It is doubtful whether Chris Trubridge or I will ever forget a certain Thursday evening in June 1977, and the astonishing series of incidents on the Warminster UFO front that we were privileged to witness at close range. Suffice to state that the overall experience made a lasting impression on us because it was so unexpected that it took our shocked senses several weeks to recover from the sheer loveliness of it all.
It was 9.25 pm when we walked together up Elm Hill "en route" to a proposed sky-watch session from Cradle Hill. The sky was a brilliant expanse of blue, speckled only be a few scattered white flecks of cloud in the distance. It looked all set for a lengthy period of clear, dry weather ahead, so that raincoats were the last things on our minds as we trudged slowly up that first of two fairly steep climbs towards our destination. We had reached a point opposite the road winding leftward to the West Wiltshire Golf Club, and stopped for a while to regain our breath and to lean over the gateway by a stile giving direct access to the prominent cluster of trees tour right known as Copheap, where tradition has it that an early Saxon chieftain and his family were interred in the bald patch of earth on the top of the mound in the midst of tree growth.
Almost instantly, we were aware of a bright star-like object high above and in front of us that was moving very slowly from the direction of the ancient earthwork and Iron Age fortification of Battlesbury. Then it increased rapidly in speed and expanded in size as it abruptly zoomed in to where we were standing in rapt silence, dumbstruck by the magic in motion in miniature. Not a word, only a sigh, passed between us as our eyes followed this daring phantom of the firmament.
The shining spheroid slowed and stopped near us, then changed from its starry appearance into the more defined form of a crystal ball or saucer-shaped aeroform. Its outlined edges and rims were hazy and fluctuating as it loomed noiselessly nearer and came lower than the topmost tip of the conical tree-lined Copheap.
As it remained static some twelve to fifteen feet above ground level, glowing with its silvery light that dazzled us by its brightness, we could clearly distinguish that, jutting upward from the semi-spherical 'body' was a slender crystal-white pole or aerial, with a round crimson ball-like appendage at its terminus. It was rather incongruous atop the UFO, as it swayed slightly on the wavering supporting pole, the latter seeming to suffer from a shivering fit, but both pieces of joined apparatus constituted an integral part of the whole gleaming structure of the vessel in the air. We stood, mute and riveted to the spot by the brilliant glare of light that suffused and surrounded the UFO. Maybe it was the dazzling effect on our eyes, but the wheel from the heavens seemed to be spinning or swirling slightly, its rims plainly evincing this perpetual movement from left to right, although the main body could have been stationery. It all happened so quickly and unexpectedly that we could not be sure when discussing the aerial vision later at Chris's home.
As the upper bar of the gate bit into our eagerly tensed arms, the scene changed before us. In a motion that checked the spinning of the lower section, the UFO shifted smoothly to our right and did a complete detour of the tree-clad slope. We watched in stupefied silence as we clung white-knuckled to the topmost stave of the gate, to see it vanish from sight behind Copheap in its sudden circling manoeuvre. At this stage it was a silvery ball of light that hovered momentarily by the tops of the trees, then slid effortlessly down the limbs of their trunks to shape an indistinct blob of lessened brightness halfway up and at the far side of the memorial to the dead of two world wars.
We were anxious, impatient even, for it to reappear, but it sauntered very slowly along behind the trees. The UFO had outgrown its size and had a distorted shape, due to its semi-concealment by the trees now like silvery sentinels between watchers and apparition; but we could still discern that strange crimson ball, oddly flickering at the tip of the crystal aerial, as it skirted the outer fringe of trees and hid from our gaze in its painfully sluggish movement. It was one of those rare occasions when Chris had neglected to bring his camera along, which nettled him, but I carefully noted all details in a notebook with a stub of pencil, a habit of my news-reporting training.
Expectantly, and seething inwardly with excitement, we waited for the celestial chariot to reappear, confident it would leave the rear of the tree-belt and emerge in seconds. But it failed to do so, straining our patience to the limit, although we stayed clutching the wooden support of the gate for several minutes instead of jumping over it to pursue the alien quarry that bathed the whole area with silvery streaks and fragmented pools of light.
With one accord, Chris and I decided to 'give up the ghost' and moved along the road to another gateway some sixty yards away at the junction of land at Parsonage Farm and a road leading to married quarters of military families. From our new observation post we scanned Copheap eagerly, and then, still gliding slowly at well below human walking pace, we saw the glinting splendour of the silvery giant as it swept in undulating fashion from behind the rim of the foliage-covered mound of Copheap.
It hovered there for some time, possibly half a minute, then, suddenly and dramatically, it sped at lightning speed upward into the blue sky with its cottony tendrils of thin cloud; and seemed not only to shrink in size but change its whole shape and character. Incredible as it may appear to non-believers, it now had the identical shape and navigational lighting of a conventional aircraft, and even simulated the throbbing sound of a military plane as it casually sauntered over the barracks of the nearby School of Infantry! It put to shame any trickery performed by any professional magician in an amusement hall, such as producing rabbits from empty hats! "Impossible!" you may say. But that is exactly what happened, and we were both staggered at the revelation our eyes and minds beheld and boggled at...
Watching the 'plane' fly so casually eastward, no longer in metallic brilliance, or with its red-glowing orb mounted from a silvery rod-like aerial over its superstructure, we gasped and almost refused to accept the visual fact presented to our staggered senses. Then, in the wake of a truly astounding series of unforgettable events, masses of darkly ominous clouds loomed overhead from nowhere, it seemed, appearing in the sky from all directions. We were standing near the farm itself, debating whether or not to continue to Cradle in view of a heavy downpour of rain that cooled our sky-watching ardour somewhat, when John Rowston (of "Ufo-Info") drove up in his car from the hill direction. He had been watching from the noted copse at Cradle, and had seen the 'plane' fly over the army zone, earlier, when it had confronted us and confounded our senses.
