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«BEHOLD A PALE HORSE Milton William Cooper And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat upon him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And ...»

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"Yes sir," I replied, "I'm sure."

"You're a good sailor, Cooper," he said. 'The Navy needs men like You'll go far with the Navy." He then asked me to read several pieces of paper that all said the same thing only with different words. I read that if I ever talked about what it was that I didn't see, I could be fined up to $10,000 and imprisoned for up to 10 years or both. In addition I could lose all pay and allowances due or ever to become due. He asked me to sign a piece of paper stating that I understood the laws and regulations that I had just read governing the safeguard of classified information relating to the national security. By signing, I agreed never to communicate in any manner any information regarding the incident with anyone. I was dismissed, and boy, was I glad to get out of there.

Not long after that incident I devolunteered from submarines. I was transferred to the USS Tombigbee (AOG-11).

The Tombigbee was a gasoline tanker. It was more dangerous than the sub. The Captain was crazy and the crew was a combination of idiots and misfits. I once had to draw my pistol while I was petty officer of the watch to prevent an officer from being attacked by a seaman.

The Tombigbee collided in the dead of night with a destroyer in the Molokai channel and several men died when the destroyer was almost cut in half. Every day aboard that ship was exactly like a scene right out of Mr.

Roberts. I struck for quartermaster (navigation specialist) and managed to advance to the rank of second class petty officer despite the obvious 22 • BEHOLD A PALE HORSE obstacles.

I made two WESTPAC tours aboard the Tombigbee. They included a total of 12 months off the coast of Vietnam. We came under machine-gun fire while anchored off Chu Lai. We had to do an emergency breakaway and leave the harbor. All we needed was one tracer round in one of the tanks, and KA-BOOM, it would have been all over. The Viet Cong gunner probably got busted because the stupid jerk missed the whole damn ship.

HOW CAN YOU MISS A WHOLE SHIP?

The only other time I felt threatened was when we went up to a small outpost at the DM2 called Cua Viet. It was a vision right out of hell. Cua Viet sat on the southern bank at the river mouth of the Thack Han river. We rode at anchor and pumped fuel ashore through a bottom lay line. Every night we could see the tracers from fire fights raging up and down the river and along the DMZ. It was a real hot spot. Every once in awhile Viet Cong or NVA rockets would slam into the camp. We would perform an emergency breakaway and put to sea until the all clear was sounded.

Everything was cool until our whacko Captain decided we were going into the river mouth. Did you ever try to put a pencil through the eye of a needle? Thaf s about comparable to what we did. I'll never know how we got that big ship through the narrow mouth of that river with no navigational references whatsoever. We dropped anchor midchannel and the Captain backed the ship right up to the beach and dropped the stern anchor into the sand. There we sat, a great big target full of gasoline. We were helpless in the mouth of a narrow river, with three anchors out, right in the middle of one of the hottest combat zones in Vietnam. That night several men in the crew wrote letters to the Chief of Naval Operations requesting an immediate transfer. No one slept. I don't know why the enemy didn't send in the rockets, but they didn't. I knew then that God must keep a special watch over fools. The next day we set to sea and started for Pearl. The Captain was relieved for incompetence later that year. Then I was transferred to school.

I didn't know what school I had drawn. It turned out to be the Naval Security and Intelligence School for Internal Security Specialist (NEC 9545).

The general training prepared me to set up security perimeters, secure installations and buildings, and safeguard classified information. My training included special weapons, booby-trap identification and disarming, the detection of bugs, phone taps, transmitters and many other subjects. I was specifically trained to prepare and conduct Pacific-area intelligence briefings. From the day I reported to school in 1968 until I left the Navy I worked off and on for Naval Security and Intelligence, Upon graduating I was transferred to Vietnam. I had volunteered William Cooper • 23 over a year before because I figured that my chances were better in the war than they were on that screwed-up gasoline tanker. This was the first good news I'd had since leaving boot camp. I really wanted to fight for my country. I wasn't to find out what a real fool I was until a few years later.

I landed at Da Nang and was bused to Camp Carter, the headquarters for Naval Security and Intelligence in I Corps. I was interviewed by Captain Carter, the commanding officer. The names turned out to be a coincidence. Captain Carter asked me if I thought I would make a good patrol boat captain, and I told him that I would. What else could I tell him?

