Around 1985, my father began sharing a very scary story that he swore was true. It was the type of story you might have seen on The Outer Limits but what he had to say had such ramifications about our place in the universe that many people chose and still choose not to believe him.
I am not one of those people. Though I admit, I originally was.
My father’s name is Carl Moore. His rank was that of an A2C in the Air Force and he had top secret clearance. His main duties were to guard boxes in a warehouse which by his own account was the most boring job anyone could have. It was the type of mind numbing job that seems prevalent in the government sector and my dad loathed it but it was his duty. When I asked him what was in the boxes he flatly said:
I never asked what was in the boxes. This is the type of officer he was.
The incident happened around September 7, 1965 at Pease Air Force Base.
He’s more sure about the day of the week it happened on than the actual date because if you got all of your work done early on Thursday, you could have Friday off and my dad loved three day weekends. The date should ring a bell for many because it’s only a few days after the incident in Exeter.
Part of my father’s duties was taking shipments off the rail head and many of the other Airmen didn’t like going down to the rail head. It was at this rail head that a craft appeared. It was off in the distance and he tried to copy what he saw by drawing it on a small sheet of paper. Before he could finish it, the craft was directly above his head. It was close enough that he couldn’t see the sky because it took up the whole of his view. When he gasped: Holy mackerel, at the sight of the sudden appearance of the ship, he heard the ship repeat the phrase verbatim and in his own voice. He tried to run but the ship stayed over him. Hearing them repeat his further exclamations, he decided to face the vessel and said: If you can copy that, try copying this. He pulled a card from his pocket and to his surprise the ship opened. He was expecting it to be a slot to put the card but what really happened caught him even more off guard as the ship’s entry way opened up and the occupants exited. They grabbed him and touched a wand to the back of his head and he no longer struggled.
As he was taken aboard, his commanding officer told him that the visitors had been around for years and that they were interested in testing us. He claimed that they weren’t going to hurt him and that this was, in fact, a pretty regular situation.
This was the first time he was taken aboard and his visit was comprised almost totally of medical examinations. These were the typical Grays, which were actually broken down into two types, one a worker class and the other the bosses. The larger, bosses were smarter. Both of them he said have eyes like us only their pupils were so large that you couldn’t see the whites. He described their forehead like a melon. A small hole for ears and a walnut shaped feature immediately behind the hole. He says that when they communicated with him, it was with thought and it seemed as if they were purposely flooding his mind with images to hide what they looked like but that he was able to “ignore” what they were saying.
When he talks about them, it is with both reverence and fear. He also got the feeling that they don’t like to be touched and when I asked him what gave him that idea he said the most peculiar thing.
We could just all of a sudden go fuckin’ nuts on them and kill them. They’re just the same as we are...I mean flesh and bone. You know what I mean? If I was them, I’d be afraid of us. I’d be scared to death of us. He was gone for the entire weekend.
The visitations happened with enough regularity that he was eventually left lucid during them. He eventually described a third type of being that was a female with green skin. Her eyes were different in shape than the Grays, having a more almond shape to the Grays tear drop shape. He describes her having bright red, straight pubic hairs. Gathered around her were young ones that looked nothing like her, though my father says she claimed them as her own.
He enjoyed her company and when he talks about her, it’s almost like that of a person who misses a good friend. Her arms didn’t seem very functional and she asked if he would feed her. She gave him a Push-Up of strawberry ice cream and he would hold it up for her to eat. On his accounts she was very pleasant to talk to and he told me: If you met her, you would like her. She was very smart.
Another being looked like a Nordic human. He looked very old but my dad got the feeling that he was the one in charge. All of the others seemed to show respect for him. Unlike the others, he spoke with his mouth and not telepathy like the others had. The entire conversation with the Nordic lead my father to believe that the man was extremely old, possibly 90, but at one point, the Nordic stood up and revealed a rather athletic and muscular body.
