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Dick Allgire
2006-Mar-02 Thu, 18:15
AN INCIDENT AT AUGSBURG


It was October of 1975. In the dead of night in a secret facility in Augsburg, Germany a young U.S. Army corporal named Glenn Wheaton had an unplanned and quite unexpected experience. It was definitely a life-changing event. The episode that took Glenn Wheaton by surprise that dark night was as mysterious as it was profound, and would forever alter the way he would live each and every day for the rest of his life.

1975, the year that Saigon fell. Saturday Night Live premiered on NBC that year. Terry Bradshaw and the Pittsburg Steelers were building a Super Bowl dynasty. Gerald Ford was president, and the cold war was going strong. Anything the Soviets did, we had to know about, and do better.


Specialist Wheaton spent the day in Nuremberg, where Oktoberfest was in full swing. For Glenn it was a very good day to be serving in the U.S. forces in Europe. Oktoberfest is an annual celebration in Germany, 16 days of drinking, eating, singing, and dancing. Breweries make a special strong beer for the festival called Wiesenbier. Huge beer tents are erected, a cannon is fired and the kegs are tapped. People link arms, sing and sway to the music, and drink beer by the liter. Glenn Wheaton was among thousands of people attending the beer festival, and he spent the day partying, drinking rich German beer and feasting on sausages and roast chicken.

By mid afternoon it was time for Glenn to head back to Augsburg to get some sleep and report for duty. Wheaton was a Manual Morse code intercept operator, stationed at an Army Security Agency listening post in Augsburg, Germany. The ASA was the military arm of the National Security Agency, and in that Cold War year of 1975 everything about the NSA, the ASA, and their signal intelligence (SIGINT) operations was top secret. Now that the Cold War is over and intelligence collection methods have changed I can tell you about it. If I had written and published this story in 1975 I would have been imprisoned and fined, or perhaps worse.

It had been a great day at the Oktoberfest and Glenn was feeling fine. Instead of grabbing some shut-eye on the train back to Augsburg. he watched the German countryside race by. He still had a glow from the good food and alcohol as the train pulled in to Augsburg. His Volkswagen was parked at the train station. He jumped in and headed home to Hansweiss, hoping to get a few hours sleep before he had to be on duty.

That night he was scheduled to be on the midwatch (late night shift) monitoring Morse code radio traffic from the other side of the Iron Curtain.
He only slept an hour or so, and woke up to the sound of the television in the living room. Glenn didn’t want to risk oversleeping and missing his watch, so he gave up on his nap and just got up. He knew it would be a long night. The Warsaw Pact was conducting a winter exercise, practicing a wartime surge toward the border with Germany. Glenn and all the Morse code collectors would be busy that night.

As he drove to work at the field station Glenn could see the huge circular antenna known as the FLR-9. It was the most spectacular high frequency antenna built by man and could bring in signals from next door, or a continent away. The thing was gigantic. Its size was measured in football fields, and soldiers used to run around it for physical training.

Wheaton presented his World Wide Badge to the military police at the checkpoint and drove toward the operations building, a facility the size of three or four Walmarts. He was assigned to A3 Manual Morse Eurcom, and as he went in through the main entrance and past a second checkpoint he began to work his way down some of the longest hallways in the world toward his work section. When he reached his area the mode controller in charge of operator assignments had some bad news for Glenn. The Soviet navy had just gone into an alert posture so operators were needed in that section. There would be a heavy work load that night, and Glenn would be in a section he wasn’t used to. He thought oh well, I might as well be monitoring Russians on boats instead of Polish soldiers in tanks.

Glenn got to the Russian section and was given a position to work. The Soviet positions were much the same as where he normally operated in Eurocom; there was a TTY-336 computer terminal (hot stuff back in 1975) surrounded by banks of Collins R390 receivers and other equipment, including a UGC-46 teletype terminal for teleprinter traffic. As Glenn sat down an analyst came by and handed him a thick target packet and said, “This is your guy for the next 8 hours. If he squeaks, you copy it.”

Wheaton began spinning dials and pulling up the link he needed to monitor, and opened a computer file in which he would transcribe the night’s traffic. He would transcribe everything that was transmitted by his target. He was listening to a command in Moscow and an outstation in Vladivostok. The messages Glenn intercepted would be carried to a communications center and transmitted back to Ft. Meade, Maryland, which is the headquarters of the National Security Agency. A single piece of information might seem unimportant, but when analyzed with other data might indicate a pattern or help verify something that needed more examination.

