And most important of all are they visiting us? In the early 1970’s UFO groups were very much in vogue. Enthusiastic members would regularly write in about their latest sightings to various UFO magazines and newsletters. I was an avid reader and what excited me the most were the stories of abundant sightings at Warminster in the county of Wilshire in southern England. Living in Surrey at the time, the aliens were tantalisingly close. When my father suggested that we go and take a look it was like a dream had come true.

It was a Saturday afternoon in August, and a very excited 13 year-old boy, my father, my aunt and a sceptical uncle set out on our journey to meet the aliens. Mother didn’t come; the idea of strange objects in the sky and aliens spooked her but nonetheless she filled a hamper with sandwiches and Thermos flasks of tea and coffee.

Our journey took us west through Hampshire, past Stonehenge and across Salisbury Plain. When we arrived at the sleepy town of Warminster the golden August sun was already low in the sky. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky all day – the conditions were perfect.

The streets were eerily deserted. What if all the inhabitants had been abducted and we’d picked a really bad time to visit? Such were the crazy thoughts of a boy with an imagination egged on by TV science-fiction series like Star Trek?

Braving the alien onslaught was a craggy faced man with a walking stick. He saw my father and uncle peering at the AA roadmap trying to make sense of where to go next. Slowly he made his way over to us. With a smile he suggested we head for Cradle Hill which was a mile or so out of town.

The country road was just wide enough for one vehicle but we made steady progress up the hill. Eventually the road widened which was just as well as in front of us were a number of vehicles parked up. Luckily there was just space for us at the end. Who were all these people? Were they here for the same reason as us? It had never crossed my mind that others would be here and rather gingerly, fearing that we might be imposing on some country ritual, we got out of the car and made our way over to the field where most of crowd had gathered. Hedgerows and twisted wire fences divided the patchwork of green and brown fields. Isolated islands of Oaks dotted here and there, the remnants of an older forested landscape that once existed in these parts. On top of the hill was a particularly dense wooded area at the centre of which was an old barn stacked full of hay. Across the valley we could see another hill; later in the evening we learned that the local’s nick-named it Starr Hill (locally spelt with two R’s; however, ordnance survey maps show it as Middle Hill). 

There must have been at least two hundred people gathered. Tents were erected here and there with pots of strong coffee brewing on lighted camp stoves. We felt like amateurs and apart from our food hamper we’d brought little else, not even a camera but I did have my recent birthday gift – a telescope.

Everyone seemed friendly enough and there was a sense of camaraderie. Most were keen to swap the latest gossip on UFOs. Many had brought torches and flashlights, the main purpose of which was spot cowpats in the growing darkness but as one UFO spotter excitedly pointed out, they could also be used for signalling to any passing alien craft. Portable transistor radios, compasses and Super 8mm film cameras were also much in evidence. One lady with platted silvery hair wearing necklaces strung with different coloured beads told us about the lay-line theory; mystical lines of ‘energy’ that circle the globe. Warminster, she told us, happened to be one of the few special places where the lines intersect – my excitement grew and I cursed that I didn’t think to bring my own compass!

From the field, a path lead up to the top of the hill towards the barn; we’d been told to expect something odd if we walked towards it so we decided to investigate. The heat of the day was giving way to cooler air – it was now dusk and the landscape had changed to shades of darker greys. One could feel sudden changes from cooler to warmer air as we made our way towards the barn – it was quite striking and we all felt it. My thoughts were racing – perhaps this has something to do with the energy lines? Among the trees it felt eerie – my aunt was clutching my uncle for dear life in case at any moment an alien should jump out from behind a tree.

We returned to the field; safety in numbers would surely prevent any risk of abduction? It was now dark. For the first time in my life, I was able to study the night sky. Light pollution nearer London did a good job of obscuring such wonders. How black is black I kept thinking. The distant glow of the horizon picked out the silhouette of Starr Hill on the other side of the valley. There were so many stars and a faint but nonetheless discernable narrow band of white wispy light across the sky. Perhaps they were clusters of star systems? Some years later while pondering a similar night sky in a remote Greek fishing village, I was told that the wisps of white were known to the ancients as the ‘backbone of night’ – it is in fact a cross-section of our local galaxy; the wisps of white are millions of stars a long distance away.

Suddenly in the valley below a bright orange globe ascended into the sky, hovered briefly and then descended slightly before fading to nothing. It reminded me of a Roman candle firework on Guy Fawkes Night. Standing nearby, a woman with notebook in hand and an expensive camera attached to a neck strap soon calmed our excitement, ‘Oh that’s just a flare from the army base – they always do that when they know us lot are up here…’ Maybe she could sense my disappointment, so she soon started to tell us about real sightings and other strange tales. As a hack for the local newspaper she knew all the stories that would help keep the circulation figures high.

We decided to a stroll back up to the barn. The waves of warm air could be felt once again and more so than before. This time I walked up right up to the barn and stood next to it touching the hay. I then realised the heat waves were coming from here. During the day the hay absorbs the heat in the hot sunshine and then at night as the air cools it releases it. A mystery solved – would all the others be so easily explained?

The view from the top of Cradle Hill was even better than from the field below and it felt as if the endless night sky had enveloped us all. A shooting star, the first of many that night streaked above us and in seconds disappeared. A faint dot of light zigzagged its way across the night sky; this was not a UFO but merely a satellite. Nonetheless, the night sky seemed alive – to me it was magical.

We decided to make our way to a clump of trees in the next field. We had reached the sty and was about to cross over it when a slurping sound stopped us dead in our tracks. Startled my aunt griped my uncle like never before; ‘I’m scared’ she whaled, and demanded that we not go any further. Whatever strange creature was out there, one thing was for sure – it was getting closer! The shadowy figure had three legs – no it was four, and a bulge hanging down to which a smaller creature seemed to be attached. The mother goat and her calf were eager to have a closer look at us, and maybe get a free handout. Feeling rather foolish we turned back.   

Suddenly there was a lot of excitement and everyone was staring at a particular spot in the sky. A bright ‘star’ had appeared and it was moving silently across the sky. A few frantically flashed their torches in the direction of the light; apparently this is standard practice when something appears. Some in the crowd gasped as the light in the sky disappeared momentarily, then came on, then off, and then back on again, as if responding to the flashing torch lights. Were the aliens saying hello, we see you? There was no sound from this object and it slowly made its way across the sky before gradually fading to nothing. By this time my uncle had grabbed the telescope from me. He could still see the light with something red beneath it; a few others with binoculars said much the same thing. By the time I grabbed the telescope back it had gone or perhaps I wasn’t looking in the right spot.   

Well, that’s how I remember it but the mind can play tricks with old memories. And I supposed with the excitement of everyone around us, it was easy to get carried away but I felt elated. Of course there could be any number of explanations: an aircraft maybe or perhaps another practical joke from the local army base?

A few hours later, the glow on the horizon signalled the start of sunrise, the first I’d ever seen and it was soon time to leave this strange place. That night spent in the fields of Wilshire was for me a life changing experience. My mind had been opened to the vastness of the Cosmos and its endless possibilities.  

Update:

Since writing this I have come across a fascinating website about Warminster and UFO sightings. The site is a trip down memory lane for me as it has photos of the field from where we saw the light in the sky and the barn on Cradle Hill near where we had the experience with the Goat is still there. There are also photos of Starr Hill. Oddly after all these years the landscape looks familiar. I sometimes think about returning to the area and wonder if people still gather there on cloudless summer nights?