Even more surprising was that the Nordic then led my father into a room where others were gathered. The number of different species was staggering but my father claims that the Nordics made up at least a quarter of them. Here we are unable to be civil toward one another based on ethnicity, religion and region and yet the rest of the galaxy has not only learned to coexist but they’ve made it the status quo.
There was more to be discovered. After further testing it was discovered that my father had what they called a behavior disorder, a disorder which they believed may have been the reason for his ability to block their telepathy. In short, the right and left side of his brain doesn’t communicate well with each other, basically… schizophrenia, something my father was officially diagnosed with years later. This revelation has no bearing on my believing that his story is true, because the corroborating evidence didn’t come from him, but more on that later.
There comes a point where these beings have gotten the information from him that they’ve desired, and are basically trying to get a better understanding of his reasoning and learning abilities. It was during this time that things became rather unique in the abduction experience, at least as far as abduction experiences go.
Dad asked them what the smallest particle in the universe was.
It was a question that he noticed got an immediately different response than anything he’d asked previously. That response was an eagerness to share, not unlike that of a religious person’s desire to respond to questions about their faith. The aliens, all of them, had a religion of sorts, because they believed that the smallest particle was a living organism and since it made up the whole of the universe, the universe itself was alive. They were anxious to share what the physical make up of the particle was, but viewing it was tricky because it only revealed itself when the observer was in the right state of mind. This feat wasn’t easy because of my dad’s behavior disorder but he says that they were determined to show him the particle nonetheless.
What followed next was an introduction to a bizarre ritual that included his viewing of other particles and his giving an emotional response to them. I liken this to the Tibetan monk’s ability to recognize all the facets of themselves, their anger, greed, jealousy, love, happiness, hatred and so on. Recognizing and accepting them until that moment when you basically invit” the particle to show itself. Once it did, my father says that the moment made him feel complete and understanding of everything, something I believe he struggles with to this day.
The memories of these events haunted him for 20 years after the fact. He wanted to discuss them, but says that he swore to not say anything for 20 years. It was an oath he took just as seriously as his job guarding boxes in a warehouse all those years ago.
1985 rolled around and he was eager to share his experiences with everyone. To his dismay many of his friends scoffed at the notion, thinking he was either fooling with them or down right nuts. He admits his own sanity is fleeting but always stuck by those events, not because they made him feel special but because he thought the world should know the details because even though the situation was scary, there were moments when it made him feel that our world was part of something bigger.
There were certain details that made many of his friends disbelieve his story, most specifically was the idea that aliens eat strawberry ice cream. I mean, of all things for the aliens to eat, strawberry ice cream sounds rather silly. Well, all things considered. In fact, it was this detail that I used to think was silly as a kid and honestly, the one thing that made me think that my dad was a liar. Then 1988 rolled around. It was a rather important year for me. It was Cincinnati’s bicentennial. I got to play Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus in the third grade play about how he rose from station of farmer to emperor in order to fend off barbarian invaders.
Any child of the 80s and 90s also know that the television was flooded with shows about UFOs. In 1988 a show aired on FOX called UFO COVERUP!: LIVE. You can find it on YouTube pretty easily. It was an hour and a half long documentary that discussed everything from the UFO’s to the biology of their occupants. There were anonymous panelists, scientists, UFO investigators, alien abductees, and it was all hosted by Mike Farrell of M*A*S*H fame. It’s interesting about the context in which some of the information was displayed because at the end, they seemed to make light of the close encounter experience.
One panelist, James Oberg, makes a joke about how we should all go out and buy strawberry ice cream because maybe if it’s all gone, the UFO guy will go away.
I was watching this show with my dad. There was no way he contacted them about that small and silly detail. That show, regardless of what it was trying to accomplish, turned me into a believer all because of it’s inclusion of the strawberry ice cream. It’s such an obscure element that the inclusion to it in so many encounter stories, enough so that it was mentioned on national television, made me realize that whatever my dad experienced was real.
That’s not the end of the story, however. The other day, while I was trying to figure out the best way to approach this subject, it dawned on me that not everyone likes strawberry ice cream. In fact, not everyone likes ice cream.