Seo'tional, adj. Alba'nian, adj. Moorish Governor. Alca'ic, adj. A la mort', adv. Al'coran, n. Al'dine, oAj. Algerine', adj. Al'gol, n. Aleu'tian, adj. Ato alkalimetry.
Al'lah, n. All Fools' Day, n. All-Hal'lows, n. Ai'magest, n. All Saints' Day, see. Alp'ine, adj. Alta'ic, adj. Americanism am'bled, p. Am'azon, n. Amer'ican, ai;'. It must not be confused with the amice.
Amontilla'do, n. Amphic'tyony, n. American watersnake. Bnal'ogized, p. Ande'an, adj. An'glomania, n. An'glo-Saz'on, adj. An'glican, adj. Antarc'tic, adj. It is the English Church form of the motet. The is applied to those sectaries who hold that, in virtue of their belief, they.
In advance. Antino'mianism, n. Church's ritual. The person affected is inoculated with it. Army Corps. Ao'nian, adj. Helicon in Aonia was sacred to the Muses. Apol'lo, n. Apoll'yon, n. Ap'enniiie, adj. Also aphaeresis. Apollina'iian, adj. French apropos', phrase to the purpose. Ar'ab, n. Aiame'ail, adj. It is unknown in the English Church, n.
Aica'dian, adj. Sometimes, as at Hac-. Ar'eca, n. The rector of Haccombe retains the title. Arc' tic, adj. Athens, on which the most ancient of the Courts was held. Called Mars' Hill in the Acts of the Apostles. Ai'Kentine, ai].
Arme'nian, adj. Aigonaat'io, adj. Aristotelian, belouguig lo ArisGreek totle, the. Wnuig by means of numbers. Holy Thursday of Our Lord's Ascension. Aninde'lian, adj. Ar'yao, adj. Its name is derived from the opening words of the ceremotiy Asperges me, Thou shalt sprinkle me. Ash Wed'nesday. A'sian, adj. Athe'nian, adj. Aflas, at'las.
A'tS, n. Attor'ney- 7a'eraA, n. Aoge'an, ad]. Ba'al, n. Bacchus, drunken. Baco'nian, adj. Also baulh. Hal' tic, adj. Barba'dian, adj. Bap'tist, n. John, the 'forerunner of Our Lord; a member of the Baptist sect. Batia'chia, n. Bata'vian, adj. Knights of the Bath, a British order of knighthood. Bava'rian, ad. Batfooted animal; a. Aecom'ingness, n. Bel'gian, n. Bel'taae, n. Ben' edict, n. Benedio'tine, adj. Eienedict's rule; n. Benedict; a kind of liqueur. Benedic'tns, n. Luke i. Ber'thon-boat, n.
Bengalese', adj. Bere'an, adj. Indian disease. Bernese', adj. Bes'semer, adj. Bigno'nia, n. US' wig, n. Biscay'an, itdj. Biscay in to bia'cotin,. Black' Rod, n. Boeo'tian, adj. Boer, n. French in the Great bock'ing, n. Bodlei'an, adj. Bologaese', adj. Bon'iface, n. Bor'stal system, n. Bour'bouism, n. French royalist. York of evil reputation. Braille, n. Brazil'lan, adj. Exchequer's annual statement. Bui'gundy, n. Ay-eleo'tion, n. Rabbinism; inner teaching.
Thebes; Theban. Cae'sarism, n. Cala'brian, adj. ClU'cnlary, n. Oaf'fre, n. African tribe so named. Caledo'nian, adj. Also Kalends. CaUi'ope, n. Car vary, n. Cananites camp, vJ. Oa'naanite, n. Ca'nanitaa, n. Can'tonese, adj. His command was instantly acknowledged. As the five of us stood gazing out over the sea the same ship or one exactly like it rose slowly, turned in the air, tilted at an angle and then vanished. I saw the Chief snapping pictures out of the corner of my eye.
