Lighting The Flatwoods Fuse Part II of II

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Lighting The Flatwoods Fuse

by Alfred Lehmberg

PART TWO

When I awoke early on the seventh everyone had already been up for awhile moving like a platoon of Army Ants.  On the previous day, after I'd retired, it had been discovered that the venue where the event had been planned was short required sound and lighting equipment! Replacement equipment provided by the furious activity of Larry Bailey's two younger sons drew too much power for the recently restored 50's type movie theatre and was blowing fuses.  The sound and light boards needed to be virtually rewired, heavy klieg lights had to be procured and mounted, colored gels and masks were cut and affixed to carousels while rehearsals and run-throughs had to be completed—yesterday!

Where were the expected harsh shouts, finger-pointing, hurtful allegations, angry accusations, and exasperated capitulations?  Nowhere to be found, reader!  In its stead was a calmness, ready volunteerism, and sacrifice to common cause.   I had other things I probably should have been doing, but I even found myself setting up Stanton Friedman's 35mm slide presentations or helping Doug Gokey, one of the event security guys, set up the boards and displays of Feschino's Flatwoods mini-museum.

Forgetting the preceding for just a moment, I report that I was treated to encounters with my fellow Homo sapiens rather adding to the unusual fellowship—fellowship so thick you could breath it like it was oxygen enriched air:

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Lighting The Flatwoods Fuse

Lighting The Flatwoods Fuse

by Alfred Lehmberg

PART ONE

Here it is, then: proof positive that while I've "...eaten dead burnt bodies and still have veins in my teeth," I'm just another old softy when you boil me down to my component parts. Indeed, I wouldn't even bring this up but that I had too many witnesses. Caught blubbering like an old pensioner as a result of certain occurrences; however, poignant, I make my report.

Still, so as to put the first efficacious spin on it, thereby, I'll tell you myself, see? I was moved.

Seriously, what brought this blubbery verklempt-ness about... forgetting for a moment the "bodies and veins" of the preceding paragraph and the fact that, properly provoked? I am quite capable of pulling off an offending head and using the resultant neck for a field toilet. A former Senior TAC at the US Army's only Warrant Officer Candidate School, I've made former Navy SEALS, training for an Army Warrant, tense.

Pray, then. What precipitated my teary "verklemptitude (tm)"?

The first "Flatwoods Monster Extravaganza" was held early in the month of September on the 7th and the 8th, 2007. This was a two evening program celebrating the 55th anniversary of one very puzzling night of many puzzling nights, actually—then and since—in a quiet little town of what remains to be decent and hardworking Americans to this day. The town is Flatwoods, West Virginia. The time celebrated was one 12th day of September during the Indian summer of 1952.

Very briefly, reader... and brace. It is not my intent to shock you... but perhaps as a result of an undeclared war with bona fide extraterrestrials involving the United States—let that sink in—there came to be crash-landed an alien craft with at least one seeming occupant, who, before being evacuated near Frametown, WV in a subsequent rescue by fellow ETs (!), provided for an occasion of extreme terror for the brave people of Flatwoods. This was a courage betrayed and followed by decades of specious, unearned, and suspicious ridicule in regard of that terror! Let's keep it real.

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