Sometime in late 2005, the website housing the archive of Omni
Magazine articles suddenly became a sucker URL for a porn site.
Since Omni was owned by Bob Guccione (Penthouse Magazine), we
can only assume that he, or one of his minions, thought this was
a clever use for a respectable domain.
This article was
rescued via the
Wayback Machine. Printing it here is probably a
violation of copyright, but considering what "they" are using
Omni's domain for, I really don't care.
The Missing Nurses of Roswell
By Paul McCarthy
It was July 5, 1947. A day seemingly like any other in the sleepy,
desert town of Roswell, New Mexico. A nurse who worked at the Roswell
Army Air Field hospital, a base with about 5,000 military personnel, was
going about her usual routine over the long July Fourth weekend, when
she stumbled onto a scene that shook her to the core. In search of
supplies, she opened the door to an examination room and watched two
strange doctors bent over the bodies of three small humanlike creatures.
Oh, they resembled humans, all right, but there was a difference: Their
bodies were too small, their arms too spindly, and their heads too bald
Two were badly mangled and decomposed, while a third appeared relatively
intact. A stench permeated the air. The physicians quickly enlisted the
nurse's help and the autopsies continued until all concerned were
overwhelmed by the smell from the rotting bodies.
At least this is what happened if you believe a story long held true by
those who say a UFO crashed into the desert near Roswell, New Mexico,
one summer night long ago, spitting five extraterrestrials into the arms
of U.S. Army medics, who autopsied the shattered remains. According to
the legend -- because by now, in UFO circles, it has become that -- one
lone nurse, referred to by pundits as Nurse X, decided to tell all. The
recipient of this extraordinary confidence: 22-year-old
Glenn Dennis, the town
mortician. But Dennis would be privy to the strange revelations on one
condition: He would, forever, keep the identity of Nurse X under wraps.
Dennis, who talked to OMNI in the interview titled "Roswell: Star
Witness", said he knew Nurse X because of his second job -- driver of
the town ambulance. As such, he was on the base frequently to drop off
injury victims. The day of the alleged ET incident, Dennis says that he
drove an injured man to the hospital and then was rudely ushered out and
even threatened by Army officers who he had never seen before.
"All of these people came in from out of town," Dennis told OMNI , "and
just kind of took over. They were in the halls and everywhere. I didn't
see the regular doctors or anybody. The only familiar person that I saw
was her." Naturally, Dennis wondered what was going on and a few days
later set up a luncheon date with Nurse X to find out. Afterward, Dennis
claims, she returned to the base, never to be heard from again. Dennis
tried to contact her but was told she had been transferred. And still
later "the rumor was," says Dennis, "that she went down in a plane that
was on a training mission."
After six months the incident died away, according to Dennis, and wasn't
raised again until the 1980s when UFO investigators descended on
Roswell. "I just didn't want to be bothered," says Dennis. "I never told
my wife or anyone else. My father is the only one I ever talked to. It
was never brought up, you know. It never was."
There is much more to the alleged 1947 UFO crash near Roswell than the
recollections of Glenn Dennis, of course, and throughout the 1980s a
swarm of investigators pieced a story together through the accounts of
many other people.
Even so, Dennis's part is an important one and central to the event. So
I was all ears one day last year when, while interviewing
Don Schmitt, one of the
two major researchers on the Roswell case, the topic of missing nurses
came up. Schmitt, who with
Kevin Randle wrote The
Truth About the UFO Crash at Roswell, said there were no official
records to show that Glenn Dennis's nurse, or five other nurses who
appeared in photos in the Roswell base yearbook, ever served in the
"Once again it appears as if they really covered their tracks," said
Schmitt, referring to what he says is a government cover-up of the
evidence of the crash. And, he went on to tell me, since 1989 he and
Randle had looked. They had scoured the planet up, down, and sideways
for those nurses, he told me, to no avail. The suggestion: The
government had willfully purged the nurses from the record, and,
possibly, the earth, in its effort to hide the alien crash at Roswell.
After all, the assumption went, dead women tell no tales.
Schmitt said he had worked with the Army Nurse Corps Historian's Office
at the Department of Defense in an attempt to track the five yearbook
nurses who, it was assumed, might have talked to Nurse X, heard
something, or participated in some way in the Roswell incident. He had
also checked with such organizations as the WWII Flight Nurses
Association, the Military Reference Branch of the National Archives, and
Stars and Stripes, the military newspaper in Washington, DC, for some
sign that the nurses had served. No luck.
Even the Women in Military Service for America Memorial Foundation in
Washington, DC, had never heard of them, Schmitt told me, adding, "We
are working now with some Pentagon officials who are more than a bit
fascinated by the fact that even though we have photographs of these
nurses from the yearbook, there are no records on these people."
