Ominous: The Nexus and Reality of Flying Saucers

By Wayne Sturgill

Hold on to your tinfoil hats and extend your antenna's saucer fans as the author states in his testimonial Ominous: The Nexus and Reality of Flying Saucers, "There is a distance as vast as the universe between belief and knowing."

Ominous details the continuous connection between Wayne Sturgill and that of his family's history, beginning with his mother's verified sighting of five Flying Saucers over Portland, Oregon, on July 4, 1947.

The story progresses as Wayne is haunted throughout his life by his Silent Nemesis--an encounter with a UFO, which begins at age six in 1963. Eventually, he learns of his father's encounters with such ships as a top secret intercept pilot during the 1950s as photographs and other data surface through a mysterious informant.

Toss in the mix his own face-to-face encounters (and photos he risked his life to take) of a Flying Saucer that attacked him, a CIA agent, and the possibility of a doppelganger. The enigma intensifies and refuses to relinquish to this day.

Branded throughout with UFO history and photos, spiced up and peppered with Sturgill's unique sense of intelligence and humor, whether you know beyond doubt that extraterrestrials and their craft exist, as the author knows, prepare yourself to address the subject seriously and with an open mind, and you will discover Ominous is a book impossible to ignore as you journey along a pathway toward a certain reality that in the near future may erupt worldwide.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887932163

Book preview

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Ominous

The Nexus and Reality of Flying Saucers

Wayne Sturgill

Copyright © 2023 Wayne Sturgill

Artist recreation of photographs by Sheryl Simonis.

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

Note: Several names and locations have been fabricated in my testimonial to protect the identities of the innocent, the guilty and frequently, the shameless and utterly idiotic.

ISBN 979-8-88793-215-6 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88793-217-0 (hc)

ISBN 979-8-88793-216-3 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Flying Saucers and the Guardians of Twilight

The Conquerors of Space and Time

Santa, the Flying Phallic, and My Silent Nemesis

You Can't Get Here from There

Back Behind, the Cabbage Patch, and Martians

The Ship in the Mountains, the Coffeepot Shot

Of Moon and Men

Night of the Light and the Pike Lake Honeycomb

The Doppelgänger Zone and the Tent Creeper

Between Belief and Knowing

Idiosyncrasies or the Epoch of Evil?

You Know I Know You Know

Intercepting the Ship in the Mountains

The Reptilian Devil, the Grays, and Me

The Nexus and Reality

The Smoke of July Revisited

I Know They Know I Know

Reflections of a Flying Saucer Pariah

Ominous

There is a distance

as vast as the universe

between belief and knowing.

Flying Saucers and the Guardians of Twilight

Authoritarians play a deceptive game of pareidolia with minds and senses, securing their honeycomb as a queen bee controls its hive and workers.

UFOs? Little men from outer space? Myth and reality sometimes merge, becoming one and the same, shrouded in layers of truth and fiction, stepping tediously around the quicksand of ridicule. Yet both myth and reality can be exposed and left naked in the light of day. I know, because close at hand, I’ve witnessed Flying Saucers (or what humans have been conditioned to signify as Unidentified Flying Objects) more than once. Let me assure you, they exist and only infrequently are a trick of light or the planet Venus dancing in the clouds. And most certainly, I’ve come to understand they bear no relation to the word pareidolia, the brain’s attempt to attribute meaning to random stimuli.

Like me, perhaps you’ll discover over the course of your life that greater powers, both human and alien, have placed you on a game board as a token piece, with intentions to keep you perpetually circling past Go without collecting your $200 worth of knowledge. But beware the governmental Guardians of Twilight. They persist and, without your conscious consent, have implemented designs to forever enroll you as one of their pareidolia pawns.

Do not mistake me. Humans possess a state of being, of feeling, of thinking, of perception, of believing. We are at times amazing, miraculous, and exceedingly clever. Through various processes, many of us eventually unravel a general consensus of truth, even when those moments of enlightenment are excruciatingly painful. And there is little doubt we have at our disposal the tools and equipment needed to advance our reign on Earth toward a brighter future—but know not when and if to turn the tap on or off. Maddeningly, it is to the severe detriment of the human species that the Guardians of Twilight elevate their precarious souls as equal or supreme in God’s kingdom, and take advantage of our weaknesses to deem themselves as lords of their own devices.

