This was back in the days of old when Knights were bold .... sorry thats another story. In late 79 we were on patrol down in the dark, damp, dank bowels of Ranier Training area. Moving through the underbrush with a full moon is not too bad, but on those overcast misty Pacific Northwest normal nights itis near impossible. This was one such night, visibility in open areas was down to 25 meters and in the thick stuff near zero. Our squad was hot stuff with some real good men who were at home in any environment. We had been togather for over a year for the most part with many expeditions to South Ranier under our belts. For those who have never ventured into the vicinage of Ft Lewis, it is as thick as anything I ever encountered in the jungles of Panama.

The legion was on a recon this momentous night, moving with utmost stealth through the deadfall and underbrush. Trousers sucked tight to your legs soaked from water shrouded ferns and grass. Mold spores and decaying deciduous leaves filled our nostrels with the sweet smell of the deep woods. Tension was high as we departed the objective, could we return home without being compromised now the dirty deed was done. Movement was slow at best, I was with the main element when Ranger Walker sent word up through the patrol we were being followed. I halted the patrol and moved back to talk with Walker and access the situation. Walker was older than most Buck Sgts, he had been through NOLS and other outdoor courses in addition many years of hiking, not the type to cry wolf. Upon reaching him he said there had been someone following us for about 45 minutes, out about some 50-60 yards. He could not tell how many were in the patrol but they were not the most surreptitious bunch, crunching a branch now and again or letting a branch crack as they moved it out of their way.

Quick plans were made to ambush these would-be mercenaries. We would move up about 250 meters and dog-leg back setting up some 35-40 feet from our present track. All went smoothly, men were camoufladged flank security was posted, NVGs deployed and our group of dauntless dogfaces waited fingers resting lightly on our triggers. Tension settled in like a heavy ruck into your shoulders, who would dare attempt to compromise us. Who felt they could move up on us from the rear and take us down like some gaggel of neophytes. Movement was detected off to the right of the ambush site by flank security about 50 yards out from their position. Ears strained to pick up any noise that drifted through the midnight mist. Saftey selectors slowly rotated to the fire position, eyes swept the forest attempting to exude any visible movement or unnatural shapes. As one we heard the patrol come to a halt after comming to within 20 yards of flank security. All was in ready for a successful ambush of these bold bozos, but they held fast. Nothing moved for what seemed like an eturnity. Then they truned away from our ambush! Not one of us had so mush as passed gas, let alone make any noise they could have heard. No lights had been used, not even the IR source lights on the NVGs.

Their movement was slow and delebrate, but as we listened more closly it was not a patrol but a single man. He moved out from the ambush site some 20 yards and stopped, then turned and walked parallel to our front. This guy was good whoever he was. I thought it might be the PSG an old Nam vet with four tours who never ceased to amaze us with his tactial poweress. It could be another patrol from Bn, hell whoever it was he had us dead nuts. He moved slowly down the line keeping out the same distance, never closer, never further, just methodical movement. Not wanting to totaly compromise the mission we held our fire. He passed left flank security and kept moving for about the same 20 yards, then sotpped, turned and proceeded to move to our rear. This guy was going to box the patrol perfectly! In the dark without a trace of light or any noise from us he was keeping the same distance from us to him.

Walking back towards the concealed patrol a strange aroma drifted on zeffers of the heavy night air. Hair stood streight out on the back of my neck as this repugnant, macabe, odiferous scent filled my entire being. Never in all my life had I smelled such a stench. Wet dog hair, cheap beer barf, the crotch of a cheap hooker and a field latrine on a Range in Georgia mixed togather couldn't begin to match what we smelled that night. IT stopped directly behind the patrol just about 60 feet and stood for an eternity. One of the men could not take the pressure of remaining motionless while he felt we were being stalked by something from another time and world. He started to crawl away from whatever it was that stood behind us. Hearing this noise IT moved quickly away, leaving us there to sort out what had just happened.

I can not say just what followed my patrol that night. I can not tell you why none of us never turned on a flashlight to see what IT was. I can only tell you what I and most of the other guys could assertain. We beleived we had just had a Bigfoot encounter. On many a night while stationed at Ft Lewis (75-82) I, or people I knew heard sounds like none other. Things crashing through underbrush unpassable by even the hardest Ranger, that unmistakable stench, or a scream that is something between a Peacock cry and a woman in extream fear all were experanced by some.

Pat Mooney
2/75*79-82
1/75*84-85
Regt Hq*85-86

I am supposing they did not have live rounds for their weapons.

I am supposing that even if they did, that determining the difference between a sasquatch and an instructor, by blazing away in the direction of footfall sounds is rather frowned upon.

Besides they were exfiltrating from the mission objective trying to remain undetected, shooting up the forest on the offchance of hitting cryptids would appear to me to be contrary to that aim.

And thirdly, it took off when one of them shifted position, if that had not happened it possibly would have been procedure to go and check it out.

I think it will tend to happen like that over and over until you can get the Commander in Chief to issue a standing order to the effect that shooting cryptids, probable cryptids, or just blazing away in the general direction of odd noises, is to take precedence over all other orders and missions, such as say guarding nukes, or thwarting terrorists.



On the tone of the piece, I doubt a major in English language and creative writing is very high on the list of qualifications needed to be a ranger, or for submitting fan-fic. I would suspect he was trying to create atmosphere, it was for his ranger buddies not the official report.