Nomad News Vol 3-No.58

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS In Nomad News 33 dated April 28, 2010, I mentioned a series of events that seemed to be coincidences starting in 1940 that culminated in our move to Tennessee. I now believe it was planned destiny that guided us in this move. (If anyone would care to see this No.33, I will be happy to send it along) Then, after discovering the Irish Blessing which I will repeat: "May God grant you always, a sunbeam to warm you, A moonbeam to charm you, A sheltering angel so nothing can harm you", I have come to believe that I have had a sheltering angel all my life. Following are some close encounters that I have experienced, that I believe, indicate the prescence of some divine intervention: 1919, Haddonfield NJ: I contacted the deadly flu that killed half a million in America and millions worldwide, when I was less than a year old. My mother told me I nearly died. I credit this to help build my immune system. 1928, Owls Head, Maine: I was climbing a sheer wall of rock on the Maine coast with my brother Joe. Joe had reached the top and as I was reaching for the final few inches, my foothold gave way. As I dropped, Joe grabbed my hand and saved me from tumbling fifty or so feet to the rocky coast. 1929, Owls Head, Maine: My comic page hero was Buck Rogers. He and his friend Wilma, would fly through space in their flying belts in pursuit of their enemy, Killer Kane. I decided to make my own flying belt which I attached to my back. I selected a hill that was 30 or 40 feet above ground level and crowned with a stand of tall pine trees. The ground leading up to the trees was an abandoned granite quarry. I then gathered up some discarded rope a lobsterman had left on the beach and attached it near the top of the tallest tree; tying the other end to a bunch of scrub bushes at the foot of the hill. I climbed the tree, put a large farm pulley on the rope and atached the pulley to my "flying belt". I released my hold on the tree and sped down the rope, just like Buck. As I neared the bottom, the rope broke and I landed on my back amongst the granite. The scrub bushes broke my fall but I came away badly bruised. What if that rope had broken near the top of my flight? 1944, London: I was stationed near Oxford, about 60 kilometers north of London. The kid who taught me to fly was stationed in Northern England and flying A-20 Light Bombers. I made arrangements to visit him on a weekend I was free. I rook the train to London and arrrived at Paddington Station about 30 minutes late. When I reached street level, I looked down the street about half a block and saw workers removing bricks from a large pile of debris that blocked the street. I looked around and there was a Pub directly behind me. It was around noon so I entered the Pub, took a seat at the bar, and there on the bar was a doorknob attached to a piece of splintered wood. The bartender told me a German V-1 bomb had exploded half a block away about 30 minutes ago. Notice the time frame. I might possibly have had my hand on that doorknob when the bomb landed if my train had been on time. 1944, Charleroi, Belgium Airport: We had two rows of pyramidal tents and Quonset-type structures with a 15-foot company street inbetween. One evening when there was still some daylight, a plane flew overhead and I could tell by the sound of the engine that it was not one of ours. He continued for a few seconds and then turned back and turned on he power. I hollered "It's not ours" and we hit the deck. We then heard the "pop" "pop" of the 20mm gun and the "thud" "thud" as the bullets ran a line down the middle of the company street. Why the pilot chose the street for his target instead of either row of structures was and is a mystery. 1945, Venlo, Holland: The Venlo Airport straddled the border between Germany and Holland. Administration was in Holland and the runways were in Germany. Planes from my 33rd Photo Reconnaissance Squadron were the first Americans to take off from German soil. The area was generally flat with canals, etc. One day I had to return to my quarters for something and on returning I had to pass an opening about fifteen feet wide between the building and a very large-trunked tree. What transpired next, ocured in a second or two: As I approached the end of the building, I heard a thunderous roar coming from my right. When I moved into the open area, there coming toward me at the speed of light, and a roar like a bat out of Hell, approaching was an airplane, the like of which I had never seen. It was shaped like an artillery shell with short, stubby wings, no propeller, and a small canopy in which I could see the pilot. And he was "on the deck". I mean five feet or less. All I could do was utter "I'm dead" and expected to hear the machine gun. It didn't happen. He pulled up to clear the tree and when I turned around, he was nearly out of sight. I stood there transfixed and watched him disappear with no fearful emotion. Just this unearthly silence.  On getting back to my section, I learned the craft had strafed the airport, a couple of miles from our location.  The unofficial history of the 33rd Photo Reconn Squadron identified the craft as a ME 262.  Later, I identified it as a ME 1163 rocket-powered aircraft.  We knew the Germans had been experimenting with rocket-powered planes but we were not aware that they had any operational.I was probably one of the few persons who saw the plane so up close. 1960, Barnegat Light NJ: I had a cottage on the Jersey shore and one day I was painting around a window, standing on the first step from the top of a five-foot ladder. Just behind me were the large rocks of a former rock garden under some scrub pine and oak trees. The ground around the rocks was matted with ground ivy and years of rotted leaves. For some reason, I attempted to turn around and my feet got tangled. I fell backwards off the ladder and landed on my back. My head was cushioned by the ivy and leaves between two large rocks. An inch to the left and I would have hit the rock with the back of my head. 2010, Crossville TN: We were leaving the VFW Post 5025, Hwy 127 South. Yvette was driving and she is always very careful when pulling out of this driveway as there is traffic in both directions. This time there was no visible traffic so she pulled out in the left lane tomake a left turn and suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, there appeared two brilliant headlights that flooded our car. I looked left and as a crash was imminent, I turned my eyes straight ahead thinking "we're dead". Yvette uttered a low "Oh", then everything was unearthly quiet. It all happened in the matter of a second. Maybe less. Nothing passed in front of our car. It would have been all but impossible for the other vehicle to go behind us, at least without making some kind of noise. No screeching of brakes or skidding. Just this silence. I had no feeling of being scared or excited. It was surreal. We proceeded toward home in ssilence as if we couldn't believe we were still alive. There was only one answer. It had to pass over us. But how could this be possible. Was it a UFO that swerved up and over? What power could life a heavy object over another? What emotion did the occupants of the other vehicle feel? Was it my sheltering angel that I was'nt aware of at that time? 2011, Crossville TN: It was on a Sunday, and we were on our way to Shepherd of the Hills Luthern Church. Yvette was talking as we approached the STOP sign at Oak Ave. Her voice started to taper off as I proceeded and before we cleared the intersection I have no recollection until I came to the next STOP at Holiday Drive when her voice returned. Our car had travelled about half a mile. Who was in control? Me? I don't think so. Was it my sheltering angel? I had suffered a TIA (Mini stroke). A month later I was in Park West Hospital with the real thing. The MRI showed I had experienced an earlier incident. On searching back, several years before my stroke we were travelling north on I-81 in Virginia. I was driving and recall seeing a sign "Stanton 50 miles". We are now in Stanton and I did not recall travelling those 50 miles. I felt something was wrong but couldn't put my finger on it. I now believe that was the "former incident" I had experienced. Was my sheltering angel with me then? EPILOGUE: I cannot fathom this, so I have to believe it. I must have a sheltering angel that may not direct me, but most certainly seems to be protecting me. I will leave it up to anyone who reads this, to come to your own conclusion. I will appreciate any comments anyone wishes to pass along to me. Andy Dolan, Crossville TN P.S.: Hawkeye is the pseudonmyn under my Nomad News blogs are written