-side low-boy trailers pulled into Fort Riley loaded with huge wooden crates in transit from Biggs Army Airfield, Fort Bliss, Texas bound for the Air Material Command at Ohio's Wright Field. Corso goes on to say an enlisted man he knew through a local bowling league was posted as a sentry that night. When Corso approached the enlisted man's post the sentry told him the crews of the deuce-and-a-halfs had their own security and they told him they brought the boxes up from some accident in New Mexico.

In the 1960s Corso was assigned to the Pentagon and there headed up the Foreign Technology desk in Army Research and Development. Corso writes in his book that because of his intelligence background he was put on special assignment and in the process inherited a file cabinet that held the Army's deepest, most closely guarded secret: the Roswell files. The files contained information as well as debris and the locations of additional debris that military retrieval teams pulled out of the wreckage of an airborne object of unknown nature that began disintegrating out over the New Mexico desert northwest of the town of Roswell only to slam into the boulders and rocks of the Capitan mountains to the west of Roswell in the middle of the night sometime during the first week of July 1947.(see)

Those two events, the trucks pulling into Fort Riley under a cloak of secrecy within days of the Roswell crash and all of the information in the files he had at his finger tips, was the basis and foundation for his book. In a nutshell the gist of his book as Corso relays it, is that at the Pentagon he was secretly assigined and responsible for going through all of the files and debris pieces, figure out what they were, and then if possible, through reverse engineering as though the Penagon developed it somehow, distribute the knowledge garnered to the proper industries and military agencies to use.(see)

What does any of what Corso have to say do with us here and the ray gun like object my uncle discovered and later hand-buried in the hills beyond the debris field in 1947? Corso reports in a variety of places in his book, primarily Chapter 16, that he found information during his investigations that led to charred fragments of a directed-energy apparatus and as well, an operable high-intensity hand held laser tool, both of which that had been discovered in the wreckage of the downed object and written up as such by the engineers at the Air Materiel Command. Both of those items, designated as existing from an outside source, relate in a similar fashion to the functions of a ray gun, in turn adding credence and credibility to the potential possibility of its existence.

Of course, taking Corso at his word would be required to add any strength to my side of the equation. Not everybody is ready to do that, especially so a core of long time established Roswell pundits that were caught out of the loop by his revelations. Corso has both his supporters and his detractors. I have linked to both below, with the first two links probably the most hard hitting and most difficult to get around of the detractors. The third and fourth links support Corso and in the process, although it may not nullify all of the criticism of the first two, what is offered makes one think. After reading both sides it is up to you to decide. For myself, even though I find a lot of what Corso says not in my camp of beliefs regarding Roswell and a lot of the criticism is difficult to discount, I am willing to cite him in backing up the ray gun aspect of what I present for two reasons.

First, as I have mentioned many times in my works, most notedly so as found in ROSWELL ARCHAEOLOGISTS: The Dirt Before the Dig, that during a road trip across Arizona and New Mexico in the summer of 1947 my uncle and I stopped at Fort Sumner to see the gravesite of one of the west's most notorious gunfighters, Billy the Kid. That night, which coincided with 4th of July weekend, without even making a fire, we curled up in our sleeping bags on the desert floor under the stars. After breaking camp close to daybreak and without being remotely aware of the Roswell incident, as we were about to turn onto a main highway from some side road not far from Fort Sumner we were stopped by a military convoy.

The convoy itself was headed north or northeast and composed of several flatbed trucks carrying large crates, some covered with tarps some not, escorted by jeeps and followed in the rear by a huge tow truck. My uncle made his turn and eventually caught and passed the convoy, continuing on our trip without incident. However, the event was highly memorable for me as a nearly ten year old boy. The year before I had witnessed the Hughes flying boat being moved in a similar fashion and just the sight of all the army trucks trundling along out in the middle of the desert was exciting, but passing them, smelling the diesel, hearing all the noise, seeing all the wheels, and having the drivers salute or give a wave going by was unforgetable. The point is that the convoy we witnessed outside Fort Sumner and headed toward Kansas was almost an exact duplicate of the convoy as described by Corso in his 1997 book, a convoy he became aware of as being on Fort Riley property sometime Sunday, July 6, 1947 after apparently having arrived the day before.

Secondly, when I was in a military Army hospital recovering from a stomach wound there was a fellow GI in the bed next to mine, a sergeant E-7 who had been on a mercy mission to retrieve some wounded GIs along with the pilot and crew of a helicopter that was bringing them in when it crashed. The retrieval helicopter he was on was pulled out of the sky as well as they approached the crash site of the downed Dustoff. He ended up in arm and leg tractions and covered head to toe in a plaster cast except for various openings to see, breath, put in food and drink and let it back out when the need occurred. The first few days I was hooked up to a bunch of IVs and unconscious, but after that I was able to get out of bed, walk to the john, feed myself, that sort of thing. I sat next to the bed of the sergeant and read to him and BS, sometimes late into the night. While I was there, General Wheeler, a two star general, came to see him.

After establishing a rapport and a certain trust between us we began talking about everything under the sun. He had been in World War II, Korea, and Vietnam. Initially, since I had a strong interest personally, we started from the beginning, slowly walking our way through World War II --- although we jumped back and forth a lot between subjects and topics. Plus, they kept him on some fairly serious meds and when they kicked in he sort of went into a catatonic state. He must have dreamed during some of those periods because he would come out of it and be very lucid on some of the subjects we had been talking about or leading up to.

I told the badly wounded medic that I had been a member embedded within a special communication team on a covert mission that crossed over several miles deep into sovereign Chinese territory. Because it involved already in place strung wires and telephone poles, a couple of us, of which I was one, were just about on the edge of being caught out in the open during the daylight hours by a Chinese Red Army truck convoy when, out of nowhere, coming in behind us at about tree top level was a World War II vintage prop machine, it's engine screaming like crazy all the while strafing the shit out of the road in front of the convoy, scattering it all directions and making it turn around and retreat towards where it came from.

Gulping air in a sort of semi-astonishment and moving as to sit up as best he could in recognition of what I said, the medic told me it was a Ghost Ship, a Phantom P-40 that shows up out of nowhere, usually on "our" side, and disappears just as quickly. Although he had never seen it as it usually never operated as far east as Vietnam, he and others had long heard of it. He also said I was the first, first-person witness he had talked to that had actually seen it.



As time passed, in that I had a background that involved UFO type phenomenon as a boy, including observing the giant unknown airborne object that came to be known as the Battle of Los Angeles: 1942 UFO that overflew Los Angeles during the early stages of World War II --- an object that was able to withstand the direct hit from 1440 anti aircraft rounds only to escape unharmed --- sometimes our late night discussions circulated around the subject of UFOs.

Like Corso the sergeant had been in the Army since World War II, most of the time as a medic. He was even an escaped Prisoner of War and a successful one at that --- that is, he was never caught after his escape --- crossing occupied France on his own to the American lines after resorting to eating rats and hiding all day and night from the French. The sergeant just happened to end up stationed at Fort Riley, Kansas in 1947 at the same time as Corso and the Roswell crash. If he and Corso knew each other or ever met I have no clue. When the sergeant and I was in the hospital together it was 30 years before Corso's book came out so there would be no reason for his name to come up, and even it would have I would have never remembered it. However, in our random late night UFO talks he told me lot of the same things Corso wrote about many years later in his book regarding what he saw at Riley. For me, taking into consideration the convoy I saw and the one Corso described being so similar, along with what the sergeant told me, at least with that portion of what Corso wrote regarding events at Fort Riley, extends a certain amount of credibility across Corso's works for me, enough so that because of the object my uncle found I am willing to buy the existance of charred fragments of a directed-energy apparatus and an operable high-intensity hand held laser tool.(see)



By this point readers that have got this far are usually wondering about two things: one, was the hand held device a weapon or not, and two, what happened to it --- that is, did it work and where is it now? The answers to both questions are inter-woven together by tying together two separate stand-alone, yet seemingly unrelated incidents I write about elsewhere.

First, the answer as to if the hand held device was a weapon or not can be, if all the facts are carefully sifted through and a little clarification added where it falls short, can be found in William Lawrence Campbell. Campbell is one of the people on a growing list people typically cited as being one of the Roswell archaeologists. If you scroll down the Campbell page you will come to a section where my uncle, well after the Roswell incident, meets the grandson of a major witness in Campbell's involvement. Within the context of describing that meeting I write, speaking of myself in the first person, the following:

"As soon as I heard he had returned from South America and was on a downhill spiral --- of which he had been unwilling to share with me --- I went to New Mexico to see him. Although he was in a compromised state both physically and mentally he insisted there was something he wanted me to see in the mountains north of Santa Fe. Much to my chagrin he also insisted on driving.

