A DETAILED TRUTH
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The venerable
Wall Street Journal recently published an
article
telling readers that the entirety of the UFO/UAP issue in America from
1945 through today is nothing more than an official DoD program of utter
disinformation perpetrated to deflect the public from what is really
going on behind closed doors, SCIF sessions, trillions of dollars being
spent on God knows what and the ruse has been perpetrated by a
mysterious Air Force colonel passing out photos and films of
non-existent unknown flying objects. Supposedly initiated to dispel the
mystique of Area 51 and Groom
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By Bob Jacobs
The UFO Chronicles
6-20-2025
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Lake, Nevada the program now casts doubt on all UFO, alien abductions by these
craft on the people, all of the people, who have reported sightings in the air,
land and sea.
I am one of those people.
Many podcasters and one brilliant researcher wrote about their and our
collective outrage at this disgraceful reportage. I needed to personalize it.
Six million Jews murderd by Hitler is a terrible writ. One Jewish girl named
Ann Frank personalizes it.
Here is a first-hand report of what I experienced. And also the result of my
having reported it to Sean Kirkpatrick, then head of AARO- the All Domain
Anomaly Resolution Office in DC:
In 1964 I was an Air Force officer in charge of the Photo-optical
Instrumentation section of the 1369th Photographic Squadron at Vandenberg Air
Force Base. (now Vandenberg Space Force Base).
I was OIC of this 135-man unit charged with providing both normal and high-
speed motion picture coverage of every launch from the base down the Western
Test Range. We had cameras on the launch pad getting detailed information from
engine ignition through liftoff. There were 20 to 30 cameras at a time. I was
involved personally in hundreds of such events.
In addition to on the pad coverage we also provided tracking from three
opposed sites triangulating each missile with 6 to 8 cameras using long focal
length lenses to follow the missile up and away on its flight heading for
targets at either Kwajalein Island or Eniwetok Lagoon in the deep south
Pacific.
I received outstanding OERs (Officer Efficiency Reports) all during my three
and one-half years at VAFB as well as commendations from my squadron and group
HQ, from contractors like Boeing, as well as the Air Force Guided Missile
Badge for “making a significant contribution to America’s Missile and Space
Program.” In short, I knew what the Hell I was doing.
One day in the Fall of 1964 I was called into the office of Major Florenze J.
Mansmann in the Chief Scientists section of the 1st Strategic Aerospace
Division HQ. He and I had worked together before determining ways to improve
coverage. He asked me if I knew anything about the coastal area north of the
base known as Big Sur. I told him that I did, having driven my MG-TD up
Highway 1 in my college days to listen to Beat Poets like Alan Ginsberg and
Henry Miller at a resort called Nepenthe.
The Major then asked me to take a film camera and a radio unit up there,
staying out of uniform and make contact with a Forest Service Ranger who would
escort me up to a spot close to Anderson Peak. There I was to wait for a call
telling me that a launch was in progress to see if I could see the missile
through all three stages of powered flight from the side. Since we were not in
uniform I took my Dad up with me. We had a camera and the radio and within a
couple of hours on site I got the call. An Atlas missile was about to launch.
I sighted it, rolled my Bell and Howell and got the bird seen from the side.
Engineers hoped to tell more about a flight if they could get a side view
rather than as seen from the base, a shot up the tailpipe. They could and my
tracking site at Big Sur was established.
A few weeks after this successful experiment and fun with Dad, I had to get
serious. In caravan I escorted one our M-45 tracking mounts fully equipped up
Highway 1 and then up the winding Forest Service road to a large flat cutout
area on the edge of a steep declining mountain side with a sweeping, unimpeded
view to the Southeast looking back from Big Sur located miles northwest of the
base. The map of California indicates how Point Arguello, where VAFB lay, is
several miles farther east. Hence our side view. Well-established after three
days on site we were notified of an upcoming launch. With our 180 -inch
telephoto lenses on our tracker we provided previously unavailable reactions
from contractor engineers. They were thrilled.
The stage was set for a totally unexpected, unprepared for event that would
change my understanding of reality and make my life in many respects a
continuing morass of danger and calamity and a fractured dream.