Orfeo Angelucci chronicled the following incidents in "T"he "Secret of the Saucers", a book that Arthur Shuttlewood evidently hadn't read. The following excerpt from Angelucci's book describes events that occurred soon after he self-published his first account of his contact experiences in the newspaper-style "Twentieth Century Times" in February 1953. Five previous blog articles are about Orfeo Angelucci, including "Orfeo Angelucci's Strange Predicament".
Not long after publication of the paper a new aspect of my experiences with the saucers developed. On the afternoon of March 3, 1953 I was sitting alone in the kitchen, reading. I was dully aware of the steady drone of an airplane which continued for some time. The sound apparently was coming from the west. Gradually it dawned upon me that the sound was too steady and too unwavering for an ordinary aircraft.
Curiously, I got up and looked out the door. Coming from the north I saw what appeared to be an ordinary small aluminum airplane. From where I was standing in the doorway there was nothing unusual in the sound of the craft as it assumed the normal crescendo of direct approach. I stepped out of doors and watched it fly directly overhead until it was fairly in the face of the sun - when suddenly and astoundingly the plane was no longer there! Just as mysteriously the sound of its motor ceased abruptly too. I never saw the plane again. Confused, I went back into the house. Obviously the craft was not a flying disk, but a conventional type aircraft, for I had not experienced any of the unpleasant physical symptoms that a flying disk invariably produces in my body.
Four days later about five o'clock in the afternoon I was accompanying Jane Vanderlick, a neighbor who is employed at the Loz Feliz Theatre cafe. We were walking to the cafe where Jane was going to open it half an hour early that day. We were laughing and talking when Jane noticed an airplane nearby in the sky, flying south. It seemed just an ordinary airplane of the most common type: "Maybe that's a flying saucer, Orfeo."
I thought she was kidding me and replied: "Not you too, Jane!"
But her eyes were serious. "I mean it, Orfeo. There's something peculiar about that airplane."
For the first time I scrutinized the craft carefully. After a moment I had to admit there was something unusual about it. It appeared extremely dull and flat-surfaced and did not reflect any of the rays of the setting sun as it ordinarily should have done.
While we were both staring at it the airplane suddenly vanished right before our eyes in a clear and cloudless sky! The sound of its motor ceased just as abruptly. Both of us stood in our tracks. Jane stared at me. "What happened to the airplane, Orfeo?"
I shook my head and then replied slowly: "I wasn't going to mention it to anyone, Jane, but I saw the same thing happen four days ago. I don't know what it means!"
We stood there for some minutes our eyes vainly searching the skies for some trace of the vanished plane. I requested Jane to remember every detail of the strange incident. She promised that she would. If you ask her about it today, she will verify the experience just as I have related it to you.
Several days later I was with a group of employees sitting around the Lockheed plant. It was about five minutes before four in the afternoon. We were waiting for the shifts to change preparatory to going on duty. My good friend, but most confirmed skeptic, Richard Butterfield, was with us. While we were talking idly, an apparently ordinary two-engine airplane came into view over the hills.
Butterfield's attention was attracted to the craft. He arose from the bench and stared up at it as though he was spellbound. His behavior reminded me immediately of Jane Vanderlick's actions a few days previously. Her eyes had been attracted to that particular plane just as Butterfield's eyes were now drawn to this one. Yet neither of the planes had any affect upon me. The crowd all noticed Butterfield's deep absorption in the small plane. Some of them started laughing and began ribbing him. I remember someone shouting: "Look! He ain't never seen an airplane before!" But Butterfield paid no attention. Finally, almost as though talking to himself, he said: "What is that?"
Several voices helpfully jibed in with wise-cracks about his being sorely in need of an optician's advice. One fellow remarked scathingly: "Any dope can see it's nothing but an ordinary two-engine airplane."
I didn't say anything, for I had noticed by then how flat-toned the craft was and how it failed to reflect the rays of the afternoon sun.
Suddenly there was an instantaneous flash that appeared to envelop the plane. When the flash was over there was no sign of a plane to be seen anywhere in the sky. The droning of its motors too had ceased. Many of the group had seen the phenomenon. They were startled and confused and everyone started talking at once trying to explain just what had happened. Others continued to stare into the skies searching for the vanished plane.
Butterfield dazedly brushed his hand across his eyes. It seemed difficult for him to come back to the norm of this world. He didn't say much, but for a long time after we had gone on the job he appeared to be in deep thought. I didn't volunteer any explanations, for the sudden disappearance of the plane in a brilliant flash was a new development for me. I kept mulling it over in my mind as well as the two previous experiences in which I had seen airplanes simply disappear into thin air. But I didn't give the incidents much thought as I had more than enough to do to try and unscramble the puzzle of my previous experiences with the extra-terrestrials without adding more problems.
Both Shuttlewood and Angelucci attempted to articulate the spiritual insights that resulted from contemplating their experiences. Angelucci explained in the concluding chapter of his book: "... it is my sincere hope that the factual story I have told you about my contacts with extra-terrestrial visitors will prove not only a discovery of the true nature of the beings from out of space and time, but perhaps the infinitely greater discovery of your own true self and from whence you came, why you are here, and whither you are bound... I wish to state that in the vast majority of cases those who have conquered the problems of space travel have progressed to, or have always existed in, a state of spiritual consciousness which we today can conceive only in the abstract."
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