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Location: UFOUpDatesList.Com > 1998 > Jul > Jul 30

RI Native and the Crop circles of Cache County

From: Joseeph Trainor <Masinaigan@aol.com>
Date: Thu, 30 Jul 1998 06:46:09 EDT
Fwd Date: Thu, 30 Jul 1998 07:54:10 -0400
Subject: RI Native and the Crop circles of Cache County

Dear Members:

You might enjoy reading about the "Lost Colonel" case
from 1986. See below.

From: "jrdutilly" <jrdutilly@timp.net>
To: <Masinaigan@aol.com>
Subject: Re: RI native and the Crop circles of Cache County
Date: Tue, 28 Jul 1998 12:11:30 -0600

Joseph Trainor said:

>Dear Leo:

>Thanks for writing. As I understand it, last week's
>Deseret News had a story on crop circles up in Cache
>County. I'm hoping to do a story on that for my newsletter.

Since I've lived here I've heard of the crops circles you
mentioned. They seem recurring. Cache County is a 6 hour ride
from here and I've never seen them.

>   If you hear or read about any UFO sightings in Utah,
>please feel free to email me the details. If you're quoting
>from a newspaper, please provide the name of the
>newspaper, its city of origin and the date the article appeared.

This article appeared in a Moab, Utah monthly. It was written by
an acquaintance of mine. When I asked him if the article was
serious or a joke he swore it was true and claimed he had

From: The Canyon Country Zephyr

February/March 1997 Issue

A Strange Occurrence At Thompson Springs

By Peter Haney

Former County Councilman and Allen Memorial Hospital nurse Peter
Haney swears that what follows is true....

It was 12:20 am on Thanksgiving Day 1986...I had just finished
my midnight rounds at the hospital. I went to an empty patient
room and turned on Channel 6 to see the temperature - 23[F]
degrees. Itís going to be a cold winter, I thought to myself. I
walked down the corridor to make a fresh pot of coffee; with
only two patients who couldnít go home for the holiday, it had
the markings of a quiet night. As the coffee started dripping,
the emergency room door creaked open and slammed shut.

I walked around the corner to see who it was and saw a woman
pushing a wheel chair from the front of the trauma room and
heading back out the door. I was right behind her.

The womanís car was pulled up tight by the ramp and she went to
the passenger side and opened the door. It was cold. I could
instantly see my every breath. I walked around behind the wheel
chair to steady it as she helped a large man out of the car and
into the wheelchair. He had a military uniform on, which was
quite disheveled and dirty. His knees were showing through small
holes in his pants and his feet were bare, blistered and
bleeding--- the beginnings of frostbite.

I pushed the man up the ramp and through the ER room door the
woman was holding open for me and into the trauma room, grabbing
the ER paperwork as we went in. He looked dazed and distant as
we helped him up on the stretcher and covered him with two or
three blankets. I started to take his vitals, introduced myself
and asked his name. He just looked up at me and said nothing
while still shaking from the chills.

I looked to the woman for some help. She said she found him
wandering along the interstate between Thompson and Crescent
Junction, Utah on her way back home from Grand Junction,
Colorado; in fact, she had almost collided with the uniformed
man, had swerved to miss him, and had to back up to offer

His pulse was 56, his skin cold. She said he didnít say a word
during the entire drive into town and asked if he was going to
be all right. His temperature was 91, indicating mild
hypothermia. I covered him with two blankets except for his
feet, which were pasty white on the soles and blistered red up
to the ankles.

The woman asked if she could leave as it was late and she had to
get home. I said sure and took her name and number.

The manís Iungs had good breath sounds he even had slight
distant bowel sounds. I looked at his eyes, and though they
reacted sluggishly he could focus on me. I asked him if he
wanted a cup of coffee, he nodded yes. It was now 12:45 AM. I
went to get the coffee for the two of us and called Dr.
Mayberry. I gave him a report on the patient. He said he would
be here soon. I walked down the hall and checked the other
patients who were all asleep, and then took our coffee to the
ER. He sat up with some help and began sipping his coffee. I
asked if I could check his wallet for ID, and he agreed.

The man told me his name and said he was traveling from Florida
to Nevada to see family for Thanksgiving. Just then Dr. Mayberry
came through the door and proceeded to examine him and clean and
dress his feet.

And then we were told the most remarkable story. The man, a Lt.
Colonel in the Air Force, told us he had left Grand Junction
Colorado at dusk and was travelling west on Interstate 70. Just
as he came over the hill and saw Thompson, Utahís 2 gas
stations, he felt the truck he was driving leave the road and
start to float away." He said he was a pilot and knew what it
was like to leave the ground and that this was almost like being
in a balloon. He remembered floating toward a black escarpment
and then that was it. Nothing.

The next thing he remembered was walking toward the distant
lights, cold and dirty and then the close call with the car on
the freeway.

He looked up and Dr. Mayberry smiled and asked him if he had a
bit of Old Bushmills to spare. The man swore he had not been
drinking, and that as an Air Force pilot he had not had a drink
for two years. He then asked if he could use the phone to call
his base in Florida. It was almost 1am. After a few moments on
the phone he asked if we would step out for a bit. Dr. Mayberry
admitted him for the night and jotted down some notes. We then
went back in the trauma room and the man said he couldnít talk
to us anymore about the incident. Dr. Mayberry said, "Good, then
weíll both get some sleep and Iíll see you in the morning." and
then left.

I wheeled the gurney with the Air Force Colonel into an empty
patient room and he moved himself onto the bed. He then lay back
and I checked his vitals again--- Temperature was up to 94,
chills were still strong, a good sign. It was plain to see that
physically, at least, he was recovering. But his story ...I
didnít know what to think.

The night passed quietly. But at 6:50 am I heard the ER door
creak open and slam again. Two men in uniforms were walking down
the hall and approached me just as I completed taping the night
report for the next shift. They asked to see the Lt. Colonel and
I showed them his room. One of the men came out and got a
wheelchair and went back in again. Curious, I walked toward the
room to see what they were doing when the two men burst through
the door, pushing the patient in the wheel chair. They hurried
down the hall, through the Emergency Room through the swinging
doors, and to an unmarked car where a third man waited with the
motor running. As I opened the ER door, the last car door
slammed shut and they road out of the parking lot. I went back
to his room and discovered that his bedside chart was missing.
Everything was missing...except for the admission paperwork,
they had removed any sign that the Lost Colonel had ever been

About then the day shift began to arrive and I told the crew
what had happened.

Gloria Harris came down the hall and I gave her the admission
paperwork from the ER that Iíd left at the Nurseís station. She
tried the phone number that the Colonel had called the night
before but the receiving party claimed there was no one
stationed there by that name. Did this man exist?

My coworkers thought I was bored and playing a game or losing my
sanity until Dr. Mayberry came in later that morning. "Whereís
my patient?" he asked.

We never found out.

An Epilogue

Recently I spent the day looking at county roads in the Book
Cliffs with Dave Warner, the County Road Superintendent. The
drive jogged a memory he hadnít considered in years. He told me
of the time in the late Eighties when on the day after
Thanksgiving he had seen a Huey military helicopter flying out
of the area above Floy Wash. He remembered seeing it come down
from high up on the Book Cliffs, close to the Utah State
Roadless area. On a cable below it dangled a truck. I asked him
if he had any Old Bushmills to spare and then told him of my
night at the hospital on Thanksgiving Day.

Cool or what ?

The owner of the paper is Jim Stiles and he can be reached at

Another thing I found out since moving out west. I've met people
from Roswell NM, and they are all POSITIVE that the 1947 crash
and coverup are real.

keep up the good work