The Giant Claw

Once, the world was big and no man in his lifetime could circle it.

Through the centuries, science has made man's lifetime bigger and the world smaller.

Now the farthest corner of the Earth is as close as a pushbutton.

And time has lost all meaning

as manmade devices speed many, many times faster than sound itself.

Here, near the top of the world, free men struggle with the elements

to create some measure of defense to protect that self-same freedom.

Distant Early Warning radar,

sensitive electronic devices to detect the presence of objects in the sky,

including bombing planes and guided missiles

and rain clouds and homing pigeons.

New radar installations must be calibrated by the flying of controlled test flights

to check the accuracy of the equipment and to chart a detection profile of the area

in order to pinpoint blind spots the radar cannot penetrate.

Bravo 8035. Angels 9.

Bravo 7540. Angels 9.

Bravo 7045. Angels 9.

Test Flight. Test Flight. This is Snowman Three. Give me a reading. Over.

Snowman Three, this is Test Flight.

Flying vector, 340 degrees from IP. Angels 10. Speed, 400.

How do you read me? Over.

Everything checks but the altitude, Mitch. We read you at Angels 9.

Altimeter reads 10,000 on the nose.

Better check the level on the antenna mount.

Roger.

How about Mademoiselle Mathematician?

She got enough numbers to feed into her machines yet?

Do you have all the information you need, Miss Caldwell?

One more run, please. Low level coming in.

One more, Mitch. Vector 105 degrees, low.

Roger. Turning 180 degrees, low approach.

This is Test Flight, over and out.

I didn't know pilots were allowed to do things like that.

Not Air Force pilots, you're right. But Mitch is an electronics engineer.

He may work for the government, but, ma'am, he kinda makes his own rules.

So does a three-year-old child until his mother spanks him.

- Mother, dear mother, I'm ready if you are. - I must have left the switch on.

An electronics engineer. A radar officer.

A mathematician and systems analyst. A radar operator. A couple of plotters.

People doing a job, well, efficiently. Serious, having fun. Doing a job.

Situation, normal for the moment.

Date, the 17th of the month. Sky cloudy, overcast. Visibility limited.

Time, 1332 hours. A significant moment in history.

A moment when an electronics engineer named Mitchell MacAfee

saw something in the sky.

Something that was almost the beginning of the end of life on this Earth.

MacAfee reported instantly by radio the sighting of a UFO,

an unidentified flying object.

The radar officer replied that it was impossible.

According to the radar scope, except for Mitch's plane,

there wasn't a single, solitary object of any nature whatsoever.

Nothing in the sky for a radius of hundreds of miles.

MacAfee didn't care what the radar showed or didn't show.

He knew what he saw with his own eyes.

And he was determined to get a better look.

MacAfee turned, and so did the unidentified flying object heading toward him.

There was no mistaking the urgency in MacAfee's voice.

Something, he didn't know what,

but something as big as a battleship had just flown over and past him

at speeds so great he couldn't begin to estimate it.

In national defense, it's better to be safe than sorry.

The alert was sounded to scramble interceptors.

- Well? - Well, what?

Now, let's not play games, Major. Did your men find it?

Mr. MacAfee, if you were in uniform, I'd have you under arrest

and facing general court martial charges. Unfortunately, you're a civilian.

- And I can't touch you. - What are you talking about?

But I can send in a report in on you and I will.

By the time I get through with you, Mr. Electronics Engineer,

you'll be lucky if they let you test batteries for flashlights.

Look, Major Bergen, I was flying a final calibration flight.

I spotted a UFO, I reported it. Does that make me a criminal,

a traitor to my country, or some kind of a psychopath?

MacAfee, you're an electronics man, an expert on radar.

- Sure, that's what they pay me for. - lf there was something in the air,

something flying that you could see, would radar pick it up?

- Well, yes, but... - Would radar pick it up? Yes or no?

- Yes. - There were three radars on you.

Every minute you were in the air and not one of them, not one, saw anything but you.

- Look, Major... - You were told this. You knew it.

Nevertheless, you persisted with your little joke.

- Easy now, Bergen. - You continued to yell wolf

until somebody pushed the panic button and scrambled a flight of interceptors.

Great. Great. So your buzz boys flew around, they couldn't find anything,

so now you're mad and want me to pay for the fuel they burned up

or the time they wasted or something else real smart.

The flight was scrambled and dispersed to cover as wide an area as possible.

And thanks to your not-so-funny false alarm, Mr. MacAfee,

one of those planes didn't come back.

Plane and pilot, both are missing.

Major Bergen. What?

Yes. Yeah. Yes. Call out the stand-by crews.

You better reshuffle your duty rosters. There'll be plenty of sweat on this one.

Look, Major, I'm sorry about the pilot, but that was no false alarm.

Oh, come off it, Mitch. You've done enough harm with your flying battleship.

- Just let it... - Just a moment, Miss Caldwell.

