I bought the case of oil and that day's newspaper; for just as Arthur had revealed to me through his thoughts, the town was swarming with Army personnel. They appeared to be preparing a search, and the constant stream of vehicles arriving proved my point, they were definitely organizing a massive hunt for survivors of the crash.
I went into a bar and grill, ordered a sandwich and a beer, and opened the paper. My eyes scanned the page. I have transcribed the article as follows for you, the reader:
Roswell Daily Record
July 8, 1947
RAAF Captures Flying Saucer on Ranch in Roswell Region
The intelligence office of the 509th Bombardment group at Roswell Army Air Field announced at noon today, that the field has come into possession of a flying saucer.
According to information released by the department, over authority of Maj. J. A. Marcel, intelligence officer, the disk was recovered on a ranch in the Roswell vicinity, after an unidentified rancher had notified Sheriff Geo. Wilcox, here, that he had found the instrument on his premises.
Major Marcel and a detail from his department went to the ranch and recovered the disk, it was stated. After the intelligence officer here had inspected the instrument it was flown to higher headquarters. The intelligence office stated that no details of the saucer's construction or its appearance had been revealed.
Mr. and Mrs. Dan Wilmot apparently were the only persons in Roswell who saw what they thought was a flying disk. They were sitting on their porch at 105 South Penn. last Wednesday night at about ten o'clock when a large glowing object zoomed out of the sky from the southeast, going in a northwesterly direction at a high rate of speed. Wilmot called Mrs. Wilmot's attention to it and both ran down into the yard to watch. It was in sight less than a minute, perhaps 40 or 50 seconds, Wilmot estimated.
Wilmot said that it appeared to him to be about 1,500 feet high and going fast. He estimated between 400 and 500 miles per hour. In appearance it looked oval in shape like two inverted saucers, faced mouth to mouth, or like two old type washbowls placed, together in the same fashion. The entire body glowed as though light were showing through from inside, though not like it would inside, though not like it would be if a light were merely underneath.
From where he stood Wilmot said that the object looked to be about 5 feet in size, and making allowance for the distance it was from town he figured that it must have been 15 to 20 feet in diameter, though this was just a guess. Wilmot said that he heard no sound but that Mrs. Wilmot said she heard a swishing sound for a very short time. The object came into view from the southeast and disappeared over the treetops in the general vicinity of six mile hill.
Wilmot, who is one of the most respected and reliable citizens in town, kept the story to himself hoping that someone else would come out and tell about having seen one, but finally today decided that he would go ahead and tell about it. The announcement that the RAAF was in possession of one came only a few minutes after he decided to release the details of what he had seen.
Arthur had known an all out hunt would be mounted for any survivors, or even bodies, lest some civilian discover one and alert the press. A spaceship, with honest-to-god aliens aboard had to be the biggest news since the end of the war, and maybe even bigger.
Without attracting any attention to myself, I finished my sandwich, bought another beer and got back in the Desoto. I gassed up at the local filling station and picked up a case of motor oil. No one even gave me a second glance.
Except for the occasional military jeep, there was almost no traffic on the roads leading in and out of Corona. I kept glancing in my rear view mirror until I was positive no one was tailing me. I even stopped several times and got out of the car to study the sky for aerial surveillance. Satisfied that I was alone in the desert, I returned to the site where I'd left Arthur as the sun was setting in the west.
But he was nowhere to be found. "Where are you, Arthur?" I thought.
"Over here, to your right," his voice said in my mind.
Whirling to my right, I saw nothing but the desert. Then I detected the slightest of movements and knew it was Arthur using a form of camouflage.
I had to laugh. "No one could possibly find you with that stuff," I said.
"Give them a few months, or years," he replied. "The military are making great strides scientifically now that the World War has concluded."
"Are you kidding?" I said, "Almost everyone has gone home, the war's over."
"There's the Berlin Airlift. And Russia and China to think about," Arthur said astutely.
I realized he was absolutely right. The Cold War, not yet officially named as such, had already begun. The Berlin Airlift had been implemented with great success, and many other potential conflicts had been avoided or aborted. But it was readily apparent that the Russians were a thorn in America's side.
"Your world is on the brink of nuclear war," he said, opening a can of oil and taking a sip, as a gentleman might from a glass of fine wine. "The Russians and the Chinese will stop at nothing to learn how to make their own bomb. That means they will pay exorbitant amounts of money to those with sufficient knowledge or means to provide that information to them. They are a persistent people, and will succeed in this, although it may take longer than they think to accomplish."
I had no reason to doubt him, but still, I was stunned.
I decided that we had better get out of the area, and shared my thoughts with Arthur.
"How do you propose to do this?" he said telepathically.
"I'll hide you in my car, and drive to a safer place; it's obvious enough."
"Yes, but . . ." his thought trailed off.
"You suspect there may be other survivors around?"
"No, there are no survivors. I am certain of that."
"Then what, Arthur?"