This time I had three images from which to draw conclusions. It was a metal machine, of that there was no doubt whatsoever. It was intelligent- ly controlled, of that I was equally sure. It was a dull color, kind of like pewter. There were no lights. There was no glow. I thought I had seen a row of what looked like portholes, but could not be certain. Radar reported contact at the same bearing and gave us a range of 3 nautical miles.
The range was right on, as the craft had moved toward the general direction that we were headed. We watched repeatedly as the strange craft reentered the water and then subsequently rose into the clouds over and over again until finally we knew that it was gone for good. The episode lasted about 10 minutes. Before leaving the bridge the Captain took the camera from the Chief and instructed each of us not to talk to anyone about what we had seen.
He told us the incident was classified and we were not to discuss it, not even amongst ourselves. We acknowledged his order. The Captain and the Chief left the bridge.
The Captain has left the bridge. Those of us who had witnessed the UFO were not allowed to go ashore after we had berthed in Pearl.
Even those of us who didn't have the duty were told we had to stay aboard. After about two hours a commander from the Office of Naval Intelligence boarded. He went directly to the Captain's stateroom. It wasn't long before we were called to wait in the passageway outside the Captain's door. Ensign Ball was called first. After about 10 minutes he came out and went into the wardroom.
He looked shaken. I was next. When I entered the stateroom, the Commander was holding my ser- vice record in his hands. He wanted to know why I had gone from the Air Force into the Navy. I told him the whole story and he laughed when I said that after putting off the Navy for fear of chronic seasickness, I hadn't been seasick yet.
Suddenly a mask dropped over his face, and looking me directly in the eyes he asked, "What did you see out there? The man began to visibly shake and he screamed obscenities at me. He threatened to put me in the brig for the rest of my life. I thought he wasn't going to stop yelling, but as suddenly as he began, he stopped. I was confused. I had answered his question truthfully; yet I was threatened with prison. I was not afraid, but I was not very confident, either.
I figured I had better take another tack. Eighteen years with my father and four years in the Air Force had taught me something. Number one was that officers just do not lose control like that, ever. Number two was that if my answer had elicited that explosion, then the next thing out of my mouth had better be something entirely different. Number three was, that his response had been an act of kindness to get me to arrive at exactly that conclusion.
In addition I could lose all pay and allowances due or ever to become due. He asked me to sign a piece of paper stating that I understood the laws and regulations that I had just read governing the safeguard of classified information relating to the national security.
By signing, I agreed never to communicate in any man- ner any information regarding the incident with anyone. I was dismissed, and boy, was I glad to get out of there. Not long after that incident I devolunteered from submarines. The Tombigbee was a gasoline tanker. It was more dangerous than the sub. The Captain was crazy and the crew was a combination of idiots and misfits. I once had to draw my pistol while I was petty officer of the watch to prevent an officer from being attacked by a seaman.
The Tombigbee collided in the dead of night with a destroyer in the Molokai channel and several men died when the destroyer was almost cut in half. Every day aboard that ship was exactly like a scene right out of Mr. They included a total of 12 months off the coast of Vietnam.
We came under machine-gun fire while anchored off Chu Lai. We had to do an emergency breakaway and leave the harbor. The Viet Cong gunner probably got busted because the stupid jerk missed the whole damn ship.
The only other time I felt threatened was when we went up to a small outpost at the DM2 called Cua Viet. It was a vision right out of hell. Cua Viet sat on the southern bank at the river mouth of the Thack Han river.
We rode at anchor and pumped fuel ashore through a bottom lay line. Every night we could see the tracers from fire fights raging up and down the river and along the DMZ. It was a real hot spot. We would perform an emer- gency breakaway and put to sea until the all clear was sounded. Everything was cool until our whacko Captain decided we were going into the river mouth. Did you ever try to put a pencil through the eye of a needle?
Thaf s about comparable to what we did. I'll never know how we got that big ship through the narrow mouth of that river with no naviga- tional references whatsoever. We dropped anchor midchannel and the Captain backed the ship right up to the beach and dropped the stern anchor into the sand. There we sat, a great big target full of gasoline. We were helpless in the mouth of a narrow river, with three anchors out, right in the middle of one of the hottest combat zones in Vietnam.
