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Updated: July 14, 2025
About five o'clock Sunday morning Major Fournet called and told me the story of the second sighting at Washington National Airport: About 10:30P.M. on July 26 the same radar operators who had seen the UFO's the week before picked up several of the same slow-moving targets.
"Hm-m-m," Joe murmured. "And all the other cliches taught to us to preserve the status quo, our People's Capitalism." They were reaching the outskirts of town, crossing the Esopus. The airport lay only a mile or so beyond. It was obviously too deep for Max, and since he didn't understand, he assumed his superior didn't know what he was talking about.
We have departed Oz International Airport and will be cruising at twenty thousand feet. We should be arriving at our destination in about three hours. You may remove your seatbelts and make yourselves comfortable. Refreshments will be served shortly, and you may watch our in-flight movie if you wish." Graham looked around to see who else was sharing his flight.
Full out that is, going at the limit of her speed the Sky-Bird probably would not cover more than three-thousand miles." "I am glad to know this," said Mr. Giddings. "I see that your cruising radius is sufficient to cover your longest jumps at any reasonable speed. Let me see; you allow yourselves three hours' stop at each airport; will that be long enough?"
The temperature hovers around zero and it's so clear you have a feeling you can almost reach up and touch the stars. It was this kind of a night on March 13, 1959, and as the officers and men of the Air Defense Command fighter squadron at the Duluth Municipal Airport moved, they shuffled along slowly because the heavy parkas and arctic clothing they wore were heavy.
About two hours later another pilot, approaching National Airport from the south, excitedly called the control tower to report that a light was following him at "eight o'clock level." The tower checked their radar-scope and there was a target behind and to the left of the airliner. The ARTC radar also had the airliner and the UFO target.
"Where's Colonel Cheng-Li?" "Here, general." The Intelligence and Constabulary officer pushed through the crowd. "I was on the phone, talking to the military airport, the commercial airport, ordnance depot, spaceport, ship-docks and power plant. All answer.
Guido Karamessinis, the Resident-Agent at Grank, had reported, at last. The city, he said, was quiet, but King Yoorkerk's troops had seized the Company airport and docks, taken the Procyon and the Northern Lights and put guards aboard them, and were surrounding the Residency. He wanted to know what to do. Von Schlichten managed to get him on the screen, after awhile.
These introduced themselves as Mr. Plusson, in charge of the local mission; Mr. Hart, a British trader; and Mr. Shoreman, the American trader who had been engaged to look after their fuel at this airport. These gentlemen expressed the liveliest cordiality in their welcome, and Mr.
Across the Potomac River, so close that the traffic patterns almost interlocked, was busy Washington National Airport. Below him along the Anacostia River were two military airports; Anacostia, at which he would land, and Bolling Air Force Base. And to complicate matters slightly, Andrews Air Force Base was only a short distance away.
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