"Somewhere along a highway that goes from Santa Fe to Taos he pulled off onto a dirt road, drove a short distance, stopped and got out, requesting that I join him. Then, before I could stop him, he started walking as best he could almost as though he was on a mission. The next thing I knew he had fallen on the rough terrain. I put his arm around my shoulder and we returned to the car."


The rest of the story goes on to tell how the meeting with the grandson of the witness came about. However, what we are interested in here is not so much the meeting or the grandson, but what was so important in the dry-wash canyons and mountains north of Santa Fe that my uncle was willing, almost insistent, to take me to see while being nearly on his death bed. As the story on the Campbell page unfolds you will find that my uncle and I never did make it up into the mountains to see whatever it was that was so important for me to see. However, somewhat later during the same time period and safely at home he did tell me.

He said that a short time after he retrieved the object from the hills up and behind the old Roswell debris field he contacted three Native Americans of a very special nature of which I will speak of later. After revealing what he had found he and the three Native Americans took the object and went up into the mountains and canyons between Santa Fe and Taos. There they attached the object on top of a man-height wooden tower with a jury-rigged contraption designed to activate what appeared to be a switch-like or trigger-button mechanism. Putting some distance between themselves and the object, they activated the mechanism. Nothing happened. They rechecked the operation of the mechanism, reattached it and set it in motion. Again, no results. They started speculating on any number of things with the consensus being if the object was a weapon, because it had been buried for nearly ten years any operational power it may have had simply waned or run down or it never had any when found.

All the time they had been setting up the tower and working on the test a surprise storm was brewing on the horizon with all possibilities that it would soon be on them. Taking the potential of a flash flood along the canyon floor happening at any time they moved to higher ground taking the tower and object with them, setting it up and aiming it toward a pile of boulders and one huge one in particular hoping to try again. Before they could test it light rain started coming down so they sought shelter along the cliffs for the night. By eleven o'clock the storm was on them in full force with heavy rain, thunder and lightning. Then around midnight, possibly because of the elevation, the height of the tower standing out in the open, and the object being the only unprotected piece of metal around, a huge bolt of lightning slammed into it. Instantly a long, small diameter pulse glowing almost radium green shot straight out completely obliterating the boulder in front of it a 100 yards out followed almost immediately by a vague almost phosphorus green impact against the cliff walls across the canyon.

The next morning the storm was gone. The tower was knocked over and the whole upper level charred, most likely put out by the rain, the rest dampend by it. The activating mechanism was basically destroyed and the object --- or pistol or ray gun, whatever you want to call it --- was thrown free of it's clamping device four or five feet from the fallen tower. Even with the direct hit from the lightning there wasn't any sign of damage, no marks, scratches, or surface discoloration.


The three men and my uncle walked down to the where the boulder had been and it was gone, completely gone, apparently obliterated into nothing but fine dust. My uncle along with one of the three men hiked clear across to the other side of the canyon hoping to find the impact point they had seen from a distance the night before. They were eventually able to locate a nearly perfectly round two inch in diameter hole that went, after pushing sticks into it, at least 20 feet straight into the rock cliff positioned in exact alignment with where the object had been fired from. So clean was the cut it was as though it had been carefully drilled by a sharp water honed drill bit. Of course now days there is no sign of there ever being a boulder or any of the equipment they used, but the hole is still up on the canyon wall and that was what my uncle was taking me to see. I never made it because of his fall and I have no clue as to the exact location or where to look other than having been part way into the canyon generally.

As my guardian during my formative years starting as early as me being nothing more that a little kid to just before entering my teens, one of things my uncle knew about me for sure was how fascinated I was with the idea of such things as ray guns.(see) Although I could easily say I never saw or held the pistol-like device in question and let it go at that saying I only have my uncle's word on it's existence, it would only hold true for up to some 15 or 20 years after his passing. So too, saying I do not know of the object's exact whereabouts. It is accurate only to the point to say that after having been taken there under highly secretive conditions, that for me personally to go to, find, or reach it's exact, exact location, would be like someone, if they were allowed to live if they got close, or as the legend says, trying to find and locate the Lost Dutchman's Mine. I know what happened to it is connected somehow to the three Native American men and why my uncle contacted them and them only. The three were part of the same group he had some association with previously as found in Roswell Archaeologists and related to the following below --- AND the reason why my uncle contacted them in the first place to help him with the object he buried above the Roswell debris field:

"Some months before the alleged crash-down near Roswell, in a remote section of the desert southwest, bordering along the upper reaches of the northern mountains, an artifact of deep concern and value to certain segments of the long established indigenous population had been stumbled upon by a ragtag group of grave-robbers and, inturn, stolen from a heretofore unknown to outsiders sacred site. The artifact, although nondescript under almost any layperson's observation, was said to be a potential mind-changer in Native American lore if it surfaced among the general public."

The Curandero and the Magic of the Mojave Desert Creosote Ring

The quickest way to tie the above back to the ray gun and it's potential whereabouts is to take you back to an incident when my uncle was in his early 20s and traveling in a then remote part of northeastern New Mexico. While doing so he came across what appeared to be a relatively inexperienced young man age 15 or 16 wandering across the desert all alone. That young man, in later years, turned out to be the author of over a 100 cowboy and western novels by the name of Louis L'Amour. Two of those over 100 books --- one published in 1976 the other written in 1977 but not published until ten years later --- were seeped with a heavy mystic quality about them intertwined with Native American spiritual lore and magic. The books, The Californios and The Haunted Mesa, both relied heavily on consultation with my uncle and his indepth strengths in both areas, but most surely so in Native American spiritual lore. A lot of what L'Amour weaved through both stories, but especially so The Haunted Mesa, which unfolded under the same spiritual blanket that covered my experience as outlined in Incident at Supai, was drawn from the kind of knowledge that my uncle was familiar with and that encompassed what happened to me. L'Amour writes in The Haunted Mesa:

"The Indians the white man met were no more original inhabitants of the country than the Normans and Saxons the original inhabitants of England. Other peoples had come and gone before, leaving only shadows upon the land. Yet some had gone into limbo leaving not only physical artifacts but spiritual ones as well. Often encroaching tribes borrowed from theose who proceded them, accepting their values as a way of maintaining harmony with the natural world.

"There were ancient mysteries, old gods, who retired into canyons to await new believers who would bring them to life once more.

"Who has walked the empty canyons of the lonely land above the timber and not felt himself watched? Watched by what ghosts from a nameless past? From out of what pit or horror and fear?

"The Indian had always known he was not alone. He knew there were others, things that observed. When a man looked quickly up, was it movement he saw or only his imagination?"

Although L'Amour's The Haunted Mesa is a novel, that is fiction, he extrapolated heavily from my uncle's insight and knowledge into just such areas as they related to the indigenous peoples of the desert southwest. L'Amour took the cryptic kernels of truth provided by my uncle --- who never truly revealed any deep secrets entrusted to him --- and created the novel around the kernels. To my knowledge, according to how my uncle explained it, the object rests comfortably secreted away in an area basically unreachable. Without me saying any more, mainly because I don't know much more, by reading The Haunted Mesa you too, and especially so doubters, may be able to extrapolate those so-said kernels of truth and how they apply to what I have presented in the main text above.

There is however, a person known to be a curandero deeply intermixed in all of the above. The curandero, with forbearers springing from the pre-history of Mesoamerica constructing and building temples for a series of unknown Olmec, Mayan and Aztec kings, had as well, a centuries old unwavering blood-line on both the Spanish and Native American side, leading straight back into the past to ancestors who worked directly for the Franciscan Father, Junipero Serra, during the period Serra was establishing and building the Alta California mission system. The following, highly related to the work of the ancestor for Father Serra, came down in a family tradition through word-of-mouth to the curandero:

"As the scenario played out, the crew stumbled upon human skeletal remains composed of at least two people, including two skulls, one close to being fully intact, the other with enough pieces it could be reassembled into one. The military officer in charge was seemingly astute enough to recognize the skulls as being quite ancient and inherently different enough from the typical human skulls, and especially so Indian skulls he was familiar with, to bring the difference to the attention of mission authorities and did so by presenting said authorities with the intact skull. Rather than being commended, the leader of the crew, apparently a learned man of letters, after a heated argument with mission hierarchy, was said to have been put to death and the rest of the men beaten, being told what they saw and spoke of was blaspheme or worse."(see)








Fundamentally, our experience as experienced is not different from the Zen master's. Where
we differ is that we place a fog, a particular kind of conceptual overlay onto that experience
and then make an emotional investment in that overlay, taking it to be "real" in and of itself.