That night several men in the crew wrote letters to the Chief of Naval Operations requesting an immediate transfer. No one slept. I don't know why the enemy didn't send in the rockets, but they didn't.
I knew then that God must keep a special watch over fools. The next day we set to sea and started for Pearl. The Captain was relieved for incompetence later that year.
Then I was transferred to school. I didn't know what school I had drawn. The general training prepared me to set up security perimeters, secure installations and buildings, and safeguard classified information. My training included special weapons, booby-trap identification and disarm- ing, the detection of bugs, phone taps, transmitters and many other sub- jects.
I was specifically trained to prepare and conduct Pacific-area intelligence briefings. This was the first good news I'd had since leaving boot camp. I really wanted to fight for my country. I wasn't to find out what a real fool I was until a few years later. I was interviewed by Captain Carter, the commanding officer. The names turned out to be a coincidence.
Captain Carter asked me if I thought I would make a good patrol boat captain, and I told him that I would. What else could I tell him? I thought he was joking when he told me I would have command of a boat and crew. He wasn't, and I did. Duey at the Harbor Patrol, a division of Naval Intelligence, allowed me to hand-pick a crew. He gave me first choice of four foot picket boats that had just been unloaded from the deck of a freighter.
I and my new crew spent three days going over every inch of that boat. We adjusted and fine-tuned everything. We sanded and painted. One of the seamen even hung curtains in the after cabin. We checked and double-checked the engines. Barron, checked out weapons and we began to arm our vessel.
I've got to tell you the truth — just looking at all those guns scared the shit out of me. I vowed right then and there that I would be the best damn captain that ever commanded a combat vessel in wartime.
I learned to exist an only 2 or 3 hours of sleep out of 24 and never ate until I knew that my crew had been fed. We spent a lot of spooky nights patrolling the Da Nang harbor and river. One night a rocket hit the ammo dump at the river's edge near the Da Nang bridge, and it really looked as if the world was coming to an end.
Another time we engaged the enemy in the cove at Point Isabella near the marine fuel farm and probably saved their butts. That engagement was reported in The Stars and Stripes, the armed forces newspaper in Vietnam. The worst moments came, however, not from Charley but from mother nature. A full-blown typhoon roared across the Gulf of Tonkin. To save the boats we put to sea. The angels must have been laughing. What a sight we must have made! I maneuvered our boat in between two giant cargo ships riding at anchor off Red Beach and learned quickly what fear was really all about.
The wind was blowing so hard that none of us could go on deck. That meant that the two of us in the pilot house were stuck on watch and the men trapped in the after cabin had to man the hand pumps.
The windows in the pilot house blew out and the rain felt like knives hitting our skin. Water poured in, and I prayed that the men on the pumps would not become exhausted.
I could just barely make out the two tankers. I could tell they were in more trouble than we. When we were in the trough we seemed to be in danger of their crashing down upon us. One of the freighters snapped a cable and steamed slowly out of the harbor.
The next morning the storm calmed and we moved into the river. Debris was floating down and we had to play dodge-the-tree-trunks until we spotted a sheltered pier in front of the Press Club. We carefully pulled the boat alongside, tied fast to the pier, then collapsed from exhaustion. After awhile we drew straws to see who would remain on watch with me.
The rest went into the Press Club. After a couple of hours the crew returned and we went in. It was like nothing was going on outside. Reporters sat around drinking or eating. All around flowed conversation and laughter. We ordered a huge meal, signed Lt. Duey's name to the check, then went out to the boat. I don't know whose name the other guys signed, but none of us had any money.
I don't even know if Lt. Duey ever got the bill. I do know that it was one of the best damn meals that we ever had in that country. The next two days were spent in repairing the boat, cleaning the weapons, and checking everything. Then we went to the club, got stone drunk, and slept for damn near a whole other day. Bob Barron volunteered for Cua Viet.