Next time I met with major Mansmann he had a surprise. At Cape Canaveral they had employed an experimental large astronomical telescope run by Dr. Walter Manning at Boston University. This device employed a folded Gregorian scope that, the signal from which, fed directly into a large scale Image Orthicon tube. The face of that tube was filmed by a 35mm Mitchell motion picture camera. The combining of these instruments allowed for maximum manipulation of the image for definition and focus. It was a very large device that had to be hauled around by a big rig truck. And it was arriving in two days to be transported up the Forest Service road to my tracking site. I departed for the site that day with a crew of one NCO and two airmen.
We camped in the pickup truck with a camper and an Army tent. In the morning
the crew and I awoke, had lots of coffee and Cheerios for breakfast and
waited. By noon, an entourage of Brass from VAFB arrived lead b Major
Mansmann, a Mister Poulson from the Cape and Walter Manning. Behind them came
the BU telescope and excitement as we placed it in the best spot to view down
the coast.
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L to R - CWO Guy Spooner, Lt Bob Jacobs Mr. Paulson Major Mansmann
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That afternoon the VAFB visitors went back home, Mr. Paulson and his crew
operating the BU telescope retired downhill to rooms at the Nepenthe, Staff
Sergeant Dodd, Airman First class Williams and I worked on our gear to be
ready for the promised launch tomorrow morning. And with all assembled back on
site by 0600 hours we, with our M-45, the crew from the Cape and high hopes
were set to make history.
There was a vast coastal fog bank hugging the coastline as far as we could
see. It was early morning light. Over our radio we heard the countdown and
trained eyes and instruments at the coordinates we knew would be Vandenberg.
And the countdown reached 30 seconds and 20 seconds and the 10, 9,8, 7, I
shouted out “Roll Cameras” and they rolled to 6, 5, 4,3,2,1 and we heard
“engines start” and “liftoff”.
And after 3 seconds the big Atlas popped out of the white coated seacoast and
up and away on AZ and on Elevation to targets, one hoped. As our M-45 cameras
ran out we lost sight of the bird to distance. The BU Telescope unit however
kept rolling, finally shutting down. Mr. Paulson gave a thumbs up and we all
cheered the fact that we had given the Convair/General Dynamics engineers and
all other stake holders in our missile and space program the cherished side
view all the way. We had no idea the quality of the BU footage because the
screen is not visible during the operation as it must be covered by a dark
hood to prevent light hitting the Image Orthicon tube. With hearty handshakes
all around I collected all of the film from both units and drove back to base
to have it processed. Mission accomplished I supposed.
The second day I received a call from Major Mansmann asking me to come to his
office right away. I thought it might have to with the success at Big Sur. I
rapped on his office door and was invited in. There in the middle of the room
was a 16mm film projector on a table. Next to it was a chair. Against the far
wall was a Da-Lite projection screen. In one corner two men in business suits
stared at me. Major Mansmann without introducing us asked me to sit down. He
dimmed the lights. I hoped that this would be the BU film. I was not wrong.
“Lieutenant Jacobs watch the screen,” he said. Then he flicked on the
projector. There was the image of the bottom of the Atlas missile seen from
130 miles away, filling the screen. My heart soared, this was, indeed the view
as seen by the Folded Gregorian telescope lifting skyward. Major Mansmann
said, “Watch closely to the end.”
As the bird continued on, it rose rapidly looking spectacular against the sky
made black by contrast on the IO. The Atas D was a stage and a half weapon. It
had a main pressurized body for fuel and liquid oxygen, when it burned out and
fell away, three smaller engines propelled the nose cone holding the warhead
downrange. I watched Stage One burnout and drop off, the final stage ignition
puff. By this time with our eyes from Big Sur we were losing the object. But
here on the screen the nose cone was a quite small white object. It opened and
a small batch of aluminum foil splayed out in a fan to deflect the enemy radar
tracking. The dummy nuclear warhead, in every dimension, weight and appearance
identical to the real thing deployed into a slightly higher trajectory in
front of the chaff. I smiled at Major Mansmann. He said, “Watch carefully.” So
I did.