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As to the subject of donations, for those who may be so interested as it applies to the gratefulness of my works, I invariably suggest any funds be directed toward THE WOUNDED WARRIOR PROJECT and/or THE AMERICAN RED CROSS.


Without getting into the logistics behind it all here, but made clear in Tommy Tyree and elsewhere, while staying at the the location I call the hay shelter on the hill above and behind the debris field, with nothing to do but remain hidden all day, to entertain myself I made and buried a "time capsule" thinking I would come back one day in the future and dig it up.

Traveling in the desert in those days I Invariably I wore, carried, or had close by a two-canteen G.I. belt along with a couple of "Carlisle" first aid pouches in of which was full of all kinds of stuff. Stainless steel pocket knife with a fold-out fork and spoon. Compass. Signaling mirror. Waterproof matches. Left unsaid elsewhere was the fact that one of the canteens had a standard G.I. issue fold out handle cup that fit snugly on the bottom of the canteen with both fitting into the canvas carrying case. The other canteen had what the Army called a canteen stove that fit the same way as the cup and case. Always in one of the pouches as well, was one of my most prized possessions, a pocket-sized sun dial watch-like thing called a Little Orphan Annie Miracle Compass Sun-Watch, a one-time radio-premium offer given me by the grandfather of the girl who used to babysit me when I was even a littler kid.


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When I was at the debris field it was years before any of the handheld electronic gizzmos we have today, so to entertain myself I carried a toy red-and-black plastic-bakelite film strip viewer, along with a few extra filmstrips, with me. My uncle told me one time if the Earth ever blew-up and formed an asteroid belt around the sun like the one between Mars and Jupiter some far-in-the-future space explorer would still be able to find pieces of plastic imbeded in the rock-chunks --- because plastic junk lasts forever. Well, I didn't want to part with my pocketknife, compass or matches, so for my time capsule I buried the plastic film viewer. With that I took a gas station paper towel I had in my back pocket and using my most favored gift from my Stepmother, a Reynolds Rocket ballpoint pen that could write underwater or out in space --- which I wish I still had --- and made a treasure map.

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Years passed and I forgot all about it. One day I was moving stuff and ran across my pebble grained faux-leather high school graduation certificate holder. Inside was my diploma along with an official looking "deed" for one whole square inch of land in Canada's Yukon Territory from the Klondike Big Inch Land Company dated January 4, 1955, a really good copy of Uncle Scrooge, Issue #14, June 1956, with a story about Scrooge, his deed and dealings with one inch of land called Faulty Fortune, AND the treasure map I drew for my time capsule.


The next time I saw my uncle in Santa Fe I took the map along. When I showed it to him and expressed the possibility of the two of us going to look for my time capsule he put his hand out in an open-palm "halt" fashion and told me to wait. A few minutes later he was opening a cardboard box he had pulled from the attic and started rummaging around in it. He pulled out a bag and dumped the contents on the table. There in front of me was what was left of a broken to pieces red-and-black plastic film strip viewer. My uncle told me right after meeting with UFO advocate and radio commentator Frank Edwards, about ten years or so after we had been to the debris field, he went back. He walked the old debris field as well as the hill we had observed from. He also tried to find the hay shelter and water trough, but to no avail. Walking the area where he thought it should be he spotted pieces of red plastic in the dirt. Looking more carefully he was eventually able to find most of the viewer, including parts of the film strip. Apparently what happened, and it was just speculation on my uncle's part for the lack or any other explanation, it looked like a disc harrow may have been pulled through the area and one of the discs must have ran right over where I had buried the viewer, scattering it into pieces along a straight line over several feet.

My idea to make a time capsule did not spring from whole cloth, by the way. Somehow I got the idea from my uncle, mimicking his actions. That is, somewhere near or around where we were, my uncle made his own time capsule, burying something OR some-things, pieces and parts he found out out on the debris field. I have reason to guess that was the case because there would be no need to bury anything he already had with him that would be worth leaving then come back for. Apparently that is just what he did, come back for whatever he buried. If I hadn't come across the map and said I wanted to go back to the crash site, which inturn impelled him to show me the pieces of my film viewer that he came across in the hills up and beyond the debris field years afterwards, I would never have known he returned. That and the fact that on his death bed and so many years later, in discussion and in drawings, he was clearly able to remember and distinguish the difference between the Hiller ray gun look alike he was talking about and a Buck Rogers disintegrator. See:


By the time of the Roswell incident my uncle and La Paz had been friends for several years. So said, it was La Paz that gave him the heads up that some of the pieces found at the debris field were rumored to have hieroglyphic writing on them. It was also La Paz that made it possible for my uncle, with me in tow, to secretly and covertly access the debris field.(see) However, my uncle was being quiet not only to La Paz, but everybody, when it came to revealing what he had found.

He was hesitant to tell anybody, especially La Paz, because of something that happened in August of 1945. He was out in the middle of the desert doing some biosearching on BLM land not far from the little town of San Antonio, New Mexico, when a huge object of an unknown nature, seemingly made of metal, flew over the top of him at a fairly low altitude traveling at an extremely high rate of speed. The object, apparently not being able to maintain even the slight height advantage it had above the undulating and rough terrain, after what appeared to be one last grasp at regaining altitude, slammed hard into the ground some distance away. By the time he reached the crash site it was getting dark so he waited until morning to climb down into the arroyo where the object ended up. The next morning on the way down, in the subdued pre-dawn light, he slipped and got his leg stuck in some rocks --- so much so he was unable to free himself. Sometime later he noticed a few people had shown up at the object, but were not able to hear his yells for assistance. He attracted their attention using the signaling mirror he carried with him. In the process of one of the men freeing him he sat the mirror down then simply went off and forgot it. A few weeks later when his leg was well enough he went back to see the object, which, upon arrival he found was no longer there, having either been repaired in some fashion and taken off and/or hauled off somehow. He did, however, find his mirror almost where he had left it. Seems it had tumbled down from where he had placed it and in the fall the rocks must have scratched the surface. The following is what is written about the event at the source so cited:

"When he returned, although the mirrior had fallen down a little ways into the rocks, it was basically where he left it. While he saw no apparent signs of anybody having been there since he left, on the mirror were what appeared to be an attempt to scratch or etch half dime-size markings on the surface that bore a strong visual resemblance to runic script he had seen years before on the Kensington Stone. Although the rune-like etches could have possibly been caused by falling against the rocks, if you held the mirror in the intended fashion, the marks were located perfectly at 12, 3, 6, and 9 o'clock (or held flat or overhead, the Cardinal points North, East, South and West) positions."(source)

In that the signaling mirror had a see-through crosshair sighting or viewing device in the center and the rune-like scratch marks were at the four Cardinal points my uncle thought, if they were not accidental but somehow intentional, the markings could possibly be astronomical in nature. He contacted La Paz, who had questioned him earlier about the object, and told him he had gone back to the crash site and what he had found. La Paz said not to show or tell anybody about the mirror and to bring it to him immediately. Which my uncle did. After that he never saw the mirror again nor did La Paz ever mention it.


Because of the interest my uncle showed regarding the markings on the mirror and research he had done in respect to the Kensington Stone as well as revisiting the Los Lunas Decalogue Stone, La Paz knew he would have an equal interest in the possibility of hieroglyphs being found in relation to the Roswell site. It just so happened though, unknown to La Paz or anybody else, my uncle made a pencil rubbing of the markings off the surface of the signaling mirror, and of which I found out later, he had intentions of comparing to any hieroglyphs he came across at the debris field. It was because La Paz basically confiscated the mirror without as much as a 'thank you' nor ever revealing what happened to it that my uncle decided to keep any information regarding the weapon to himself.