I begged him to stay with us. Maybe we could all go up later together. He couldn't wait; he had to have action. We promised each other that if one of us bought the farm the other would drink a bottle of scotch in memory, then break the bottle on the rocks.
Don't ask me what that was all about. Men who think they might die at any given moment do stupid things and I was no different than most. No radio transmissions were ever heard. And for awhile no bodies were found. Then one by one they popped to the surface along the bank. It was a long time before we ever found the boat. When we did it was twisted up like a pretzel.
I say "we," because after I drank the bottle of scotch and broke it on the rocks, I forced the issue and was transferred to the Dong Ha River Support Group at Cua Viet. It was now a personal war. They had killed a part of me. Bob had been my friend. His name is on the Vietnam Memorial. My boat engaged the enemy more times than any other boat that ever patrolled that river.
We kept the enemy off the river and I never lost another man. On a Patrol Boat One thing I didn't like about Vietnam was that it was very difficult to maintain unit cohesion and morale when you had proven and trusted men leaving all the time at staggered intervals and green, unproven men arriv- ing to take their place. I noticed that I felt like I was deserting my crew when I was rotated home.
I tried to extend my tour of duty, but they had already decided to phase out our forces and turn the war over to the Vietnamese. If I had extended a month earlier, I was told, I could have stayed. We had individual hour crypto code sheets that we used to encode messages, but because of the danger that one of them could be captured at any time, we used special code words for sensitive information.
UFOs, I was told, were definitely sensitive information. I learned exactly how sensitive when all the people of an entire village disappeared after UFOs were seen hovering above their huts.
I learned that both sides had fired upon the UFOs, and they had blasted back with a mysterious blue light. Rumors floated around that UFOs had kidnapped and mutilated two army soldiers, then dropped them in the bush. I found out later that most of those rumors were true. I eventually found myself back in Hawaii.
I had carried a Secret security clearance in the Air Force, and Secret was required for submarines. When I checked into the Fleet Administra- tion Unit, I was asked to fill out papers for another clearance. I did as I was asked. I remember that one of the questions asked if I had ever belonged to any fraternal organizations.
I looked down the list, circled the DeMolay Society, and answered in the affirmative. Mercado while I awaited the results of my FBI background check for the upgraded clearance. I was asked to read the regulations covering the Personnel Reliability Program governing those personnel who had access to nuclear weapons, information on nuclear weapons, launch codes, and various other things having to do with nuclear weapons or anything that came under HQ-CR I was asked to read and then sign a security oath, which I did.
I was then told by Captain Caldwell that my security clear- ance had been upgraded to Top Secret, Q, Sensitive Compartmentalized Information with access authorized on a strict need-to-know basis. I did. What I learned during the time I spent with that briefing team is what led me on my year search that has culminated in the writing of this book. I was later given another upgraded clearance in the crypto category and served as the designated SPECAT operator when I was on watch in the command center.
My good friend Bob Swan is the one who talked me into going back. I believed it was all true then and I believe it is all true now. I must warn you, however, that I have found evidence that the secret societies were planning as far back as to invent an artificial threat from outer space in order to bring humanity together in a one-world govern- ment which they call the New World Order. I am still searching for the truth. I firmly believe that this book is closer to that truth than anything ever previously written.
I attempted to leak information to a reporter after my discharge. I was forced off a cliff by a black limo in the hills of Oakland. Two men got out and climbed down to where I lay covered in blood. One bent down and felt for my carotid pulse. The other asked if I was dead. The nearest man said, "No, but he will be. I succeeded in climbing up the bank where I waited until found. A month later I was forced into another accident by the same limo. This time I was to lose my leg. Two men visited me in the hospital.
They only wanted to know if I would shut up or if the next time should be final. I told them that I would be a very good little boy and that they needn't worry about me anymore.
Under my breath I swore to spill the beans as soon as I could figure out how to do it without unit getting hurt again. I knew that Moore and Friedman were government agents and the docu- ment was a fraud. I had never heard of Shandera. I knew this because I had seen a list of agents who were to initiate a contingency plan called MAJESTIC that would lead investigators off the track when such a need arose.
