Monday, March 29, 2021

Part 7 : Selected by Extraterrestrials My life in the Top Secret world of UFO's , Think-Tanks and Nordic secretaries ...Foundations For Brochure...Jessica the Speed Reader..

Selected by Extraterrestrials 

My life in the top secret world of UFOs.,

 think-tanks and Nordic secretaries 

William Mills Tompkins




Standing on the corner with attorney Ralph Malone and Phil Taylor from my staff, watching all the pretty secretaries go by the drinking fountain, I said, “If we only fix the Douglas SIVB systems, and not the rest of the program, we’ll never meet the Apollo missions. We’ve got to get the other contractors to do the same thing we’re doing. If we don’t standardize everything, it may cause a huge mission problem, and if something goes wrong, the contractors will be pointing fingers at each other. Why don’t those Krauts down at Huntsville understand this?” 

“You’re right Bill,” Phil said. “Everybody’s thinking about one or two launch schedules per year, like R and D.”

 I said, “In order to meet Dr. Debus’s production launch, it’s imperative we have a common system. We’re not planning to launch a research vehicle every eight months like everyone seems to think.”

 Ralph agreed with this. Collectively, we understood that everyone, including NASA, Douglas, and the contractors didn’t understand the Apollo launch schedule. Although the tall secretaries in high heels and miniskirts helped temporarily, they never solved our problems. Sacramento Engine Test was doing the same thing for the Complex Beta rocket engines and systems tests. They were buying different obsolete test equipment hardware that had different results from our SIVB stage test equipment.. 

In the seeming chaos that existed in the early development of the mission to the Moon for the Saturn Apollo family, my section crew at Douglas Space Engineering and I were extremely frustrated with the NASA approach. During one of our meetings, I turned to Cliff Noland and stated, “For the early C-1B intermediate Saturn Vehicles, there’s simply no way we can get all our manual electronic checkout and launch equipment into that old small underground blockhouse that NASA requires. We have to go with our new and totally automated computer-controlled approach. For God’s sake, Cliff, this is a production launch program, doesn’t anyone understand this? This is never going to work.” 

Cliff rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement: “Let’s go back and use the modular concept you designed on the Air Force DM-18 Missile System. Only, let’s use the new, printed, circuit board computer racks, then put together a package and propose it to those SOBs who keep telling us it can’t be done.” 

On that note, we got to work on this specific course of action. I reviewed everything with my section engineers and staff. They were in complete agreement. It was imperative we cover our own program first, the SIVB stage, which was the early mission control element of the Saturn V vehicle checkout, launch, Moon mission systems; and standardize every phase. This included our engineering systems integration and the Douglas production manufacturing checkout systems. In other words, NASA needed our automated engineering system and we needed to convince them of that. 

In our planning sessions, Cliff and I agreed that we needed a standardized system. “All of these guys in Sacramento, Huntsville Alabama Integration, and the field test guys at Cape Canaveral complexes have different, but equally obsolete, checkout and test systems,” I told Cliff. “These management pencil pushers are pitted against one another. They won’t even consider discussing standardizations. They go out and hire their old friends to build obsolete production checkout hardware. This is driving me crazy.” 

I knew we had to put together a total Apollo System Plan, not only to get our own company to use the same plan, but to force the other contractors, who had their heads in the sand like DAC Manufacturing, to standardize on the interface between all of the Apollo stages and all the companies. 

Our first step was to prepare an in-house document that we called “The Brochure.” It was meant to familiarize Douglas engineering management with the existing Atlantic Missile Range research and development facilities used for our manual ground support checkout and launch of the SIVB stages. The Brochure was three fold: it comprised our early research, as well as the development of the Saturn-IV vehicles, and the totally undefined Saturn V Complex 39 Facilities. Douglas was to completely study and define the Complex 39 unsolicited proposals from a quality-control standpoint and provide successful missions if properly documented. Douglas was also to provide the systems engineering management, including all of the AMR complexes 34, 37 and 39, and eliminate the special assembly checkout building concept, which was just another open airplane hangar. The Saturn family of launch vehicles, as they finally evolved is shown nearby. 

1 Gulf of Tonkin 

On October 4, 2003 during a Roswell UFO discussion with Steve Conway, a retired Navy Commander, he described a very unusual interface between a U.S. Navy Admiral and supporting extraterrestrial Naval officers. Commander Simpson was the Duty Officer of the Deck during secured flight hours; the incident below occurred in 1976 on a July evening around 10:00 p.m.. 

Commander Conway stated, “On July 1976 during night operations in the Gulf of Tonkin (Indian Ocean), I was aboard the Aircraft Carrier U.S.S. Ranger CV-61 assigned to the Pacific Fleet. I had the watch and was on the bridge overlooking a 3.2 sea state with a clear night sky and the ship was in a non-combat minimum lighting station. Our radar encountered an incoming and I issued the command ‘Battle Stations,’ then the incoming changed immediately to identify friendly. The incoming vehicle appearing at first as just a small light becoming larger and slowed to approach speed and then made an excellent vertical descent with no sound, vibration or exhaust wind. It extended its landing gear and ever so lightly touched down on the carrier flight deck. It landed on the crowded deck with F-4 Phantoms and A-7E Corsairs. The central flight deck lighting was ordered on. Even though there was considerable deck lighting located on the Carrier Island ten stories directly above and over the 238 foot wide flight deck, it was difficult for me to provide an accurate size of the round silver UFO but I estimated it to be ninety feet in diameter. Viewing the landing from the bridge it was also difficult to establish whether the vehicle was actually floating above the deck or resting on its extended landing gear. 

“Our Admiral the Commander of the Battle Group and two officers exited the island to the flight deck and disappeared under the UFO. They reappeared accompanied with two individuals dressed in smooth fitting uniforms; all five entering the island and proceeded down the ladder (stairway) to the Admiral’s two star (blue) conference room quarters adjacent to the CIC (Combat Information Center) located one deck below the island. At approximately 2300 hours the Admiral, one officer, and the two individuals came out of the island and went back under the vehicle. At 2311 hours the UFO slowly rose vertically to approximately 400 meters and shot into the night sky making no sound and no wind. For some reason I had a feeling that the UFO entered a large mothership in our orbit. The Admiral returned alone aboard a Command Control helicopter the next day and resumed his routine duties as Battle Group Commander. I gave the order to log this event in the Classified Ship Log. "

2 The brochure 

As I said before the foundation for successful lunar and planetary missions, I conceived and we developed a brochure for both Douglas Engineering Management and later NASA. 