Most people who are familiar with Roswell find it incredulous that my uncle and I or any other non-secured person would be able to get close to, let alone walk the debris field within a few days of the crash --- especially considering all of the military security, cordons, and controls that were thought or said to have been put into place all over the general area. However, most of it had to do with timing. Before higher ups became aware of what they were potentially dealing with there was a wide open window of opportunity and ample time to slip in and out of the area --- cordons or not --- and, although it was never reported widely, lots and lots of people did slip in and out, even to the point of hauling off some of the debris. Thomas J. Carey, in his book Witness To Roswell (2004) writes:

"Within the next two days after the crash, others who owned surrounding ranches would go out of their way to check out the story about 'pieces of a flying saucer.' Budd Eppers and Truman Pierce would arrive on the scene. Glaze Sacra would load a number of 'wightless' pieces of metal into his pickup an head discreetly home. Danny Boswell's parents, who owned a ranch 25 miles to the east, drove 45 minutes to see for themselves what everyone was talking about."

In the same book Carey goes on to list several others that physically accessed the debris field one way or the other, usually crossing over wideopen and, as I can attest to, unpatrolled rangeland, from close-by ranches --- fully unimpeded by security supposedly blocking roads into the area from the east. Those known to have accessed the area through research done by Carey (primarily personal interviews) included the son of a local ranch hand, Sydney "Jack" Wright, two sons of rancher Thomas Edington, one of rancher Truman Pierce's daughters, as well as Paul Price and his older brother. Carey also writes that the young son of a hired hand from the Richards ranch, Trinidad "Trini" Chavez, spied, interestingly enough, from a distant hill with a couple of other boys and in his interview with Carey stated trucks and jeeps surrounded the area and that he saw men with rifles. Accordingly, it was too late for Chavez to take a piece of wreckage himeslf. "Too many damn soldiers," he said. Later that day, writes Carey, witness would report observing trucks with large spotlights.

Corso writes in his book that he became aware of the convoy being on Fort Riley property Sunday, July 6, 1947, writing the following:

"Nobody seemed to take much notice of the five deuce-and-a-halfs and side-by-side lowboy trailers that had pulled into the base that afternoon full of cargo from Fort Bliss in Texas on their way to Air Materiel Command at Wright Field in Ohio. If you had looked at the cargo manifests the drivers were carrying, you'd have seen lists itemizing landing gear assembly struts for B29s, wing tank pods for vintage P51s, piston rings for radial aircraft engines, ten crates of Motorola walkie-talkies, and you wouldn't think anything of the shipment except for the fact that it was going the wrong way."

Critics, always seaching for holes in what Corso presents, point out what they consider as a major weakness. After discounting the need for a convoy in the first place they jump to 'if in fact there was one,' the route or routes the convoy took don't make sense, plus why go to Fort Riley.

The implication readers and critics take away from Corso's statement is the convoy that left Fort Bliss carried the same cargo it had when it arrived in Fort Riley. The source for the cargo having come from Fort Bliss is Corso himself citing some sort of manifest or routing slip together with what a bowling team buddy told him from information he had received from security guarding the trucks. If the cargo was top secret material from the downed object no manifest would reveal it --- any manifest would have to be a cover-up of some sort. So too, saying it came from Bliss doesn't necessarily mean that it did. Besides, even IF the convoy did in fact originate at Fort Bliss as the security guard may have said, it doesn't mean what the trucks ended up having on board when they arrived at Fort Riley was on board when they left.

My uncle, who I was traveling with at the time he and I saw the convoy outside Fort Sumner, mentioned to a friend over dinner some days later, which meant nothing to me at the time, that he thought it was highly unusual that all the unit designations on the bumpers had been blanked out or painted over. So, here is my uncle, a civilian having never been in the military nor particularly versed in things military, noticing all the unit designation numbers were covered over. You would think that upon arrival at Fort Riley someone would have noticed it as well, raising suspicions as to the convoy was all about.

If you recall from the above main text, I say that the convoy was being escorted by jeeps and followed up by a huge tow truck. Nothing of the sort is mentioned in what Corso writes. However, he did not actually see the convoy as a convoy, that is driving onto the base. He was only aware of it after it arrived and the trucks were parked, probably arranged in a block-group non convoy configuration for security reasons. It could be as the convoy entered the base the lead escort jeep did in fact have some sort of unit designation and the guard just didn't notice the lack of same on the rest of the vehicles after glancing over the manifest --- after all Corso himself writes that nobody seemed to take much notice of the five deuce-and-a-halfs and side-by-side lowboy trailers that had pulled into the base that afternoon. As for my uncle saying all of the unit designations had been painted over or removed, that may have been such for the main contingent of vehicles he saw as we passed them, but his comment does not mean he checked each vehicle on an individual basis.

Whatever was being transported in all those crates and under the tarps carried by the convoy that my uncle and I saw outside Fort Sumner most likely came from the archaeologist site in the Capitan Mountains rather than anything from the Brazel debris field --- and directly from the archaeologist site at that, with no Fort Bliss involved other than initially providing the transport vehicles and crews --- and even that is questionable. Since White Sands was tracking the object before it came down it was probably their quick-strike V-2 recovery team that was at the archaeologist site almost immediately. White Sands had been launching V-2s regularly in those days and a good portion of them were landing all over the desert where they weren't supposed to, even in Mexico, so they had a team with vehicles at the ready to bring back the remains. It could be some of the vehicles were from Fort Bliss but the core of the convoy and crew was centered around vehicles from White Sands.

It is well known in Roswell lore that a full day before, in the pre-dawn hours of July 5, 1947 at the archaeologist site, the site that was accidently stumbled on by William Curry Holden as well as, albeit unrelated, a Roswell city firefighter by the name of Dan Dwyer. Dwyer saw what he described later as a 'strange craft' being lifted into the air by a crane and set on a flat bed truck, then being secured with chains and cables and covered by a tarp. It appears the convoy then must have headed northeast on Highway 54 out of the Capitan Mountains to Vaughn then cut across New Mexico east toward Kansas on 60 through Fort Sumner. The following from the source so cited relates to Dan Dwyer's experience at the archaeologist site:

"In later interviews Dan Dwyer is quoted as saying that he saw 'the first pink lines of sunlight over the horizon' indicating being there at least pre-dawn of the morning of July 5th. He also notices an extremely strong glow showing up, not from a fire, but similar to how lights illuminate the dark sky of a nighttime high school football game, over the crest of the hills away from the sunrise. Before sunup Dwyer is able to sneak away undetected from the loosely watched or guarded fire crew and police officers, possibly by a planned or accidental diversion created by his buddies sharing hot coffee from thermos bottles with members of the military. He climbs up through the rocks, trees and underbrush to a point where he is able to see a sizable number of uniformed military personnel, a series of turned on floodlights, and various pieces of equipment such as jeeps, SRC-399 radio rigs and other communication vans. He sees as well the center of all the activity and what he describes later as a 'strange craft' being lifted into the air by a crane and set on a flat bed truck. He continues to watch as it is secured with chains and cables then covered by a tarp. Because none of the fire fighters or police officers chose to join him and they remain basically under guard, no one of the group other than Dwyer is an actual eyewitnesses to the event."(source)

I have stated previously that after breaking camp close to daybreak and without being remotely aware of the Roswell incident, as we were about to turn onto a main highway from some side road not far from Fort Sumner we were stopped by a military convoy. Close to daybreak at that time of year and location would be around 5:00 in the morning, indicating the convoy would have left the archaeologist site maybe around 3:00 AM. The distance the trip covered to Fort Riley would take all day, ten or twelve hours minimum, probably more. Arriving in the afternoon as reported by Corso would be cutting it close. This is one of the places where the medic came in. He told me he had been 'on call' over the 4th of July weekend in '47 and had been dispatched to meet a convoy at the gate because one of the GIs had broken his hand or at least some fingers on route and they wanted someone to assess the level of medical need --- that is, could they do it 'in house' or did they need to send the guy somewhere on base. The medic told me when the convoy arrived it was so dark he made his initial assessment under the glare of a vehicle's headlights, indicating to me a much later arrival time than the afternoon.(see)

Corso writes that his role as post duty officer on July 6th consisted of spending the night at the main base headquarters and that by late night the base pretty much settles into a pattern. The sentries walk their posts, the various administrative offices close down, and whoever is on night watch takes over the base communications system. Corso goes on to say he had to walk a beat as well, checking the different buildings and sentry posts to make sure everyone was on duty. He also had to close down the enlisted men's and officers' clubs, etc. It was during the time he was walking his beat that he crossed paths with his bowling buddy who was standing watch.