I decided that it was time for me to enter the arena and expose the cover-up and the disinformation. First it was necessary to convince the known agents that I was just a kook who didn't really know anything. I prepared some bogus information, mixed it with some true information, and passed it to Moore and Friedman through Jim Spieser, the operator of a computer BBS network called Paranet.
Spieser was told that the informa- tion was to go only to Moore or Friedman; no one else was to see it. I wanted to buy time by convincing these agents to report me to their case officers as harmless, thus allowing me to get the real information out to the public.
None of that information was intended to go to the public. Spieser turned out to be working with Moore, however, and posted the files on the computer networks.
Spieser then went to Los Angeles, conferred with Moore for three days, then returned and barred me from the Paranet system. Friedman called and elicited my address, the name and address of my employer, and a lot of other personal information. I knew that I was being checked out through the intelligence network and played along.
About one week after talking to Friedman two Defense Investigative Service agents showed up at my home and confiscated all my floppy disks. The only thing that prevented them from taking my computer was the fact that it was an XT with no hard drive. I knew that my plan had worked, because they didn't take me. We sent the packages to people all over the world.
That is what prevented the govern- ment from arresting me or harming me. Any move by them would be interpreted as total confirmation of everything that I had revealed. At the same time I publicly stated that Moore, Shandera, and Friedman are government agents and that the Eisenhower briefing docu- ment is a fraud.
I was attacked by everyone. They insisted that Moore, Shandera, and Friedman were above reproach. I resigned effective April 15,, from the college where I was the Executive Director after Jaime Shandera was seen poking around the grounds.
That story is included later in this book. The loss of income was a serious blow. Stan Barrington, the head of the college security depart- ment, came to our aid.
Neither of us ever expected much, and so far we have not been wrong. I have, however, paid Stan back his money, and now whatever he earns is extra. Stan is in charge of printing information and the sale of my papers and tapes. Stan Barrington is my only authorized representative.
Moore was proved to be an agent when by his own admission on July 1, , he stated he had participated in spying on fellow researchers, had changed documents, had put out disinformation, and had helped run a scam on Paul Bennowicz that had resulted in Mr.
Bennowicz being con- fined to a mental institution. Moore stated that he had been recruited by an intelligence agency and that he knew he had been recruited. He was a witting agent. No one acknowledged that I had been right. From that point on, my Annie and I were followed and harassed.
Death threats began showing up on our answering machine. The phone would ring several times during the night, but no one would reply when we answered. Sometimes a man would deliver another death threat. Government cars would park in front and well-dressed men watched the house. The strangest people began to show up at our door, sometimes in the middle of the night.
I purchased a. I taught Annie how to shoot, and she will not hesitate to kill anyone who attempts to harm me, her, or our little daughter. Annie and Pooh Dorothy's nickname are the lights in my life. Annie and I were married on July 4, Pooh was born on May 30, My most touching memory of Annie is of the time after 12 hours of labor when we were finally in the delivery room.
She had taken no drugs. She had not been given a spinal tap. She did everything naturally. She was drained of energy and was experiencing great pain. She was numb. After a really hard push she looked up at me with all the innocence and trust of a little child and asked, "Did the baby come yet?
She seemed to waver for a moment, but only a moment. I could see the love in her eyes as she looked up at me. I squeezed her hand. She took a deep breath and pushed Pooh's little head out into the world. The doctor suctioned the baby's mouth, then Annie gave her all, a push that seemed to come from her very soul — and little Dorothy popped out, announcing her presence with a great cry. I am so proud of Annie. She is my hero. And Pooh is my always and forever friend.
I went out to the government car at the curb. I showed the man in the car my 9-mm pistol and told him that we were fed up with their intimidating tactics. I told him that if he or anyone else wanted to know something about me, they should come to the house, sit down, have a cup of coffee, and I would be happy to tell them anything that they want to know.
I informed him that if any further attempt was made to harass me or my family I would not hesitate to use my pistol. I then walked behind his car and wrote the license number down.