Don’t get me wrong, Homo sapiens can be marvelous, but stripped to the bare, we are more or less vagabond marauders that ravel about the land, the sea, and the sky as our planet tumbles through the hellish, deathly cold void of outer space at an average speed over sixty-seven thousand miles per hour, astonishingly without a single one of us being flattened like Sunday morning flapjacks. We move as one, contentedly caged within an all-encompassing gravity field, a seemingly unfathomable force of which even the greatest dunderheads among us know little about. So terrific we may be, no argument there! Still, on the whole, we are far and away from infallibility. Far, far, and away.

By and large, we boast arrogantly of our accomplishments while selectively ignoring our many failures. Much too frequently, we rewrite or remake history itself, willingly or clandestinely accommodating our preferences and prejudices, crafting in effect a who’s who reference of truth and fiction, right and wrong, good and evil. Exclusion, collusion, and conclusion, whether premeditated or not, is ritualistic, a mantra we elect to substitute for a volley of shortcomings.

Do not mistake me, humans are incredible animals, if animals we may or may not be. The debate rages on. Either way, many of us learn from our blunders as well as our successes, and feel love, compassion, empathy, and at times make personal sacrifices to the benefit of those about us. Habitually, we commandeer what God and nature or both have provided for us as we toil over the land, raise great cities, invent remarkable devices, and so forth and so on. With our brains and brawn, we seemingly can do it all, which of course, on the face of it, is a self-deluding statement. Always a skeptic first, I wonder how far as a species mankind would have progressed without apposable thumbs?

With our gift of language and written communication, we preserve what we have learned, perceived, and believed. We summon together our hopes and our fears, our dreams and nightmares, our religions and sciences, our pride and our histories, our victories and defeats, our loves and hates. We are not unlike a giant ball of string rolled together into a globe we call knowledge. Without this conglomerate tangled ball of string, we’d unravel into a million strands and, in short time, dissolve into nothingness or perhaps end up bedding in a bird nest.

Humans, either earthbound or dancing on the fringes of space, bang about like tinkers with tin hammers. On our workbench is strewn industry, agriculture, politics, medicine, psychology, mechanics, physics, war, peace, and every other topic conceivable beneath the moon, the stars, and the sun. Most of us spend the majority of our time striving to survive, hoping to live and let live, while scant others aim to dominate, contemplating whether to kill or let die. Without doubt, we are complex, people zipping around the Earth in a variety of vehicles, flipping about in cyberspace, and, of late, wallowing in a wasteland of virtual unreal reality, trapped as flies in a spider’s web, a fandangle so named the Internet, the new kid on the block that may soon be utilized to escort humanity into slavery, or be permanently swept into the dustbins of time. Even now on high, between pill popping, inhaling dope, and slurping gulps of liquor or lattes, we humans may be teetering on the precipice, about to fall back to Earth in a prolonged horrific scream, either to be chained or each of us, in turn, dried to dust. Ah, but the soul, what of the soul? It must move on!

So, we move on. We work, we hope, we pray, we pretend, we dream, we fantasize. Meanwhile, in our subconscious, skirting around trivialities and the not-so-trivial quagmire we call life, we clasp tightly to the one single thread that keeps the majority of us stable and lucid, and that tiny rip of fabric is the revelation of knowing, the unmasking of dreams and beliefs, which we yank out of the darkness, at least long enough to determine left from right, up from down. If we’re keen, we recognize this eternal tug-of-war which pits the decadents of delusion against the architects of evidence. And so somewhere in the midst of this struggle, we move on, or so we believe.

In the far past, many called upon God or the gods that be for salvation, but today, heads are bowed and beckoned to the clamoring deities of science, replacing God with provisional hokum and lies, laced with a dictatorial dictum disguised and buried in contractual fine print and mumbo jumbo to embody and embolden those in power to disenfranchise the liberties of John and Jane Dodo. Forsaken by many, God no longer controls the reins from the driver’s seat of their chariots. As a species, whether you accept it or not, we are in trouble. No, not virtual trouble, but real trouble. Big-time trouble.

If we hope to climb out of the pits of our own diggings, it is vital we learn to discern fallacy from fiction, especially so in regard to extraterrestrials, which I know exist. Research must be accommodated honestly, unbiasedly, unabated. Therefore, colossal questions must be asked, debated. Questions such as the following:

Can the populace expect and trust government authorities to defend the right to remain human in lieu or favor of an alien matrix? Are lies and deception acceptable and inescapable prerequisites humans must abide by?