The purpose of this brochure was threefold: 

First, to familiarize the reader with the limited existing facilities and ground support equipment (GSE) at NASA’s AMR for the checkout and launch of the S-4 stage; staging and launching of the Saturn C-1B Vehicle by NASA with emphasis on the present capabilities and limitations of each facility. 

Second, to examine the facility utilization problems which confront the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) and Douglas Aircraft Company, Inc., in terms of the present capabilities of the these facilities, tentative launch schedules, and present contractual agreements. 

And third, to suggest specific anticipatory failures during the countdown, launch and mission and to provide systems that will prevent failures through the entire mission. Nearby is an exact copy of the foreword to the brochure.

3 Strange situation 

We were in a meeting surrounding the reevaluation of NOVA type space ships. 

“Hell, I understand it’s been nearly ten years since Tompkins and the others in the Tank were playing with concepts of large Naval space ships to combat the alien battle groups,” Philip Horseman, the new guy from Corporate, said. 

Jim agreed. He thought: How did he know all that? 

“You sure got that right; over five years before Kennedy got permission to get off the fucking planet.” 

“Yes,” Dr. Klemperer added, “and created NASA to study our heavy NOVA type rockets and get us to the Moon.” 

“Okay, Elmer put it back in perspective. Nobody had a rocket engine with enough thrust to get us up there.” 

“Yes; Klemp said, “but Rocketdyne got their H-1 engine up and running. Call it Apollo and five of them can do it.” 

Elmer said: “Well, again, Admiral Conway wants his lunar Naval base, the one that Bill designed. He is upping the schedule to build the base. And we need heavy NOVA type trucks to haul the construction equipment up there. I have read the Tompkins Naval base proposal; most of it is underground. Do you have any idea how large his lunar tunnel boring machines are? They are over four boxcars long. We will have to build them in sections, load them in the NOVA trucks, fire them up, soft land them on the Moon surface and reassemble them on their tracks. And don’t forget, we will have to completely check them out before operation, just like checking out our Apollo S-IVB stage.” 

“Well, that’s what Tompkins is developing now out in engineering. So, who is going to run with this ball?” Jim asked.

 Just then Horseman jumped up: “Where does Tompkins get his ideas from? I mean, yes he seems to always conceive the right approach, but this is not normal; someone must be helping him.” 

Jim added, “Could be his tall blond secretary in the mini skirt; her naughty smile could make me do anything.” 

Elmer stepped in, “That’s enough; yes, Jessica is very inflammable. And never mind where Bill is coming from. He spent a lot of time in Naval intelligence before we got him.” 

“I am not pulling him back from managing the Apollo program in engineering into Advanced Design for this new redesign of the NOVA missions. He is sharing a heavy load with trying to get Corporate to accept all four of his system proposals to NASA to manage nearly the entire Moon and Mars mission for the next thirty years. Bill is very knowledgeable of NOVA and can handle both with Jessica’s and our support,” Dr. Klemperer stated. 

“Okay, Elmer. Get them started now,” concluded Horseman. 

A figure later in this book shows the grandeur of the NOVA vehicle concepts, begun right then in 1963. 

4 The unsolicited proposal 

I instructed my staff to take our already-designed concepts and specifications and to rewrite them into four unsolicited proposal packages. The plan was for me to present to DAC engineering and corporate management and have DAC Marketing present them to NASA Management. (It turns out that I conceived and developed it so I was to present it to NASA, the guy for the job). We built a large six-by-six-foot scale mock-up concept model of their systems checkout and launch center at the Cape. Also, a finished viewgraph proposal for the Complex 39 Theater launch control center. 

My boss, Hal Eaton, was in full support, but his boss’ boss, Frank Dunsfort, is Vice President of Engineering. He said, “Bill, you can’t do it, it will jeopardize our S-IVB contract. Who the hell do you think you are to try and change the entire Apollo Moon Program?” 

I replied, “No other sections in the S-IVB engineering see this as a problem; my people in systems engineering are the only people who are looking at the big picture and addressing the real mission requirements: This is a production launch program with reliability unprecedented on this planet. I know nobody else sees the problem; nobody is standing back and looking at the big picture. We’ve got to stop looking at date lists and small pieces.” 

The Vice President then stated, “You have to sell it to Douglas Marketing.” 

I exclaimed, “No! It would take at least a year to get them to even seriously listen to the proposal.” Somehow I was told that it was okay to continue preparing my proposal. 

Separately, Hal Eaton agreed fully however, saying, “But, that we could both get fired for an unsolicited proposal of this magnitude that disclosed a total lack of definition by NASA, and accepting leadership from industry to define their job.”

It was more than chaos. Apollo was broken. Douglas management waiting to be told what to do, and Boeing preparing proposal after proposal for full management to Dr. Debus to design and manage the entire lunar program. Boeing’s marketing continued their position that industry “could accomplish the program more efficiently than NASA” and NASA believing them. They even prepared proposals for full management checkout and launch activities on all stations at the Atlantic Missile Range (AMR), C-1B facilities complex 34, 37 and 39, and even the assembly and launch buildings - none of which Boeing had ever been involved with, because Douglas was the only contractor on all the early Apollo Program except the old (and now excluded) Chrysler Booster. 

Chrysler was the builder of the stage C-1 and C-2 solid propellant rocket booster, not Boeing. 

5 The sloppy request 

To better explain how we realized that our star girls were aliens: Jessica, Christy, Cliff, Bob and I went to lunch at Dean’s place above the beach, an Italian Bar and Grill on top of the palm-tree-lined palisades, overlooking the blue Pacific. 

“Let’s celebrate,” Bob said, patting Christy’s adorable little bottom. 

“Celebrate what?” Christy asked, shaking it at him. I said, 

“We got a sloppy request to define property rights.” 

Bob said, “That’s nice, must be for that new strip club in Culver City? That flight test wants us to help pay for? They already have seventeen Vegas girls lined up for us.” 

“Fuck you,” Christy said. “You naughty boy; you told me that you only think of what’s up between my legs.” 

“Well, that too.” 

Then I said, “Back off, you guys; it came from NASA Huntsville. A half-assed contract to define property rights on the Moon.” 

