NOTICE: The page below has been permenently FROZEN as of January 2000. Due to resource limitations, this section of our website is no longer maintained, so some links may not work and some information may be out of date. We have retained this page for archive reference only, and we cannot vouch for its accuracy. Broken links will not be repaired, and minor errors will not be corrected. You are responsible for independently verifying any information you may find here. More Info
Please disregard any requests for new information. Except in cases of significant error, no changes will be made to this page.
Dispatches from Richard Boylan
From: rich.boylan@24stex.com
Date: Fri, 19 Dec 97 15:17:44 -0800
Subject: Col. Wilson 2
Wilson recounts his captivity with grim detail.
"I remember them asking for information about my Squadron, and about
troop movements. I realized that if I could hold out long enough and through
enough torture, that they would believe anything I told them, and maybe then
they would leave me alone. After three days, they tied a stick through my arms
behind my back, and placed the rope around my neck and down my back, tying the
rope to my feet, which were pulled up. If I tried to lower my feet, it would
choke me, cutting off my air.
"They placed me in a small bamboo cage about two feet wide and three
feet long, and three feet high. I lay there with my head on the ground, with
my knees spread and holding me upright, and trying to keep the rope from
strangling me. There was no room to lay down or move. I remember the gooks
pointing and laughing at me, and a hatred began in my gut as I have never hated
before. Suddenly this thing within my mind kicked in. I remember them having
to drag me out and into this hut. My body could feel nothing.
"Someone cut me loose and my mind began to function. The other
prisoners said I had lasted 15 days out there, and was the only one who hadn't
broke within a week. It was almost a day before the circulation would let me
move my legs and arms. As soon as I could get around they drug me back to the
torture chamber as we all called it.
"I swore to myself that those dirty bastards would never break me. Now
I hated with a ferocity that even scares me to this day. I remember watching
as they stuck bamboo shoots in the joints of my hands, piercing between the
bones. I could hear myself screaming, but my mind was calm, and felt no pain.
After what seems like days, I was returned to the other prisoners. After
several days, I could move my hands some."
It had been 32 days. Lt. Wilson decided that he had had enough. That
night another pilot and he saw their chance to escape. They made our break for
it. Two of the guards who had laughed at his torture were on duty that night.
Wilson moved up behind the first one and snapped his neck, then felt him slid
to the ground lifeless. The lieutenant took his knife, moved around behind the
other, and cut his throat without a qualm. They then ducked into the underbrush
and ran the rest of that night. Later they found out that they were only
twenty-eight miles from friendly lines. They had to crawl on their belly, only
daring to do so at night. They ate grubs and roots, just as they had been
taught in survival school. It took 23 days to crawl back to U.S. lines.
Wilson relates the climactic moment of their escape. "We topped the
last ridge, and lay on our bellies watching the movement below from a point
that overlooked the valley. Nuckolls rolled over on his back, and you could
hear his leather jacket pull loose from the frozen ground. 'We made it,' I
yelled. I heard Nuckolls softly sobbing. Who ever said that grown men don't
cry? The most welcome sound I heard was a sentry's shout, 'Who goes there?
Advance and be recognized or I'll blow your fuckin' head off.'"
The next defining moment in Colonel Wilson's life began during the
Summer of 1960. The Cuban Missile Crisis became a global concern, as President
Kennedy and Soviet Chairman Kruschev were facing off in a deadly game of global
nuclear showdown over Soviet ICBMs in Cuba, and a threat of using the U.S. Navy
blockade of Cuba to sink any more freighter deliveries of ICBMs.
By now Steve Wilson had been promoted to Air Force Captain, and
Commander of a Tactical Fighter Squadron out of Wright-Patterson AF Base, Ohio.
His Squadron was ordered to Florida, and then deployed to Guantanamo Naval Base
in Cuba, with orders to provide air cover for Navy ships doing picket duty in
the Cuban Gulf.