At 11 PM the overhead lights were turned down and the whole section began working in the glow of lights from the equipment. Glenn listened in the darkened room as the Moscow link came up on schedule and began calling for his outstations to send their reports. The Morse code was clean and rapid, and Glenn had no problem transcribing the traffic. When the last outstation checked in Glenn knew immediately it was a new guy. His code was slow and a bit jumbled. Moscow had to ask several times for the new operator in Vladivostok to send the traffic. The operator apologized, explaining that he was the only one available, and he would be sending as best he could.

For the next hour Glenn agonized as this new operator fumbled with a message that was about 2,000 words (or groups) long. It was painful to listen to. The unfortunate Morse operator in Vladivostok just couldn’t get it right. He had made a mistake and would have to repeat 500 words or so. Glenn imagined the guy in Moscow was about to go berserk. It went on and on. Would this transmission never end? Would this night never end?

Glenn had a dial on one of his recievers called a BFO (beat frequency oscillator), a setting that changed the tone of the Morse code to make it more pleasing to listen to. He adjusted it to a more comfortable level and kicked back in his chair. With the soft glow of the lights and gently beeping tones it began to lull Glenn into a relaxed state. If you could call an ASA listening post cozy, it was subdued and cozy. It had been a long day at the Oktoberfest and this night was dragging on. He closed his eyes as he listened to the groups being repeated by Vladivostok.

Darkness enveloped him and he knew in some small part of his awareness that he was asleep. In that same instant he realized that he could see someone. He saw a young man in white tapping his hand on a key. A Morse code key. The man in the Russian uniform seemed younger than Glenn and he was intently tapping out Morse code.

It was a code that Glenn already knew. He was repeating the message that Glenn had just transcribed, and Glenn was watching him do it.

All of a sudden he was awake, and his feet, which had been up on the console, hit the floor. Wheaton spun around and to his horror saw the shift supervisor telling him to wake up and get to work. There isn’t much you can say when you are caught sleeping on duty. This is a cardinal sin in the military. In his embarrassment and confusion - just to fill the awkward silence-Glenn felt he should say something. Glenn stammered, “Sorry Sarge, but I just had a very strange experience.”

The shift supervisor asked him what the hell he was talking about and Glenn- with a growing sense that he was really screwing up- briefly described his bizarre experience. The shift supervisor didn’t say anything, but he looked irritated. He shook his head and his face wore an expression that said, “I wish you hadn’t told me that.” He reached over and plucked the badge from Glenn’s shirt pocket and ordered, “Come with me.”

Uh oh, Glenn knew he was in some serious trouble. He followed the Sergeant to his desk where the Sergeant pulled out a big black binder that contained the Field Station SOP (Standard Operating Procedures). He flipped through the book and read a few things, pursed his lips and frowned- this surely did not look good for Specialist Wheaton- and then picked up a secure phone to make a call.

Glenn was watching all of this with growing horror. He had fallen asleep on duty and he had admitted to his supervisor that he had had some kind of hallucination. The consequences of this could not be good. This is not the way to build a career in the Army Security Agency.

Two MP’s arrived and he was informed that he was done for the night. The supervisor told him “these two gentlemen” (the armed MP’s) would escort him back to headquarters at Sheridan Kaserne. This was turning out to be a very bad night for Glenn Wheaton. At headquarters a First Sergeant signed for him, as in "take custody of," but then he was told to go home and get some sleep. The commander would see him tomorrow at 1300 hours. Glenn went home and figured so much for my career in the U.S. Army.

Later that day he reported to the commander who in no uncertain terms explained that certain events were “non-compatible” with service in the Army Security Agency. Wheaton had a lump in his throat. One could not talk in their sleep, explained the commander, one could not walk in their sleep. If you went to the hospital a monitor went along to ensure you did not blurt out classified material under the influence of some type of anesthesia or medication. In addition, the commander explained, any mental aberration must be adjudicated by competent medical authority.

The words “mental aberration” and “competent medical authority” hit Wheaton like a punch in the stomach. Were they saying he was crazy or something? Were they going to send him to some kind of an institution?