I thought he was joking when he told me I would have command of a boat and crew. He wasn't, and I did. Lt. Duey at the Harbor Patrol, a division of Naval Intelligence, allowed me to hand-pick a crew. He gave me first choice of four 45-foot picket boats that had just been unloaded from the deck of a freighter. I and my new crew spent three days going over every inch of that boat. We adjusted and fine-tuned everything. We sanded and painted. One of the seamen even hung curtains in the after cabin. We checked and double-checked the engines. My gunners mate, GMG3 Robert G. Barron, checked out weapons and we began to arm our vessel.





I've got to tell you the truth — just looking at all those guns scared the shit out of me. I vowed right then and there that I would be the best damn captain that ever commanded a combat vessel in wartime. I learned to exist an only 2 or 3 hours of sleep out of 24 and never ate until I knew that my crew had been fed.

We spent a lot of spooky nights patrolling the Da Nang harbor and river. One night a rocket hit the ammo dump at the river's edge near the Da Nang bridge, and it really looked as if the world was coming to an end.

Another time we engaged the enemy in the cove at Point Isabella near the marine fuel farm and probably saved their butts. That engagement was reported in The Stars and Stripes, the armed forces newspaper in Vietnam.

The worst moments came, however, not from Charley but from mother nature. A full-blown typhoon roared across the Gulf of Tonkin. To save the boats we put to sea. The angels must have been laughing. What a sight we must have made! I maneuvered our boat in between two giant cargo ships riding at anchor off Red Beach and learned quickly what fear was really all about. The wind was blowing so hard that none of us could go on deck. That meant that the two of us in the pilot house were stuck on watch and the men trapped in the after cabin had to man the hand pumps.

The windows in the pilot house blew out and the rain felt like knives hitting our skin. Water poured in, and I prayed that the men on the pumps would not become exhausted. I could just barely make out the two tankers.

I could tell they were in more trouble than we. When we were on the crest 24 • BEHOLD A PALE HORSE of the mountainous waves we looked down onto the top of the ships.

When we were in the trough we seemed to be in danger of their crashing down upon us. One of the freighters snapped a cable and steamed slowly out of the harbor.

The next morning the storm calmed and we moved into the river.

Debris was floating down and we had to play dodge-the-tree-trunks until we spotted a sheltered pier in front of the Press Club. We carefully pulled the boat alongside, tied fast to the pier, then collapsed from exhaustion.

After awhile we drew straws to see who would remain on watch with me.

The rest went into the Press Club. After a couple of hours the crew returned and we went in. It was like nothing was going on outside.

Reporters sat around drinking or eating. All around flowed conversation and laughter. We ordered a huge meal, signed Lt. Duey's name to the check, then went out to the boat. I don't know whose name the other guys signed, but none of us had any money. I don't even know if Lt. Duey ever got the bill. I do know that it was one of the best damn meals that we ever had in that country.

The next two days were spent in repairing the boat, cleaning the weapons, and checking everything. Then we went to the club, got stone drunk, and slept for damn near a whole other day.

Bob Barron volunteered for Cua Viet. I begged him to stay with us.

Maybe we could all go up later together. He couldn't wait; he had to have action. We promised each other that if one of us bought the farm the other would drink a bottle of scotch in memory, then break the bottle on the rocks. Don't ask me what that was all about. Men who think they might die at any given moment do stupid things and I was no different than most.

About three weeks later we learned that Bob's boat had gone on TWO LIMA patrol on the Thack Han River one night and had never returned.

No radio transmissions were ever heard. And for awhile no bodies were found. Then one by one they popped to the surface along the bank. It was a long time before we ever found the boat. When we did it was twisted up like a pretzel. I say "we," because after I drank the bottle of scotch and broke it on the rocks, I forced the issue and was transferred to the Dong Ha River Support Group at Cua Viet.

It was now a personal war. They had killed a part of me. Bob had been my friend. His name is on the Vietnam Memorial. My boat engaged the enemy more times than any other boat that ever patrolled that river.

We kept the enemy off the river and I never lost another man. I was awarded the Naval Achievement Medal with Combat V, the Naval Commendation Medal with Combat V, and the Combat Action Ribbon. Our whole organization was awarded the Presidential Unit Citation, the Naval William Cooper • 25 Unit Citation, and each of us accumulated various other minor awards, ribbons, and medals.