In 1963 Wilson's squadron was ordered back to Wright-Patterson AFB. He
soon received an assignment to fly cover over Houston. Just prior to this,
Captain Wilson had been told that he would be assigned to Majestic-12 as soon
as this mission was accomplished, and that upon his transfer, he would become a
Major. [Majestic-12 (MJ-12), he would soon learn, is the super- secret
organization which controls UFO surveillance and interdictions, retrievals and
analysis of recovered extraterrestrial spacecraft and occupants, and public
access to any information about these matters.] It would turn out to be a day
that would linger in his mind for a long time.
Captain Wilson's mission in Houston was to keep any planes away from
the city during President Kennedy's visit. His squadron had shoot-to-kill
orders for anyone who disobeyed their commands to stay back. While flying
protective cover over Houston, the news came over the squadron's radio that
President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas. Wilson describes their reaction.
"I was shocked. I had met the man and really liked him. My eyes
welled up, and I could hardly see as we were ordered back to the airfield. I
could hardly see the runway. The tears were streaming down my face. After
landing, I watched some of the worst landings ever exhibited by a squadron of
Top Gun pilots. There wasn't a dry eye in the bunch."
After returning to Wright-Patterson AFB, Wilson was informed he was
receiving Top Secret clearance, and was being commissioned as a Major. His
indoctrination into the UFO secrets kept by the Majestic-12 agency then began.
He was shown the remains of the extraterrestrials and the crashed UFOs from the
Roswell incident in latter 1947, that were all housed at Wright-Patterson's
Hanger 84. He read reports he was shown about that incident, and how
Majestic-12 covered it up by putting all the documents and expenses with a
Soccoro, NM crash. He was informed that, because of his special abilities, he
was being assigned to Majestic-12 (code name Majic12). As part of his duties,
he would be assigned to the 1st Special Forces Air Command, and would undergo
special training with Delta Force and then the Black Berets.
Wilson comments about that period. "I looked at these fellows I was to
train with. Every one was a trained killer and assassin. But it still didn't
prepare me for the MIB [Men In Black], The Wackenhuts [private security firm
operatives with government covert projects contracts.] And all the Black Ops
that exist deep within our government. This was when I was told that I would
cease to exist."
Major Wilson was informed that his job was so secret, that stops would
be placed on all his records and whereabouts, and that they would be moved to
Majestic-12. He was told that his telepathic ability was needed for something
very special, and that he would be on a "need to know" basis, at least until he
had a high enough security clearance.
Wilson recalls, "It made me feel very special, and inflated my ego
about 100%. Little did I know at the time that I would be involved in one of
the most dastardly and heinous coverups the world has ever known. To think
about it even today, makes me sick to my stomach.....but at that time in my
life, I felt I was serving my country. I knew nothing of the greed and power
of a few men, who were later to be known as MAJI [the top executives of
Majestic-12]."
For the next nine years, Major Wilson traveled to nearly every Air
Force base in the world, meeting and making contacts with key people for MJ-12.
Finally, in the summer of 1972, he was assigned to the 1st Special Forces Air
Command, Vandenburg Air Force Base. He was planning on getting some rest and
relaxation there. He had just put all his gear away nicely, his B-4 travel bag
finally empty and hanging in the closet. No sooner had he finished unpacking
than a man looking like a refugee from a war camp sauntered into his room. The
man flashed CIA identification and told the Major that he needed to pack his
bag, that there was a plane waiting, and that they would be leaving in 20
minutes. True to his word, in 20 minutes the plane was taxiing to a take-off.
Major Wilson knew better than to ask where they were going, but by
observation of the compass heading and the terrain, he knew they were over
Nevada. The plane circled and set down on a dry lake bed. Later he learned it
was Papoose Dry Lake [S-4], deep within the Nellis Air Force Range in central
Nevada. Even up close, the mountains and terrain looked barren. They walked
about 300 yards to a rock outcropping. On the other side, nestled between some
large rocks, was an iron door with no handle. The scruffy-looking CIA man
somehow opened the door. They went inside and down a tunnel. At the end of the
passageway, Wilson glanced around quickly. He still marvels at the size of the
structure. "I could swear that the whole damned mountain was hollow. Right
down the middle was a runway, and at the end huge doors, that I later found could be opened to allow a plane to take off right out of the mountain."
(continued)
|
Created: Fri Dec 19 18:24:02 EST 1997