My dad was an MP stationed in Fort Lewis in the early 1960's. He's driven out with his best friend and his brother, leaving behind my mom. He did well enough in training to become and MP, though much to his regret, he was not allowed to use flame throwers. He told me of his experience(s) in the last year of his life, after we watched Communion. He cried when he told me. I'd only ever seen him cry two other times. When his brother died and when his dad died. As an MP, he often patrolled at night. Anyone who has ever spent time on a mountain knows you see weird things. I don't think he was prepared for what he saw. It started with orange blobs of light in the forest. Sometimes just one. Sometimes a group. When there more, he said it looked as though they were dancing. Then lights in the sky. These lights were large and moved with great speed and agility. He did not enjoy this kind experience. They often left him filled with dread. The last addition to his nighttime adventures were large beings in the forest. Tall, hairy and heavy set. They often appeared with the orange lights. These beings intrigued him. He looked up the native lore and came to enjoy seeing them. This led him to a lifelong love of the forest and Native lore. When he left the army, he was told to never speak of what he saw. To anyone. He was told he would lose, "everything he holds dear." His job, his family, friends. He left Washington along, losing his friend George because he had dared to speak to him about it. He wept over the loss of his friend. And as he told me all of this, very late at night, he looked over and asked if I had ever been abducted. I said no. I had lost time, but there was no abduction. "Thank God," he said. And wept again. He never spoke of it again.