The Worst Scare of My Life

In November, 1969, I was working for the federal government in Champaign, Illinois, where I was a security guard at their Nike Hercules Missile Base. The base, located on Lake Shore Drive near Chicago, was. surrounded by water and rock-filled banks. It was my job to check all the guard points, making sure the base was secure.

When I arrived late one afternoon at the security office for my shift, I noticed a warning posted on the boards: large parts of the fencing on the west side of the lake had been cut and not yet repaired. I immediately called my supervisor Colonel Stabler in Champaign to report the problem. In response, Colonel Stabler told me to act as a sentinel relief man and double-check all stations. As each guard reported in, I would re-walk the area to see if the guard had missed anything.

As night came on, there was a misty rain, and the fog from the lake began forming a heavy cloud around the area, limiting vision to a few feet. At 11:45 p.m., one of the guards reported another section of the fence cut on the west side of the base. I immediately fastened on my pistol and headed for the area. When I arrived, a ghostly object startled me, moving along the shoreline. Then a loud splash sounded in the water.

In a virtual panic, I locked and loaded my weapon. In the next instant, a white figure suddenly loomed up from the lake shore. "A ghost!" I thought. I was so upset and scared, I couldn't scream, and my gun slipped from my lifeless fingers. As I stood frozen in my tracks, the phantom moved steadily closer, signaling for me to approach. When it approached within a few feet, I bolted, fleeing the area as fast as I could, run.

When I got back to the security post, I dialed the lake patrol with shaking hands, demanding that they search the area. Shortly afterward, they captured an escaped mental patient who admitted walking through the area. Under questioning, the man claimed he was a ghost from the past. In his escape, he had fitted a large bed sheet over his body, cutting crude holes for his eyes and mouth. Still a bit shaky, I called the mental institution to confirm the man's escape, and directed the security team to escort him back.

When I reported the incident to Colonel Stabler the next day, he said, "Larry, there's a show on tonight you should go and see." I said, "What show?" He said, laughing, "Casper, the friendly ghost." From that day onward, whenever the colonel called, he would ask, "Is Casper the friendly ghost busy?"