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28 {p. 32} this. If there's any security involved--if you tell me it's something you're working on-- naturally I'll lay off." After I left the magazine section, I tried several officers I knew. Two of them agreed with Splitt. The third didn't. "T've been told it's all bunk," he said, "but you get the feeling they've trying to convince themselves. They act like people near a haunted house. They'll swear it isn't haunted--but a u "I doubt if anybody has the full answer," he said seriously. "There's been some hysteria-- also a few mistakes. But many reports have been made by reliable pilots, including our own. You can't laugh those off." As I drove home, I thought over what I'd heard. All I had learned was that the Air Force seemed divided. But that could be a smoke screen. In less than twenty- -four hours, I a a ee Je Oy a ec i 2 a See Reece "Mr. Keyhoe? This is John Steele," said the voice at the other end. (Because of the peculiar role he played, then and later, I have not used his real name.) "I'm a former Air Force Intelligence officer. I was in the European theater during the war." "How do I know? Probably no one wants to take the responsibility." "Then somebody high up must not think it's bunk," I said. Splitt laughed. "Have it your own way." Before I left, I told them I was working with True. "I want to be on record," I said, "as having told you Al Scholin said emphatically, "It's not an Air Force device, if that's what you mean." "Some people think it's Russian." "If it is, I don't know it," said Al, "and neither does the Air Force." they won't go near it." Later, I asked a security major for a copy of the Project "Saucer" report. "We're out of copies right now," he said. "I'll send you one next week." I asked him bluntly what he thought the saucers were. received my first suspicious tip. It was about ten A.M. when my phone rang.