A/N For best effect, picture this being read out loud by Darrin McGavin.

If for some reason the large Top Secret stamps on the outside of the manila envelope escaped you, reading of this file by personage without appropriate clearance and a need to know will most likely result in relocation to a rather small room in a fairly large federal penitentiary for a very long time. –Special Agent Arthur Dales, FBI

Friday, 13 September 1968

Hog's Hollow, Mississippi

It's very fitting its Friday the 13th. I was sent down to this hole in the wall to investigate a close encounter with an alien craft that turned out to be an experimental NASA flying saucer piloted by Astronauts/Majors Anthony Nelson, USAF, and Roger Healey AUS. I have the sneaky suspicion that my superiors may have know about sending "Creepy" Dales out to investigate, but I'll play along. I'm going to try to get some sleep in this so called hotel room, dream about my upcoming retirement, and return to DC in the morning.

Saturday, 14 September 1968 O Dark Thirty

Hog's Hollow, Mississippi

A was awoken in the middle of the night by a pounding on my hotel room door. I grabbed my trusty 38. Even though it was the summer of love, FBI agents aren't the most welcome individuals in the state of Mississippi these days. I hadn't identified myself as an agent, but it is best not to take chances. I opened the door to see a man in his late 40s/ early 50s in a trench coat. Judging by the way he was dressed, he was not comfortable in civilian attire. Probably military. He confirmed my suspicions by handing me a green military ID.

The figure in the trench coat spoke, "Special Agent Dales, I am Colonel Alfred Bellows, NASA Psychiatrist. Your office said you would be here. We need to talk."

I invited Bellows in and said, "If this is another wild goose chase from my office, you can tell them I decided to take the locals up on trolling for some catfish. Majors Nelson or Healey are neither small nor green." Bellows almost flinched at the mention of their names. I offered him some of the local whiskey, which will take the paint of your car, but Bellows slammed it.

Bellows stammered, "Major Nelson didn't see you did he?"

I answered, "No, he, Healey, and the craft were long gone by the time I got on the scene. Tell me, did they stow away a girlfriend? Some witnesses reported seeing a very attractive blonde. Wearing a harem outfit no less." Bellows eyes got wide and took another hit of the moonshine.

Bellows went on, "I requested from your office that you be detailed to NASA under the guise of doing background checks, but what I really want you to investigate is Major Nelson."

I had thought about this. I'm sure the boys at the Hoover Building were more than happy to get rid of me for a while. Plus this was starting to sound like actual FBI work. I asked Bellows, "What has he done?"

Bellows answered me with the words that I least wanted to hear, "You won't believe it."

So this was another "Creepy" Dales assignment. I grunted, "Try me."

Bellows continued, "Odd things surround Major Nelson. The least of which is the mysterious blond in the harem outfit. Priceless items such as Ming Vases appear in his house. I've personally seen an elephant in the man's living room. He also appeared, and disappeared in the base hospital's operating room." Handing me a legal pad, he added, "Here's a list of everything I've observed or heard of."

I looked at the list. An elephant, now that's different. As far as the blond, attractive women around astronauts is nothing unusual. I asked Bellows, "Do you have any proof of this?"

Bellows replied, "No, Major Nelson is far too tricky. I was hoping you could go undercover. Do you have a cover story?"

I laughed. Four years as an Air Corps/Air Force Intelligence officer followed by 19 years in the FBI taught me a thing or two about maintaining a cover. I showed Bellows my fake Press Pass and told Bellows, "When you see me at NASA, I'll be Karl Kolchak of the Independent News Service working on a feature article about Major Nelson."

Finally Bellows left and I got some sleep. After I got up, I called one of the few friends I had left at the bureau to get the skinny on Alfred Bellows. Bellows was a brilliant psychiatrist who for some reason started sending in reports of unusual activity surrounding a Major Nelson a couple of years ago. Basically he was ignored, until somebody saw an opportunity to send me on a "mission" and quiet Bellows at the same time. The whole UFO incident here was a set-up. With that information in hand, I made the long drive to Cocoa Beach.

Oh, and you better believe the bureau is getting the bill for the mileage and the charming "motel" I stayed in Saturday night. I arrived in Cocoa Beach around lunch time on Sunday 15 September. I spent that afternoon familiarizing myself with the town. Nice little beach community.

Monday, 16 September 1968 Kennedy Space Center

After presenting my "press" credentials, I was escorted to the office of Commanding General Martin Peterson. Peterson and Bellows were waiting for me in the office. Even though it had been over 20 years since I wore a uniform, I had to fight the urge to come to attention when I was in the room with a general and a bird colonel.

After introductions, General Peterson said, "So, Mr. Kolchak, Dr. Bellows tells me you want to interview some of our astronauts."

I answered, "Yes, General, its more of a human interest piece: the lifestyle of a single astronaut. We thought it would attract some of our younger readers. Specifically, I plan to focus on Majors Nelson and Healey."

