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This FAB CENDOC file, released through The Black Vault, holds material from 1978. Part of it is an issue of International UFO Reporter, edited by J. Allen Hynek, with a long report on the October 21, 1978 disappearance of pilot Fred Valentich over Bass Strait. That report includes his radio transcript, the search, and the competing explanations. The file also has a Brazilian newspaper clipping and a Fourth Regional Air Command investigation of a July 1978 landing report by eleven-year-old Dalton Legnaioli in Penha, São Paulo.
Read from the scan by GLM-OCR; expect the odd misread word.
# WHAT WAS THAT METALLIC NOISE?
Valentien in Cockpit
No progress was made in identifying the nature of the metallic noise heard at the end of Fred Valentich's transmission. After the pilot said his last words ("Delta Sierra Juliet, Melbourne..." he held the microphone open for 17 seconds. It was here that the noises were heard. Although the Department of Transport won't play the tape to the public while the inquiry is underway, they have played it back to Valentich's father, Guido. According to the elder Valentich, Fred seemed fairly calm until the very last call he made; then "his voice seemed to diminish in strength as if he was gasping or choking". Guido Valentich then heard the metallic noise being broadcast and likened it to a microphone swinging freely and banging against something. He feels
Fred might have collapsed with his finger still holding down the button on the mike and it was his arm swinging. Other opinions have been ventured. One Department of Transport report described the noise as "two empty beer cans being banged together". The controller who was in contact with Valentich, Steve Robey, said "it sounded like the rapid keying of a mike." A more dramatic appraisal in the press had the noise being "typical of a plane landing on the water like the metal being torn off the bottom."
The Department of Transport feels that the "open microphone" breaks throughout the transmission occurred when Valentich turned to look out of the window while holding the button down.
# FRED VALENTICH: A PERSONAL PROFILE
Fred Valentich got out of bed on Oct. 21 at 7:30 AM, the time he always got up. He showered, shaved and donned a pair of jeans and a blue, open-neck shirt. After eating a light breakfast of toast and coffee, he left his parents, telling them he would probably be back late and not to worry. When he left the house, he took $200 with him to buy the crayfish from King Island fishermen. Then he drove to the disposal store on Puckle St. in Moonee Ponds where he worked as assistant manager.
Arriving at work at 9 AM, he met the owner of the store, Dick Williams and talked about sports. His normal duties were checking stock, sweeping up and serving customers. Fred's employer told the SUNDAY PRESS that "Fred was very quiet that day, but then again he was quiet most of the time. He was the type of bloke who never spoke unless he had something to say. On this particular day, he seemed cheerful enough. If there was something bothering him, he was hiding it well enough. The only thing I remember was that he was very anxious to finish work.
"He mentioned something about flying over to King Island and he seemed very excited. I'll never forget his last words as he walked outside.
He looked up at the clear, blue sky and said: 'It's going to be a nice day to go flying.'
Then Fred attended a 31/2-hour class in meteorology at Moorabbin Airport, which ended at 6 PM. Ironically, he had taken with him a book filled with a collection of UFO and "space" clippings in it. He was still in good spirits when he chatted with a few friends before walking over to the Cessna he rented . . . and at 6:19 PM, VH: DSJ was airborne—for the last time.
Fred Valentich, the oldest of four children, was born in Melbourne shortly after his parents migrated from Trieste, Italy in 1957. His father, Guido, is a design draftsman who met his wife on the voyage out In 1955. Fred grew up in his home town of Avondale Heights a tall, skinny boy with wavy black hair. A former teacher at Keilor High School described him as quiet, friendly and popular. "He wasn't what you'd call a brilliant student but he was a determined kid who seemed to have made up his mind what he wanted to do in life at a very early age." meaning flying.
His parents agree that he wanted to be a pilot before he was 12 years old. "Once I took him down to
Moorabbin and we went up in an aeroplane and ever since then he wanted to be a pilot," his father said. "I didn't take much notice until he was 17 and joined the Air Training Corps." His mother, Alberta, said that despite his other hobbles, "flying was the thing that made him the most happy. At first we tried to convince him to give up the idea because we felt it was too dangerous. But he was so keen on it, he eventually talked us into letting him go for his private license. In fact, he wanted his commercial pilot's license so bad, he became terrified of failing the course.
"He was very superstitious, too, and for this reason he avoided telling many people that he was going for it. Somehow he believed that this could bring him bad luck." Mrs. Valentich had even taken on a part-time job as a shop assistant to help pay for her son's commercial pilot course. "I didn't mind making the sacrifice. We are a close family who like to help each other. We all wanted Freddle to succeed. We were very proud of him."
His mother described him as a shy young man who had difficulty talking to people, especially girls. Miss Rhonda Rushton was a rare example of dating for him. Document, cited by the archive. The PDF is mirrored here; the original link is above. The text was read from the page images by GLM-OCR; expect the odd misread word. 86 pages are in the text index: search them above, or from the library's search.