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It's about a place that traditionally (deservedly or not?) Is considered the most terrible, the most macabre place on the planet. "... Many ships and planes disappeared without a trace, most of them after the 45th year. Over the past 26 years, over a thousand people have died. However, the search failed to find a single corpse or fragment ... "With these words begins the description of the mysterious Bermuda triangle in the American writer Charles Berlitz, now this phrase is happily quoted as opponents and supporters of the hypothesis of existence between Florida, Cuba and Bermuda some strange mysterious place, in other words - an anomalous zone. The zone certainly exists, but is it really as bloodthirsty as it is portrayed in newspapers and magazines?
 A thousand dead in a quarter of a century - that's a lot. But imagine that on the land area of ​​the same area for the same time, only 15 times more people die on the roads. Comparison with the freeways is quite legitimate, because through the specified area of ​​the Atlantic passes a huge number of air and sea routes and by the number of passenger-kilometers it will not yield to a whole network of highways. It is clear that not every ship goes to the bottom, to be more precise, only a small, vanishingly small fraction of the fleet in the region is drowning. Why such terrible glory?
    Everything really started after the 2nd World War. The phenomenon of the psychological state of the American nation of that period is still waiting for its researchers, while we try only to casually touch it. From 1945 to 1949 the United States had a strong army, monopolistically owning a formidable nuclear weapon. It would seem that the Americans should have felt like a nation that commands the rest of the world. They really played with an atomic "club for a Russian guy", not seeing a worthy opponent to their heroic strength. The Theosophists would comment on what had happened: in retaliation for the increased national pride, God sent a great fear to America. In just four years, she experienced several shock injections; Americans felt defenseless before the threat of even more powerful forces: Martians, aliens from other worlds, just ghosts and ghosts. In 1947, after a routine, ordinary observation of a UFO, "aliens-phobia" arose, at the same time many new and unusual sciences appeared like Ufology. But it all began two years earlier - with fear of the "all-devouring ocean".
December 5, 1945 was an ordinary day for American naval pilots, based in Florida. At that time, there were a large number of pilots on the service who received a rich combat flight experience, so incidents in the air were relatively rare. An experienced commander, flying more than 2500 hours, was Lieutenant Charles K. Taylor, it was quite possible to rely on the other pilots of his 19th level, many of whom were older than Taylor in rank. Yes, and the task this time they received not too difficult: to go straight to Chicken Shoal, located north of the island of Bimini.
Before the usual training exercises (just something to kill off on the abandoned old ship), the combat pilots joked and made merry, only one of them felt something was wrong at heart and remained on the ground at his own peril and risk. This saved his life. The weather was magnificent, five three-seat torpedo bombers "Avenger" ("Avengers") took off and headed east, having on board (remember this figure!) Fuel for 5.5 (five and a half hours). No one else saw what happened to them afterwards - only God knows. Various hypotheses (most often contrived) and versions on this subject have been put forth abound. All of them remained unsaid for only one reason - no missing planes were found.
At 14.10 planes with 14 pilots (instead of 15) took off, reached the target, around 15.30-15.40 lay on the return course - to the southwest. A few minutes later, at 15.45, at the command post of the air base Fort Lauderdale received the first strange message: "We have an emergency situation. Obviously, lost the course. We do not see the earth, I repeat, we do not see the earth! "The dispatcher made a request for their coordinates. The answer puzzled all the officers present: "We can not determine our location. We do not know where we are now. We seem to have lost our way! .. "It was as if the former pilot were not talking to the microphone, but a confused newcomer who had no idea about navigating the sea! In this situation, the representatives of the air base made the only correct decision: "Keep heading west!" The dispatchers themselves could hardly catch snatches of the pilots' radio conversations among themselves: "We do not know where we are. It must be about 225 miles north-east of the base ... It seems that we ... "
 At 16.45 from Taylor comes a strange report: "We are above the Gulf of Mexico." The surface dispatcher Don Pul decided that the pilots were either embarrassed or mad, the place in question was on the very opposite side of the horizon! At 17.00 it became clear that the pilots on the verge of a nervous