How can the populace secure their lives, defend their liberties and perhaps their very existence if government authorities do not allow the citizenry of the world be made privy to the fact extraterrestrials are here and are, quite possibly, preparing to evoke and enforce a specified agenda upon humanity?

These are but a few questions, ones I hope to provide answers to by book’s end. So I ask you to suspend for the duration of my testimony any biased opinions you have in regard to the subject matter at hand. I have attempted my best to do so in the writings now before you. It is with my sincerest vow, through each chapter as it is unveiled, to reveal to you the truth and nothing but the truth as experienced from my limited vantage point.

I would be negligent if I failed to address those politicians and scientists who miserably fail multitudes of citizens worldwide by signing on the dotted line to an established modus operandi which automatically disqualifies any individual, or group thereof, who have experienced unearthly visitors from unknown realities that politicians and scientists themselves categorize as outside the realms of pre-established norms. Sadly, these soft-boiled yolk brains, like eggs in containers by the dozen, are not unlike charter members of an exclusive resort who often speak despairingly in unison as to the existence of such entities. These professionals—have long ago discovered it’s much safer and warmer to keep one’s quantitative status and toes dipped deep into their collective hot tubs. Perhaps in the long run, humanity might be better off if they’d shut up for good and go about their golf games between back-scratching.

Clouded as my looking glass into the unknown appears, or often indelicate and ineloquent as I can be when expressing myself, I have a distinct advantage many others may not in relation to the fact that either by happenstance or not, Flying Saucers have boomeranged or ricocheted in and out of my life among other unfathomable events.

To those of you who have had an undeniable encounter with alien spaceships similar as to what I have had, it is probable you will find my tribulations as further confirmation of your own unique experience. To you, I say so be it. You know what you saw, what you sensed, despite whatever nonsense some nincompoop authoritarian might ram down your throat. So breathe easy, at the minimum, you are like me. We know. Though numerically small, we have a unified head start.

For those who believe but don’t really know if Flying Saucers exist, this book and the experiences so related may help you arrive at a logical conclusion or, at best, inspire you to seek further truth or tidbits of information that won’t sift through fingers like so many grains of sand. To you, I say you are like me before I had my definitive encounters. Before I knew without a doubt.

If you’re currently in denial, a skeptic, then guess what? You’re like me also, the me from a far and distant past. To you, I hope you are curious enough to open your mind to the possibilities scattered within my feeble chronicle. However, I must issue this stark warning: when you least expect it, your protective balloon of deniability may burst open like a gigantic soap bubble if and when you experience anything similar to what I and many countless thousands of others have.

Should fate drop down from the sky and land onto your lap in the form of an encounter which at first defies accepted knowledge and logic, much like me, you’ll discover your entire outlook on humanity’s place on Earth and in the universe may be radically altered for the remainder of your life. You’ll likely find yourself waking up at night and reliving the uncanny experience, over and over again. I know that even as I write this, I have moments where living with what I know to be true becomes an arduous task. How and why often swirl about me like a mantra. I don’t like unanswered questions hanging on a limb.

Still, do not mistake me, for if such encounters befall you, forgive me for saying that I know not whether to grant you pity or envy. In my case, as hard as the adjustment has been, moving from skeptic to knowing has been a rough, bumpy road. But I would rather know what I know than to be forever stranded in a desert of conundrums without a mental waterhole to drink from.

There are some last players on this battlefield of fact versus fiction, science versus speculation, belief versus knowing, and human versus alien. The starting lineup includes team captains who are in lockstep with various government officials who know what I know and one hay wagon load of a lot more. Together, they plot to keep the lid on the UFO boiling pot fastened down tight. Between wakening and sleep, they manipulate us with disinformation, confusion, and flagrant lies! I mean, think it out! Why would policies regarding the reality about UFOs break tradition with their usual, long-established, and successful self-serving manifestos?

However, perhaps the Guardians of Twilight have good reason to bury the truth. If so, I pray the deception results in the security of man’s tenure on Earth. Still, I trust my instincts first and foremost, and by my very nature, the denizens of doubt within me refuse to die easy. Therefore, it’s my fervent wish the Guardians of Twilight cease and desist from battening down the hatches. As a whole, I think mankind would opt to fight and defend themselves from these intruders from outer space, so if push comes to shove, fight I will, since in my opinion, the right to remain free and human is up for grabs. So beware, things so made of fragile substance have a nasty way of slipping through one’s fingers at precisely the wrong instant, and go crashing to the Earth.

