The Flying Saucers are Real | Page 6

Mantell failed to answer the tower, one of his pilots began a
search. Climbing to 33,000 feet, he flew a hundred miles to the south.
But the thing that lured Mantell to his death had vanished from the sky.
Ten days after Mantell was killed, I learned of a curious sequel to the
Godman affair.
An A.P. account in the New York Times had caught my attention. The
story, released at Fort Knox, admitted Mantell had died while chasing a
flying saucer. Colonel Hix was quoted as having watched the object,
which was still unidentified. But there was no mention of Mantell's
radio messages--no hint of the thing's tremendous size.
Though I knew the lid was probably on, I went to the Pentagon. When
the scare had first broken, in the summer of '47, I had talked with
Captain Tom Brown, who was handling saucer inquiries. But by now
Brown had been

{p. 17}
shifted, and no one in the Press Branch would admit knowing the
details of the Mantell saucer chase.
"We just don't know the answer," a security officer told me.
"There's a rumor," I said, "it's a secret Air Force missile that sometimes
goes out of control."
"Good God, man!" he exploded. "If it was, do you think we'd be
ordering pilots to chase the damned things?"
"No--and I didn't say I believed it." I waited until he cooled down.
"This order you mentioned--is it for all Air Force pilots, or special
fighter units?"
"I didn't say it was a special order," he answered quickly. "All pilots
have routine instructions to report unusual items."
"They had fighters alerted on the Coast, when the scare first broke," I
reminded him. "Are those orders still in force?"
He shook his head. "No, not that I know of." After a moment he added,
"All I can tell you is that the Air Force is still investigating. We
honestly don't know the answer."
As I went out the Mall entrance, I ran into Jack Daly, one of
Washington's veteran newsmen. Before the war, Jack and I had done
magazine pieces together, usually on Axis espionage and communist
activity. I told him I was trying to find the answer to Mantell's death.
"You heard anything?" I asked him.
"Only what was in the A.P. story," said Jack. "But an I.N.S. man told
me they had a saucer story from Columbus, Ohio--and it might have
been the same one they saw at Fort Knox."
"I missed that. What was it?"

"They sighted the thing at the Air Force field outside of Columbus. It
was around sundown, about two hours after that pilot was killed in
Kentucky."
"Anybody chase it?" I asked.
"No. They didn't have time to take off, I guess. This I.N.S. guy said it
was going like hell. Fast as a jet, anyway."
"Did he say what it looked like?"
{p. 18}
"The Air Force boys said it was as big as a C-47," said Jack. "Maybe
bigger. It had a reddish-orange exhaust streaming out behind. They
could see it for miles."
"If you hear any more, let me know," I said. Jack promised he would.
"What do you think they are?" he asked me.
"It's got me stumped. Russia wouldn't be testing missiles over here.
Anyway, I can't believe they've got anything like that. And I can't see
the Air Force letting pilots get killed to hide something we've got."
One week later, I heard that a top-secret unit had been set up at Wright
Field to investigate all saucer reports. When I called the Pentagon, they
admitted this much, and that was all.
In the next few months, other flying-disk stories hit the front pages.
Two Eastern Airline pilots reported a double-decked mystery ship
sighted near Montgomery, Alabama. I learned of two other sightings,
one over the Pacific Ocean and one in California. The second one, seen
through field glasses, was described as rocket-shaped, as large as a
B-29. There were also rumors of disks being tracked by radar, but it
was almost a year before I confirmed these reports.
When Purdy wired me, early in May of '49, I had half forgotten the
disks. It had been months since any important sightings had been

reported. But his message quickly revived my curiosity. If he thought
the subject was hot, I knew he must have reasons. When I walked into
his office at 67 West 44th, Purdy stubbed out his cigarette and shook
hands. He looked at me through his glasses for a moment. Then he said
abruptly:
"You know anything about the disks?"
"If you mean what they are--no."
He motioned for me to sit down. Then he swiveled his chair around, his
shoulders hunched forward, and frowned out the window.
"Have you seen the Post this week?"
I told him