“Hell, Bill, we did those seven years ago in Advanced Design,” Bob added. 

“It was an answer to our unsolicited A D proposal,” I answered. 

Christy twisted up her nose and said: “Those Krauts at NASA have no fucking idea what is going on out there. “

"Out where?” Bob asked. 

“In the Galaxy, you asshole. We should set up a real-estate office here in Beverly Hills, appraise the good stuff on the Moon and sell the Bad Lands to the Reptilians.” 

“What’s a Reptilian?” 

“Are you paying, Bobby?” 

“Paying for what?” 

“Our drinks, stupid; get with the program.”



Boy,” Cliff said. “This is really first class.” 

I agreed. We had just moved the entire Missile and Space Division out of the old wooden hangar. We gave it back to the DC-8, commercial guys, splinters and all. We were relaxing in our new southwest area, outside the lunch complex, facing the beach. 

Cliff Noland, my sharp dressed number one, has close-cropped blond hair, steady brown eyes and a tall lean frame. Ralph Malone, our section’s attorney, has thinning salt-and-pepper hair, and a medium heavy build. Jessica, the stunning sex goddess, is in her red/orange skin tight leotard, marching boots and nude legs. We were on our second cup of morning coffee. 

“Okay, Jessica,” I said, “Tell us how do you type every day wearing those bell bottom sleeves so long that that they completely cover your cute little hands?” 

Cliff said, “Never mind the sleeves; I followed her out here and that leotard is cut so high in the back I nearly tripped.” 

“You really like my bottom? Oh, Billy. I can type blind and I just love them; they’re so soft and sexy.” 

“I’ve heard of flying blind, but typing blind that’s way out there,” I said. 

Even though we, in Douglas engineering, didn’t have the IBM three piece black dress code, we were the closest space plant to Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Taking after Cliff and me, my section included the best-dressed designers in the business - my Apollo section being the sharpest. 

We were trying another approach of selling Moon and Mars dirt to get around NASA’s problem of who owns the Moon. They had insisted that all countries on earth should jointly own the Moon. They did not, however, trust the “evil empire.” We wanted NASA to increase planned diplomatic solutions, primarily with the Soviet Union, and instruct all other countries to follow our peaceful division of mineral recovery properties; using the same concept. 

Reviewing my old Think Tank plan data on who owns the Moon, I said, “If we go ahead with this Apollo proposal, it means that everything in NASA’s requirements must change.” 

“Okay, Bill,” Jessica said, “I know that.” Spreading her arms defiantly, she said, “So here it is.” 

“Here what is?” Cliff asked. 

“Your new planetary ownership requirements.” 

“Billy, after our little review and stuff, you fell asleep last night,” said Jessica. “I rewrote the program requirements.” 

“Oh,” Cliff said, “come off it, Jessica, that’s 700 pages of all new legal documentation. That’s a five-week job. And what about the three-week, red- line review?” Very pissed, Cliff added, “I know you are one of those new speed readers, Jessica, but speed writers - no way! I don’t believe any of this; give me your original.”

“I am keeping it, but here’s your copy, Cliff, and one for you, Ralph.” 

Licking her lips, she added, “Even a bright, shiny autographed copy just for you, Billy boy, for keeping things up last night.” 

Slurping on his coffee, Ralph started reading his copy, as the rest of us followed. Twirling her pen around her finger, Jessica asked Ralph, a patent attorney, “What are your thoughts on Naval blockades to enforce ownership: section 4 page 307?” 

“Slow down, Jessica,” a scowling Ralph said. “I am still on page 28 paragraph 3; how did you get to page 307?” 

“I told you guys Jessica’s hot; oh, I mean fast,” I added. 

Cliff said, “I am only on page 20, Jessica; did you really write this?” 

“Hey, both of you guys are ahead of me,” I said. “Look, Cliff, Jessica worked until 4:00 a.m. last night.” 

“Jessica said, “You mean this morning, Billy.” 

“Chuck, you expect me to believe that you really worked on our Moon and Mars ownership proposal all of that time?” 

“Jessica still has the same leotard on that she wore yesterday. Look at it; half the sleeves are torn off.” 

“Bill, at least give the girl time to slip it off.” 

“Oh Cliffy, you have such a nasty mind. Only we didn’t have time for breakfast; have Polo pick up some donuts at the cafeteria.” 

“Listen, you guys” I said, “what we have defined here – well, what Jessica has defined here - is a plan to make selling Moon and Mars dirt to the black hats.” 

“What’s a black hat?” 

“It has completely changed all our previous method of dirt ownership.” 

“Hold on here, Bill,” said Ralph, rubbing his chin. He added, “Almost as important as that is, that your little blonde here may really be an alien. None of us can write like that; you fucked up and exposed your identify, Jessica.” 

It was a little hazy but right then, in a fraction of a second, I thought to myself, I think I know what happened. Jessica was from another part of the Galaxy and had been trained to blend in. She was accomplishing that beautifully, but this time she really fouled up in front of us. She blew her cover. Telepathically hearing my thoughts, she said, “Stop embarrassing me in front of them, Bill; you know I can’t tell.” 

I said, “We are your friends; we love you. Well, I do anyway.” 

“Yes Jessica,” Ralph added, as if nothing had happened. “We are your families and we are all doing this together.” 

Cliff added, “Jessica, are you somehow controlling our minds? It’s sort of like, maybe, mind control?” 

Jessica was saying nothing. 

1 Beyond expectations: 

Flash Gordon Cliff Noland and I were cleaning up our agenda for our by-weekly S-IVB stage meeting; we were in the new engineering building that faced the beautiful Pacific Ocean. 

“It never ceases to amaze me, Bill: you know that massive launch control center you conceived in ‘54? Back in the Tank for the Moon Naval base missions?” 

“Yes Cliff; what about it?” 

“Well, you redesigned the center for the pre-NOVA planetary missions.”

 “Okay, so?”

 “You also conceived and designed that massive underground Air Force Stringent Air Command Control Center in Omaha Nebraska. You were able to tie it into NORAD’s satellite viewing of the entire planet. Its mission is to monitor all incoming Soviet bombers, missiles and UFOs. They’re building it, Bill; it’s a nuclear hard site twelve-story steel building on coil springs 400 feet underground just like you conceived. 