Wayne Sturgill from the shores of Crescent Lake

The Conquerors of Space and Time

Two deputy sheriffs observe four flying discs in line formation. It is reported that the discs move at fantastic speeds, make sharp turns, and climb and hover with great maneuverability. (Dexter, Michigan, USA, March 14, 1966)

Searching for a justifiable explanation of the sightings, I remembered a phone call from a botanist at the Univ. of Michigan who called my attention to the phenomenon of burning swamp gas. I decided it was a possible explanation that I would offer to reporters. (J. Allen Hynek, former consultant to Project Sign and Project Blue Book of the USAF)

The existence of flying, hovering, wobbling, glowing, skimming, and speeding unknown objects in the skies of Earth is rumored to date back in mankind’s history nearly to the time he first learned to scribble in the dust, so say the ancient astronaut theorists. And as far as J. Allen Hynek, deceased but onetime leading professor of astronomical phenomena, considered, perhaps Flying Saucers are little more than swamp gas, or so he once thought a shortened epoch ago before he reevaluated his position on UFOs, which are not at all as unidentified as you are led to believe. Believe, that’s the key word of all words. Believe, or so some would have you believe. As we go forward in this book, remember this word. For as I have inadvertently discovered, there is a distance as vast as the universe between belief and knowing.

So just where does all this Flying Saucer regalia, this rally of outer space royal prerogatives really begin? Fact is no one really can say with any degree of authority. Besides, by the time you finish my book, Ominous: The Nexus and Reality of Flying Saucers, it’s my hope and intention you’ll reassess just what the word authority means, so journey along with me and my experiences. I’m willing to gamble you’ll get the picture.

I hate to do this, but I suppose it’s inevitable. According to the usual humdrum authors and space hicks, the modern age of Flying Saucers began with a humble man, as all great stories should begin, with a civilian pilot by the name of Kenneth Arnold, who, on June 24, 1947, while flying in his single-engine CallAir, witnessed nine peculiar-looking aircraft over Washington State’s Cascade mountain range.

At one point during Arnold’s observation, the craft blinded him as a tremendous bright flash burst from the objects. His experience, which included his bafflement at the craft having no tails, lasted somewhere in the neighborhood of two and a half minutes. Arnold additionally estimated the speed of the objects at 1,200 miles per hour, typically far and above terrestrial air traffic speed limits in 1947.

Arnold eventually landed his plane in Pendleton, Oregon, and reported the incident to a newspaper, the East Oregonian. Giving a press interview with Bill Bequette, a United Press International (UPI) contributor, the pilot described the mysterious craft as shiny, crescent-shaped plates that moved through the sky "like a saucer would if you skipped it across the water." Thus, the big mouths of media gave birth to the term Flying Saucer, and the rest is documented history. Or is it?

UFO researchers have reconnoitered Arnold’s experience with a fine-tooth comb time and time again, so no need to do so here. The wonder pilot’s tiny CallAir has circled and landed on the Flying Saucer tarmac endlessly since that fateful June day, but by no means was his experience the first in modern times, depending on what myth deems as modern.

Truth is if truth does indeed exist without exemptions from fact, then the description of UFOs in relation to the word saucer dips back to 1878 when a farmer by the name of John Martin reported to the Daily News of Denison, Texas, how a saucer-shaped object had flown over his property south of the town. Is Martin’s report diminished because he was a farmer and not a pilot? Is 1878 really all that much different than 1947? After all, Denison had a newspaper much the same as Pendleton did. And both Martin and Arnold wore pants back in those ancient days and learned the alphabet on a chalkboard.

So here we go once again, wondering where does it all begin? Where in time and space does all this saucer, this supposed extraterrestrial escapade, originate? Well, if you’re curious, scrutinize the photographs in a book called UFO—Richard Brunswick Photocollection. According to his book, Brunswick’s displays of UFO photos purports to range anywhere from 1918 to 1935 in Germany and many more from various other countries and years. Opening the pages of another book featuring saucer photos titled UFOs Caught on Film by B. J. Booth, the oldest UFO photo ever taken dates back to 1870 over Mount Washington in New Hampshire. I don’t know about you, but I think photography has to be considered as an invention of modern times, especially when compared to cave paintings and scratches in stone. What do you think?