When Corso approached the enlisted man's post the sentry tells him the crews of the deuce-and-a-halfs have their own security and they told him "they brought these boxes up from Fort Bliss from some accident out in New Mexico." By then, since he was shutting down enlisted men's and officers' clubs it was probably past midnight, making it actually Monday July 7th.

As post duty officer, Corso most likely had an inkling of something going on. Even if it was a 'need to know' or 'eyes only' top secret operation involving a White Sands quick-strike retrieval team, they probably weren't prepared for overnighters. Meals to the sequestered crews had to be provided, meaning if they didn't go to some company mess hall or the PX a field kitchen would have to be set up, showers, etc. Even using someone elses mess hall would have to be arranged, so as duty officer Corso probably had more access than he otherwise would normally have, receiving detailed information peripherally by simply coming into contact with and BSing with convoy security, the truck crews or possibly even his own base cooks or food servers assigned to deal with the chow, allowing him to get a more well rounded, albeit unofficial view of where the convoy came from, what it was carrying, and where it was going. Cooks, food servers, or anybody else brought in to support the convoy crews would only be informed as to what they were doing on a "need to know" or "eyes only" basis. However, on the larger overview, Corso would be the coordinator of all the bits and pieces. Even if the individual sections didn't know between themselves, Corso, facilitating the set up of field kitchens, mess halls, showers, etc. would be able to tie it all together. And he did, in his book.

Regardless what you come away with in the pros and cons that follow regarding Corso, there are two very important things you as a reader should be cognizant of here --- both impacting what Corso presents in his book. One, that NOBODY seemed to take much notice of the five deuce-and-a-halfs and side-by-side lowboy trailers that had pulled into the base; and secondly, related to the first, Corso himself did not actually see the convoy as a convoy physically drive onto the base. He only became aware of it coming across it in his role as a duty officer on Sunday July 6th, the day after the convoy arrived. By then the trucks had been parked a whole day in a non convoy configuration most likely with the crew partaking of some much needed R & R. Everything he says or writes about in his book is tainted in some fashion by those two aspects of what did or did not transpire.(see)



There is some question as to what day the convoy so described by Corso as arriving at Fort Riley, Kansas, and the near replica witnessed by my uncle and myself near Fort Sumner, New Mexico, and of which, because of what we saw and Corso's description is construed as being the same convoy, actually arrived at Fort Riley. In his book The Day After Roswell, Chapter 2, 'Convoy to Ft. Riley,' page 17, Corso presents the following:

"I remember how hot it had been that whole weekend of July 4th celebrations and fireworks. These were the days before everybody had to have air-conditioning, so we just sweltered inside the offices at the base and swatted away the fat lazy flies that buzzed around looking for hot dog crumbs or landing on chunks of pickle relish. By Sunday, the celebrations were over, guys who'd had too much beer had been dragged off to their barracks by members of their company before the MPs got hold of them, and the base was settling down to the business of the week.

"Nobody seemed to take much notice of the five deuce-and-a-halfs and side-by-side lowboy trailers that had pulled into the base that afternoon full of cargo from Fort Bliss in Texas on their way to Air Materiel Command at Wright Field in Ohio. If you had looked at the cargo manifests the drivers were carrying, you'd have seen lists itemizing landing gear assembly struts for B29s, wing tank pods for vintage P51s, piston rings for radial aircraft engines, ten crates of Motorola walkie-talkies, and you wouldn't think anything of the shipment except for the fact that it was going the wrong way."

Lets break down what Corso is saying. Corso writes:

"I remember how hot it had been that whole weekend of July 4th celebrations and fireworks."

Corso starts out talking about the WHOLE weekend, that is, the entire 1947 three-days of the three day 4th of July weekend. The actual day of the 4th that year was Friday, meaning most likely the primary or main celebrations of fireworks et al, as well as any major celebrations were generally done on the 4th itself, (i.e., Friday). Then Corso goes on to say:

"These were the days before everybody had to have air-conditioning, so we just sweltered inside the offices at the base and swatted away the fat lazy flies that buzzed around looking for hot dog crumbs or landing on chunks of pickle relish."

The hot dog crumbs and chunks of pickle relish would have been left over from the celebrations either on Friday or from Friday, meaning Corso was talking about sitting around in sweltering offices while working on Friday (eating hot dogs) or the next day, which be of course, would be Saturday. Then Corso jumps forward and says:

"By Sunday, the celebrations were over, guys who'd had too much beer had been dragged off to their barracks by members of their company before the MPs got hold of them, and the base was settling down to the business of the week."

Followed then by a whole new paragraph with:

"Nobody seemed to take much notice of the five deuce-and-a-halfs and side-by-side lowboy trailers that had pulled into the base that afternoon full of cargo from Fort Bliss in Texas on their way to Air Materiel Command at Wright Field in Ohio."

Casually reading along with what Corso has written, at least how it seems in a normal run-on overview, is that the convoy from Fort Bliss arrived on Sunday, primarily because the reader has a tendency to connect the paragraph back to Corso's last sentence. However, taken as a whole, the paragraph really connects back to Friday and Saturday because Corso in not talking about Sunday, he is still talking about Friday and Saturday, he just says, "By Sunday the celebrations were over."

We know, as previously stated, radar reported the object they were tracking seemed to come apart at 11:57 PM, just a few minutes before midnight of Friday, July 4th. The military was on the impact scene by 2:00 AM Saturday morning. The Roswell Fire Department fire fighter Dan Dwyer reached the archaeologist site just as the 'the first pink lines of sunlight over the horizon' could be seen that same morning. My uncle and I saw a convoy matching the one Corso describes in his book near Fort Sumner close to sunrise which would have been around 5:00 AM Saturday. The medic told me he had been 'on call' over the 4th of July weekend in '47 and had been dispatched to meet a convoy at the gate because one of the GIs had broken his hand or at least some fingers on route and they wanted someone to assess the level of medical need --- that is, could they do it 'in house' or did they need to send the guy somewhere on base. The medic said when the convoy arrived it was so dark he made his initial assessment under the glare of a vehicle's headlights, indicating to me a much later arrival time than the afternoon.

Although the medic says it was dark when the convoy arrived, the 'that afternoon' Corso writes about refers to Saturday afternoon and the dark referred to is that same evening, which would be Saturday, July 5, 1947. Which means of course, the convoy that nobody took much notice of from Fort Bliss arrived at Fort Riley on Saturday, not as been surmised by most who read Corso's passages, on Sunday. Corso himself never saw the convoy arrive on base, he was only made aware of it by a sentry, his bowling buddy, while making routine rounds on the following evening, Sunday, July 6th.

In May of 1998 Corso cooperated in a sworn affidavit. The following is part of the text of the Corso affidavit:

I, Lt. Col. Philip J. Corso, (Ret.) do hereby swear, under the penalties of perjury, that the following statements are true:

That at all times hereinafter mentioned, I was a member and officer of the defendant. That during my tenure with the defendant I was a member of President Eisenhower's National Security Council and former head of the Foreign Technology Desk at defendant's Research & Development department.

That on or about July 6, 1947, while stationed at Fort Riley, Kansas ...(Corso goes on to say what he saw in relation to the convoy, etc,. etc, ad infinitum).

In the affidavit Corso says, and I quote, "That on or about July 6, 1947, while stationed at Fort Riley, Kansas..." On or about July 6, 1947. On or about opens a lot of windows, although not adversely impacting my general thesis for the Saturday arrival time for the convoy. Matter of fact, on or about, could mean Saturday just as well.


