The Zone of Silence: America's Missile Secret

FX's American Horror Story returns for an unrivaled 13th installment with the iconic horrors you love to fear and an all-star cast reprising fan favorite roles. Light your candles, draw your pentagrams, and prepare for a supreme surprise. FX's American Horror Story 13. Now streaming on Hulu. At 2:40 a.m. on July 11, 1970, the United States Air Force launched a missile from Green River, Utah. 50 feet tall, 16,000 pounds, and carrying radioactive cobalt. It was aimed at a test range in New Mexico, 600 miles away. It didn't stop in New Mexico. Radar crews watched it climb, turn south, and disappear over the horizon. It took three weeks to find it. The missile came down, and in a patch of Mexico, the locals avoid it. A place where strange visitors wander the desert and radios die. They call it the Zone of Silence. I think everybody has a few things in their closet that somehow end up in the rotation way more than everything else. 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Now available in Canada and the UK, too. That's quince.com/thewyfiles. The zone of silence is in the Bolson de Mapimi, a bowl of desert where three Mexican states meet: Durango, Chihuahua, and Coahuila. In the summer, it hits 113 degrees in the shade. Ooh, Gertie calls that sweater weather. One minute, can you let me get through one minute without a comment? Look, if you say desert, sand, or leather outfits, I immediately think of Gertie. And the hot ones with the hot ones. There's almost no water out there and almost no people. If something goes wrong, help isn't coming. Your radio is your lifeline. In 1966, Pemex, Mexico's national oil company, wanted to run a pipeline through that desert. Survey crews were sent to some of the emptiest land in the country. The engineer leading the survey was Harry de la Pena. The job was routine: map the route, mark the ground, and radio back to base every day. The radio back to base every few hours. Except, the radio stopped working. A crew checked in all morning and then went silent for hours while base called into dead air. So Harry drove into the desert himself to find them. He found them alive, working, and just as confused as he was. Their radios were switched on, the batteries were charged, and the frequencies were right. The men transmitted, but the signal went nowhere. Harry was an engineer, so he started to troubleshoot. He tried different radios and different frequencies. Nothing worked. He moved the crew a few hundred feet, and the radios came back on. He moved them back to the original spot, and the radios died again. He tried to map the dead spots, but they moved. A stretch of ground blocked radios in the morning, but not in the afternoon. Harry called the place La Zona del Silencio, the Zone of Silence. Something about the area bothered Harry. He came back again and again to take readings. He even brought in scientists to help. But the anomaly wasn't always there. He couldn't find a pattern. It was like it was playing with him. He thought he was the first to identify the Zone of Silence. But the locals said this part of the desert has always been a strange place. And it was known for things much stranger than radio interference. For years, people saw mysterious light in the Zone. One day, a rancher decided to flash his headlights at it. It flashed back. It was a red light. It was a red light. It was a red light. It was a red light. The locals call it the Carmo da Banda. It looks like a car's headlights, but there are no roads. If you flash a light, it answers, flash for flash. Sometimes it disappears and then reappears behind you. Whatever it is, it moves fast, but makes no sound. Six generations of families grew up talking to the Carmo da Banda. Travelers crossing the zone report the same thing Harry's crews found: radios play only static. But they also found that compasses don't work. Needles catch north for a second, then spin and point south. Put a compass on the ground, and the needle spins in a circle forever. Pilots knew about this place for years. In the 1930s, Francisco Sarabia was the most famous aviator in Mexico. He flew over the Carmo da Banda, and then flew over the Carmo de la Paz. He flew over the Carmo de la Paz. If you're ready to hear the of your first sale today, head over to shopify.com slash why to start your free trial today. That's right. Start your free trial at shopify.com slash why. That's shopify.com slash why. Shopify.com slash why. The missile was an Athena and it flew out of the Air Force complex near Green River, Utah. Its target was White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico, 600 miles away. Over nine years, the Air Force fired 141 of them into White Sands. The Athena was a scale model of an intercontinental ballistic missile. Its job was to dive back into the atmosphere at 15,000 miles an hour. That's how the Air Force learned to make nuclear warheads survivable, accurate, and invisible to radar. The Athena's flew at night to get away from the sun. Sunlight is radio noise and the tests needed clean signals. On July 11th, 1970, Missile Number 122 lifted off at 2:40 a.m. The first two stages burned perfectly