On a cold November night in 1953, an event unfolded over Lake Superior that remains unexplained to this day. What began as a routine military operation quickly escalated into one of the most baffling mysteries of the Cold War era.

The evening in question saw radar operators at Kinross Air Force Base, located on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, noticing an uncharted object flying over Lake Superior. Given the geopolitical tensions of the era, any aerial anomaly was treated with utmost seriousness, triggering immediate military responses.

First Lieutenant Felix Moncla was selected for the mission, an accomplished pilot well-regarded for his aeronautical skills. He was joined by Second Lieutenant Robert Wilson, who specialized in radar operations. Together, they boarded an F-89C Scorpion, a jet designed for both air defense and interception missions. Their task was simple in directive but complex in execution: to identify and report the nature of the unidentified object.

As Moncla and Wilson approached the object, ground control monitored the situation closely. What happened next is still not fully understood. Radar readings showed Moncla’s jet approaching the unidentified object, but rather than resolving as two distinct blips as expected, the signals merged and then the jet’s signal disappeared from radar screens entirely. This sudden loss of signal caused concern and confusion among the radar operators, initiating a sequence of events that led to a full-scale search operation.

In the immediate aftermath of the radar disappearance of Moncla and Wilson’s jet, Kinross Air Force Base sprang into action under a cloak of urgency. Commanders at the base understood the severity of the situation: a military jet and its crew had vanished under mysterious circumstances during a routine interception mission. The base, already operating under the heightened tensions characteristic of the Cold War era, was thrust into a scenario for which there was no precedent.

The response was swift and substantial. Within minutes of losing radar contact, a search and rescue operation was orchestrated with meticulous coordination. The operation involved multiple branches of the U.S. military and incorporated Canadian military assets, reflecting the cross-border nature of Lake Superior and the common defense interests of the two nations.

Aircraft equipped with searchlights and radar flew over the lake, braving the harsh November winds and limited visibility. Surface vessels trawled the water, extending their search to the far reaches of the lake, known for its depth and unpredictable currents. The operation was supported by radar and communication teams who worked continuously, scanning for any signal that might indicate the location of the jet or debris.


Despite the extensive manpower and technology deployed, the search yielded no tangible results. The absence of wreckage was perplexing. Aircraft crashes, particularly those into large bodies of water, typically leave behind traceable evidence. The fact that no debris, oil slick, or disturbance in the water was found made the situation increasingly abnormal. The deep, cold waters of Lake Superior, which could preserve wreckage well, were extensively mapped and scanned using sonar technology, yet these efforts too turned up empty.

As the search continued without results, the focus gradually shifted towards analyzing the flight data and radar tapes prior to the disappearance. This analysis was challenging due to the 1950s-era technology, which was robust yet limited in its capacity to store detailed records. The radar blip merger was a rare anomaly, prompting discussions and reviews among aerospace and radar experts. Some theorized about possible malfunctions in the radar equipment or unusual atmospheric conditions affecting the readings.

This scrutiny extended to the operational protocols of the Air Force, questioning whether everything possible had been done to prevent and respond to such incidents. The lack of clear answers and the mysterious circumstances of the disappearance led to an atmosphere of tension and speculation within the military community. This was further exacerbated by the tight-lipped nature of official communications; few outside the immediate investigation were privy to the details of the case, leading to rumors and unofficial theories circulating among personnel and eventually reaching the public.

Following the extensive but fruitless search efforts, the focus shifted towards a more detailed investigation, spearheaded by both the U.S. Air Force and several civilian aviation agencies. This investigation aimed to unravel the peculiar circumstances surrounding the disappearance, hoping to glean insights from the scant evidence available, primarily radar data and communications logs.

The radar data, which indicated a merger of signals between Moncla’s F-89C Scorpion and the unidentified object, was subject to intense scrutiny. Experts in radar technology and aerospace dynamics were brought in to analyze whether the merge could signify a mid-air collision, a near-miss that disoriented the pilot, or a radar anomaly unrelated to the physical location of the two aircraft. Each hypothesis was tested against the known capabilities of the radar system and the flight characteristics of the F-89C, yet none provided a conclusive explanation.

