(JULY 12TH)Cape Fears Ghost Signals-Order now

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Cape Fear’s Ghost Signals

Wilmington, North Carolina — Summer, 1943

Corporal Everett Glenn was a 24-year-old radar technician assigned to coastal monitoring stations along the North Carolina shoreline during World War II. His postings rotated between Fort Fisher, Topsail, and Bald Head Island — part of a growing defense network meant to detect German U-boats off the Atlantic coast.

In June of that year, during a late-night shift just south of Kure Beach, Glenn logged a strange signal on his receiver. It came through perfectly clear — no static, no weather interference — just a crisp voice in broken English, repeating a single phrase:

“Neath, Seventeen point two. The sea holds breath beneath the root.”

Then it went dead.

He reported the signal to command, but was told it was likely Caribbean or Cuban fishing chatter bleeding into the band. But the next night, it returned. Same time: 2:03 a.m. Only this time, the message had changed slightly. New words. Same voice. And this time, a string of Morse code followed it — fast, tight, but deliberate. Everett transcribed it, and when decoded, the letters spelled out one word: AEON.

He began keeping a hidden field logbook, stashing it inside a ration tin beneath his bunk. Each post he was assigned to brought new transmissions. Southport. Wrightsville. As far north as Emerald Isle. The signal followed him.

He never told anyone — not officially. Not after the third time.

On the sixth night at his Fort Fisher outpost, Corporal Glenn disappeared without a trace. No signs of struggle, no packed belongings, no goodbye. His uniform and gear were neatly folded on his cot. The only thing missing was his logbook.

One note was left behind, tucked under the corner of his mattress. It read:

“The voice was not from the sea. It was under it.”

Everett Glenn was never seen again. His disappearance was buried beneath redacted files and rumor. But to this day, coastal ham radio operators still claim that on quiet nights in June, just past 2 a.m., a voice comes through old analog rigs — distorted and faint, but always repeating part of the same signal, as if it’s still trying to reach him.

Some believe Glenn left clues behind. That the transmissions pointed to something he buried himself. Others think he was following instructions not meant for any human ears. Either way, if you’re listening along this coast… stay tuned.