THE ROSWELL SCAM
July 5, 2002
As a result of my father’s recent death, I have come to possess a rather fascinating journal. I believe you might also find it interesting.
In brief, the journal, kept by my father, reveals the details of his involvement in a secret project of the United States Government. The project operated under the general auspices of the Department of Psychological Warfare and went by the code name “Green Tattoo”.
Shortly after World War II, Soviet Russia rapidly became our primary adversary and a major threat to world peace. Our government felt any means of gaining an advantage over our Russian enemies was worthy of consideration.
At this time, the Russians were obsessed with sightings of unidentifiable flying objects and the possibility of extraterrestrial life. Consequently project “Green Tattoo” was conceived and carried out to convince the Russians that the United States possessed advanced alien technology.
The implications of our possessing such advanced weaponry and extreme aeronautical flight capabilities would, to say the least, put Stalinist Russia in a psychological tailspin.
The success of project “Green Tattoo”, which unfolded near the small town of Roswell New Mexico, is now history. The details of that magnificent deception are given in the following pages. I have taken the liberty of presenting it as a work of fiction for obvious reasons.
THE ROSWELL SCAM
Chapter one- The Beginning
I doubted the success of this project from the beginning, and with each passing hour, day and month I became more and more dubious of its success! I fully expected we would be exposed long before we ever arrived in Roswell. Yet, it is thirty five years later and the project is still intact and functioning better than ever.
I always thought it would be someone else who would tell this story, but I now see if the story is ever to be told it will have to be by me. Ironically, it is only fitting, since I was its’ biggest doubter, even to the point of keeping a journal to “cover my ass”. How naive of me! Never the less, the journal has been quite valuable in jogging my mind and keeping the sequence of events sorted.
November 10 1946
My name is Jeremy Nathanial Hunter. I am thirty seven years old. It is early in the winter of 1946. Like many men my age; I have a lingering guilt for not having served in the war. I didn’t dodge the draft or anything like that. I have some minor medical issues but I think if I had tried harder some branch of the services would have taken me.
Other than my constant feelings of guilt there is nothing particularly remarkable about me. Unless it is my unusually long arms which, often when I am not using them, I keep folded about my chest or anchored with my hands in my pockets.
I am mostly of Irish descent, reddish hair and blue eyes. My nose is a little large, but not red from drinking. My teeth are even, I don’t smile a lot but I do like to laugh. I am five feet ten, but when asked I say almost six feet.
I have a PhD in animal behavior and a position at a small college near New York City. I do research on how animals learn and a little teaching.
At the moment I am in my laboratory standing by a Sisyphus box; a device of my own invention. Mostly it is an electrified Skinner box maze. Small animals, usually rats, solve the maze and they are automatically rewarded with a small amount of food and re-deposited at the start of the maze. Their successes are recorded by means of a trip counter.
The process can be repeated as often or as many times as the test animal will endure. Unlike Sisyphus, who was cursed to roll his rock up over and over to the top of a mountain, the rats are free to fall asleep or wander about aimlessly.
I am waiting to talk to someone from the army. I have no idea why anyone from the army would want to talk to me.
My assistant, Maria, a young Italian woman is sitting at her desk in the laboratory recording data in a brown lab book.
“Are the numbers pretty much the same as the last experiments?” I ask, but with no real interest.
“In conducting biological research, one must only have a simple tool to discern differences. Nature will then provide the complexity of permutations to keep one gainfully employed for the rest of his life. Gainful, but not necessarily happy.
My mind pulls me back to the telephone call from the Army Lieutenant and I wander down to the department office.
“Mrs. Greenwald, tell me about that call from the army again.”
Madge Greenwald is a fortyish, proper Jewish woman. She has been a secretary here for the last six years and I still call her Mrs. Greenwald. I would prefer to call her Madge but she insists on formality, and calls me Dr. Hunter.
“All they would say is that they would like some information for a project they are working on.”
“They didn’t say anything at all about the nature of their project?”
“No. they just said Lieutenant Damala would be here at ten on Tuesday morning to meet with you if that was alright”
Precisely at ten o’clock Lieutenant Alphonse Damala, a muscular fellow sporting a heavy mustache, arrived at my office. “Dr. Hunter I am Lieutenant Damala” he said, extending his hand.
The office door was open and the Lieutenant was peering into the laboratory. “Interesting place” he said, looking at the rows of animal cages and the Sisyphus box.