“Those S-IVB stage System Integration and Sacramento engine test control centers that you are going to show to NASA, they are just unbelievable; you will blow their minds.” 

Cliff went on, “The advancement of launching rocket controls from those 1920 German underground block houses that we had to use at the Cape: remember them? Just look at this color photo; it’s like something out of Flash Gordon or Buck Rogers. 

“You’re right; I am visually seeing Jessica.” I said. 

Cliff interrupting, “Yeah. Sashaying up the stairs to her master control console; taking over everything, as usual. She would be in her four-inch heel boots and orange mini dress. She is going to love strutting around these centers. Other than your Army NIKE and Air Force SAC Command Centers, nobody has ever conceived anything like this.” See the nearby sketch. 

“You’re right,” I answered. “It’s out of this world, and it’s so clean. Your concept, to have everyone at their control console facing the large front wall with total system displays, is genius. Everyone can, at a glance, look up and view the entire operation on colored displays and see exactly how the mission or test is actually proceeding. "

“Yes, Bill, we are orders of magnitude more advanced than every other operation on the planet. It’s beyond expectation. I hope you can convince NASA to use this theater control concept to launch the Saturn V Apollo’s for all the Moon and Mars missions.” 

After I get NASA to accept my Apollo changes, will Douglas buy it? Was it possible, I thought, that they would not go along? Am I getting cold feet? Why would Douglas corporate – the largest aerospace company on the planet – somehow completely discount all of our massive data confirming the opportunity to lead this planet into the Galaxy? Could the reptilians actually control the entire Boards of Directors’ minds? Could an alien race, one that for thousands of years instigated violent control of the entire planet, force us to carry out their agendas? Could all of this vile control be to prevent us from ever propelling us off our planet? Must we wait another thirty thousand years to try to get out into the Galaxy? 

Then, Jessica telepathically gave me a swat, right across the back of my head; it sent me spinning. “Billy: get all those negative thoughts out of your mind right now; you will do fine at Huntsville. One step at a time, Billy boy.” 

2 Approved brochure 

Engineering management approved The Brochure and authorized my group to review information for the development of an unsolicited proposal to Dr. Debus. That proposal included flip charts, acrylic 8 1/2x11 viewgraphs of the entire L-shaped module, and vertical assembly concepts. It also included the C-IB Facility requirements at AMR, Douglas’ computerized electronic checkout control equipment packaging concept, Saturn systems support management program plan, NASA Saturn systems facilities management program, and a six-foot, square, detailed model of the checkout and launch theater style complex control center.

Most of the ideas in this proposal were my concepts and were presented to my Saturn S-IVB Stage Checkout and Launch Systems Section, where they studied these proposed documents, engineered them, and completed a finished Douglas Report with 20 copies.

It was at this point that my boss, Gary Langston, told me that the program was totally my own. It was up to me to make the arrangements now. It was up to me to establish how to present our complete change of the Apollo Saturn launch center to the NASA brass. 

3 Crashed UFO discoveries 


Kevin Natter, the group engineer for the DM-18, had separate labs, including one in his garage in Van Nuys. It was in those labs that we utilized some of John Silva’s Area 51 findings, including the microchips and printed circuit-boards. There were problems sealing the epoxies circuit. There were some metal alloys that still, to this day, I can’t figure out, such as an orange, purple, bluish color that changed with temperature (some were malleable, some were tough, and some felt like plastic). 

We tried to make copies and use epoxies to laminate them. We tried to miniaturize ribbon wires and we thought of how to power the units. We jury-rigged configurations. Originally, during the crashed UFO discoveries at Wright-Patterson Air Force base in Dayton, Ohio, the military had all of the wrecked parts on the floor and offered patent rights to whoever could figure out the technology and manufacture it. We eventually used the first circuit-boards for our Apollo mission S-IVB Stage, both in the vehicle and for ground support systems. In the briefing, I opined that all contractors use this equipment as part of my standardization reasoning. (Jack Northrop personally went back to view the findings).




Now well into the implementation of these designs and the four proposals, Elmer Wheaton was our understanding and fully supportive VP of my concepts. Unfortunately, he had almost no authority over the Apollo Moon and Mars programs. That job had been given to Al Sorenson, the somehow boss of everything. I was surprised when Elmer, at this critical time, considered pulling some strings and have me removed from the Apollo Moon Mars program and put back in the Think Tank. I was out of the office when Jessica had taken Elmer’s call. When I arrived back from CalTech at 6:45 p.m., she threw her arms around me, forcing us into a full-bodied hug batting her long lashes over her deep blues. 

“Slow down,” I told her, nervously. 

“Somebody could walk in 

“It was a major element of Section 139 of our Rand contract,” Jessica said. 

"What the hell do you know about section 139?” 

Ignoring me she pulled her blouse down, exposing a nipple.

 “I don’t care. You can’t go back in the Tank now. There are too many loose ends that could fly into fires. And speaking of things that fly, I love the way I’m affecting you, Billy.”

 I turned red, but silently, I agreed. I said, “Elmer would never pull me off Apollo, or off the manned mission to Mars, if it wasn’t critical.”

“Well, if it’s that bad, I’m going with you,” she demanded. 

“You know that’s impossible,” I told her. “You’re not cleared for the Tank; that’s the highest security area in the country.” 

“Well then, get me cleared! You need me. You know you do.” 

“Please, Jessica, just get a memo out for me, turning controls of the section over to Cliff, with Ralph as his assistant chief.” 

“It’s done. I wrote it this morning, with copies to everyone in Southern California, right after Wheaton called. I signed your name better than you do, too.” 

Grabbing my face in her soft hands, she kissed me, saying, “I’m calling him right now to tell him you’re on the way. He’s in the situation room with Dr. Klemperer.” 

“Situation room? I didn’t know the Tank had a situation room?”

“It’s just the old conference room fixed up nice.” 

“How do you know that? And who decided to call it a situation room?” 

“You need to get with the program,” Jessica cooooed. “That’s what those hotshot PhD consultants call it, the CalTech guys from Pasadena?” Not answering, Jessica was still locking our bodies into one. She licked my cheek and stared inside me. 

“How do you know all this about the Tank, where is this coming from?” She dropped her arms and backed off, as if she was instructed to: 

“Billy: you call me tonight, okay? I don’t care how late.” 