On that movie screen I watched another object slide into the frame. It
approached the warhead from the same direction; in short it chased and caught
up. The entire image on screen was moving away down range at several thousand
miles an hour. The object, a larger spot on film than the warhead, moved
closer and shot a beam of light striking the device. The object rotated above
the package and shot another beam of light down, hitting it again. The object
than dropped down in the path and struck it in the front with a third beam,
rotated beneath it and fired a fourth beam then zipped out of the frame at a
fantastic rate of speed back the same way it had come in. The dummy warhead
than slowed and malfunctioned. It appeared to me to be falling out of the
frame when the film ended.
The object as made out in fine detail later as Major Mansmann studied it frame
by frame with a jewelers loupe, was a classic Flying Saucer, two dinner plates
turned convex side out and stuck together with a round dome on top. The
illustration is an enlarged artist’s conception.
The two CIA agents glared at me as the lights came back on. Major Mansmann
stood up between them and me. He said, “Lieutenant were you guys screwing
around up there?” (Meaning at Big Sur.)
“No sir,” I replied.
He said. Pointing at the screen, “Then what was that?”
Wanting badly to talk about it I said confidently, “It looks like we got a
UFO!”
The agents stepped around so I could see them.
Major Mansman said very firmly, “You are never to say that again.”
I was startled.
“As far as you’re concerned, this never happened. Do you understand.”
I couldn’t reply. I did not understand.
“You can go now. Not a word to anyone.” And he escorted me to and out of the
door to his office. It would be twenty years before I ever spoke with him
again.
I did not talk about the revelation I had just witnessed–not to anyone.
Never a ‘believer” in flying saucers before this moment, my whole
intellectual being was shaken by the fact of all facts, we are NOT ALONE in
the vast universe.
One night ten years later I was hosting a late night radio talk show in
Eureka, California. Topics among lost, late night souls reaching out in the
dark for something, anything to soothe anxiety and god-awful loneliness, turn
to ghosts and goblins and Jewish banking conspiracies and yeah, UFOs. About
two a.m. a guy named Rick Van Pelt phoned in with a story that happened to him
as an Air Force security force sergeant.
He and a partner were summoned to Thule AFB, Greenland to guard a flight of
B-52 nuclear bombers on a frosty snowy night. While at a remote end of the
base he and his partner spotted an apparent native Greenlander appearing over
a snow bank a few feet away. Rick sent his partner to check the guy out. When
his partner got near, it turned out that the “guy” was a couple of feet taller
than the airman. He wore a skin tight iridescent ski suit and had long blonde
hair. They spoke for a bit, then the partner started back to join Rick,
dragging his rifle on the ground. He stared blankly. Rick stopped him. “Hey,
what did he say?”
“He said we were supposed to stop using nukes.”
Just then Rick looked over to see a brilliant, glowing “flying saucer” lift up
and shoot silently away.
Without even thinking about it, I went ahead and told mine. The
same one you just read about.
Nothing happened. No bolts of
lightning. No armed guards at the station door. My car didn’t blow up when I
started it. The curse was lifted.
I thought.
It came back in a blind fury that goes on to this very day when I am still in
pain for telling the truth: I and many, many more of my brothers-in-alien
land. The date was November 1, 1982. I was a professor at the University of
Wisconsin-Oshkosh. I had a small alfalfa farm in the country. My pay at UWO
was only for nine months. So every summer I had to make some money. I usually
did it producing TV commercials. Nothing was in the offing so I turned to
freelance writing. It had been 18 years now since Big Sur so I wrote a small
article about it to try out. Omni Magazine, Life Magazine,
Argosy Magazine all turned it down. So I sent it to sleaze publications
and The National Enquirer bought it. I paid the mortgage, kept the farm
and went back to teaching film production.
Shortly after the story hit the streets, as they say, the decades long
nightmare began. I started to get telephone calls that ended in a
click. My address got out and letters from a large number of UFO ‘nuts’
began mounting up in my rural mailbox. Some of these things were from various
people around the country claiming to have been on a space ship to Venus, to
have flying saucers in their back yard or being from some planet or another.
