“Yes, Mr. President, you heard me right, another invasion, this time in Nevada.” Admiral Arthur W. Radford, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, kept it brief and to the point. No time for unnecessary words. This was a matter requiring immediate action.

President Dwight D.Eisenhower rubbed the sleep from his eyes and squinted at the bedside clock. It said three o’clock in the morning. “This better be important,” he thought. Speaking into the Pentagon hotline telephone, he demanded, “What do we know so far?”

Radford gave a quick report. “Two days ago, apparently a single pilot, his ship crashed and burned just north of Las Vegas. Body recovered. The damn thing’s alive.”

“What!? Who’s alive? What kind of invasion? Las Vegas? How did they get so far inland? Quick, man, I need answers!” The President was suddenly wide awake.

“We have already begun containment procedures, Mr. President. We would like to meet with you as soon as possible… today… to go over details. Best not speak over the phone, even this phone, with Hoover and all.”

“Understood. That nosy bastard is everywhere.” Presidents tolerated J. Edgar Hoover, but there was no love for the man. He was irritatingly intrusive, and he liked to preen for the press. It was important to keep the FBI out of this for as long as possible.

“I have a full schedule today, which I can cancel,” the President continued.

“I would suggest you keep to your schedule and routines as usual, Mr. President, to not attract curiosity. Can we meet this evening, say at 2200 hours?” Radford was a man of action, a military man, pratical and clear-thinking. Eisenhower liked that.

“Roger that, Admiral. 2200.” Eisenhower hung up the phone and immediately went into action. He donned his robe and slippers, and headed downstairs to the Presidential library, to Truman’s files.

In the library, Eisenhower walked past the rows of bookcases and opened the door to the back room. The walls of the room were lined with file cabinets labeled with the names of some of the most powerful men the world had ever seen. These were the personal notes of the Presidents of the United States. He walked directly to the last file cabinet. The top drawer had FDR’s notes, just before he died, during the final year of World War II. He let his fingers linger for a moment over that label, allowing a brief wash of thoughts and feelings about the second great war.

Eisenhower then opened the next drawer, labeled Harry S. Truman. The drawer was organized into sections by year. He went directly to the section marked “1947.” He walked his fingers through the alphabetically ordered files until he got the the R’s. “Here it is,” he said to himself. “Roswell.”