"There's a rumor," I said, "it's a secret Air Force missile that sometimes goes out of control."

"Good G.o.d, man!" he exploded. "If it was, do you think we'd be ordering pilots to chase the d.a.m.ned 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 h.e.l.l. 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. .h.i.t 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 gla.s.ses, 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 gla.s.ses 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 no.

"There's something d.a.m.ned queer going on. For fifteen months, Project 'Saucer' is b.u.t.toned up tight. Top secret. Then suddenly, Forrestal gets the Sat.u.r.day Evening Post

{p. 19}

to run two articles, brushing the whole thing off. The first piece hits the stands--and then what happens?"

Purdy swung around, jabbed his finger at a doc.u.ment on. his desk.

"That same day, the Air Force rushes out this Project 'Saucer' report.

It admits they haven't identified the disks in any important cases.

They say it's still serious enough--wait a minute--"he thumbed through the stapled papers--" 'to require constant vigilance by Project "Saucer" personnel and the civilian population.'"

"You'd think the Post would make a public kick," I said.

"I don't mean it's an out-and-out denial," said Purdy. "It doesn't mention the Post--just contradicts it. In fact, the report contradicts itself. It looks as if they're trying to warn people and yet they're scared to say too much."

I looked at the t.i.tle on the report: "A Digest of Preliminary Studies by the Air Materiel Command, Wright Field, Dayton, Ohio, on 'Flying Saucers.'"

"Have the papers caught it yet?" I asked Purdy.

"You mean its contradicting the Post?" He shook his head. "No, the Pentagon press release didn't get much s.p.a.ce. How many editors would wade through a six-thousand-word government report? Even if they did, they'd have to compare it, item for item, with the Post piece."

"Who wrote the Post story?"

Purdy lit a cigarette and frowned out again at the skysc.r.a.pers.

"Sidney Shallett--and he's careful. He had Forrestal's backing. The Air Force flew him around, arranged interviews, supposedly gave him inside stuff. He spent two months on it. They O.K.'d his script, which practically says the saucers are bunk. Then they reneged on it."

"Maybe some top bra.s.s suddenly decided it was the wrong policy to brush it off," I suggested.

"Why the quick change?" demanded Purdy. "Let's say they sold the Post on covering up the truth, in the interests of security. It's possible, though I don't believe it. Or they could simply have fed them a fake story. Either

{p. 20}

Way, why did they rush this contradiction the minute the Post hit the stands?"

"Something serious happened," I said, "after the Post went to press."

"Yes, but what?" Purdy said impatiently. "That's what we've got to find out."

"Does Shallett's first piece mention Mantell's death?"