Not having been in the Tank for a while, my old entry card was inoperative and I had to be ID’d and buzzed in. As I entered the well-appointed situation room, the look on Wheaton’s face said everything. 

“Morning, Bill,” he greeted me. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. If you would, close the door and bolt it.” 

“It’s not morning. After 6:30 p.m. now.” 

Oh shit, I thought, glancing from him to Dr. Klemperer, what did I do now? 

Klemp raised a brow. “It’s dinner time and we need to know.” 

“Know what?” I asked. 

“We’re in a lot more trouble than we thought. We have been at it all day in the big conference room with the other people.” 

I thought: Who are these other people? Scientific consultants that somehow have the authority to attend and listen to every advanced concept that we create? They show up in our classified conference room? I started shaking. I had the feeling that some of them waiting in the big conference room next door weren’t really human. Knowing that this was going to be hard and that I had already sensed it, Elmer got right to it. 

“There are hostile extraterrestrials shooting down everything the Navy and Air Force put up. As you know, they’ve had their UFOs flying into our air space over the most classified bases for some time now.” 

“Yes I know, and our pilots have been ordered to contact these craft and instruct them to land.” I said. “And if they don’t cooperate, we are ordered to force them to land. In effect, we’re ordered to shoot them down.” 

“Well that’s not working very well, now is it,” Klemp said. 

Wheaton, who was a big man, looked down at me, his eyes bulging slightly. “Now, Bill, let’s call it what it is. We know that several of you guys, especially you, have been ‘selected’ by some of these alien guys, if you get my meaning. Naval intelligence wasn’t alone when they took an interest in you. There are aliens - probably Nordics - who selected you as a child to assist them in their endeavors to prod the U.S. into developing galactic Naval space ships and operations advantageous to us both.” 

“Gosh, Elmer,” I said, taking a seat on the armrest and almost missing the chair. “Don’t start that rumor about me again. Some designers were fooling around, pulling my leg. We don’t really know that.”

 “Look, let’s not get into a standoff here,” he said. 

“This is reality, Bill. An extraterrestrial race has contacted our government, and from what we have learned they may be Nordic people; very similar to us. Navy Intelligence recruited you because they knew that you and others like you were visited and selected as children, and now, in your adult lives, these entities have been communicating with you telepathically. 

“In other words, the Aliens have involved you in their agendas. You know things that we don’t know. Like what is really out there. You have seen continuing conflicts between different civilizations involving naval space battle groups. And that our world will never be the same.” 

Elmer continued, “Our Naval intelligence considers you a preferred human contactee. The communication link between these extraterrestrial races and you contactees provides us with advanced counter-threat concepts, not just for the Apollo program, or for the Navy base on the Moon, but literally for all advanced space conflicts. In subsequent encounters; not just with your secretary.” 

“Leave Jessica out of this,” I interrupted. 

“No, Bill, we think she is an alien consultant.” Elmer barked back. “I’ll buy that, but she has never in four years ever instigated a single event that wasn’t beneficial to the United States of America.” 

“We’re not saying she is the enemy, but other aliens are really problems. Be assured we don’t have a barometer to tell who is supportive and whom we can’t trust. That’s where you come in. Naval Intelligence has informed us of your capabilities and that your judgment is impeccable. As a contactee, you’ve been put in a position where you can begin to sort out why these different races are at war with each other. More important, what our involvement on this planet is and what it should be.” 

“Oh, this is just a lot of bullshit, I can’t do all those things, and you guys know it.” 

Klemp jumped in, “I told you not to hit him with that part,” smirking at Wheaton. “I don’t believe…” 

Elmer jumped in and continued, “You’ve been implanted with a program that transfers highly advanced information from extraterrestrials to what the Navy calls ‘preferred human contactees.’ That’s you. You’re a ‘preferred human contactee,’ Bill. You’re one of them. That is why you, by yourself, have been able to completely redesign the Apollo Moon and Mars programs that will land us on the Moon and other planets when all of NASA has been unable to accomplish it.” 

“I can’t explain it, but…” 

“Bill,” Klemp interrupted, “I know this whole thing seems unbelievable, but it’s what’s been handed to us and somehow, we need to exploit every possible avenue. There are different groups of extremely violent aliens, all of different appearances, who are threatening our very existence. We must take advantage of this opportunity to gather intelligence and develop a plan.” 

“Exactly,” said Wheaton. “And before we go into that damn Tank conference room, with all those narrow minded PhDs who can’t visualize any of the military accomplishments these extraterrestrials have already developed millions of years ago, you must understand the consequences of what you know. As specialists, their narrow-mindedness prevents them from seeing the big picture and accepting our / your design concepts and methods.” 

Klemp nodded at me again and I felt another pain of guilt, but I managed to suppress it. 

Wheaton cleared his throat, “Now, Bill, I want you to understand that every time - since your first top secret disseminator assignment in Naval Intelligence - you were requested to visit or work in a classified military facility and you were never ever denied access. Even admirals commanding Battle Groups in combat were denied access that you can just walk right into. The boy with the photographic memory was a lot more knowledgeable about 

Naval space combat than them. “You have been tracked by both extraterrestrials and an elite Naval intelligence-gathering operation since Commander Perry reviewed your Naval ship model collection documentation in 1940. You were never informed of your association with the alien alliance. Nor your highest security classifications as a contactee monitored by a small core of senior Naval officers probably chaired by Bobby Ray Inman.” 

“This group has been preparing the Navy on our planet for space war; battlefields in space against certain hostile alien enemies. Friendly races are aware of the hostile alien races who may have taken over our planet years ago. Your secret Navy clearance and classified government records have identified you as a ‘preferred secret human contactee,’ a person selected by one of the extraterrestrials, status established years before, when the military was in contact with alien entities and monitored their encounters between human beings and the aliens. 

“Originally, it was Naval Intelligence investigation of contacts with human beings such as you. Naval Intelligence did everything possible to enlist that person into the Navy. They were convinced that that person had been told of fantastically advanced technology by aliens who had developed the capability to move out into the galaxies possibly thousands of years ago – and who are on this planet now. These aliens know things that nobody on this planet knows. You are an extremely knowledgeable human contactee who continually experiences contact by aliens, a member of a select group supporting the friendly alien presence on our planet. They have been transferring information into your subconscious memory. This is the Navy Intelligence contactee movement program. That’s why when you arrived at Douglas as a draftsman, in engineering, you were immediately granted a higher level of security clearance than the badge you were wearing and thrown into the Advanced Design. Shortly later, as your real identity was confirmed, your badge was upgraded again and you were shipped down the hall into an element of the most secret complex on the planet, the Douglas Think Tank. There is a marker on your security clearance, which states that you are one of the contactees. Bill, I have said for years that you’re able to conceive the impossible, things that the rest of us can’t, but it is only a feeling.” 