Dan Dywer, the Roswell fire fighter, says he was a witness to what he describes as a "strange craft" being lifted into the air by a crane and set on a flat bed truck. He continues to watch as it is secured with chains and cables then covered by a tarp. Now, here's the punchline. Both Corso's description of the convoy and the one I have presented mentions either crates or boxes, some covered by tarps. Boxes covered by tarps. Pretty distinguishable visual concept. Dwyer states at the site he saw a 'strange craft' being covered by a tarp. Unless it was rectangular-square in shape most likely it wouldn't look like a box or crate. In the same article as Dwyer's quote, ROSWELL INCIDENT: Updated the following quote, unrelated to any of the goings on above, the following is found:

"None of the crates are described as being large enough to hold a fully intact disc 20 or 30 feet in diameter --- which is interesting if the object was made out of material that couldn't be cut. Width, height, and diameter of any object too large would limit the ability of it being placed into the hold or cargo bays of any of the airplanes cited as being used in the transportation process. The same would be true regarding highway and truck routes because of the width of bridges and heights of underpasses. Neither Corso or the bio-searcher ever said anything regarding the convoys they saw transporting anything that appeared to be unusually high, wide or excessively heavy --- which might indicate the object either came apart or possibly delta or wedged shaped as some have reported rather than being disc or circular shaped. The bio-searcher said that in the course of his his assist in the investigation of the object's trajectory cited further on that he heard rumors of the object being stripped of every possible thing that could be taken off of it or out of it. Thus stripped the bulk of the skeletal remains, framework, or superstructure too large or heavy to be transported without drawing undo suspicion was dragged across the highway and out into the desert flatlands just north of the impact site, put into a temporary shelter, then simply buried out of sight of prying eyes for later retrieval --- like some broken down abandoned truck left to rust out in the middle of the desert off some side road. If retrieval of same ever occurred, it is not known. It could still be buried somewhere out in the desert north of the Capitan Mountains for some unknowing prospector, rock hunter, or archaeologist to stumble across."(source)

It is my belief that the convoy both Corso and I saw was sans the 'strange craft' Dwyer saw and not part of the same convoy. The 'strange craft' as so described by Dwyer was transported only as far as the desert flatlands just north of the impact site to be dealt with in some manner at a later date as described in the above quote. To my knowledge the only place I have ever read or seen such a possibility has come from the 'biosearcher,' an eyewitness to many of the Roswell events and as found in the source so cited.


For me, in those mind-expanding childhood days growing up under the auspices of my uncle, there never was too much distinction between the fantasy of a ray gun and the reality of one. Whether it was a more popular science fiction superhero such as Buck Rogers or Flash Gordon using one to a lesser known wielder of hand held disintegrators such as the Black Condor, for me it was just a quick jump from their's to a genuine fully operational ray gun in the real world. I still feel that way from my childhood up to this day, so there was no reason for my uncle to think that I wouldn't be fully acceptable to what he was suggesting in regards to a hand held pistol-like ray gun device affiliated back in some fashion to the incident in Roswell.

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"I do not know of the object's exact whereabouts (i.e., the Roswell ray gun) only that it and what happened to it is connected somehow to the three Native American men and why my uncle contacted them specifically. The three were part of the same group he had some association with previously as found in Roswell Archaeologists and related to the following below --- AND the reason why my uncle contacted them in the first place to help him with the object he buried above the Roswell debris field."


In a brief clarification here, two different scenarios are being presented. One, the so-called Roswell ray gun and two, a sacred Native American artifact that was stolen by a group of grave robbers. The sacred artifact was regained as described below, albeit somewhat nefariously so, and returned to it's secret resting place. The people involved in doing so, having been contacted by my uncle and shown the ray gun even to the point of potentially testing it, in turn put the object in the same secret location. Re the following:

Without the knowledge of the sacred object having any major significance, it, along with most of the other spoils it was intermingled with, passed quickly from the hands of the looters into the hands of a more professional retailer of stolen relics. Shortly thereafter, interested parties, hearing some of the loot surfaced and wanting the return of the specific object without creating undue attention or raising suspicion as to the relic's value, sent a person posing as a spokesperson for a collector to negotiate with the retailer for possible purchase. A bottom-line figure was agreed upon. When the spokesperson for the collector returned with the money the retailer said he had since received offers from two other interested parties and the price was now doubled. A month after that the retailer was found rotting at the bottom of a deep ravine in his car with his eyes poked out with sticks.

Having the retailer being found rotting at the bottom of a deep ravine in his car with his eyes poked out with sticks may seem like somewhat harsh retribution, but actually it is ritual in nature and for those so performing the ritual, in their estimation, the action meets the level of the deed. There are some things that are not meant to be seen, hence the impairment of vision here and in the afterlife.

The missing object was returned to it's original resting place without the needed exchange of any money, only to be sealed to the outside world forever. It is not clear if any members of the ragtag group of grave-robbers ever made it to the point they would be able to collect social security. For a hint as to any relationship to the artifact and any possible potential meaning please see the following links --- although as I interpret it, the stolen artifact goes way beyond anything offered in either of the first two or similar offerings.

The following, is found in The Curandero and the Magic of the Mojave Desert Creosote Ring as well as the Cerutti Mastodon Site linked below:

"The curandero, with forbearers springing from the pre-history of Mesoamerica constructing and building temples for a series of unknown Olmec, Mayan and Aztec kings, had as well, a centuries old unwavering blood-line on both the Spanish and Native American side, leading straight back into the past to ancestors who worked directly for the Franciscan Father, Junipero Serra, during the period Serra was establishing and building the Alta California mission system. Most of his ancestor's efforts circulated around the first of the missions, Mission Basilica San Diego Alcala, and in doing so, as peons, they were not much more than lower level worker bees, doing a lot of the early grunt work digging, cutting, gathering, transporting, moving, and making materials needed in the actual construction and building of the mission.

"In the process of that grunt work one of his ancestors, a low ranking member of a work team, was sent out with a group to scout for useful materials and such needed for completion of the mission. In an attempt to cross or find a way around a low-lying marsh or swamp-like area formed around the outlet of the present-day named Sweetwater River where it empties into the San Diego Bay, the work crew came across a remarkable discovery.

"As the scenario played out, the crew stumbled upon human skeletal remains composed of at least two people, including two skulls, one close to being fully intact, the other with enough pieces it could be reassembled into one. The military officer in charge was seemingly astute enough to recognize the skulls as being quite ancient and inherently different enough from the typical human skulls, and especially so Indian skulls he was familiar with, to bring the difference to the attention of mission authorities and did so by presenting said authorities with the intact skull. Rather than being commended, the leader of the crew, apparently a learned man of letters, after a heated argument with mission hierarchy, was said to have been put to death and the rest of the men beaten, being told what they saw and spoke of was blaspheme or worse.

"In due time the skull found by the officer was sent overland to Mexico City, but, according to how the curandero told the story, somewhere in the middle of the vast wasteland that stretches eastward out across the desert between the Yuma crossing at the Colorado River but before reaching the Mission San Jos' de Tumac' cori located several miles north of Nogales, those responsible for the skull's safe keeping was attacked by a group of unidentified marauders. Investigators or trackers sent by the church in the aftermath of the attack were unable to find any traces or signs of the raiders or the skull, the skull and all associated trappings having vanished into the sands of the Arizona desert."

The Curandero and the Magic of the Mojave Desert Creosote Ring



Personally, in a much larger overall scheme of things, I have no proof beyond lore as to any potential cultural relationship between Native Americans of any stripe and the possibilities of interactions throughout history with extraterrestrial beings or artifacts. If my uncle thought what he found on the debris field would be safer where it was interred or if there was a deeper connection of some significance between the object and its origin where it was put to rest is just not something I am privy to.

As for connections, real or imagined, they surface and dissipate like some desert-road water mirage image without any clearly marked delineation or existence.

Not very many days into the summer just before I started high school than I ran away from the home of the foster couple I had been living with, primarily in an effort to find my stepmother. After making my way up out of the Los Angeles basin via a Greyhound bus into California's high desert of the Mojave, I hitched a ride with an otherwise errant cowboy who semi-knew me. The cowboy, in downing more than a few beers, lost control of the truck and crashed. I was found laying off the road face down in the mesquite bushes by a group of Native Americans who happened upon the scene. One of the group took the driver to the hospital while the rest of us spent the night sleeping high up among the rocks at a place said to be of some ancient spiritual significance called Piute Butte. The next morning we went in search of my stepmother, of which we were eventually able to find, re the following:

"The Native Americans, after reuniting me with my stepmother were unwilling to accept any compensation from her for having done so other than lunch. When we were done eating and heading toward our respective vehicles and saying goodbye, one of the Indians, more-or-less the leader of the group, putting his hand on my shoulder, asked my stepmother if I could either continue to stay with them through to the following week or join them somehow later in the week for a few days as they were planning some sort of ritual or participation in something of 'monumental proportions' and wanted me to join them. Although they were cryptic as to what they were going to do or what their plans were it seemed that what they were talking about for them was somehow 'foretold,' mentioning to my stepmother it would require staying a few nights in a very remote area called Mormon Mesa north of Las Vegas, Nevada above the Colorado River. Although disappointed in my polite refusal to join them after taking in a few of my stepmother's concerns being a run away and all and possibly implicating them in some fashion, they understood and we all parted friends."