Randle had also tried to uncover the trail of the Glenn Dennis nurse --
the infamous Nurse X. He had, he told me, looked through the unit
history of the 509th Atomic Bomb Wing that was stationed at Roswell, as
well as the unit's transfer orders. He said he'd scoured the base
phonebook and the town newspaper, which frequently welcomed newcomers to
the base. He also did credit searches on the woman -- whose name, he
says, Glenn Dennis had divulged to him -- and her alleged brother, but
came up empty. Then Schmitt tried birth certificates and baptismal
records, based on home town information supplied by Glenn Dennis, with
equally dismal results.
The Schmitt-Randle conclusion, communicated emphatically, was plenty
clear: Either Glenn Dennis had fabricated Nurse X, they said, or the
government had eliminated all vestiges of actual, and documented, life.
When I told my editors at OMNI this intriguing tale, I proposed writing
it up as an example of investigatory diligence and the lengths to which
UFO researchers would go to uncover witnesses. To my surprise, OMNI saw
something entirely different. It was an opportunity to double check
Randle and Schmitt's claims -- a situation that does not arise that
often in UFOlogy. Had they exercised due diligence? Could I find the
nurses' records? And, my editors asked cagily -- the expense budget
being small -- could I do so from my desk in Hawaii, without leaving
The task was especially important since the missing nurses pointed to
sinister government activity -- in other words, the presence of an
official, high-level conspiracy to cover up the events at Roswell, as
Randle and Schmitt claimed. If the nurses had been wiped off the face of
the earth, as the researchers insisted, that would mean someone had gone
to great lengths to "erase them." But if the nurses could be found, if
there had been no effort to purge them from the databank of life, that
would deal the conspiracy theory a notable blow.
I halfheartedly agreed to look for the nurses myself, but didn't have
high hopes. Hadn't these guys been at it for five years? This was their
life. What chance did I have, given my limited travel budget and my time
frame -- a few mere weeks?
I had the names of the six nurses -- five from the Roswell Army Air
Field yearbook for 1947, previously supplied by Randle, and Nurse X,
given to me by Randle as well. (For more on the true identity of Nurse
X, held by some to be Naomi Maria Selff, see "The Truth About Roswell".)
So I began by digging in the mid-1940s volumes of the Army Register in
the Federal Government Document Depository of the Hamilton Library at
the University of Hawaii. The Air Force was part of the Army until they
went their separate ways in 1947, and the Register purportedly listed
the dates of enlistment, promotion, death, and retirement for all
personnel. There was even a section devoted to the Army Nurse Corps --
column upon column of names and serial numbers, but no Roswell nurses.
Next I tried Lieutenant Colonel Carolyn Feller at the Army Nurse Corps
Historian's Office in Washington, DC. She couldn't help me but suggested
Bill Heimdahl at the Air Force Historian's Office, also in Washington.
Heimdahl put me on to the World-Wide Air Force Locator at Randolph Air
Force Base in Texas. A Captain Tom Gilroy found a listing for one of the
nurses, Major Claudia Uebele, and her retirement date, 1965. I checked
the Air Force Register for 1965, found her, and jotted down her serial
With that in hand, I again called Lieutenant Colonel Feller, thinking
that with a serial number, she might be able to get me an address or
phone number, assuming Uebele was still alive.
No luck. But this time she recommended Bill Siebert, archivist at the
National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis, which purportedly has
records for all past and present military personnel. Bingo. Siebert had
records for the five nurses but nothing for Nurse X. Records were
complete for Majors Joyce Godard and Claudia Uebele and partial,
reconstructed records existed, because of a 1973 fire, for Captain
Adeline Fanton, First Lieutenant Angele LaRue, and Lieutenant Colonel
Rosemary McManus. To access these, all I had to do was make a formal
request using the Freedom of Information Act, which enables citizens
like me to ask the government for information and, provided it isn't
classified, have some realistic expectation of receiving it.
Amazingly, I had located the records in three days flat, something the
Roswell researchers told me they'd been unable to do in five arduous
years. But could I find the nurses themselves?
Finding a Nurse
Three weeks later, the records arrived in the mail. Fanton had died in
1975 and Godard in 1981. Then, one of LaRue's relatives told me she had
been dead for three or four years. That left Uebele and McManus. The
records only gave the city of last-known residence. That was Phoenix in
1978 for McManus and Seal Beach, California, in 1971 for Uebele. But the
Personnel Records Center would forward letters to the exact addresses.
After calls to directory assistance in both cities turned up nothing, I
decided to write letters and send them through the Personnel Records
To do this, I began working with Charles Pelligrini, a management
analyst at the center. Two months later the letters were returned --
addressee unknown. Pelligrini suggested I try the Veterans
Administration (VA). If the women had collected disability benefits,
they would be in the VA files, and I could at least find out if they
were dead or alive. The VA had nothing on McManus, but found that Uebele
had died just three months earlier in May 1994.
