Documents / Report
The Roswell Report: Case Closed is a 1997 Headquarters United States Air Force report by Captain James McAndrew that follows up the 1994 Air Force report on the Roswell Incident. It concludes that the 1947 debris came from Project MOGUL balloons. It also says the reported alien bodies were probably anthropomorphic dummies dropped from high altitude balloons. Claims of bodies at the Roswell hospital most likely combined a 1956 KC-97 crash and a 1959 manned balloon mishap.
“Headquarters”13 pages
## A Cover-Up?
Countering claims of a cover-up, Air Force projects that used anthropomorphic dummies and human subjects were unclassified and widely publicized in numerous newspaper and magazine stories, books, and television reports. These included a book written by test pilot Kittinger, The Long, Lonely Leap, another book, Man High, by MAN HIGH Project Scientist, Lt. Col. David G. Simons (MC), a feature article in National Geographic, and cover stories in Life, Collier's, Popular Mechanics, and Time. $ ^{47} $ A characterization of Kittinger's record parachute jump even appeared in the adolescent magazine, MAD. $ ^{48} $ The intense public interest in HIGH DIVE, EXCELSIOR and other aero medical projects conducted at Holloman AFB also resulted in a 1956 Twentieth Century Fox full-length motion picture, On the Threshold of Space (see page 38).
Fig. 26. This photo of Capt. Joseph W. Kittinger, Jr. taken by a remotely operated camera on the EXCELSIOR III gondola, was featured in the December 1960 National Geographic.
# The Long, Lonely Leap
World's highest jump tests a new type of parachute for high-altitude flyers and scientists returning from the threshold of space
By CAPT. JOSEPH W. KITTINGER, JR., USAF
Illustrations by National Geographic photographer VOLKMAR WENTZEL
OVERHEAD my onion-shaped balloon spread its 200-foot diameter against a black daytime sky. More than 18 1/2 miles below lay the cloud-hidden New Mexico desert to which I shortly would parachute.
Sitting in my gondola, which gently twisted with the balloon's slow turnings, I had begun to sweat lightly, though the temperature read $ 3 6^{\circ} $ below zero Fahrenheit. Sunlight burned in on me under the edge of an aluminized antiglare curtain and through the gondola's open door.
In my earphones crackled the voice of Capt. Marvin Feldstein. one of our project's two doctors, from ground control at Holloman Air Force Base:
"Three minutes till jump. Joe."
I was ready to go, for more reasons than one. For about an hour—as the balloon rose from 50,000 to 102,800 feet above sea level—I had been exposed to an environment requiring the protection of a pressure suit and helmet, and the fear of their failure had always been present. If either should break, unconsciousness would come in 10 or 12 seconds, and death within two minutes.
In our altitude-chamber flights at the laboratory, I always
"Lord, take care of me now," I pray, then take the big step off that begins my return from the edge of space, a 13-minute, 45-second plunge to an earth wrapped in clouds. The lanyard attached to my parachute pack is my last link with the gondola. It starts a timer on a small stabilization chute that will open 16 seconds later and prevent horizontal spinning. Without stabilization, man could not survive a jump from these high altitudes.
A National Geographic camera mounted above the gondola took this remarkable photograph at 102,800 feet.
MS ENTOMOLOGY NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY Report, cited by the archive. The PDF is mirrored here; the original link is under it. The text was read from the page images by an OCR model; expect the odd misread word. 232 pages are in the text index: search them above, or from the library's search.