THE WATCHERS (standard:science fiction, 1888 words)
Author: pjlawton	Added: Jun 14 2004	Views/Reads: 3393/2290	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Toward the end of WWII, a lone flyer has an stange encounter. After the war, he has another but is forced to remain silent. After 50 years he decides to tell the story.

The Watchers By P.J.Lawton 

The old man sat silently staring straight ahead. The only light in the
darkened room was the glow from the computer screen. He made his 
decision, then reached forward to type in a cable news network e-mail 
address. Tabbing down he wrote, “The time has come; I can't stay silent 
any longer.  As you will see, the big lie has been going on too long, 
America -- no the world -- needs to know the truth, the true story of 
the Watchers. Here is the story.” 

*** 

The desert was cold at night. I had forgotten just how cold it could be.
That's why I happened to be awake though. If I hadn't been trying to 
build up my fire a little to chase the morning chill away I would never 
have seen it from the beginning. Over the next 50-plus years people 
would continue to make believe it didn't happen, to discredit witnesses 
and fabricate all kinds of stories. I don't care what they say; I was 
there!  I saw what I saw and nothing will ever change that. Anyway, 
that wasn't the first time I saw them -- the Watchers. The first time 
had been just about two years before. 

I was flying fighters for the Army Air Corp out of Tinian Island, a
small island in the Marianna Chain. My main mission was flying support 
for the bombers, the big B-29s. The war was almost over. Flying support 
for the bomb missions had become pretty much a milk run. The enemy 
didn't have very many interceptor fighters left and we just about had 
complete air superiority. It ended up being my last mission, the 
mission when I made first contact. 

*** 

It was the first week of August 1945. It was around 2:25 a.m. when I
took off to support Special Bombing Mission 13 by a single B-29 
carrying a special cargo named Little Boy. I would remember this day 
for two very distinct reasons. One most every student of history knows, 
the other, only a few would ever know about. I was officially ordered 
to keep the second incident secret and did so for over 50 years. I am 
tired of hiding the truth. 

It was just about 9:15 a.m. local time when the Enola Gay made its bomb
run. We had been told that just as the bomb was dropped we were to turn 
and get away from there fast. We would have about 45 seconds to get as 
far away as possible. Over my radio I heard ‘bombs away' and quickly 
made a steep banking turn to the right. 

I was at about 20,000 feet flying through a cloud bank when something to
the left caught my attention. I quickly pulled up and swung around to 
have a look. It was an aircraft. However, it was like no craft I had 
ever seen. It was gray black with no engines or markings. Its shape was 
very distinctive. At first I couldn't describe it but after a few 
seconds I realized that it looked like a large Stingray.  It glided 
through the air just like the Stingray glides through water. The ship 
seemed to ignore my presence as it observed the activity below.  I 
couldn't figure what the Watchers, my term for them, were up to but I 
knew the craft wasn't one of ours. Logically, if not one of us, then it 
had to be an enemy. I shoved my stick forward to make my attack run. 

The strange aircraft seemed to just hang there in the air, like it
wasn't moving at all. I lined up my sights and pulled the trigger. The 
heavy .50 caliber bullets streamed through the air -- into nothing. The 
ship was no longer there. It had simply darted out of the line of fire! 
I couldn't believe what I had just seen. I made a turn and came back 
for a second run, same result. There was a sudden bright flash from 
what I took to be the rear of the craft and in an instant it was gone. 
Its speed was unbelievable. I had flown the new Lockheed P-80 Shooting 
Star jets with their incredible speed but they would have poked along 
like an old biplane compared to what I had just seen. Had it been real? 
Self-doubt started right away as soon as I resumed my return flight. 
Maybe I had just imagined it but I didn't think so. Well, my gun camera 
film would tell the tale. 

The next few months were a living nightmare. During debrief, when I
attempted to tell my story, I was suddenly silenced and moved to a 
separate briefing room. I finished my story was then marched to the 


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