Pelligrini then suggested the Defense Finance and Accounting Office in
Cleveland, which cuts pension checks. They had nothing under Rosemary A.
McManus, the name on her personnel records. This led to another chat
with Pelligrini. McManus had been married twice and had thus also been
known as Rosemary M. Jentsch and Rosemary J. Brown. "Try Rosemary J.
Brown," said Pelligrini. He was right. And to my surprise, a clerk in
Cleveland not only pulled up her name, but gave me her city of
residence, too. Directory assistance even supplied a phone number.
Brown was 78 and in a nursing home, but alert. She had already been
approached by two other investigators, possibly Schmitt and an
associate, but the names escaped her. Yes, she had been stationed at
Roswell in July 1947. She remembered the other four yearbook nurses, but
not Nurse X, and not Glenn Dennis himself.
What's more, she told me, she had witnessed nothing to suggest a crash
at Roswell or any unusual goings-on at the base hospital. "I had no
sense of anything weird happening at all," stated Rosemary Brown,
Interestingly enough, based on readings in recent years, she felt the
crash scenario along with the recovery of bodies was plausible. "I know
that something went on, and I know it was very hush-hush. And I know I
didn't know anything about it (at the time). It was closed up tight as a
drum, you know, by the base officials."
She didn't hear any scuttlebutt about it from base personnel, either. "I
can tell you that people who I knew, who were on active duty at that
time, if they knew anything, they kept their mouths shut -- you know,
the pilots and others. I heard nothing directly."
And she says she wasn't told to keep quiet. "We were in the medics. We
were not involved in anything like that. If anybody was, it might have
been one of the doctors on duty."
She had not kept up with the other nurses. But through the grapevine,
she knew that Angele LaRue had married, had had twins, and had moved to
Carswell Air Force Base in Texas. She also knew that Joyce Godard had
died, but was surprised to learn that Adeline Fanton and Claudia Uebele
had passed on as well.
The Roswell Researchers React
What would Schmitt and Randle say to all this? Schmitt wasn't returning
my calls, so I gave Randle a ring. He was surprised that I had found the
records and asked how I had done it. When I explained that I had gone
through the St. Louis Records Center and that I was amazed Schmitt
hadn't done the same thing, he agreed. "Surprises the hell out of me,
too. I thought that would be the first thing Don would do."
Although Randle had located some witnesses through St. Louis, he was
also astonished that they would send out records on living people,
particularly when I didn't have serial numbers. "It sounds as if there
were two ways to get there," said Randle. "One was the interstate
highway system, and the other was the back gravel roads. And Don took
the back gravel roads."
My take on that: Don had tried to use some special connections, possibly
through his secret government contacts or the Internet, instead of
asking right out. I also began to feel that though billed as a team,
Randle and Schmitt actually worked independently. When the right hand
doesn't know what the left is doing, what kind of investigation is
Randle said he was impressed with my straightforward approach. In the
future, he told me, he would follow my lead in seeking other military
witnesses who had seemingly disappeared. He also said he would have
Schmitt give me a call.
Weeks passed, and finally Schmitt left an enigmatic message on my
machine. I tried to call him to talk directly, but he did not return my
calls. Frustrated, I finally called Randle again. He was incredulous
that Schmitt had not gotten back to me. "I told Don it was imperative to
get back to you," he explained. "I don't want you to say something in
your article that is not true, just because we have not made proper
He also said that Schmitt would send me documentation showing he had
tried St. Louis in 1990, but had been told that there were no records.
Schmitt would definitely call me, said Randle, "so we don't look like
clowns bumbling around out here."
He had cause for concern. My investigation was coming at the same time
as the Air Force's attempt to discredit their Roswell research with its
own Roswell report ("Report of Air Force Research Regarding the Roswell
Incident"). In the major thrust of this new, 1994 report, the Air Force
contended that the object found at Roswell was actually a high-tech
weather balloon, part of the Air Force's once-top-secret Project Mogul.
But the Air Force report also contained other information of special
interest to me. One of the Roswell books, apparently the Randle/Schmitt
volume, had claimed there were no records on file with the Veterans
Administration or the Department of Defense for eleven servicemen
stationed at Roswell in 1947. The Air Force went on to say, "That claim
sounded serious, so investigators checked these eleven names in the
Personnel Records Center in St. Louis. Using only the names (since the
authors did not list the serial numbers) the researcher quickly found
records readily identifiable for eight of them. The other three had such
common names that there could have been multiple possibilities." Still,
Randle seemed unfazed by this discovery.