Complicating the investigation were the Cold War sensitivities. The incident occurred during a period of intense military secrecy and suspicion. Information about military capabilities and operations was guarded closely, limiting the sharing of details that could potentially reveal technological or strategic vulnerabilities. As a result, much of the investigation’s findings remained classified, and only fragments of the full picture emerged in public view.

In the absence of solid information, numerous theories flourished both within and outside the military. Some hypothesized that Moncla had encountered a Soviet spy plane or an experimental military aircraft, which led to a catastrophic encounter. Others suggested more extraordinary explanations, such as an encounter with an extraterrestrial spacecraft, citing the era’s numerous UFO sightings and the lack of a satisfactory explanation for the radar data.

These theories were bolstered by accounts from other military personnel and aviators who reported encounters with unexplained aerial phenomena around the same time, which similarly defied conventional explanations. The Air Force, through projects like Project Blue Book, did investigate numerous UFO sightings, but often with a stated aim of debunking them rather than exploring extraterrestrial possibilities, leading to further public skepticism and conspiracy theories.

Over the years, the Kinross Incident has become a case study in the interaction between military secrecy and public interest in UFO phenomena. The lack of closure regarding the fate of Moncla and Wilson has kept the incident in the minds of those who study unexplained aerial phenomena and Cold War military history. For historians and researchers, the incident underscores the challenges of piecing together truth from the fragments of evidence shaped by the filters of military secrecy and the era’s technological limitations.

Moreover, the incident continues to be relevant in discussions about how militaries deal with unexplained encounters. The recent U.S. government’s more open approach to UFOs, rebranded as Unidentified Aerial Phenomena (UAP), suggests a shift in how such incidents are handled, contrasting sharply with the era of the Kinross Incident. This change highlights both advancements in technology and shifts in public and governmental attitudes towards phenomena that were once dismissed or covered up.

As we look back at the events of November 23, 1953, the disappearance of First Lieutenant Felix Moncla and Second Lieutenant Robert Wilson remains as mysterious as it was on the day it happened. Despite decades of technological advances and changes in military transparency, the Kinross Incident continues to elicit interest and debate among both the general public and the expert community.

The incident not only highlights the limitations of mid-20th-century military technology but also illustrates the pervasive influence of Cold War-era secrecy. The lack of definitive answers has led to a diverse range of theories, each supported by different interpretations of the available data. The official explanation of potential disorientation and crash remains the most plausible to military historians, yet it fails to satisfy all, given the complete absence of physical evidence and the unusual radar signatures recorded that night.

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Maury Markowitz
26 days ago

Radar readings showed Moncla’s jet approaching the unidentified object, but rather than resolving as two distinct blips as expected, the signals merged

Radars of that era had a beamwidth on the order of several degrees. As a result, the two blips will merge whenever they are flying close together.
I believe the radar in question was an AN/FPS-3 at the time (later upgraded several times, but only starting in 1957 IIRC), which would give it a resolution of about half a mile.
To visually identify an aircraft at night one normally has to approach to under 1000 yards (that was considered the absolute minimum by the RAF at least). So the merging of the blips would be entirely expected.

and then the jet’s signal disappeared from radar screens entirely

You have left out an important part. The “jet’s signal” is not the radar signal, it was the IFF. The IFF (Mark III I would assume given the date) is a separate radio that sends signals back to the ground to let the operators know not to shoot at them.

The disappearance of the IFF signal is indeed unexpected, and I think it’s safe to conclude this is when the aircraft crashed, or at least went under the radar horizon.

Some hypothesized that Moncla had encountered a Soviet spy plane or an experimental military aircraft

The article completely fails to mention the official conclusion: the object in question was an RCAF C-47 (similar to this one) that was flying right down this path at exactly that time. Why would you not mention this? It’s in the accident report which anyone can find online.

The radar contact was unknown because he was about 30 miles off course. The RCAF confirmed this during the investigation. Years later, the pilot of the aircraft claimed he was not off course, but he failed to make this claim at any time prior, including during the search or investigation.

The lack of definitive answers

The F-89 was subject to lots of crashes for all sorts of reasons, including another at the same base the day before which was covered in the newspapers, there was absolutely no hope of finding it at night in heavy snow over the water, and there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation of what they were chasing.

There is really nothing interesting in this story and I’m mystified why people keep wanting to make this molehill into a mountain.