and pushed it 200 miles up. The last two were supposed to turn the missile around and fire it back down into White Sands. But the fourth stage fired early before the guidance system could turn it. Instead of arcing down into White Sands, the missile flew another 400 miles. At first, the ground crew was stunned. A telemetry officer watched the receiver antenna swing up, over, and point south. It never did that before. In the project room, the tracking radars told the same story. Flight safety watched it happen, and there was no way to bring it down. It was still gaining altitude and going south when it disappeared from radar. An American missile carrying radioactive cobalt had gone rogue. Officials guessed it hit the mountains 150 miles south of Juarez. Some hoped it burned up on re-entry and never reached the ground at all, but it did hit the ground… in Mexico. "Wow, the U.S. will bomb anybody, huh?" "I can't argue with that." "You better watch it, Canada." Mexico wasn't in a forgiving mood. Three years earlier, another American missile launched from Utah crashed just across the border. Now it happened again, further inside the country, and this one was radioactive. The message from Mexico City was simple: "Find it." Five days later, the search team flew south with orders to keep quiet. Only one of them was allowed to talk to Mexican officials. They set up in Torreon and figured they'd be done in four days. They searched for weeks, and could not find it. The Air Force narrowed the impact zone to a rectangle a mile and a half long, but nobody could place that rectangle on a map. Pilots flew grids over the desert day after day. They landed on back roads and in pastures. They asked ranchers what they saw. They got nothing. At the start of August, a different kind of airplane arrived. The Atomic Energy Commission said it was not a missile. The Atomic Energy Commission sent an aircraft with a scintillometer, an instrument that detects one thing: the exact radiation signature of cobalt-57. The crew stopped searching with their eyes and started listing for the cobalt. The cobalt was so active, the plane found the crash site in three days. When the ground team put a meter to the sand, it read the same as Trinity, the spot where the first atomic bomb went off. Technically, the U.S. fired a nuclear-tipped missile at Mexico. They left that out of the report. The U.S. is now in the process of finding out what happened to the U.S. and the U.S. military. Story 13 now streaming on Hulu. The ground team drove cross-country, following directions sent down from the plane. For the last stretch, they navigated by a trail of flower sacks dropped from the aircraft, straight to a small crater. They found a few pieces of torn metal, contaminated sand, and the cobalt. The rest of the missile was in the air. The rest of the missile was gone, including the third and fourth stage engines. The Americans said the radioactive levels weren't that bad. They wanted to fill the hole and go home. Mexico said no. The Americans had to take the missile and the contaminated soil. All of it. Seven weeks later, in the middle of the night, a train left New Mexico for the border. Seventeen cars, including earthmovers, water tankers, a fuel tanker. Every military marking was removed. Every piece of equipment was covered. It crossed at Juarez after midnight, guarded by Mexican federal agents. A photographer caught it sitting in the rail yard. The paper caption said the train belonged to NASA. The train rolled south to Carrillo, a village of about 100 people, whose only electricity came from a salt company's generator. The train was its own town: bunks, kitchen, water, fuel, power. The men slept aboard and had lunch driven out to the crater. Every morning, crews drove 20 miles cross-country to the site. They bulldozed a road through the desert to do it. Rain turned the new road to mud and stopped the work for days. When the ground dried, men in protective suits dug out the crater and sealed the earth into drums while the village watched. Sixty drums of sand, plus three more for the crew's suits, boots, and gloves. How many drums do they need for the witnesses? The ranchers who live out there say that's not the whole story. Right. Like the part about stuffing witnesses into drums. I know. I know. Hardly anyone saw the missile fall. A few shepherds in the hills saw the light and thought an angel came down. A rancher heard it hit and watched his cattle panic and break through a corral. Then the planes threw over his land for three weeks, but nobody knocked on his door to ask him anything. They say the Americans were in this desert before the missile fell, like they already knew something was here. Four months before the crash, the newspaper reported that "Wernher von Braun was here" in secret scouting the desert for NASA base. The mayor of Escalon said he met von Braun at the train station himself. Yeah, the guy who built rockets for the Nazis ends up at a Mexican train station, huh? Yeah. Scouting. Scouting or escaping? And they say the operation went on for almost a year. The Americans built an airstrip and ran a railroad into the desert and hauled out tons of magnetized