Paying no attention to these sensations then, he pushed on through the brush, looking up occasionally to check the north star, so that he could keep traveling straight east.  After struggling through about 30 yards of palmetto undergrowth, he noticed a change in the shadows ahead of him and stopped to shine the flashlight farther ahead of him to find out if he was walking into a clearing or into one of the many ponds that dot that particular Florida area.  It was a clearing.

The boy scouts in the car had been watching the scoutmaster’s progress since they could see his light bobbing around.  Occasionally he would shine it up at a tree or across the landscape for an instant, so they knew where he was in relation to the trees and thickets.  They saw him stop at the edge of the open, shadowed area and shine his light ahead of him.

The scoutmaster then told us that when he stopped this second time he first became consciously aware of the odor and the heat.  Both became much more noticeable as he stepped into the clearing.  In fact, the heat became almost unbearable or, as he put it, “oppressively moist, making it hard to breathe.”

He walked a few more paces and suddenly got a horrible feeling that somebody was watching him.  He took another step, stopped, and looked up to find the north star.  But he couldn’t see the north star, or any stars.  Then he suddenly saw that almost the whole sky was blanked out by a large dark shape about 30 feet above him.

He said that he had stood in this position for several seconds, or minutes—­he didn’t know how long—­because now the feeling of being watched had overcome any power of reasoning he had.  He managed to step back a few paces, and apparently got out from under the object, because he could see the edge of it silhouetted against the sky.

As he backed up, he said, the air became much cooler and fresher, helping him to think more clearly.  He shone his light up at the edge of the object and got a quick but good look.  It was circular-shaped and slightly concave on the bottom.  The surface was smooth and a grayish color.  He pointed to a gray linoleum-topped desk in the intelligence officer’s room.  “Just like that,” he said.  The upper part had a dome in the middle, like a turret.  The edge of the saucer-shaped object was thick and had vanes spaced about every foot, like buckets on a turbine wheel.  Between each vane was a small opening, like a nozzle.

The next reaction that the scoutmaster recalled was one of fury.  He wanted to harm or destroy whatever it was that he saw.  All he had was a machete, but he wanted to try to jump up and strike at whatever he was looking at.  No sooner did he get this idea than he noticed the shadows on the turret change ever so slightly and heard a sound, “like the opening of a well-oiled safe door.”  He froze where he stood and noticed a small ball of red fire begin to drift toward him.  As it floated down it expanded into a cloud of red mist.  He dropped his fight and machete, and put his arms over his face.  As the mist enveloped him, he passed out.