(My U.S. Navy Mission was defined directly from the Secretary of the Navy Forrestal. The “Battle of Los Angeles of February 1942 resulted in the salvage of one craft from the ocean that resulted an early Navy involvement in UFO technology. Subsequently, in 1945 Forrestal, the Secretary of the Navy, decided to formalize the authority by creating an “Office of Research and Invention.” The first paragraph of this three page memo is shown nearby. A few months later, an authorization to assign Bill Tompkins a similar responsibility for the San Diego Naval Air Station followed, and they are both shown here. These two documents specify the scope of work for Bill Tompkins, later applied to his specific duties at the Naval Air Station.) 

Klemp added, “Dr. Weston Jensen, one of the consultants group, dismisses most of your accomplishments as being irrational and completely without any technical foundation. Some of the alien events are so unbelievable that they are beyond the fantastic - almost into other dimensions - and so controversial that the top technical minds in the country are attempting to analyze these events. 

“We don’t have confirmation on this as yet, but similar encounters have been documented this year. Admiral Steve Mc Donley, the flag on the aircraft carrier Coral Sea operation southeast Pacific theater, sent requests to NAVPAC concerning an encounter with three of his fighters last month. The Coral Sea was training 180 nautical miles west of Punta Arenas, Chile. Three, bright blue, new Grumman F9F jet fighters, flying in shore at 26,000 feet and cruising at 390 knots, encountered two, silver, extraterrestrial fighter type spacecraft entering our tight left echelon, taking formation position 4 and 5. After allowing our pilots to expect their presence, the alien pilots broke formation, made 180°’s aft, and took up positions between our lead aircraft 1 and flight 2 and 3, nearly touching our wing tips.” 

“Yes, Elmer, I watched that encounter in my mind. It was five weeks ago, saw it in color. One of our pilots said we were so close I could have opened my canopy and walked out on my wing tip, stepped over on that alien bastard’s outer service panel, walked right up to his window, rolled it down, and punch him in his nose that he doesn’t have.” 

Elmer continued, “Increasing their speed to 420 knots, they shot directly down in a dive towards the coastal mountain range. Our three F9F’s gave chase on their tails. Passing over the shore line, and leveling out at about 400 feet below the top of the mountain range, they both flew straight into the Pacific side of the range, WITH NO EXPLOSIONS exiting out the eastern side and WITHOUT ANY FLYING DEBRIS. As our fighters climbed over the top of the range, they watched the two alien craft perform perfect, three snap rolls, dip their outer surfaces and climb. Having completed their demonstration, like other military alien flights, they shot vertically out into earth orbit, probably smiling as they prepared a soft carrier landing in their spacecraft carrier parked in earth orbit.” 

“Could this be an alien hologram?” I asked. 

“No, that’s real.”

Klemp cocked his head to one side. “Are you getting it, Bill?” he asked. 

“No, I don’t believe that contactee BS.” Thinking, they’re right, I do see things and I know I have been out there. I fly a lot - just me, no plane - and out there, way out into the galaxies. And, yes, I do see things that nobody believes. “No it’s just nonsense. Who is telling you two all of this? No, wait a minute, who do we really work for? Are these other PhD’s feeding you all of this?” 

“There are experts in many fields who have been helping us,” Elmer said. 

“No, Elmer, we have been helping them. They are using us,” I replied. 

“Damn it, tell me, who gets all of our concepts and proposals? And who are those PhD’s that seem to show up in our special project conference meetings?” 

Elmer chimed in, “Calm down, Bill.” 

I asked, “Are they technical consultants, CalTech, SRI, JPL, Northrop; the Skunk Works? One meeting last month, I counted fourteen that I have never seen before. And Elmer, why no introductions? What are we and who are they? TELL ME RIGHT NOW.” 

“Bill, you know I can’t answer that, but, collectively, we all have something so important that our lives depend on it. And that’s coming up with a plan to save every soul on this planet,” Elmer replied, in an agitated tone. 

I hesitated for a moment, considering their argument, before turning to look at them. “You have a way with words, but apparently so do those who’re influencing us.” 

They both grinned in triumph. “Is that a yes?” asked Wheaton. “You understand?” 

I sighed. “Yes sir, I understand.” 

“Good,” said Wheaton. “Now that we understand one another, Bill, I want you to walk into that snake pit of disbelievers with the confidence of a Nordic Four Star Naval Space Commander, in charge of a five hundred-ship battle group. Get my point? I know you can do it.” 

“Hey, that’s my line, Elmer,” I said.

“Some of these people have been studying the alien threats for over three years. They will share their conclusions with us and we - you - will evaluate their inputs and recommend a plan of action,” Elmer concluded.

1 The copy snatcher 


In the new Apollo conference room, the self-styled replacement for Al Sorenson, who was Kelly Hackman, took the podium like he was going to give a speech, and started babbling about schedules. Thinking Hackman is another asshole pushing himself up in engineering management, he now appears like a front office prick type. 

Nudging his elbow in me, Cliff whispered, “Who let that son of a bitch in here? He hasn’t shown his face in the Apollo meeting in over a year.” 

“Sorensen must be on another five month vacation,” I replied. 

Hackman said, “There is no way you can do that, Bill. Not in a time frame the NASA contract calls for. Their contract people have absolutely no understanding of what it’s going to take to get to the Moon or Mars.”

“And for damn sure, not running this program.” I answered. 

Gary Langston my boss, (I guess under Hackman), Cliff Noland, Ralph Malone, and I were correcting my recommendations for combining and increasing launch schedules for the Apollo/NOVA Lunar Base Missions. It was the second rewrite of my second brochure. The first one I had sold NASA on vertical check out and assembly of the Apollo stages. Somehow, Hackman had acquired a copy and had bled all over it. 

“This is none of your business, Hackman,” Cliff growled. “Who let you in here?” 

At the same time, Ralph demanded, “How did you get a copy?” 