The Code Maker, The Zen Maker




The inspiration for the Topps "Mars Attacks" collecting card series stemmed from a cover on issue of the EC comic book Weird Science by Wally Wood, the November and December 1952 #16 issue to be exact.

I was quite familiar with Weird Science and other EC comics of similar ilk having been a faithful follower of same throughout their publishing run. The Mars Attacks cards, although I never personally collected them myself, I was familiar enough with them because while attending the U.S. Army Signal Corps School in Fort Gordon Georgia a fellow GI was in the process of attempting to collect a full set, and he and I went through the cards over and over. I may not have remembered the specific Mars Attacks card number, #19 Burning Flesh, at the exact time of my discussion with my uncle, but I remembered the imagery enough to increase my concerns regarding the potential possibility of an alien ray gun:

Wood was a one-time major cartoonist for Mad Comics. One of his most famous stories is a spoof on Terry and the Pirates called Teddy and the Pirates. Milton Caniff, who himself was famous for drawing Terry and the Pirates had in his mix of characters a woman he called the Dragon Lady, based on a real-life warlord of the seas, a pirate queen by the name of Lai Choi San. In Woods satirical rendition of Terry and the Pirates he draws my all time favorite visual presentation of the Dragon Lady who he calls the Dragging Lady:

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In the same theme as Wood's Dragging Lady albeit falling more into a Rated X Dragon Lady category is Wood's rendition of the Infamous Madam Toy:

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Anyone who has read or familiar with my works know that my favorite plane is the venerable Curtiss-Wright P-40, and associated with it the infamous Flying Tigers of World War II China fame. Wallace Wood did a heck of a bang-up job in a serious vein creating and drawing a renegade Flying Tiger pilot called the Lone Tiger with the Lone Tiger's origin story found in Warfront #37, September 1966 as linked below:

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Not long after my uncle started overseeing me under the auspices of my stepmother than he and I, often with my dad and brothers along, at least in the early days, began to go down to the giant Palley's Surplus Store off Alameda Street and Vernon in Los Angeles. For my brothers and me the place was like Disneyland, sometimes we would spend the whole day there because the place had everything --- big things like half tracks and bomber machinegun turrets to little things like GI issued lensatic compasses and packets of fluorescent green sea dye markers. My brothers and I, in what was one of the few things we ever did together, were always cooking up some kind of an excuse go there with me always returning with a ton of World War II army surplus stuff --- canteens, pistol belts, parkas, infantry backpacks, army M43 folding shovels, and two of my very favorites, an Army Signal Corps J-38 Handkey, one in its own little case, the other with a leg-band tagged as a KY116/U, both for sending Morse code and an ESM/1 Emergency Signaling Mirror.

Take a look at the beautiful machine work that went into making the KY-116/U, an item, like the formidable four wheel drive jeep, that was made in the time of war for war. Both in their own ways masterpieces each built for a different function but to serve the same purpose --- defeat the enemy. Wartime jeeps and telegraph hand keys like the KY116/U were turned out by the thousands and thrown into extremes as far ranging as the Arctic, the sweltering wind blown desert sands of North Africa and the steaming jungles of the the South Pacific and Southeast Asia, and expected to win the the war with all possibilities of being destroyed any second doing it --- along with their human operators and caregivers. Even so, made for war or not, or to last seconds or forever, there probably isn't a more beautiful piece of machined metal than the KY116/U below. Well there may be one thing: SEE

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In the above main text my uncle asked me to get a couple of canteens, one or two of which I say was on a WW II pistol belt I always wore when we were in the field. Along with the canteens I had a couple of "Carlisle" first aid pouches hooked to the pistol belt as well. Considering the timing of the event, July of 1947, more than likely the pistol belt, canteens and the first aid pouches all came from Palley's.

When my dad and stepmother went to South America for a couple of years and our de facto family broke up, with my uncle going back to Santa Fe and my younger brother and I going to a foster couple most of my army gear got lost in the shuffle and going to Palley's, for the couple, at least as far as me and my little brother was concerned, was out of the picture.

As a kid it seems like a large portion of almost everything I learned came from reading comic books. Over and over, even today in the stuff I write I often refer back to something I read at one time or the other in a comic book, that is, except maybe for one major time when there was not just comic books involved, but as well, the coming together of comic books AND Saturday afternoon matinee movies of the day. That time I flew well over two-stories high in a Da Vinci-like flying machine I built myself as described in Tarzan and the Huntress.

Below is an ad from a comic book that just happened to start showing up for the first time around August 1949, about a year after the aforementioned flight and at the exact time my family was breaking up or on the verge of breaking up. On top of that, with the prospect of me not having the unfettered cash resources that had been provided me so freely in the past, before I moved in with the new foster couple my stepmother arranged for me to get a job, if I wanted it, at a place not far from where the couple lived where she knew the owner, a place called the Normandie Club --- so I could pick up some extra money. With that money and the comic book ads like the one below I was never without all the Army surplus stuff I wanted.

The thing is, at the time I was a kid and I did kid things. Anybody who is familiar with or has read any amount of my online works knows that as a kid I was big on box top and the like offers, especially Captain Midnight Radio Premium Offers and most assuredly so Captain Midnight's Code-O-Graphs. So, for me as I viewed it, comic book ads were a quick jump, falling into a similar or like category. Matter of fact the first comic book ad I ever answered was for me to become a Junior Air Raid Warden, of which the ad appears just below the Army surplus ad. I don't think I was even in kindergarten when I sent for the Air Raid Warden kit. Please notice the two smaller versions of the surplus ad below the Air Raid Warden ad, although similar to the color ad above, both offer signaling mirrors for 35 cents. Signaling mirrors played a prominent role between the famed mathematician, meteorite hunter, and astronomer Dr. Lincoln La Paz and my uncle regarding a pre-Roswell UFO encounter. Remember too, from the main text, every time I went to Palley's I always came back with a bunch of World War II army surplus stuff like canteens, pistol belts, parkas, infantry backpacks and Army M43 folding shovels. The comic book mail order made it a lot easier. Notice as well, in those days a kid could order knives, machetes, and axes if one was so predisposed. My dad actually bought a brand new, or at least never used, World War II jeep right off the docks in San Francisco by responding to a similar ad. The jeep, along with hundreds of others, were piled up on the docks just about to be shipped off to the South Pacific when the war ended. The government was selling them off as fast as they could, first come first served for $225.00 bucks.(see)

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The old man and the babysitter figured prominently in my early life, several times as a matter of fact, some major, some minor. In a way the old man was sort of a progenitor or prototype of things to come, being there teaching and showing me things and laying the groundwork in my young life long before my uncle or mentor came on the scene or I was even old enough to start school. The sun, stars, electricity, pneumatics, the speed of light, time. They were all there in an embryo way.

"One day I was snooping around his shop going through his junk, the little guy that I was, when I came across a small rectangular piece of wood that looked all the same as having been a mousetrap at onetime, but instead had coiled wires and other electrical stuff mounted on it with printed words identifying it as a Dot 'N Dash Telegraph Set. The old man told me it was one half of a two part set that when hooked together with wires and a battery could, by using a series of dots and dashes, send messages back and forth between two or more people over long distances."

Dot 'N Dash Telegraph Set

One of the interactions, and ranked right up there as one of the ones I was most fond of, and of all things, believe it or not, turned out to be nothing less than a radio premium offer, albeit one from an era long before I was ever aware of them.

If you were an unknowing person and just happen to wander into the old man's shop taking no more than a quick look around, the junk pile dump of a place it seemed, you would think he would never be able to find or keep track of anything. However, he had his own way of doing things and in that own way had some things he considered to be of a high personal value and because of that they were treated and kept in a special way.

One of those valuable things --- at least to him --- was an item I was absolutely fascinated and intrigued by, except he would rarely let me touch it. The item was a 1922 antique called an Ansonia Sunwatch, designed to fit in a pocket with a folding lid that covered a sundial and compass. On a sunny day, following the instructions and placing the Sunwatch in the right direction, a person could discern what time it was.

