Saucer in the Dunes

42 Dynamite Again!

That night, Ronnie and I had a hard time getting to sleep; we were both so excited about hiking with the teenagers. Then, the more we talked, the more serious it became to us. I had forgotten all the creepy stuff that had happened. It all seemed so long ago when it was only a matter of weeks. The memories of seeing the teardrop outside by my window and even being inside the teardrop were still there; I just, for the most part, chose not to think about them.

I knew Ronnie, and I saw men, soldiers with guns, and those trucks and that tractor-trailer pulling something huge and heavy down that old country road. We whispered about it in the dark, recounting our memories. Those soldiers had chased us from Gibson's garage, too, no doubt about it. Mr. Gibson was alive, too, but we might never know what had happened to him. The crater by the highway was still there, and the military man in his Jeep still drove back and forth a few times a day between the crater and the National Guard barracks. As far as we knew, no one had ever spoken to him.

The roadblock was still there, too. The grown-ups talked about it more and more. It even aggravated my Dad, and almost nothing seemed to bother him. There was a lot of strangeness in Kingston, which had been ever since the night of that UFO. Thinking about it made me remember to turn on Dynamite Don so Ronnie and I could hear the show. We caught it right from the beginning. I don't think we would have believed it if we hadn't.

"Good evening, South Georgia, and points beyond this is Dynamite Don on WFOM 740. This will be a departure from my normal routine, usual repartee if you will, as I feel it has come time to explain myself to any and all of my listeners.

Over the course of the last few weeks, there have been many calls and letters asking about my change in programming, specifically this evening program, which so many of our listeners have come to enjoy over the last few years. When I started WFOM at Night a few years ago, I was surprised by the audience participation. I feel like we are a family. We have always come together as a little community and discussed the day's events, social, political, and otherwise. It's always been a fun show to do. We talk and listen to some music, and I prattle on for four hours every evening. Like I said, we have become family.

Several weeks ago, an emergency bulletin came across my news wire when I was on air during this show. What transpired is the stuff of fantasy and fiction, yet it happened right here to all of us live on the air. A ship, a flying ship, a UFO was reported by not one, not two, or even three, but by forty-eight individuals over three hours, and those were just the individuals that filed officially documented reports. There have to be many hundreds of others.

I admit, at first, I believed the whole thing was caused by a lousy sense of nerves and irrational fear of little green men from Mars. I was less than diplomatic with a few callers until the story unfolded completely before me. To those callers and the people listening, I extend my apologies. We have always behaved in good humor here, and while I intended to poke fun at the absurdity of what I perceived to be an impossible situation, it was never my intent to cause harm or ill feelings.

Immediately following the original show, I was inundated with phone calls from all over our listening area; people, perfect strangers, poured out their hearts to me about what they had seen, and many of them were frightened. They weren't just frightened by what they had seen but by how they were treated by people they believed to be employed by our own government. Many were threatened; some threats veiled others not. As of today, I have been unable to establish any proof that anyone in the employ of our government in any capacity has made any inquiry into this incident. I can barely even get a returned call from any of the branches of our esteemed military that I have called.

This case has assumed a life of its own. I have been consumed by it, and I admit it. Once you scratch the surface of something like this, you can't turn away, and I certainly haven't been able to. As a result of my actions, WFOM has lost many advertisers. I don't need to tell you that it is one of the primary sources of revenue for a radio station. Many long-time advertisers with this station left with strict demands on me to come to heel to put all of this foolishness aside and return to the programming everyone was accustomed to. I have never minced words, folks, not on this particular program anyway, and I am not about to start.