One afternoon in the winter of 1977, he [Harold Proch from Munich] stood in the attic of the old farmhouse helping Meier print the contact notes. Suddenly Meier's foreheaed began to glisten and his eyes closed. After a few seconds, the color returned to his face and his eyes opened once again. When Harold asked him if he was all right, Meier said only that there would be a contact later that night.

In the kitchen after dark, Harold and Jakobus [Jakobus Bertschinger] waited for Meier to receive another telepathic contact. About one o'clock Meier came into the kitchen, saying it was time to leave. They drove in Jakobus's old blue Volkswagen for almost an hour until they reached a narrow dirt road in the forest, where Meier told Jakobus to stop.

"It was pitch dark," Harold later remembered. "Billy said he would leave, and we had to wait there. Jakobus was so scared he trembled. I still remember that."

The night was bitter, ten to fifteen degrees below zero on the Celsius scale. While waiting for Meier to return, Jakobus stayed close to the car; but Harold, trying to keep warm, paced back and forth about a hundred feet away. The two men said little to each other. Meier had not been gone long when suddenly they heard the sound of the beamship. Months earlier, Harold had heard the original cassette of the sounds, the ones recorded the afternoon Hans Schutzbach had stood in a field with Meier and listened to the eerie resonance until the police came. Harold had noted immediately that there were other sounds as well on the tape--a car horn, a dog barking in the background. Now, as he stood in the dark and the cold listening to the strange warbling noise, he strained to hear the telltale bark of a dog or the honk of a horn, either of which would have proved to him that Meier was simply rebroadcasting the same recording. Harold had served in the army for two years, where he had been trained to detect the origin of sounds in the forest at night. But that night, as he listened, he had no idea from where the sound came.

"I tried to find out whether it came from above, below, or the side," he recalled. "When you hear a sound it reflects from the sides. But you could not know where this came from." Nor did he hear any other sound, only the the eerie pulsating of the beamship somewhere in the sky above their heads.

When the sound subsided, the walkie-talkie crackled with Meier's voice, directing them to a place about a mile away, where they found him at the side of the road waiting.