On a Patrol Boat One thing I didn't like about Vietnam was that it was very difficult to maintain unit cohesion and morale when you had proven and trusted men leaving all the time at staggered intervals and green, unproven men arriving to take their place. I noticed that I felt like I was deserting my crew when I was rotated home. I tried to extend my tour of duty, but they had already decided to phase out our forces and turn the war over to the Vietnamese. If I had extended a month earlier, I was told, I could have stayed. My attitude at that point was a smoldering "SCREW IT!" The whole time that I was in Vietnam and especially on the DMZI had noticed that there was a lot of UFO activity. We had individual 24-hour crypto code sheets that we used to encode messages, but because of the danger that one of them could be captured at any time, we used special code words for sensitive information. UFOs, I was told, were definitely sensitive information. I learned exactly how sensitive when all the people of an entire village disappeared after UFOs were seen hovering above their huts. I learned that both sides had fired upon the UFOs, and they had blasted back with a mysterious blue light. Rumors floated around that UFOs had kidnapped and mutilated two army soldiers, then dropped them in the bush. No one knew how much of this was true, but the fact that the rumors persisted made me tend to think there was at least some truth 26 • BEHOLD A PALE HORSE in them. I found out later that most of those rumors were true.

I eventually found myself back in Hawaii. This time it was shore duty at the headquarters of the Commander in Chief of the Pacific Fleet at Makalapa, a hill above Pearl Harbor.

I had carried a Secret security clearance in the Air Force, and Secret was required for submarines. When I checked into the Fleet Administration Unit, I was asked to fill out papers for another clearance. I did as I was asked. I remember that one of the questions asked if I had ever belonged to any fraternal organizations. I looked down the list, circled the DeMolay Society, and answered in the affirmative. I was assigned to the Operational Status Report office (OPSTAT) under Lt. Cdr. Mercado while I awaited the results of my FBI background check for the upgraded clearance.

About six months later I was called into the office of the Chief of Staff for Naval Intelligence. I was asked to read the regulations covering the Personnel Reliability Program governing those personnel who had access to nuclear weapons, information on nuclear weapons, launch codes, and various other things having to do with nuclear weapons or anything that came under HQ-CR 44. I was asked to read and then sign a security oath, which I did. I was then told by Captain Caldwell that my security clearance had been upgraded to Top Secret, Q, Sensitive Compartmentalized Information with access authorized on a strict need-to-know basis. He told me to report to the officer in charge of the CINCPACFLT Intelligence William Cooper • 27 Briefing Team the following morning at 0400 hours. I did. What I learned during the time I spent with that briefing team is what led me on my 18-year search that has culminated in the writing of this book. I was later given another upgraded clearance in the crypto category and served as the designated SPECAT operator when I was on watch in the command center.

On the day that I learned that the Office of Naval Intelligence had participated in the assassination of President John F. Kennedy and that it was the Secret Service agent driving the limo that had shot Kennedy in the head, I went AWOL with no intention of ever returning. My good friend Bob Swan is the one who talked me into going back. Later, on June 1, 1972, the eve of my wedding, I told Bob everything that I knew about the UFOs, Kennedy's assassination, the Navy, the Secret Government, the coming ice age, Alternatives 1, 2, & 3, Project GALILEO, and the plan for the New World Order. I believed it was all true then and I believe it is all true now.

I must warn you, however, that I have found evidence that the secret societies were planning as far back as 1917 to invent an artificial threat from outer space in order to bring humanity together in a one-world government which they call the New World Order. I am still searching for the truth. I firmly believe that this book is closer to that truth than anything ever previously written.

I attempted to leak information to a reporter after my discharge. I was forced off a cliff by a black limo in the hills of Oakland. Two men got out and climbed down to where I lay covered in blood. One bent down and felt for my carotid pulse. The other asked if I was dead. The nearest man said, "No, but he will be." The other replied, "Good, then we don't have to do anything else." They climbed up and drove off. I succeeded in climbing up the bank where I waited until found. A month later I was forced into another accident by the same limo. This time I was to lose my leg. Two men visited me in the hospital. They only wanted to know if I would shut up or if the next time should be final. I told them that I would be a very good little boy and that they needn't worry about me anymore. Under my breath I swore to spill the beans as soon as I could figure out how to do it without unit getting hurt again. It took 16 years, $27,000, a computer and a lot of envelopes, but now everyone knows.

I went back to school after leaving the Navy and obtained a degree in photography, served as the Chief Instructor of the Coastal School of Deep Sea Diving, the head of the Mixed Gas Deep Saturation Diving Department and the underwater photography instructor for the College of Oceaneering, Admissions representative for Airco Technical Institute, Assistant Director of Adelphi Business College, Executive Director of Adelphi Business College, National Marketing Coordinator of United Education & 28 • BEHOLD A PALE HORSE Software, Executive Director of Pacific Coast Technical Institute, and Executive Director of National Technical College. I also owned and operated Absolute Image Gallery and Studio of Fine Art Photography.



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