Peterson chuckled, "That should attract the interest of your younger female readers. Mr. Kolchak, NASA always welcomes the media. Just stay out of restricted areas and try not to interfere with daily operations."

I replied, "Yes, General. With your permission, I'd like to discuss background information with Dr. Bellows."

The General replied, "Of Course. Both of you are dismissed."

Once we were out of the General's Office, Bellows excitedly asked, "What can I do to help your investigation?"

I replied, "Act around me like you would any reporter. Annoyed that I would be taking up your precious time. In the mean time, you can take me to Majors Nelson and Healey."

Bellows answered, "Certainly Agent Dales, I mean Mr. Kolchak."

I rolled my eyes. If I maintain my cover with Dr. Bellows hovering around, it would be a miracle.

We came to an office whose doorplate was marked "Anthony Nelson, USAF." Dr. Bellows knocked, and a voice on the other side said "Enter."

Majors Nelson and Healey seemed somewhat jumpy when Bellows entered the office. When Dr. Bellows introduced me as Karl Kolchack, reporter, Nelson appeared to be even jumpier. Nelson may look like an Air Force recruiting poster, but it definitely felt like they were covering something up. I should know, being part of the largest Air Force cover up in history.

I explained, "I'm here to do a human interest piece on your social life, please don't let me interfere with your work."

Dr. Bellows interjected, "Lieutenant Arvizo is coordinating a fiesta this evening in the officers club to celebrate Mexican Independence day."

I could have done without Dr. Bellow's "help," but the idea of a 16 September celebration sounded pretty good. I remembered similar parties when I was stationed in New Mexico in the late 40s. A lot of tequila, cerveza, and senoritas. I said, "That actually sounds good to me, will I see you gentlemen there?" Dr. Bellows gave the two astronauts a look that said their presence wasn't optional.

Healey and Nelson said in unison, "Yes, we'll be there."

I replied, "Great, I'll get out of your hair for now. See you at the party."

"Is that it?" Dr. Bellows asked after we got out of the office.

"Colonel," I said exasperated, "please let me run this investigation as I see fit. I think we'll get along better if you stick to medicine, and I do the police work."

Bellows said curtly, "Very well."

I sweet talked a young WAF airman in the personnel department, and was able to get a look at files belonging to Nelson, Healey, and Bellows. As my friend at the FBI stated, Bellows record was flawless until 1965. He would probably be head of psychiatry at Walter Reed right now if he didn't start with the wild reports on Major Nelson. Nelson is what the Air Force touts as the commensurate military astronaut. Nelson was first in his class at West Point in 1954 and accepted a commission in the Air Force. He was a top notch test pilot, breaking records left and right. Roger Healey is the pride of the Army, expert engineer and one of the few astronauts who wear green. Healey also has an enviable military record, dropping out of college in 1951 to be one of the Army's first Warrant Officer pilots. After serving in Korea as a flying artillery spotter, Healey returned to college and completed an engineering degree and the Army ROTC program, earning his commission in 1955. These hardly seem like the type of men to be involved in unusual activities. Maybe I am on a wild goose chase.

After a day of chasing papers, I was about ready for a party. Lieutenant Arvizo turned out to be Lieutenant, Junior Grade Natalia Arvizo, a Navy Personnel Officer on loan to NASA. It's a wonder I didn't run into her when I was poking through files, but I doubt I would have missed this Latina beauty. I chatted with her under the guise of being a reporter. It turns out that 24 year old Arvizo hails from Yuma, Arizona. When I inquired how a Arizonan made it in the Navy, she informed me her father is a Marine Gunnery Sergeant at Marine Corps Air Station Yuma. She told me that he was not too pleased his only daughter joined the military, and the Navy at that. There was no doubt in my mind though, that Arvizo was an officer through and through. Just in a very attractive package.

As I was chatting with Lt. Arvizo, Healey and Nelson walked in. While Nelson appeared to be trying to avoid me, Healey was walking right at me. I quickly realized I was not the object of Healey's interest as he all but walked through me to get to Lieutenant Arvizo. Roger Healey was definitely the ladies man.

Bellows was watching all three of us, starting to unnerve even me. I did have a chance to corner Major Nelson, thought. It was obvious that he wasn't comfortable talking to the press.

"So what do you want to know about me?" Nelson asked.

I answered, "Just background stuff. I heard Major Healey is quite the ladies man. Is there someone special in your life? Going back through the society pages, you were engaged to General Wingard Stone's daughter Melissa three years ago. What happened there?"

Major Nelson grew irate and said, "Listen I know you're just doing your job, but I would appreciate it if you kept out of my personal life."

I apologized, "Hey, sorry, no problem. I didn't know it was a touchy subject." It could be Nelson is hiding something that has nothing to do with the supernatural or national security. If that's the case, it's his own business.

