Howard Menger

The “G.I.’s” predictions proved remarkably accurate.

After being sent to Hawaii, as he had promised, I was taken out of the tank crew and transferred to Battalion Headquarters and made a battalion draftsman; and, as predicted, I did work on detached service with the Navy.

As we had parted I could not help thinking that these people from other planets seemed to know the past, present and future. Again he had sensed my thoughts and smiled, terminating the conversation with another handshake, and walked away.

Most everything he had told me had already come true, except the contact he promised, and this I impatiently awaited, almost breath­lessly.

It was a strange, wonderful feeling, to meet these people. Somehow, as unimportant and weak as I felt in their presence, there was still the knowledge of kinship I couldn’t help sensing.

So it was that one early evening after work I did not hesitate to ac­cede to a strong impulse to visit a section of cavern area a few miles away.

I “borrowed” a jeep and took off.

I didn’t know exactly where I was going, excepting for the general area. It seemed I was being led.

Near the caverns I stopped, then pulled the jeep off the bumpy, dirt road, and walked through the dense underbrush toward the caves.

I knew I would meet one of the space people. Ordinarily I would have been fearful of being alone in such a wild place. But the thought of the meeting erased all of my natural apprehensions.

Suddenly I halted as I saw a figure ahead of me. Through the under­brush I could see it was a female form.

As I walked closer I discovered she was a beautiful woman.

HOWARD MENGERI stopped in my tracks, staring at her in uncontrolled admiration, until she extended her hand and called out my name.

Although I shall always remember the girl on the rock with a special kind of memory, this girl, too, exuded the same expression of spiritual love and deep understanding.

Then she grew more serious.

“That is one of the reasons you were chosen out of many thousands for contact with my people and the enlightenment you will conse­quently receive.”

Again she read my thoughts.

I was again overjoyed. I was so afraid that, feeling so powerless and inconsequential in the presence of these people, they would think me as inferior as I myself imagined.

“You have been observed closely, as you now realize. You will be trusted and have further contacts.”

She also made predictions. Our outfit would go to Okinawa, would arrive there between April 1, and 5, 1945.

My abhorrence of war she easily picked up telepathically.

“I know how you feel, and it is most admirable. You cannot think of killing a living soul. But yet you cannot understand why you yet help play such a role. You will be contacted on Okinawa, and you will be told much more about this.”

HOWARD MENGERI hesitated to ask her if I might be killed, but it was on my mind.

“Oh no, don’t worry—but be careful! You will have some narrow escapes.”

The average person with whom I talk about these contacts does not realize that the space people, though far superior to us physically, men­tally and in spiritual developments, are still much like us. Often little gasps of amazement come when I tell of intimate conversations, and the warm humor of the visitors. They would probably stand sancti­moniously before the space people, afraid they might say or think something wrong—until, of course, they received the same feeling of ease I did immediately, even at the first meeting.

At such a meeting one knows innately that one’s every thought is bared under powerful telepathic observation. And with such knowledge one suddenly realizes he cannot hide anything, and becomes completely honest, both with himself and the visitors. It is a refreshing, cleansing feeling, which carries over into everyday dealings with one’s fellow men.

The conversation with the beautiful girl was so fascinating I hoped I hadn’t annoyed her with too many questions. I learned, for one thing, she was from Mars. As to meeting her again, she wouldn’t state firmly; instead she explained we might meet again, and I would have to know by my inner feelings whether it was really she.

Suddenly I realized the sun had set, and as I looked toward the horizon, still bright with a hundred shades of red, then back at her, she smiled, and extended her hand.

We said goodbye and I walked back to the jeep. It was dark by the time I arrived back at camp.

 

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