earth and other stuff. They took the purple cactus, the rare red one, and the blue cactus. The Americans built a railroad into the desert and hauled out tons of magnetized earth and other stuff. tortoises, the living things that exist nowhere else, and when they finished, they pulled up the tracks behind them so no one could follow. The U.S. government had press releases written before the train even left. If anyone asked, the story was going to be a vehicle accident. The operation was called Operation Sandpatch. Before the Americans left, a local security force was formed to guard the crash site. The man in charge was a rural guard captain from Ceballos named Jaime Gonzalez. His job was to keep the world away from the zone of silence. He did the opposite. FX's American Horror Story returns for an unrivaled 13th installment with the iconic horrors you love to fear and an all-star cast reprising fan-favorite roles. The Americans went home in October. Jaime stayed, and people started asking him questions. The most powerful country on earth just spent months out here, digging in secret, guarding a patch of worthless land like it was a gold mine. Jaime and two of the landowners went to the press. They talked about the dead radios and the missile. They talked about the lights, the bones, the visitors, and the newspapers listened. The regional press ran the story. The national press ran it bigger. Within a few years, the whole country knew about the zone of silence. There's a magnetic vortex out here that pulls things down from the sky. A study found that the blood of the people who live inside is different than everyone else's. A school in Mexico City teaches that the hills out here, aren't hills, they're buried pyramids, and a lost race of tall, golden Maya lives in the tunnels underneath. The world under the sand has a name, the land of magnetism, and NASA wanted it. The agency planned to build a station out here to study the vortex and listen for other worlds. Jaime told the story for six years. Then he got into a shootout with police. He killed one officer, and Jaime died a few days later. There are folk songs about him now. And on a small hill inside the zone is a marble marker with his name on it. And the pilgrims kept coming. From Mexico City first, then the United States, then France, Germany, Italy, Chile. The locals gave them a name, Zoneros. Guides sold tours to the exact center of the anomaly. A town grew at the gate of the zone just to handle the tourists. The zone even landed on maps. Mexico's official survey has it. So does the road map from AAA. Wow, even AAA goes there, huh? No, I don't. Hey, how much do they charge to get towed out of a vortex? That could be handy for my road trip to Mount motherf***ing Ace. In one year, more than 650 travelers showed up at a lonely research station deep in the desert and asked the scientists to point their way to the mystery. The scientists said they didn't know where it was. Nobody believed them. Everybody knew the station was a front, and that water tower behind it was actually an observatory. Benjamin Palacios grew up on the edge of the zone. When he was 12, he was riding home with his brother when the light dropped out of the dark and surrounded them. Two hours disappeared from his memory. He says the light gave him a mission. Share the zone with the world. He built a ranch for the seekers on the edge of the zone and never left. There's something about the zone that draws people in and keeps them there. Kind of like the animals who wander in. But the zone of silence isn't the only place like this. There are 12. And a man in New Jersey drew the map. Something's happening behind the scenes, and the people running the system seem to be preparing for it. Capital One admitted in court this month that it closed nearly 300 Trump-organized accounts back in 2021. Now, whatever you think about Trump, that's not the point. Their contract allowed them to close those accounts for, any reason, for no reason, and without notice. Meanwhile, J.P. Morgan is projecting gold could hit $6,000 an ounce. Citibank sees silver at $90. And central banks just bought a record 289 tons of gold last quarter. If you watch this show, you probably see the shape of what's forming. Physical gold and silver can't be printed from nothing or shut off with the click of a button. That's why I've been telling you about Goldcrest Metals. They offer widely recognized coins, transparent pricing, zero buyback fees, and free insured shipping. Or free IRA storage on qualified purchases. Right now, get their free 2026 Precious Metals Info Kit, or schedule a free no-pressure portfolio review. Plus, you can qualify for up to $25,000 in free silver with your purchase. Go to yfileslovesgold.com or call 888-949-9172. That's yfileslovesgold.com or call 888-949-9172. Do it now, do it right now, while you're thinking about it. In 1972, biologist Ivan Sanderson went looking for every ship and plane that ever vanished. He spent 20 years chasing things science wouldn't touch. For each one he found, he put a pin in a globe. He expected it to be a random mess. Instead, he got a pattern. The pins clustered in 12 places, spaced evenly around