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73 land, right where the Findhorn Colony was later set up, another haven for the little people. AHG: So, you and a groap of paramilitary types sought out the marked entrance and found it Then what? TRW: A door opened, we went in. We were a lot better armed than the guys in the ‘40s. An odd lot. Recent ‘Nam vets, fugitives from R. Y.M. One... AHG: For benefit of younger people, that, more or less, [was an] armed militant wing of the anti-Viet Nam War movement TRW: Exactly. And one guy, the only black guy with us, who was then in the Black Panther Party. AHG: Quite an odd lot. How many people, all told? TRW: Ten, in all, plus a photographer who chickened out at that point. He saw the entrance and left. AHG: So you go in. Then what? TRW: Practically a replay from the WWII thing. No elevator shaft, but a long down- ward slope. It got real cold. I still figured that Shaver had been there, that this was some old mining deal right up until I heard the hum. AHG: Machines? “Mechs,” as Shaver called them? TRW: Exactly, and, I gather, we were expected. By then we were in a kind of cavern, only, Id say, artificially hollowed out and illuminated by a greenish glow, defuse; not from a single, identifiable source. Anyhow, the whole area resembled Shaver’s less ex- otic subterranean story descriptions, and, in more recent terms, some of the modern alien base stories. We were confronted by these small, grayish beings—humanoid only in the technical sense—and one of our guys said “Dero!” and started shooting. He had an M-1 rifle, if I recall. One shot, and [the little gray being] was illuminated in blue, and just gone. Then there was a sound, and I felt my own gun, an M-16, get unbearably hot I dropped it, turned to run, and was confronted by two of these little gray-skinned guys with a net. Whatever had convinced me my rifle was hot had ap- parently not focused on my pistol, a vintage Luger, and one of the little net-holders received the last surprise of its life. It kind of exploded, and the other one dropped the net and ran, up the slope, with me suddenly in pursuit. When we got beyond the lighted area, though, it was just gone. I heard gun fire and explosions behind me, and that god-awful hum, and I continued, pistol in hand, looking around wildly, to go back the way I came. Only three of us ever made it back to the surface. One of them died a year or so later, of leukemia, I think. He was only about 24-25, so maybe to : there’s a connection. AHG: What about the other guy? TRW: Still alive, as far as I know. He has been back twice since; once alone at another entrance not given by Shaver, but traced from legend. The other with a group similar to my own, all of which returned alive, and is now linked with several Cavern guer- rilla groups. AHG: Why haven't you gone back since? Secret Cipher of the UFOnauts