and True had arranged some interviews for me.

My first stop was Chicago, where I met an airline official and two
commercial pilots. I saw the pilots first. Since they both talked in
confidence, I will not use their right names. One, a Midwesterner I
already knew, I'll call Pete Farrell; the other, a wartime instructor,
Art Green.

Pete was about thirty-one, stocky, blue-eyed, with a pleasant,
intelligent face. Art Green was a little older, a lean, sunburned,
restless man with an emphatic voice. Pete had served with the Air
Force during the war; he

{p. 76}

was now part owner of a flying school, also a pilot in the Air
National Guard. Green was working for an air charter service

We met at the Palmer House. Art Green didn't need much prompting to
talk about Project "Saucer." After reporting a disk, seen during a
West Coast Right, he had been thoroughly grilled by a Project "Saucer"
team.

"They practically took me apart," he said irritably. "They've got a
lot of trick questions. Some of 'em are figured out to trip up anybody
faking a story. The way they worked on me, you'd think I committed a
murder.

"Then they tried to sell me on the idea I'd seen a balloon, or maybe a
plane, with the sun shining on it when it banked. I told them to go to