"I was part of a government cover-up for 17 years. I was the officer in charge of photographic instrumentation at Vandenberg Air Force Base from 1963 to 66.” Bob Jacobs said in an October 2021 press conference.

He was in charge of a 100-man unit responsible for photographing and videoing top secret intercontinental ballistic missile tests. Stationed in what is now Vandenberg Space Force Base near Los Angeles, California, his boss Major Mansmann asked him to install a new super long-range video camera system north in Big Sur.

The new theodolite, or telescope, could "see with clarity at 160 miles! (257km) It was incredible," Jacobs described.

Lieutenant Jacobs did as ordered. He took his team to Big Sur, a picturesque national park near Monterrey in Central California, and set up the massive new device. It proved much more capable than the previous system.

On 14 September 1964, the missile launched from Vandenberg Air Force base and headed towards its target, a tiny atoll in the Pacific Ocean.

The payload of the missile was a dummy nuclear warhead. The launch tested a new chaff system to decoy Russian anti-nuclear missile systems.


Flawless

The launch went flawlessly. Dr. Jacobs' team locked the missile right at launch. The old tracking systems showed the rocket. The new massive telescope was also tracking nominally. Even though the team couldn’t see the live view because it used kinescope recording, they had radar tracking and knew the test was a success. Pop the champagne. Everyone celebrated.

They packed up and went back to the Base.

Two days later, Major Mansmann called Jacobs.

“Lieutenant come to my office immediately,” Mansmann said.

Jacobs went to strategic headquarters and reported as ordered.

"I'll describe to you what I saw," Jacobs said in an October 2021 interview on Bob Salas's YouTube. "There's a table and a 16mm projector. On the wall was a daylight screen. There were two guys in grey flannel suits, men. And Major Mansmann.

‘Sit down, Lieutenant,’ I sat down, and Major Mansmann said, ‘Now watch this.’ He flipped on the projector, and the most amazing thing happened!

We could see the bottom three stages of the rocket clearly, from 160 miles (or 257 kilometers) away!

The clarity was beautiful, and we watched it going through all three stages of flight. We could see it, incredibly, at a long distance. It was heading for quadrella.”

It was a dummy warhead. The test was to see if the new Atlas D Nose Cone missile system could put out chaff to decoy the Russian anti-missile systems.

In the video, Jacobs watched the nose cone of the rocket flying in subspace, traveling 8,000 miles per hour. The nose cone opened as planned, and a metallic chaff cloud exited. The chaff cloud reflected in the sunlight.

Then the warhead, shaped like a giant bullet, smoothly exited the nose cone and passed the chaff. The test was going as planned to this point.

An object

"Then, an object flew into the frame from the left, the same direction we had been going." Jacobs continued. “It flew above the warhead and fired a beam of light at the warhead. It then flew in front of the warhead and fired another beam of light. It flew below the warhead and fired another beam. Then it passed behind the warhead, fired the fourth beam of light, and departed the same way it had entered the video. At that point, the warhead tumbled out of the field of view. The film stopped.

"Lieutenant Jacobs," Major Mansmann said, "were you guys screwing around out there?"

"No, sir," Jacobs said.

"Well then, what was that?" Mansmann said.

"Looks to me like we've got a UFO," Jacobs said.

"You are never to say that again! As far as you're concerned. This never happened. You understand?" Mansmann said.

"Yes, sir," Jacobs said.

"I don't need to remind you of the seriousness of a security breach, do I?"

"No, sir."

"Okay, you are dismissed, lieutenant."

As Jacobs walked to the door, Major Mansmann followed him and leaned over to his ear.

"If you are ever being tortured over this…and you have to give them something, tell them 'it was laser tracking.'"

The US didn't have laser tracking at the time. Lasers were still laboratory projects in 1964.

Jacobs left and kept his mouth shut for 17 years.

And then he realized something. His Officer oath required he maintain secret information secret. But this was never classified. This "never happened."

Jacobs published his story in the National Enquirer. After that, his life changed. He started receiving threatening phone calls at his home. Someone bombed his mailbox and cursed him on the phone as it exploded. He moved his family to a small rural town. He lost a job because of it.



simulation- credit Bob Salas


Why lie?

"Why would I lie about this? Why would Major Mansmann lie about this? I've received no money. My family and I have been hassled. I've been ridiculed. Nothing good has come from this, but I continue to tell my story because it's important for people to know that governments do this type of stuff and hide information from their citizens, who have a right to know."

“It was, by the way, a flying saucer. It was shaped like a flying saucer with a ping pong ball on top. And it was shooting our warheads with a beam of light from the ping pong ball.”

But he was ordered to cover it up, and he did.

What happened to the film?

Mansmann later revealed what happened to the film. After Jacobs left, the two men turned to Mansmann.

"I don’t need to explain to you understand the seriousness of a security breach, do I?" said one of the men.

"No, sir!" Mansmann said.

The men then cut out the part of the film with the saucer and put it in a briefcase, and left.

This never happened.

What do you guys think of this story? Have you seen anything you couldn’t explain? We love to hear from you at The Portugal News. Watch the interview and my assessment on my YouTube Channel, "Chris Lehto"

Author

Chris Lehto, ex-F-16 pilot, and YouTuber, combines aviation expertise and passion for the unexplained to investigate UAPs. He founded the UAP Society, funding decentralised research into alien existence using NFTs.

Chris Lehto