Either way, as per the seemingly endless brigade of ancient astronaut theorists, it matters little in comparison to bulky stone giants and cone-headed carvings from archeological sites throughout the world. To the AAT, aliens, whether they come from outer space, zip through dimensional time portals, or arrive on transit buses, have been here since before Noah’s ark and have always been here, boringly taking their time as they bump por whittle humanity toward our glorious day of enlightenment, even if most, if not all of us, will long be dead by then.

Now back to the question at hand, or the one that is temporarily boiling about in the brain. Just where and when did this Flying Saucer circus get on the road? The factual answer, as I prompted you to consider in the first place, is no one can say with any degree of authority. So onward goes the perpetual spin like a child’s top on linoleum flooring.

Of course, we could beckon forth the Roswell crash that occurred in July of 1947, but why should I conjure up that ghost? It’s long been beaten to death by UFO researchers, media hypes, publishing magistrates, and even the abused and sometimes abusive individuals who either did or didn’t witness the famed event. I, for one, have come to the conclusion what was termed as a flying disc or saucer did crash in the New Mexico desert, but beyond that, little gray men? More than one crash site? Only the Guardians of Twilight know for sure.

So something at Roswell happened, no need to go through it all again. You can peruse it through a zillion sources if you’re in the dark about the incident and the graphic details therein. All I know is that I acquainted myself with the incident until my eyeballs dropped out of their sockets, especially after reading the bogus massive The Roswell Report: Fact versus Fiction in the New Mexico Desert and its additional volume, The Roswell Report: Case Closed—both shamelessly put before the public and media for consumption by the USAF, an acronym for the United States Air Farce—oops, I mean Force.

Now just where do we go from here in this search for the truth? Well, for a moment, let’s dive headfirst into the tunnels of time and land smack-dab in the Battle of Los Angeles where, more or less, a violent confrontation between the US Army and, maybe, aliens from space (no, not the space between our ears) began at 2:15 in the morning on February 25, 1942, when coastal radar indicated an unidentified object about 120 miles from LA. A blackout was ordered (we were engaged in World War II—at war with Japan and Germany at the time), and soon citizens called the police to report witnessing lights and objects in the sky.

Moments after 3:00 a.m., ground observers spotted a formation of delta-shaped objects flying at thousands of feet in the sky and heading toward Los Angeles, perhaps to attack defense plants and munition factories. Air-raid sirens blasted, and civil defense workers donned helmets and grabbed their flashlights and spread out into the streets, hollering at people to stay inside their homes and to keep their lights off. It wasn’t long before a general panic took place as people shouted and screamed and, as usual, made matters worse by their actions. Well, who could blame them? Fear has a way of creeping deep into even the stoutest hearts of mice and men.

Soon, antiaircraft guns rocketed shells into the dark skies, and bedlam had broken out in LA as buildings shook and windows rattled or cracked from the explosions. Searchlights poked toward the heavens as shrapnel trickled down and back onto the streets, causing, of course, further havoc among the people. The battle raged on until 4:15 a.m. when the firing finally came to a halt. In the melee, five lives had been lost, all of them human as far as I know.

During the course of the battle, civilians claimed to have seen moving balls of light spotted by the searchlights. Despite the fact that nothing had been bombed by the enemy, people felt something catastrophic awaited just over the Pacific horizon. Official explanation from the powers that be in Washington, DC, hinted at the whole matter as a false alarm or attributed the battle to war nerves. Many people, rightly so, were angered by the official explanation—well aware that the Battle of Los Angeles took place only two odd months after the devastating attack on Pearl Harbor, which occurred on December 7, 1941.

Despite the battle being pooh-poohed over by the Army and the DC maggots, a moment frozen in time was clearly captured on film, taken during the actual course of the battle, a sensational photo depicting massive shelling and searchlights directly aimed at what unquestionably appears to be a disc-shaped Flying Saucer. For the best look at this amazing photograph, I highly recommend you get a hold of the aforementioned book UFOs Caught on Film. But as most of us well realize, photography (more so today than ever) can be altered, faked, or whatever and often is not considered as verifiable evidence, but if this photo from the Battle of Los Angeles is not a Flying Saucer or the work of a touch-up artist, then it beats the heck out of me what else