the planet. Five above the equator, five below, and one at each pole. All of them sat where hot and cold currents collide, in the air and the sea. Sanderson said the collision twists the magnetic field. That's why compasses spin, radios die, planes and ships go down without a trace. He called them the devil's graveyards. One of them is the Bermuda Triangle. Another is off the coast of Japan. And the Japanese had a name for it long before Sanderson did, the Devil's Sea. Fishermen wouldn't work it, and the early 1950s, ships started vanishing there, one after another, with hundreds of people gone. In 1952, the Japanese government sent a research vessel to find out why. The Kayu Maru No. 5, with 31 scientists and crew aboard. It never sent a distress call. It never came back. Japan declared the area a danger zone, and stopped sending ships. But the graveyards aren't all in the ocean. Some of them are in the desert, and the desert ones have lights. In 1883, 16-year-old Robert Ellison was driving cattle through a pass outside Marfa, Texas. Then he saw what he thought was a fire in the mountains. He figured it was an Apache camp. In the morning, he rode out to look. There was no ash. There was no camp. The next night, the fire was back. His family saw it every night for a year. People in Marfa had been watching those lights for a hundred and forty years. They bounce, they split in two, they follow your car. And in a valley in Norway called Hessdalen, in December of 1981, lights started appearing over the farms. Not once in a while, twenty times a week. They hung in the air, changed color, and shot off faster than anything with a motor. The people in the valley got scared enough to ask for help. In 1984, a team of Norwegian and Swedish UFO researchers showed up with radar, magnetometers, cameras, and a Geiger counter. They stayed five weeks and saw fifty-three lights. The radar saw them, too. So in 1998, a university built a steel box on the side of the mountain, filled it with cameras and a magnetometer, and left it running. It's been recording those lights around the clock for twenty-eight years, and it's still running. Nobody knows what they are. It's a live stream. Anyone could watch it. I've watched it for hours. Nothing. It's like the Yule Log. If the Yule Log was a mountain, Eddie hated it. You have to be patient. I watched a Norwegian hill for four hours, yeoman. I'm out of patience, and I'm out of bloopers. Those stories all have the same three things: witnesses, instruments that fail, and lights. But the Zone of Silence is the only place where the lights talk back. FX's American Horror Story returns for an unrivaled thirteenth installment. With the iconic horrors you love to fear, and an all-star cast reprising fan-favorite roles. That's the legend of the Zone of Silence. A desert that kills radio signals, pulls missiles out of the sky, and gets visits from somewhere above. But is it true? Well, probably not. Radios work there. There's a biosphere research station inside the Zone, and the scientists there have used radios and compasses every day for 50 years. The only people who report failures are the tourists. And the compass problem is easy. There's magnetite in the rock, and a needle set on the ground next to a deposit will wander. But magnetite never stops. A radio. And the cactus is purple because of drought stress. The pads turn violet in a dry spell and then they turn green again. The tortoise shells are normal. The blood study is cited everywhere and published nowhere. Nobody's ever seen it. Same for the golden Maya under the sand. The tall, blonde visitors have no origin at all. No ranch, no witness, no data, no report. This is just paranormal writing citing paranormal writing. The band of strange places between the 26th and 28th parallel, well, the pyramids and the Bermuda Triangle are there, but so is Miami, Riyadh, and New Delhi. Draw a wide enough line around the planet, and it's going to hit weird places. The planet is covered in weird places. Which brings us to the map. Ivan Sanderson published his 12 graveyards in 1972 in a men's adventure magazine. This was two years after the missile, and right when the Zone builders were looking for a theory. The people writing the Zone story didn't discover that the Zone sits in line with the Bermuda Triangle. They read about it. The Zones around the world copy each other, and Sanderson's grid was the template. The Devil's Sea got the same treatment. The ship that vanished with 31 people is real, and so is what killed it. Japan sent the Kaimaru to study an undersea volcano that had just pushed a new island out of the water. The volcano blew while the ship was over it. Navy hydrophones in California recorded the explosion. Now what about Sarabia, the legendary pilot whose instruments died over the Zone? Well, there's no record of that flight. No report, no newspaper story, no logbook. Nothing from the 1930s connects him to anything over that area. What the record does show is how he died. In June 1939, Sarabia took off from Washington, D.C., and crashed into the Potomac River. Mechanic left a rag in the engine compartment, and it got sucked into the carburetor. Mexico's