He started the car, drove off, and we have not detected any overt signs of surveillance since that day. They did not give up on us. No one knew the location of our new house when we moved to Arizona. However, when we drove into the driveway, a government car showed up right behind us.
The man got out and said he was lost and wanted to know who lived here. I asked him why he wanted to know. He stated that he was a census taker. He said it was his job to ensure that no one out here in the country was left out of the census.
He asked my name. I told him to get off the property and to not ever come back. He protested, but left when he saw that I was serious. I merely asked Annie to get my pistol out of the car. I was at the post office one morning when a county sheriff's deputy asked the clerk at the window next to the one where I was buying stamps if "William Cooper" had rented a box. I smiled as the clerk handed him my rental agreement and he copied the information.
He didn't learn anything, as we live in the country where there are no addresses. The form had only "Stolen Blvd. We have been taken advantage of by every crooked con man, TV producer, scriptwriter, author, and flim-flam expert that there is in this country. I have learned that the TV and print-media reporters and producers that I have met are a pack of liars.
They are not objective and don't give a damn about the truth. The only really open media left to the public is talk radio, and even talk radio won't discuss certain subjects. My material has been copied, changed, and even plagiarized. A lot of people have used my material to make money without my knowledge or permis- sion. Bill Hamilton begged me to let him include my material in his book entitled Alien Magic.
He pretended to be a friend and I let him. I asked for no money and he offered none. His entire book consists of other people's material. He now accuses me of stealing "his" information. I have since learned that I am not the only person of whom he has taken advantage. The most damaging scam was perpetrated by two old, has-been actors turned con men, named Michael Callan and Douglas Deane.
I doubt seriously that you will remember either one, Callan was a regular in the cheapy teen beach-blanket movies and Deane never got beyond bit parts and chorus lines. I got involved with them when another actor named Bruce Reed called and asked if I would consent to meet with him and a friend who preferred to remain anonymous.
I agreed that they could come to the house where we could talk on familiar turf. I was not eager to meet with someone that I did not know, and especially with an anonymous person away from familiar surroundings.
Reed and friend showed up at my home, and the friend turned out to be Michael Callan. They told me that they had read my material and wanted to help. What a joke that statement turned out to be! They told me that they knew how to get me in front of millions of people where I could deliver my message. He swore that if he didn't show results within six months he would tear up the contract.
The first thing that Callan did was shaft his partner, Bruce Reed. He cut Reed out of the action. Callan said that the public would find out eventually, and Reed's drug involvement would damage me. Everything Callan told me about Reed turned out to be a lie. Stan Barrington called me next, wanting to know why I was trying to dump him. I didn't know what he was talking about. I told Stan that I had no intention of dumping him.
Stan felt much better after that conversation and told Callan to go fly a kite. At that point Callan began working on me to get rid of Stan. I refused. I also told him that he had nothing invested and therefore did not warrant anything. His job was to manage according to our contract. Callan brought him to videotape the lecture so that we would have a tape to sell for those thousands of people who pleaded with us to produce a tape.
In return, if the tapes turned out good, Deane would get a contract to produce future tapes. The tapes were terrible and I told both Deane and Callan that I did not want tapes of that poor quality being sold to anyone.
They did it anyway behind my back and began the process of stealing my master tapes from all of my other lectures. At the same time Callan drained all the business accounts. A producer in Germany booked me to do a lecture in that country. The pro- ducer cancelled when a German postal strike prevented him from advertis- ing the event. I did not find out about that until after I fired Callan.
I immediately fired Deane. I informed Callan that we were to do no more business with him what- soever. I asked Callan to return all of my master tapes for all my lectures. He refused and I fired him. When I got rid of Callan, he had stolen everything that we had. We were literally left penniless. He was in possession of all of our master tapes from all of my lectures. We were broke and homeless at that point.
If it had not been for a few good friends in Minnesota, we would not have survived. We would be in the streets today. Callan and Deane continue to injure us by selling tapes from my lectures. Dating Profile. Is online dating easier for single female expats in Germany than for their male counterparts?
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