Nelson asked me, "Kolchak, have you ever been in the military?"

I had been drinking some, and let some of my cover slip by answering truthfully, "I was an Air Force Intelligence Officer from 1944-1948"

That seemed to surprise Nelson. He just said, "then you should know when to mind your own business," and left.

Healey and Arvizo went who knows where. Nelson's buddies did a very good job of keeping me away from the Major. And I spent the rest of the evening drinking beer and tequila trying to avoid Dr. Bellows and impress a twenty something civil service secretary. I wasn't very successful in either attempt, so I took a cab back to the hotel—alone.

Tuesday, 17 September 1968

Cocoa Beach, Florida

I decided to sleep in this morning after the tequila and beer. After brunch (not a meal I normally eat), I decided to swing by Major Nelson's house. He would be busy at work, giving me time to look around. So as not to arouse suspicion, I put on a repairman's outfit. I started taking pictures of the outside of the house, when I thought I saw movement inside. So maybe there is somebody at home after all.

I quietly snuck around to the side of the house, where looking into the Major's window, I saw a 20ish blond woman in a harem outfit frolicking around on Nelson's bed. I took a few shops through the parted drapes. She was beautiful, no doubt. But why the secrecy? He was an eligible bachelor. Maybe SHE wasn't eligible or single. Then, I started to feel like a cut-rate tabloid writer or private detective. It really wasn't the FBI's business if Nelson had something on the side, unless she was a threat to national security in some way. If the relationship was a violation of military decorum, that was JAG's business.

Just then I felt a hand clamp on my shoulder. I turned around to see a couple of Cocoa Beach's finest.

"Looks like we have a prowler here," The oldest of the two police officers said.

I said, "I wasn't peeping at her."

The youngest looked in the window and said, "Who, it doesn't look like anybody is home."

I was given a ride to the local precinct, where I gave them my press credentials. I told them to have their captain call my paper. When he did, of course, he would be directed to a supervisory agent. After several hours, I was alone in an interrogation room with the Cocoa Beach Chief of Police.

The Chief said, "The Bureau vouched for you, Agent Dales, but I would say you are not too popular over there, judging by the amount of time it took them to do it."

"Thanks Chief, now can I have my film?" I asked.

The Chief looked very annoyed by the question, and said tersely, "First of all, I don't like feds operating in my area without first checking in with me. We developed the film in our lab." He handed me an envelope of prints.

I looked at the pictures of Nelson's empty bedroom and asked, "Where's the girl?"

The Chief looked puzzled, "What girl?"

I replied, "The one in the pictures."

The Chief growled, "There was no girl in the pictures. Now get out of here."

When I left the station, the sun was starting to go down. A very angry looking figure was at my car. I greeted him, "Good evening, Major Nelson."

"What did you see at my house?" Nelson asked.

I said, "Nothing, I was just trying to get photo's to go along with my articles on how a single officer lives."

Nelson said, "I don't know what type of game you are playing, but I checked the rosters. There was no Air Force Officer named Karl Kolcheck in the time period you said. Stay away from me, my house, my friends, and my co-workers. You're making me angry Mr. Kolcheck, and you won't like me when I'm angry."

Before I could try to make up some excuse, Nelson started walking away, taking my left rear view mirror with him. He didn't even seem to notice.

When I got back to the hotel, there were half a dozen messages from Doctor Bellows. I called him, and he excitedly answered, "Agent Dales, where were you?"

"Research," I answered.

Bellows answered, "That's not important… you need to come to the 3rd Street Gym, right away."

When I arrived at the gym, Bellows was dressed in an odd workout outfit. "Pipchicks" was what I think he said. When I looked puzzled he just said, "Just watch."

He then went over to a barbell with about 500lbs of weight on it. This was going to be bad. "Doctor… I started." Somehow he actually lifted it. Then a look of concern came over his face, and he started to loose it. It took two weightlifters to spot him and keep him from killing himself.

Bellows started babbling, "Major Nelson had super strength, and I ate one of his pipchicks, and I also had super strength. The effects must have run out. Come to NASA tomorrow morning. I will give you and General Peterson the demonstration of a lifetime!"

I just shook my head, and went back to the hotel.

Wednesday, September 18, 0900

Outside the Gates of the Kennedy Space Center

I decided to go ahead and drive to NASA to see this demonstration. I couldn't even get into the gate. The Air Police had Kennedy Space Center on alert, nobody comes in or goes out. But I could see fairly high-ranking NASA officials, including Colonel Bellows, running around like a bunch of lunatics. I took out my camera, but a rather large sergeant said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you, sir."

I put my camera away. I then got back into my car, and made return trek to DC.

Later CID reports stated that insurgents (e.g. hippies) attempted to shut down the space program by sneaking in candy dosed with LSD. This was not released to the public.

Filed Friday, 20 September, 1968

Arthur Dales, Special Agent

Federal Bureau of Investigation