Glenn was ordered to report to the Field Station psychologist for an evaluation. The psychological exam took three full days with many tests. It was like something out of “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.” There were four different interviews with psychologists. Glenn had no idea what all this was about, other than it seemed like they were trying to find out if he was off his rocker. He was certain he was in some kind of serious trouble, but he had no idea what was going to happen to him.

When the evaluation was finally over the psychologist came into the room and handed Glenn his security badge. She also gave him a sheet of paper authorizing him to return to his command, a certification that he was not a nut case and could return to full duty. Glenn was relieved, to say the least. As he was getting up to leave, the psychologist said, “There is just one more thing. I need you to sign this document.”

Glenn read it and realized that it was a health/human use statement. He looked at it with growing curiosity. It stated that occasionally Morse code operators had reported the event he had experienced. It stated that there was no connection between the job itself and the event, and that there was no inherent danger to his person because of this event. Oh, and then there was this little paragraph about how he would be imprisoned for ten years and fined up to $100,000 if he ever mentioned this to anybody.

With some relief Glenn signed the document and left, glad to be out of there.

No more German beer and sausage before midwatch. He reported back to work. At the checkpoint he was told by a military police officer to wait there until someone from his section came to escort him in. Glenn was confused. Was he on some sort of probation or something? The clearance from the psychologist had stated he was cleared back to full duty. Why would he have to be escorted back to his work? None of this made any sense. He was surprised when a young woman arrived at the checkpoint. She stated, “I am here for Specialist Wheaton.”

She was not from Glenn’s work station and he had never seen her before. He followed her down the halls and they finally stopped in front of a vaulted door. There was a combination lock on the door and she told Glenn to watch close, she was only going to show him the combination once. She entered four numbers and the door popped open and they entered a very small room. Stunned and wide-eyed, Glenn Wheaton was greeted by three people. There was a young Warrant Officer. Beyond him was another male who was smiling, and an analyst who began to giggle.

Glenn was in The Secret Square.

J.P.
2006-Mar-02 Thu, 22:18
Looks good Dick.... sounds like it will be a best-seller at the next RV conference!


J.P.

Dick Allgire
2006-Mar-03 Fri, 18:02
Looks good Dick.... sounds like it will be a best-seller at the next RV conference!


J.P.

Hi JP,

It won't be ready by the next conference. (I wish, but it takes a long time.) Also, while this excerpt was a good "tease" it really doesn't represent the book. It's not going to be about Glenn's military RV career. Glenn is giving me some information about how Richard Ireland helped them develop our methodology, but most of the book is going to be about the civilians in Hawaii who learned remote viewing, how it really works, and what we have done with it.

I'll put up a little more here on the BB at a later date.

Aloha,

Dick

J.P.
2006-Mar-03 Fri, 19:05
Dick,
Good to see Glenn is giving you more info as time goes by. Just the post's Glenn has put up over the years on Ireland on this board could fill up a chapter or two in your book (I know you've already thought of going back into the archives and including this in your book... hopefully...lol).

Those stories alone are so interesting, it would be worth the price of the book. I would imagine if you had a chance to read Ireland's books and include info from them, that would be cool too. Just putting all this in, would probably fill up half the book. So it's good to see we'll finally get to more fascinating stories on this topic. I have yet to get my hand's on "Psykedelic (sp?) Unicorn", but someday.... just maybe I'll find it in a used book store.

I'll be looking forward to your first book tour and lecture series!

J.P.

P.S.
I just went back and re-read your post, I hope you have a section set aside for Ireland.... I didn't see you mentioning that. I'm sure that could take up at least one chapter. Keep up the good work!

Dick Allgire
2006-Mar-03 Fri, 19:56
Hi JP,

With a half century under my belt here on this earth in the reality it is interesting to look back at things. I've been a television journalist for over 30 years. People sometimes ask me, "What is the most interesting story you've ever covered." I have to stop and think.

The most interesting experiences in my life involve training and working with Glenn and HRVG. I'm trying to get some of this written. It is a difficult task, but something that is most interesting to me.

Aloha,
Dick

gen_x
2006-Mar-04 Sat, 07:07
interesting snippett - I look forward to reading more!

thanx for sharing.

Gen

RJB
2006-Mar-06 Mon, 16:50
The book should really be something to behold once it is done. Remote viewing has also been one of the great experiences of my lifetime.