greatest pilot was killed, 1,700 miles from the Zone of Silence, by a dirty shop rag. He was from the region, and he was beloved. After 1970, the legend needed an origin story, so its creators borrowed him. Today, a museum near the Zone displays his restored plane, and guides tell visitors it's the aircraft that survived the vortex. The animal graveyard is real, but this is cattle country in a drought-prone desert. When livestock die, every ranch thumps the carcasses in one spot. Then the vultures strip 'em. - Go to the desert, lie down, and wait for the vultures. - Uh, sounds like a Sandals resort. - The animals don't march into the Zone to die. Their owners carry them there. Newspapers claim the Americans hauled out 200,000 tons of dirt. The locals took that story, stretched the cleanup to a year, and added an airstrip, destroyed railways, and stolen tortoises. The whole project only took 88 days from launch to finish. 60 drums of soil, $100,000, and a crew that finished early. project that finished early and was on the budget, maybe we should ship our whole government to Mexico. Mexico wouldn't let them leave before the agreed date, so the American team spent their last days in Carrillo fixing the streets and the village's water system. And the machines belonged to the army, not NASA. But that Juarez newspaper caption really said NASA, so that's how they got pulled into the story. How can you resist? But there's plenty that is true. The missile really fell, and it really was the second American missile to crash in Mexico in three years. The cobalt, the unmarked train, the U.S. cover story, even the missing pieces of the rocket, that's all true. The Allende meteorite is true also. That's really one of the most important objects to ever fall onto this planet. But it didn't steer its way into the zone. It landed 100 miles outside it. The name is real too, but its history runs backwards. The first time Zona del Silencio appeared in print was March 1970 and towards the end of the 20th century. The Zona del Silencio was the first time the Zona del Silencio was published in its own newspaper, four months before the missile fell. One week after that, the same paper ran the Von Braun story, and the source was Harry de la Pena. NASA responded and said Von Braun was never in survivors. Of course he wasn't there. He was still busy with post-production for that movie called The Moon Landing. The only record of Harry's radio trouble is Harry. Telling the story made him famous and made him money, so he kept telling it. And kept improving it. Asked the people around the world about the Zona del Silencio incident, the people who actually live out there what strange things they've seen, and they'll tell you they don't see anything strange in the desert. They see strange people, but not tall white aliens. They see the tourists looking for them. But just like my other episode on the mysterious lights, I can't debunk the ones in the zone. The carro de banda is still out there, still answering headlights. It's been seen by generations of families who have nothing to sell. So the story is, a U.S. missile fell in Mexico. The army cleaned it up and fixed the village's water pump. That's actually a pretty nice story. That it doesn't sell tickets. But a story of a cursed desert with thirsty aliens, where compasses and radios fail, where pilots disappear, and where you can communicate with strange lights? That's a good story. And that's why the legend of the Zone of Silence is still transmitting. Thank you so much for hanging out with us today. We'll see you in the next episode. If you're one of the tall, blind visitors, the world is on the left. Help yourself, and please stop knocking. The water in this bowl is spoken for. This has been the Y-Files. Get fun and learn anything. Do him a favor. Subscribe, comment, like, share. That stuff really helps us out. I know it's a pain to go and click the button, and to do all that work, and just hit the, touch the thing just so, so easy. I know, but it would really help us out. Like most topics we cover on the channel, today's would recommend it by you. 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Did Stanley Kubrick fake the moon landing alone on a film set? Or were the shadow people there? The Roswell aliens just fought the smiling man, I'm told. And his name was cold. And I can't believe it. I'm dancing with the fishes. Heckle fish on Thursday nights when they chase you. And the wild boars have their feet all through the night. All I ever wanted was to just hear the truth. So the wild boars have their feet all through the night. ♪ ♪ FX's American Horror Story returns for an unrivaled 13th installment with the iconic horrors you love to fear and an all-star cast reprising fan-favorite roles. Tammy regularly hauls stuff to her kids at college. That's why she shops at BJ's Wholesale Club, saving up to 25% off grocery store prices. Beef jerky, microwave meals, laundry pods, even they can't screw up. Have you met my kids? And with BJ's gas, she gets there for less. They call me the road warrior. This is your home, road warrior mom. Home of the Save. 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