The True Origin of the Flying Saucers - Dr.

Page 98 of 124

Page 98 of 124
The True Origin of the Flying Saucers - Dr.

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1030 HOURS- Encountering more rolling green hills now. The external temperature indicator reads 74 degrees Fahrenheit! Continuing on our heading now. Navigation instruments seem normal now. I am puzzled over their actions. Attempt to contact base camp. Radio is not functioning! 1130 HOURS- Countryside below is more level and normal (if I may use that word). Ahead we spot what seems to be a city! This is impossible! Aircraft seems light and oddly buoyant. The controls refuse to respond! My GOD! Off our port and star board wings are a strange type of aircraft. They are closing rapidly alongside! They are disc-shaped and have a radiant quality to them. They are close enough now to see the markings on them. It is a type of Swastika!!! This is fantastic. Where are we! What has happened. I tug at the controls again. They will not respond! We are caught in an invisible vice grip of some type! 1135 HOURS- Our radio crackles and a voice comes through in English with what perhaps is a slight Nordic or Germanic accent! The message is: "Welcome, Admiral, to our domain. We shall land you in exactly seven minutes! Relax, Admiral, you are in good hands." I note the engines of our plane have stopped running! The aircraft is under some strange control and is now turning itself. The controls are useless. 1140 HOURS- Another radio message received. We begin the landing process now, and in moments the plane shudders slightly, and begins a descent as though caught in some great unseen elevator! The downward motion is negligible, and we touch down with only a slight jolt! 1145 HOURS- I am making a hasty last entry in the flight log. Several men are approaching on foot toward our aircraft. They are tall with blond hair. In the distance is a large shimmering city pulsating with rainbow hues of color. I do not know what is going to happen now, but I see no signs of weapons on those approaching. I hear now a voice ordering me by name to open the cargo door. I comply. END LOG From this point I write all the following events here from memory. It defies the imagination and would seem all but madness if it had not happened. cordial manner. We were then boarded on a small platform-like conveyance with no wheels! It moves us toward the glowing city with great swiftness. As we approach, the city seems to be made of a crystal material. Soon we arrive at a large building that is a type I have never seen before. It appears to be right out of the design board of Frank Lloyd Wright, or perhaps more correctly, out of a The radioman and I are taken from the aircraft and we are received in a most