Mixed in with these came a few from apparently rational humans seeking the
truth. One of these was a gifted researched named Lee M. Graham. The Air Force
denied to him that there had ever been any of the following: anyone named
Robert M. Jacobs in the Air Force, assigned to the Photo-Optical section of
the 1359th Photographic Squadron, nor had there even been an Atlas D missile
launched on that date, nor that they had any record of a BU Telescope, nor of
anything at Big Sur… ever.
Lee dug into them with FOIA requests, letters and phone calls and did verify
that they had lied on each and every count. I was reinstated into humanity.
Then the terror campaign began on the phone. I had an answering machine back
then and it began to record dozens of threatening phone calls, each ending
with the epithet that I received live in person to wit; “You talk too much.
You’re going down motherfucker!” My fiancé at the time, now my wife also got
these calls. And one night in 1986 we had come home from a movie. There was a
call waiting on the answering machine. The same gruff voice said, “Fireworks
in your mailbox at night, oh, what a beautiful sight. You’re going down
motherfucker!” and my rural mailbox exploded.
I bought a gun. I learned how to shoot it. I practice and I don’t miss.
Then in September, 1986 I met Robert Hastings. We are close friends today. His
counsel has meant a great deal to my ability to deal with the issue. Here’s
what the issue has cost me personally after appearing on several television,
motion picture, print and podcasts to keep telling my account, which has never
varied an iota. I left Wisconsin under the constant threats to my life and the
safety of my wife. I lost my next professorship at the University of Maine
under a character assassination by Phillip J. Klass, I lost my next
professorship at Cleveland State University under a mysterious character
assassination accusing me with no proof of sexism and homophobia and after a
relatively pleasant and productive 20 years as Full Professor at Bradley
University from which I retired 2017, the final character assassination of
all.
In a phone call one day, Robert said that he had been contacted at AARO, led
by Dr. Sean Kirkpatrick, when it began its investigation into UFO- now called
UAP phenomena, to see if any of his interviewees would testify. He said, with
a caveat that he would. He passed this invitation on to me, to Mario Woods,
and Terry Lovelace that I know of. I told him that I would be happy to do so.
A few days later I was called by a man saying he was from AARO and he would
like to hear my story. I asked if he was recording me and he said that he was
not. So I spoke with him for nearly an hour. Afterward I sent the following
note to Robert and the others in my group:
On April 29, 2023 Sean Kirkpatrick after being praised lavishly by Senator
Kirsten Gillibrand, chairing the Senate Armed Services Committee testified.
After extensive investigation and testimony from military and former military
witnesses and ‘whistle blowers’ he reported that AARO had found “no evidence
of extraterrestrial” objects, machines, space ships or little green men in the
United States of America. Nothing to see here.
If you’ve hung with me to this point, I’ve tried to spell out a no doubt
extraterrestrial or NHI incursion that I filmed at Big Sur. My account has
been substantiated by Major Mansmann, then Dr. Mansmann who when contacted by
a number of researchers and TV producers stated in writing that my account was
TRUE as written. The images I captured have been seen by others in government,
including by Luis Elizondo. He saw the film when he was with ATTIP in
Washington, DC. He told Dave Grusch when he had left his post, exactly where
to find it. When Dave got to the ATTIP office everything of Lue’s in it had
been cleared out. It is certain that Sean Kirkpatrick knew all about that film
if not having seen it himself. In spite of the fact that that Big Sur UFO
committed an act of war, this guy is a shill for the cabal suppressing NHI
presence among us; everything that every honest, American patriot has told us
about since 1945.
I have been compelled for reasons I don’t fully understand to prepare this
document, this testimony, this tribute to my fellow witnesses, experiencers,
rational thinkers. Others of us have suffered from PTSD to depression,
defamation, unmitigated anger, self-doubt, threats, loss of jobs, community
standing and worse- to be sold out by shills and fakirs, like AARO and the
damned Wall Street Journal. F%CK YOU!
FAREWELL THE TRANQUIL MIND.