As an alternative to his prized Ansonia he let me use an item of similar intent anytime I wanted, an item that he didn't hold in nearly as high esteem, but for me I loved it. As I viewed it, it just as good if not better. Actually, it was a radio premium offer from Ovaltine like the later-to-come Captain Midnight Code-O-Graphs, only from the year 1938 called a Little Orphan Annie Miracle Compass Sun-Watch:




"My stepmother, who you may recall was quite wealthy, in her new found motherhood role, noticed my younger brother and myself, along with a bunch of other neighborhood kids, spent an inordinate amount of time 'playing cowboys' --- with cowboy hats, capguns, holsters, boots, etc., and in doing so we often ended up in the street. Using her logic, she thought, what could be better than having their own real ranch to play on, especially so, not in the street."

THE WANDERLING AND HIS UNCLE: Their Life and Times Together

So that's what she did, she bought a ranch. A whole section of land in size, that is, one square mile, with twenty acres set aside on one corner for the ranch house, barn, horse corrals, you name it. Then off we went to ride real horses and shoot real guns, of which the ranch house had a number of them --- some on the wall and above the doors such as a lever action 30-30 Winchester, a shotgun or two, a couple of .22 rifles, and a genuine antique 1847 Colt Walker handgun in a case. Every once in awhile I would take the 4.5 pound Colt out of the case and run around playing cowboys with it, sometimes even mixing genres by wielding the colt in one hand and a Buck Rogers Disintegrator in the other. In that the Colt was a black powder revolver and since nobody knew how to load it and everybody was afraid to, it was never loaded. In my later teenage years the Colt was sent to a gunsmith for some reason or the other and while there the gunsmith let me fire three rounds through it.

No sooner had we moved onto the ranch than my dad started to look around at tractors and such. Instead he decided on a four wheel drive World War II jeep to tool around in. Even though none of us kids were old enough to drive legitimately on any of the paved roads around or near the ranch, on the dirt roads and the scrub bursh desert lands surrounding the ranch, as well as on the ranch itself, we drove all over the place.

My dad actually bought the Jeep after answering an ad similar to the one below. The ad offered surplus Jeeps for $278.00. After looking into it he discovered he could actually purchase a brand new, or at least never used, World War II Jeep for $225.00 cash right off the docks in San Francisco, which in reality turned out to be not docks in San Francisco, but across the bay in the naval ship yards at Vallejo or Alameda.

I still remember as a boy showing up with my dad and brothers. The whole place turned out to be a huge labyrinth of buildings, cranes, railroad tracks, and narrow between the structures roadways. On the docks were literally hundreds and hundreds of jeeps lined up row after row along with all kinds of other military hardware and equipment. The jeeps themselves had been taken right off the factory assembly line to the docks months before for transshipment to the South Pacific just as the war ended and when I was there with my dad as a kid, all of them were still just sitting there gathering dust and getting flat tires.

Other than learning a new word and having it added to my vocabulary, i.e., cosmoline, except for one thing, I don't recall anything specifically about the logistics of how or what my dad had to do to get the jeep, how long it took, how much paperwork he had to shuffle, or how the jeep was prepared so we could drive it home, only that it was and we did --- drive it home, that is. The one thing I remember is that the man who sold my dad the jeep told him he couldn't pick it up until the next day because of some longshoreman rule. The thing is, my dad brought two longshoremen with him and the man who sold my dad the jeep gave it to him. The two longshoremen were provided by a longtime old friend of my stepmother named Johnny Roselli.

During the heat of the summer my dad didn't want to drive down California's central valley on Highway 99 or cross over the Sierras to use the 395, although once to either highway it would have been the most direct to the ranch. Instead he chose to drive down the California coastline on Highway 1 --- and what a trip it was no matter what highway we would have used. A jeep, no top, my dad and three kids, no real back seats and all before seat belt days. At first the jeep wouldn't go over 45 miles an hour. When we stopped for gas for the first time and with my dad complaining, the attendant, who had been in the Army and knew about jeeps said it was because of a "governor," a device or some such thing the Army put on vehicles to ensure they weren't driven too fast. The attendant took a screwdriver, fiddled with a few things, and the next thing we knew the jeep could do over 60! A couple of days later after camping along the way we were back at the ranch.

From there we went from a bunch of kids tooling around the ranch to chasing locomotives out across the raw desert land at 90 miles per hour:



"The ad offered surplus jeeps for $278.00. There were literally hundreds of scams around right after the war saying you could buy surplus jeeps from $50.00 and up and that's what most of them were, scams. After looking into it my dad discovered he could actually purchase a brand new, or at least never used, World War II Jeep for $225.00 cash right off the docks in San Francisco, which in reality turned out to be not docks in San Francisco, but across the bay in the naval ship yards at Vallejo or Alameda."


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All of a sudden, after I mentioned a brief passage of Hope Savage and our discussion of the Meteor Crater wound down, for one reason or the other, my uncle had me pull out several books from his jumble of shelved, piled, and scattered around stacked books related to what was called the Carolina Bays.

The Carolina Bays are an inline series of closely associated rather large seemingly non-natural geophysical landforms with no known, or at the very least, controversial, origin. Although there are supposedly thousands of them of varying sizes strewn all along the Atlantic coastline and inland a bit from as far north as New Jersey to Florida in the south, a great proportion of them are so large, especially in the Carolinas, that until they were seen from the air for the first time no one had put them together as possibly having come from or formed by the same phenomenon. Some people think they are impact craters from a comet or meteor.

"On that apocalyptic day a large meteor streaked across the northern polar regions. It skimmed low across Quebec, before ploughing into the Laurentide ice sheet that covered the Great Lakes region, creating an enormous elliptical crater in the ice. The displaced ice from this hyper-velocity impact was fractured and crushed into a fine paste, and blobs of this icy material were ejected at ultra-velocity up though the atmosphere and into a ballistic arc down towards their target regions. Millions of these slushballs of uniform teardrop shape, but widely varying sizes, splattered in two giant wings across central and eastern North America, forming clusters of identical elliptical impact depressions orientated towards the Great Lakes area. Thus only 12,900 years ago, the entire eastern half of North America was completely obliterated, and the world was plunged into a little Ice Age."(source)

Others vehemently discount the possibility. My uncle and I have always leaned toward the impact side of things, that's why when Meteor Crater came up so close in conversation with the mention of Hope Savage it rang a bell for my uncle, the biosearcher that he was, particularly when he related it to the drawing Hope gave me. The drawing was not of a woman's vagina per se', but a Venus fly trap, albeit a double entendre --- sort of --- all of which I was eventually able to figure out thanks to my uncle sitting next to him while he was on his death bed.

Notice in the four graphics just below that the top left one describes the natural habitat area for the Venus flytrap, that being the states of North and South Carolina. On that same graphic the location of the city of Columbus in South Carolina is clearly marked. Hope Savage was from Camden, not far from Columbus, Columbus being were she first showed up relative to her history. Notice too, in the graphic next to it, top right, it shows where the debris from the impact fell, if not creating the Carolina Bays, at least falling in the exact same area where they are --- and is well, the exact same area that is the natural habitat for the Venus flytrap.


So, what's the point? One of the books my uncle had me bring him related to the Carolina Bays was titled "The Mysterious Carolina Bays" written by none other than Hope Savage's father Henry Savage. The Venus flytrap in drawing that I mistakenly took as a drawing of a vagina that Hope left for me to pick up in the village below the monastery, which I'm sure was done so by her on purpose, hence the double entendre aspect of it all, was some kind of a huge cryptic message, a huge cryptic message that was either never followed through on by Hope or I didn't get, or both.

Anybody who is familiar with or has read any amount of my online works knows that as a young boy I was big on box top and the like offers such as Ovaltine's Captain Midnight's Radio Premiums, especially Captain Midnight's Code-O-Graphs, and more specifically so the 1942-1945 Photo-Matic version that figured so prominently throughout my childhood into adulthood. As I viewed it, comic book ads were a quick jump from sending in for a box top offer, falling into a similar or like category. Matter of fact the first comic book ad I ever answered was for me to become a Junior Air Raid Warden. I don't think I was even in kindergarten when I sent for the Air Raid Warden kit. The below ad hawking a Venus fly trap used to show up around in comic books. Now, I don't remember that ad specifically nor do I remember ever responding to it, but I do remember Venus fly traps as a young boy and how intrigued I was by them. I was always sending for them, buying them, trading for them and trying to grow them.

As it turned out the drawing was not of a woman's vagina, but a Venus fly trap. And it was a double entendre, sort of, all of which I figured out sitting next to my uncle while he was on his death bed.





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