That call. A Transpolar Airlines plane is reported overdue and missing.

- Oh, no! - Sixty passengers and a full crew aboard.

Got a distress call from the pilot, then nothing. No more contact.

- Engine trouble? - No.

The pilot yelled something about a UFO. Then the radio went dead.

- And our radars? - Nothing. Nothing but the Transpolar plane.

Alone in the sky.

Well, we're finished up here, Major.

- You got transportation ready? - Plane and pilot in the field.

- Fly you straight through to New York. - Thanks. Let's go, Sally.

Hang on. I'll be back in a minute.

Hi, Pete. Getting too rough to work back there.

I thought the poop on the weather was we'd have it soft all the way into New York.

- Seems to be a local front, Mitch. - How about flying over it?

Can do. Wait till I call in.

This is Air Force Zebra Love 7979 calling New York lnternational Airport. Over.

Zebra Love 7979. This is New York International Airport. Over.

Altitude 8,000, air speed 250.

Meeting unexpected storm activity, Adirondack region.

Request permission to change altitude to 12,000. Over.

Zebra Love 7979. Permission granted. Over.

Zebra Love 7979. Roger. Out.

- Like I said, no sweat. - Thanks, Pete.

I'll put in a good word for you with the Major.

Oh, thanks loads.

Well, I won't know until I run it through the computer,

but it looks like the profiler that dips here like this for an extensive blind spot.

Yeah.

Well, either that antenna is really tilted

or we've got a topographical high spot here we didn't figure on

that's shading the whole strip.

- Could you get that relief map? - Oh, yes. Right here.

Mitch. Mitch. Come up here!

- What gives? - Sit down, Mitch.

- Well? - Something might be coming up.

- Such as what? - Unidentified flying object.

- Flew right over us. - Not you, too.

Oh, save the cracks. I've already called it in to lnternational.

Mitch, I sure enough saw something like a cloud.

Only it was moving too fast for any cloud. Right at our course from northeast.

Two bits it never showed up on a single radar scope.

- What? - Never mind. I don't see anything but sky.

Neither do l, now. I lost it when it got right overhead.

Where'd that come from? We don't register a hatful of wind.

Brother, that was more than a hatful.

- Are you all right? - I think so. How about you?

I'm okay. Pete's in bad shape. Let's go.

Down! It's going to blow up.

What happened? It felt like something collided with us up there.

Yeah. The flying battleship that wasn't there.

- Hello! Hello! - Here. Over here.

It's good applejack. I make it myself. Fine for the snakebite.

Hello, Pierre. Mr. MacAfee?

That's right.

That the pilot?

Yeah.

Okay, boys.

They made a reservation for you on a commercial flight into New York City.

Sending a car to take you and the young lady to the airport.

What about the wrecked plane?

We've got orders to seal off the area. Real hush-hush.

What happened? You tangle with a flying saucer or something?

Oh, nothing so domestic as a flying saucer, Officer. Just a flying battleship.

Well, have a good time with your flying battleship.

Your car will be here soon.

- Where's the plane, Pierre? - North 14, past the road.

Let's go, boys.

Hello? Oui, this is the farm of Pierre Broussard.

Who? Oh, one moment.

A General Van Buskirk for you, Mr. MacAfee.

I feel another snakebite coming on. More medicine.

Well, flying battleship, pink elephant. Same difference.

You really should try buttermilk instead.

I said it looked like a battleship, not that it was a battleship.

I should have called it an overgrown adding machine.

Then at least you would've believed me.

General Buskirk? MacAfee here.

Yes, sir. I am aware that the pilot called in a UFO.

No, I didn't see anything myself this time. Neither did Miss Caldwell.

Oh, the radar picked up nothing but our plane in the area.

Well, I was kind of expecting that too.

Joke? False alarm?

Look here, General, what kind of an infantile jackass do you take me for? I tell you that...

Thank you.

Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir.

I understand, sir.

When the shepherd cried wolf, they believed him. The first time at least.

Civil Aeronautics Board is sending up an investigating team

first thing in the morning.

So is the Air Force, as soon as the CAB is done.

When we get to New York, we're to keep ourselves available for questioning.

This glass must have a hole in it. Keeps disappearing.

- How's the jug holding up, Pierre? - You like Pierre's applejack, oui?

Ah, perfect antidote for snakebite, thunder, lightning, and disbelieving generals.

Fill her up, Pierre.

- What's that? - Something scared the animal!

It's Pierre!

Over here.

Easy, Pierre, easy. You're safe. You're in the house.

- Carcagne! It was the carcagne! I saw her! - What's a carcagne, Pierre?

- Come on, tell us about it. - It's the devil in the storm.

With the face of the wolf and the body of the woman with wings.

- Bigger than I can tell. - You probably saw an eagle, Pierre.

- Oh, no! It was la carcagne! La carcagne! - Oh, I remember now.