But the Condon’s committee’s findings on that point were, to say the least, troublesome. Firstly, they declared that a serious mistake was made in 1953 in not declassifying the entire UFO subject as recommended by the Robertson Panel. At the same time, they acknowledged that intelligence in this area deemed top secret was not under their purview and could play no role in their deliberations.
So on what basis could they possibly conclude that the refusal to declassify was a mistake when they themselves had not seen that information? The only possible answer was that they had begun with an assumption that all so-called UFOs had a rational and Earthbound explanation. From the outset they had dismissed any possibility of extraterrestrial involvement. But how could that starting point be justified when they didn’t have all the facts?
The Condon report declared that 21 years of scientific study of UFO cases had revealed nothing of value. Unspoken in this conclusion was the fact that anything even remotely interesting on the subject very quickly fell into military hands and was then unavailable for analysis by the broader scientific community. Ironically, in light of this, the Condon committee was probably justified in its conclusion that further scientific study on UFOs could not be justified.
But Condon seemed to be using that conclusion as a way of inferring that the entire topic was devoid of interest. The report noted that since 1947 officers of the US Air Force had consistently dismissed any possibility that UFOs were a hazard or threat to national security. In saying this, the committee at least acknowledged its own limitation in assessing the validity of the Air Force’s official position.
Borman, however, knew for a fact the Air Force’s official public position on UFOs was a crock of shit. Its concerns had for many years been deep and genuine. If Menzel was with Navy intelligence, he would surely know that too. It was similarly hard to believe the man was not smart enough to spot the flaws in the Condon committee’s argument. It was nothing more than a well-constructed smokescreen aimed at shutting down public interest in the subject.
Menzel was right about one thing — the serious media and the scientific community would eat this up. Sober consideration of the UFO phenomenon had just been thrown out the window like a paper plane tied to a rock.
“What are they doing up there, that’s what I wanna know,” said Lovell. He and Bill Anders had made themselves coffee and joined Borman at the conference table, looking much more calm and relaxed after a decent amount of sleep.
“Clearly their presence is no great surprise to the folks in defence intelligence,” said Anders. “Who briefed you, Frank? Was it the same guy who spoke to us?”
Borman was non-plussed. “He was ISR. Tall feller, jet black hair, thick-rimmed glasses. Said his name was Warren Frizell, but I figured that was probably a made-up name.”
The Air Force Intelligence, Surveillance and Reconnaissance Agency was generally tasked with gathering strategic information for combatant commanders. But like all arms of the security and intelligence community, the lines of jurisdiction were often blurred.
“Frizell. Same guy I spoke to,” said Lovell.
“Me too,” said Anders. “Did he tell you much, Frank?”
“He didn’t say what to look out for, just that we might see something out there on the far side after LOS. He also told me not to talk about it with anyone, including you two. But heck, we all saw it, whatever it was.” He thought about it for a moment, half wondering whether to say any more. But he’d been through too much with these guys to hold back now. “I think they’re mostly concerned about us saying anything publicly, or to anyone else at NASA.”
“You don’t think NASA knows about this?” asked Anders.
Borman shook his head. “This sort of information is very closely held. It’s highly classified. You can’t keep control of those sorts of secrets if they’re being passed around inside an organisation as big as NASA.”
“Someone’s going to ask us whether we thought it was the Russians,” said Lovell.
“The Russians would be rubbing our noses in it if they had that kind of capability,” said Borman.
“Whoever, whatever they are, it looked to me like they’re operating from some sort of base out there on the far side,” said Anders. “Maybe ISR already knows that much. But I bet they don’t know a whole lot more. They’ll want us to assure them there’s no security threat.”
“If that bogey posed a genuine threat, I’m guessing we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation,” said Borman.
“What did Frizell want you to do with the spy camera?” asked Lovell.
“He said I’d be contacted when we get back to Houston.”
“It’s all a bit haphazard, isn’t it,” said Anders.
“I guess the mission happened so quickly they didn’t have a lot of time to work out a better plan. We threw this flight plan together in a couple of months. That must’ve caught them by surprise,” said Borman.
NASA’s decision to send Apollo 8 to the Moon had been made on the run. Their initial flight plan was to remain in orbit around the Earth to test docking and undocking with the lunar module. Except production of the LM was behind time. Then Apollo manager George Low had the bright idea to head to the Moon sooner — they couldn’t land, but they could be the first manned mission to go into orbit. That was back in August. A little more than three months later, Apollo 8 was heading to the Moon.
“So where exactly does Donald Menzel fit into the picture?” asked Anders.
“He’s a renowned UFO sceptic,” said Lovell. “He’s written a couple of books debunking the whole thing. But after our little encounter this morning, I can’t help wondering if there’s more to him than meets the public eye.”
“You heard him — he’s involved in secret aviation project development,” said Anders. “He’s not your typical scientist, he’s got an agenda.”
“It can’t be a coincidence he’s here now, waving around the Condon committee report,” Borman acknowledged. “He must know what the ISR knows.”
“But he can’t possibly know for sure that we saw something,” said Anders. “We haven’t told anyone. You figuring on letting the cat out of the bag, Frank?”
“Jim might have done that already with his little Santa Claus reference,” said Borman irritably.
Lovell shrugged sheepishly. “That was just a bit of capcom banter.”
“I don’t plan on saying anything if I don’t have to,” said Borman. “We’ve been ordered not to talk, remember? Maybe Menzel himself would prefer it that way. He’s already made it clear it’s in our interests to keep our mouths shut and he can’t have it both ways. No, I’m not telling him a damn thing.”
Lovell had begun flicking through the Condon report, perhaps initially to escape Borman’s ire, but the conclusions quickly caught his attention. “This thing’s a whitewash. They had their minds made up from the get-go.”
“That’s right,” said Borman. “It’s a crock. But Menzel is doing us a favour, giving us the heads up on it. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t see anything to be gained by going against the flow. Particularly if either of you are still harbouring ideas about heading back up there on later missions.”
“I’d go back in a heartbeat,” said Lovell.
Anders nodded in resigned agreement.
“If I know one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt, it’s that Deke Slayton will drop you both like hot pebbles if we go out there and start talking about strange lights chasing us on the far side of the Moon.”
“Or telling people we believe in Santa Claus?” Lovell quipped.
“Exactly who was that line intended for, by the way?” Borman asked him.