by Jim Oglesby
I was born in Rincon, Ga. Rincon is located roughly 18 miles north of Savannah, on Highway 21 North. In the summer of 1954, my father, a skilled, hard-working carpenter, accepted a job offer in Albany, Georgia. Albany lies in a belt of rich farmland in the East Gulf coastal plain on the banks of the Flint River.
We boarded up our home, our families birthplace, and moved into a burnished two story, wood-frame house, on a farm, nestled in a pecan orchard on the west side of the city. Relatives arrived late Thanksgiving afternoon and while my mother and her two sisters prepared for the grand holiday feast, the men folk gravitated to the living room, eager to exchange their latest field and stream adventures.
I listened attentively a few minutes, that is, until an inner pull beckoned me outside. I slipped unobtrusively through the kitchen, and out the back door into the cool November night. I plopped down at the base of a pecan tree and, as I gazed up, a fiery, amber ball streaked silently across the dark, starry sky. Much to my surprise it seemed like the breath-taking celestial vagabond had crashed into the wooded area east of the Big Field.
I leapt to my feet as excitement, like I had never felt before, charged through me. I bolted across the open field, my eyes focused on the mysterious glow, only to stop abruptly near the edge of the large field.
My heart sank as the ghostly image of a kerosene lantern reflected through a window of the shadowy outline of the farm worker’s abode. The meteoroid had passed directly over the wooden structure, its trajectory aligned with the glowing lantern that reflected through the oilskin shades before disintegrating in the atmosphere.
Disappointed I turned and made my way back to the house where the holiday feast had already begun. From time to time over the years, that spectacular backyard event and the compelling urge that summoned me outside the house that unforgettable Thanksgiving night would fade in and out of my mind.
Unbeknownst to me thirteen years would come and go before life’s unpredictable circuitous route drew me into yet another dramatic cosmic event that would alter forever the way that I had perceived life in the universe.
In 1957, my dad, following the work trail, moved his family to Pompano Beach, Florida, then Okeechobee, until we settled in Orlando. Fresh out of high school and restless, I joined the Navy in 1962, was stationed onboard the U.S.S. Platte (AO-24), homeport Long Beach, California. June 8, 1966, I was discharged from the U.S. Navy and returned to Florida.
I worked as a carpenter for my dad and in the fall of 1967, I was hired in as a clerk in the Bendix machine shop parts department. I was twenty-seven.
The Bendix shop was and is a stone’s throw from the (VAB) Vehicle Assembly Building. It was originally constructed to assemble the Saturn V rockets of the Apollo program during the late 1960s and 1970s. The gigantic structure is still one of the largest vertical structures in the world.
I was visiting with relatives New Year’s Eve weekend 1967. Jon, my brother-in-law and I had been in the kitchen drinking coffee while engaged in lighthearted conversation. The family huddled together in the living room watching a Christmas classic movie on TV. The time was roughly 7:10 p.m.
Suddenly, a flash of amber light reflected through the small kitchen window that faced east. I reached around, flung wide the front door, expecting to see a meteor impact the earth. Instead, my attention was drawn to an amber basketball sized orb, suspended in midair less than a hundred feet above and east of the mobile home. Then, the orb vanished, or so it appeared, yet just before the radiant light vanished, its amber color reflected off the underside of an object, circular in shape, pewter metallic and measuring perhaps 50 to 60 feet in diameter.
The unknown disk emitted no sound as it banked and headed east, and quickly vanished into the dark cold night. For the sake of brevity, two extraterrestrial ships converged and landed in a circular field roughly a quarter mile from my position, and moments later, a formation of helicopters (Cobras) came in from the southeast, accompanied by two jets (F-106s).
In the Internet posted links, I initially entered the choppers as Apaches, but Apaches weren’t produced until 1984, hence I stand corrected. The two UFOs remained on the ground from 7:10 p.m. Saturday, December 30, until 1:50 a.m. New Year’s Eve morning.
At that time, one of the ships began rising from the exact location where it had landed over six and a half hours earlier. The UFO climbed into the clear, starry sky, then drew near a MM2 missile that had been launched from Cape Canaveral Air Force Station. I watched the luminous disk perform gravity-defying maneuvers before zipping away to the south.
On the night of February 13, 1968, ETs returned to the area as previously described. Now, beginning on the above date and ending on September 15 of the same year, I logged thirty-two encounters with unidentified space ships from another world, and twenty-five of the thirty-two involved interactions between non-terrestrials and myself.
ET ships that operated in the area during the above time frame included a small remote disk, a large circular disk and a cigar-shaped craft. Five sightings on five separate dates involved Air Force jets, helicopters and a B-52 stratosphere jet.
The most astounding events involved two mysterious rendezvous with a cigar-shaped spaceship and a dark sedan near the shoreline of a kidney-shaped lake during two significant Apollo programs between March and September of 1968. The communications with ETs did not end during that incredible cycle, but continued and have continued over the past four decades.
The latest mental communication with ETs occurred on the night of July 27, 2004. The event/events that triggered or led up to that ET contact involved numerous phone calls and emails with investigator-journalist and documentary writer, Linda Moulton Howe.
I am writing a book about the aforementioned experiences.
I welcome comments or feedback. My email address is: Joglesby7@cfl.rr.com