Gary fired back with, “This is none of your responsibility.”

“Whose side are you on?” I asked Hackman. “Are you now on manufacturing’s payroll?” 

“Yeah,” said Ralph. “You may be an engineering type, but you always take a negative view of everything we are attempting to accomplish.”

 But at that very moment, in sauntered Jessica, looking even more stunning than ever with her blond locks piled on top of her head and a long thick ponytail going down her back. She snatched the copy out of Hackman’s hand. Ripping it in half, she threw it on the table. “I’ve just about had it with your sneaking around. Admit it; you stole that copy off Sherrie’s desk, while she was talking to Gary. I saw you do it, you traitor.” 

“What?” Ralph looked appalled. “Hackman, you should leave now.” 

“Don’t ask him,” Jessica said. “Kick his ass out!” Then she turned to me. “So, you’re worried that someone in Douglas is fouling up the Apollo Program on purpose? Well, you’d better look at the top of engineering first. Namely at your boss’s boss; that son of a bitch, Hackman. By the way, Bill, Dr. Klemperer is in trouble again. As soon as you can get this resolved in here, he requests your presence over in Advanced Design - I mean, the Tank.” 

Gary interrupted, “Kelly was an Electronics Section Chief, and five years ago he’s one of us.” 

“Bullshit,” Jessica added. Standing there in her short skirt and five inch heals with her hands on her hips and those delectable long legs spread in a stance, she said, “Oh, sometimes you guys are such pussies. Why don’t you find out who gave Hackman Sorenson’s job and fire them both? That or you’ll never get a Saturn V to the Moon and forget about Mars.” 

Jessica grabbed my arm and pulled me out of my chair. “I’m not finished here,” I protested. But Jessica didn’t care, “Get with the program Bill, I just finished the meeting for you. There’s trouble in the Tank and we’re going to fix it right now.” 

Hackman, having had the wind knocked out of his sails, turned around and left. 

Cliff said, “Go ahead Bill; we’ll move with your new schedule.” 

Ralph, a little rattled, commented, “Oh boy.” 

“What do you mean ‘we?’” I asked Jessica. “You aren’t cleared for Advanced Design in the Tank.” 

Walking fast in those four inch heels, “Oh yes I am.” You’ve been playing with Apollo Moon toys way too long, cutie. Been out of touch with what’s really going on out there. You’re going to have to put out now; get your ass in gear.” 

“Hey, that’s my line.” 

“This is how we’re going to do it,” she said, “Right now, I’m taking you on a quantum leap into another dimension.” 

“Thinking of how we’re going to do it,” I said, sarcastically. “There’s no place in the Tank that we can do it. Besides, you, little girl, can’t get in there.” 

“I’m not a little girl, Billy, as I said before. If I wanted to, I could de-atomize us both, walk right through that fucking Tank wall and pull you through with me.” 

Tilting her head, she stuck her tongue out and shoved her security card in the slot of the new automatic double doors. 

“Okay, you little vamp, who gave you permission?” 

Giggling, she flipped her hair with both hands and the ponytail was gone. “I’ll never tell.” 

“I don’t want to admit it, because you’ll get that big head again,” I said. “And I won’t be able to get you to do anything.” 

We walked down the Tank hall towards the systems lab, leaving Ralph and Hackman behind to work out their differences. 

“Hey,” Jessica said, “I don’t have to do anything in here, because I’ve done my homework. Billy, you won’t have time to chew the fat about old times with Klemp either. Your vacation is over. You’re just going to have to put out or else.” 

“Or else what?” 

“You’ll see.”

I opened the lab door for her and she marched right through down the long hall, her four inch-high pumps rapping on the floor. She headed straight for the group that was clustered around some kind of transparent glowing structure on a workbench. It was hard to see what it was; the men were blocking it. Jessica was a little taller than most, so she and I looked over their heads, but everyone turned around to acknowledge Jessica’s presence - her entrances always command attention. 

One of the eleven men, Jim Jenkins, my old Tank buddy, smiled, “I’ve said this before,” he whispered in my ear, “but I’ve got to say it again. Jessica is perfection.” 

All twenty-two eyes stared at her perfectly shaped smile; her now flawless, flowing blond hair; her stunning blue eyes, so deep and rich. 

“No, boys,” Jessica said, “this is not party time. That’s on Friday.” 

Dr. Klemperer, looking short in a white smock, stuck out his hand, “Glad you could finally make it, Bill. I see that it took Jessica’s charms to get you in here.” 

“Works every time,” I sensed military stars in the Lab - maybe a three, no there was a four wearing civvies. Yes, there were actually two of them both in civvies, Generals or Admirals I thought, from the Office of Naval Research (ONR) or the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI). “What do we have here?” 

“Early evaluation has deduced the possibility that it may be part of a communications system,” Dr. Klemperer said. 

“It was recovered from a vehicle that crashed in the Andes Mountains, in Brazil.” 

“It has five assemblies,” said someone from the group. “It still appears to be running.” 

“Well, the two center units do,” someone else added. 

“The larger one is blinking some sort of code or message.” Someone else chimed in, 

“Can’t be a message. It’s repeating, like a code. It appears as if all five assembly units are welded together.” 

“No, they look joined,” another said, “The two smaller ones are more flexible. They look like a different material.” 

It’s what I would have imagined an organic structure internal organs would look like if they were made of metal, I thought. 

“No, I think those are joined, as with thick transparent tubes. The wires have no connectors. It seems to be a part of the smaller units. A strange silver pink color, maybe?” another said. 

“Looks more silver blue to me.” 

“You’re both wrong,” I said. “They’re both colors, like transparent silver. How did you get it?” 

“We acquired it indirectly,” said the first man. “A Chilean DC-3 and a Bolivian DC-4 going to Bogotá recovered it. We acquired it from them, wrapped in Chilean newspapers and stuffed in a wooden crate.”

“What is that smell?” 

“Sulfur, I think.” 

I noticed the big center unit moving. “It’s turning,” I exclaimed, but it stopped shortly. 

“I saw it!” Jim confirmed. “It moved about 4 centimeters closer to the other big one.” 

The thing had bent all three of the thick joining wires (or tubes - I thought some of the wires might be some kind of fiber optics). 

“It’s just like that equipment Carl’s got over at the El Segundo Plant,” Jim said. “That thick wire could be antennae of some sort.” 

