When I was 11 years old and living in the small town of New Boston, N.H., a friend and I saw something that was not only never explained, but actually denied. It was the middle of summer and we were walking up Meeting House Hill Road, toward our homes, after buying a couple of sodas at the general store. Suddenly, flying fairly high above us, a pure white, cigar-shaped object zipped across the cloudless blue sky, in complete silence.
My friend and I looked at each other in shock, and ran the few hundred feet remaining to our houses to tell our parents. They came outside, as did several neighbors, and as if on cue, this strange object whipped back across the sky. This time, however, it was being chased by a couple of Air Force fighter jets — until it accelerated to a seemingly impossible speed.
By strange coincidence, there was an Air Force tracking station (now part of the Space Force) in New Boston, as well as what was then Pease Air Force Base about 60 miles away. My father called both places and was promptly — and officially — told that there were no Air Force jets in the area and it must have been a figment of our imagination.
Two days later, still upset by the denial of something we all saw, the child sleuth in me decided to walk the five miles to the Air Force tracking station and — I hope the statute of limitations has run out on this — break into the facility by digging a small tunnel under the fence. But after finding no Area 51/Roswell-like smoking gun evidence, I dejectedly walked home and then mostly forgot about it.
That is, until last week.
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