“Dr Hunter we are putting together a rather delicate project. I can’t tell you any details now. We're just wondering if you might be interested in helping us”
“Of course I will be glad to help in any way I can.” “What kind of help do you need?”
“I’m afraid I can’t divulge that at this time I can only tell you that it would involve activities you are familiar with.”
“It’s a little awkward trying to have this conversation when I am so totally in the dark here” I said, forcing a smile.
The Lieutenant smiled back at me. “I understand he chuckled. We are a little ahead of you on this; let me bring you up to date. I have communicated with the President of the college and he assures me that they will grant you a paid sabbatical for as long as the project might take. That is, of course if you would be interested” he added.
“I should tell you, that for, the most part; we have already determined you would satisfy the requirements for the job.” I wondered what the hell the requirements were.
“I thought you just wanted some information. Something I could generate in a few days. The President said I could have a Sabbatical?” “How do you know I’m the man for this job?”
“Over the last month or so we've conducted several interviews. We have a fairly good profile of your capabilities and who you are.” The Lieutenant handed me a thick sheaf of papers bound at the corner by a heavy staple. “Recognize this fellow?” He asked.
I perused the dossier. It was not particularly flattering, but all and all it pretty much summed me up.
“It is hard to believe this is the person you would want for a special project” I offered, sliding the papers back to him.
“The project does not involve any extreme technical difficulty; as we see it.” The Lieutenant paused to find the proper phrase. “What we are really interested in is your resolve and toughness. We know you have that quality.”
“That paper says I’m tough?” I had never considered myself tough.
“Not in the sense that you should be challenging any cage fighters, but mentally tough; if you know what I mean.”
“I guess I do, I can set my sights and get a job done.”
“Exactly. Now let me ask you this. Are you really satisfied with the work you are doing here?”
“To be honest, no.” I admitted. “How did you pick me for this…….for this project?
“To be forthright, you are not the only one we are considering. Actually we have a list of candidates capable of doing the job.”
“But why me?”
“Because we believe you to be the least satisfied with your present position and the one most likely to be looking for a change.”
I was a little taken aback. “I didn’t think my dissatisfaction was that apparent, who would ever think dissatisfaction could be a job qualification?”
“Would you be interested if you could see the merit of the project? How you could do your country a great service.”
“How long would I be committing to this “project”?
“Of course I can’t say exactly, but the time frame anticipated is about six months. Your pay would be double your present salary. you would be working with chimps or monkeys.”
“This is all fascinating, but I don’t see how I could commit to anything with so little information.” I could feel myself being drawn in all directions at once.
“Of course I understand. This is just a preliminary meeting; if you want to proceed I would set up a meeting for you with Major Strahorn the project leader.”
“Do I have to give you an answer right now?”
“No; think about it a couple of days and I will be back in touch with you.”
“I know I haven’t told you much, but ask all the questions you want, I’ll answer anything I can” he said, trying hard to be helpful.
I couldn’t think of any questions I thought he would answer.
We shook hands and Lieutenant Damala wished me well and took his leave.
On his way out he paused at the door. “We would really appreciate your not discussing this with anyone here at the college if you don’t mind.”
I thought the whole business over for awhile and then made a phone call.
“Good morning, Dr. Fellow’s office” answered, a friendly woman’s voice.
“Hello, uh this is Dr. Hunter, could I please speak to Dr. Fellows?” I had only spoken to the president three or four times in the seven years I had been there.
“Can I tell Dr. Fellows the nature of this call?”
“It’s a private matter, I would rather not say.”
“Very well, does Dr. Fellows know you?
“I have been on the staff here for seven years, but perhaps not.”
“Oh, I see; just a moment.” There was a pause and then….“ahh, here you are, let me see if he is free to take your call. “Hello Dr. Hunter; I've been expecting your call.”
“Why yes, Lieutenant Damala tells me you were very positive concerning his, uhh, project.”
“Yes he did; the College and I are proud to serve our country any way we can”.
“Lieutenant Damala indicated that he had arranged a Sabbatical for me in the event I took the job. Is that true?”
“Yes of course. He estimated you would be gone about six months.
I don’t have much information at the present time. Lieutenant Damala was just here and we have more things to discuss.”
“I understand this will be a big decision for you. Just remember, you have our support if you decide to serve your country. Let me know as soon as you make your decision.”
“Certainly; I said, I won’t take up any more of your time.
“Like, I haven’t been supporting my country,” I thought, what about helping train dolphins to carry small torpedoes?”