“The tips closed up after the crash,” said one of the men. “Maybe to preserve the data.” 

“How long have the lights been pulsing?” I asked, looking at the colors flowing through the tubes. The outer wires were moving at the tips where the man indicated they had been cut off in the crash. 

Satisfied for the moment, the men finally took time for introductions, and I was right: there were two admirals in the lab; one of the guys is a CIA snob, a Mr. Persian, Elmer Wheaton our VP was there, of course, along with our Al Sorenson, Dr. Hurtling, Dr. Jansen, and Dr. Mayfield from El Segundo. 

“God! The center one is pulsing,” I said. “I think the damn thing’s alive!” 

“What’s it doing here? This is no laboratory.” Persian demanded. 

I was surprised, but Klemp took control of the situation. “Back off, Gentlemen,” he said. “Paul Thompson from flight test brought it to me first. Dr. Mayfield is taking it to his lab this morning.” 

“The hell he is.” Persian pointed a finger, “I’m taking it to Baltimore, right now.” 

“Back off, CIA, Possession is ninety-percent of the law. This is Dr. Klemperer’s private property,” Jessica butted in. She tossed her hair with both hands, as four shore patrol types in civvies entered from the aft entry.

“Sorry Gentleman,” said the Admiral. “Show is over. This is ONI (Office of Naval Intelligence) advanced research material.” And with that, the Naval personnel in the room cloaked the unit in a black cloth and were gone with it. 

“That was quick,” I said, “I am proud of Jessica for the way you stood up to that four star.” I couldn’t resist telling her so, either. “Jessica’s not your little girl any more, Bill,” Klemp said, ruining the gesture. “I doubled her salary. She’s my assistant now.” 

2 A peek into the secret Vatican files 

This is sort of hard to accept and – yes - it is out of sequence, too. Remember way back in 1953, that beautiful girl? Well after a continuous honeymoon that lasted for over a year, my little blond and I bought a very modern new home over the Hollywood hills in the “Valley.” She is Catholic, and to keep the honeymoon continuing I became one as well, in a way. Every Sunday we attended church at the St. Mills, a futuristic and prominent A-frame structure on Ventura Boulevard in Woodland Hills. After spending ten hours in the Douglas Think Tank playing with extraterrestrial stuff all day, eating dinner with my little sweetie, I went to class to learn how to be a good Catholic. 

On my first night in class, just as we were getting started, Father Mescal (the number two in command) tapped me on the shoulder. He beckoned me to follow him out of class. We went down a long hall to an office in the rectory. Father Mescal softly knocked on a heavy door that became unlocked. We entered a large office. The door was closed and locked. Father O’Conner, the head man at St. Mills, nodded to me. There were two well-dressed young ladies on my side of a large table with typewriters. There were also six large leather chairs, widely spaced, three on each side and facing each other. Three Monks in traditional brown robes, with their hoods up, were sitting facing Father O’Conner. There was an empty chair that Father O’Conner indicated me to sit in. Everyone had note pads and pencils. There were stacks of documents and photographs in front of the Monks. I could see dirty old document cases open on the floor behind the three monks. 

Without giving any introductions or purposes for the meeting, Father O’Conner indicated to the Monk (Monk one) on the left side of the table facing us. He said, “This will take a long time, proceed.” 

Now at this time I had absolutely no idea of what I was doing here or what these Catholic Monks were here for. Monk one lifted several photos, separating them out and facing us. Of seventy six alien encounters that had occurred in his region over the past eighteen months, nearly all of these involved small entities of three distinct appearances. 

Fifteen, however, involved gargoyle-type entities that could be part hairy manlike and part animal. They could all stand up but ran like dogs, had horse heads with large fang-like teeth, and orange-red insect eyes. They have been seen devouring small children, dogs, cats and other animals live. It wasn’t stated at the start but each monk presented their alien encounters in the form of an overview. Then, shuffling their documents and photos, and in a broken but surprising clear voice, the monk gave detailed accounts of over several hundred different encounters. Then, after each had presented their overall situations, they collectively integrated all types into a single list. Then, they went back a second time and detailed every encounter. 

Number two Monk was from central Brazil and had similar encounters. He also presented well over a hundred and forty sightings of UFOs and encounters with small entities. They had scaled bodies, large heads and insect eyes. He explained the Amazon River has hundreds of smaller rivers and tributaries dumping water into that river from just east of the Andes Mountains, and all the way east to the Atlantic Ocean. In the jungles on both sides of the Amazon - north and south but primarily south - there are some rivers and streams that normally are not occupied by schools of piranhas. But when people see UFOs submerge into these smaller rivers almost at once thousands of piranhas swim up to these locations and devour smaller natives’ people fishing and animals drinking. Children don’t even have time to holler. Another strange element of this area is that very large cat-like fish are seen devouring the piranha schools! 

Number three also spoke our language, supporting number one and number two. He spoke of many people seeming confused after they saw what they know could not be true - a large vehicle parked (floating) eight kilometers up near a farm house. There were several aliens in diving outfits mulling around, not paying any attention to thirty townspeople watching. At one point I think he said that all the divers floated very slowly up into the bottom of the vehicle. 

It thus became obvious to me that Father O’Conner was far more important in the Catholic religion than a priest in a regular church parish. This was a major technical historian investigation by a high level Catholic organization. They were documenting the integration of an unbelievable penetration of hostile aliens into their archdiocese. They may have been there for several years, but in 1954 they seemed to be all over South America. This outstanding event was being tracked by hundreds of monks and priests. They documented the sightings, and monasteries were selected to collect this information. Somebody paid these three monks to fly to Los Angeles, meet in secret at St. Malls’ rectories, and document all this to Father O’Conner and me. 

Why was I selected to critique their findings? Who selected me to this task? Nobody at St. Malls knows of my “way above” top secret extraterrestrial background, in the Douglas Think Tank. I wasn’t even a Catholic then! And why was I selected at this time, when I am supposed to be studying to become a Catholic? And why were they having these meetings precisely at the time of my schooling? I never attended any of my classes to learn how to become a Catholic. Several weeks later, however, Father O’Conner, with a smile, threw holy water on me, along with all the other new people. I was now a Catholic. How important were my questions and dialog to this unbelievable documentation that became clear to me was going straight to the secret Vatican files?




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