To Randle, the explanation was simple: Because he and Schmitt had raised
a stink about the disappearing records, someone was returning them to
the St. Louis files. Randle said this wouldn't harm their reputation,
however, because Schmitt had the documentation to prove that the records
were unavailable when he had requested them in 1990.
It wasn't necessarily an Air Force plot, either. Randle was willing to
entertain the possibility that the records were misfiled or in use by
other researchers when Schmitt asked for them. He offered as evidence
the fact that the records of some military personnel critical to the
Roswell story were easily located, while others less central to the
reported events of July 1947 had seemed to evaporate. "This would
suggest that there was another reason why those records were missing,"
according to Randle, "and it had nothing to do with Roswell."
What about the nurses? To my amazement, Schmitt, who had finally reached
me, did an about face: In a total reversal of his position, he told me
he'd known about the St. Louis records and had documentation of his
search. In fact, he said, he'd even found and interviewed Lieutenant
Colonel Rosemary J. Brown.
I was incredulous. Here I'd been about to base a national magazine story
on Schmitt's fruitless search for the missing nurses, and he says he's
been pulling my leg. "It is not that we were putting out
misinformation," he said, "it is just that we were denying that we found
anything." He also expressed surprise that four of the five yearbook
nurses were dead.
Why the initial claim of the vanishing records, which is what resulted
in my investigation? His explanation goes something like this: Schmitt
believes that Brown may actually be Glenn Dennis's nurse -- the woman
who allegedly was present at the alien autopsy -- even though her name
is not the same as the one Dennis gave him "because she is about one and
a half hours from Minneapolis-St. Paul, which Glenn was under the
impression was Nurse X's home town." Granted, Brown does not admit to
any knowledge of the alleged crash, but Schmitt still hopes that she
might be won over and persuaded to talk. "She may or may not know
something, but she is the closest thing that we have. That is why we
have treated her with kid gloves," says Schmitt, "and why I haven't
publicized the fact that we have found her."
I later confronted Randle, and he agreed Schmitt's current claim was
true as well: "What we found in the past," said Randle, "is that when we
have let stuff slip out early that it has come back to haunt us in some
fashion." So now they kept information quiet until it was thoroughly
researched. They even knew about the death of Major Joyce Godard,
another one of the Roswell nurses, but didn't reveal it, because they
wanted to talk to her surviving relatives, said Randle, before other
researchers got to them.
All well and good, but then why make an issue of the missing nurses in
the first place, as if their very absence were proof of a government
attempt to perpetrate conspiracy, erase information (and even people),
and be sinister in the extreme?
The Slippery Sands
I was now deep in the heart of conspiracy country, and I had to watch my
step if I wanted to get at the truth, because these were slippery sands.
Here's how my logic went: On the one hand, it was possible that Randle
and Schmitt had, as they now claimed, known about the nurses from the
git-go, deciding to feed OMNI erroneous information on some lark. It
could be that when I contacted them they said, "Ah, there's our stooge!"
On the other hand, perhaps they hadn't found the nurses -- perhaps their
original story, the one they wanted me to write for OMNI initially, had
been delivered straight. Could they have been embarrassed that their
five-year search, including private detectives, elaborate inside
connections, and computer expertise, had been largely unsuccessful,
while I'd come up with the goods in three short days? Might they have
invented their latest story just recently to save face?
Like the nurses themselves, I reasoned, I could find the truth in
documentation. I would press Randle and Schmitt to show me proof. And
the evidence I'd ask for would be specific. I myself, after all, had
found the nurses through St. Louis. I had documents to that effect,
including the papers received by way of the Freedom of Information Act.
Randle and Schmitt claimed they had traveled that route -- the
superhighway for information in this case -- as well. If so, they should
have papers, too.
Again I left my messages on answering machines and waited weeks for my
calls to be returned. I'd just about given up hope of ever hearing from
them again when, one day, Schmitt called. He had been in Roswell, he
said, had returned, and was, as usual, ready to help me in any way that
To get the documentation on the St. Louis searches he told me to contact
his assistant, Brad Radcliffe, a Wisconsin therapist, who had done the
work. But when I called Radcliffe at his place of employment, using the
number Schmitt had given me, Radcliffe didn't know who I was or what I
wanted. In fact, in keeping with his practice of not mixing UFO work
with his day job, he asked that I fax my request for the documentation.
The next day I got even more "help" from Schmitt. Sarah Gillmore,
another assistant, called to say that several months earlier she had
talked to Lieutenant Colonel Brown and that she would answer any
questions that I had. Even though I had not asked Schmitt for any
information on Brown, Gillmore and I had a pleasant chat, and I
eventually discovered that Gillmore didn't know anything about the St.
Louis records search or its documentation. I reiterated my request for
documentation, and assumed that it would get back to Schmitt -- again.
My take was this: Schmitt wanted to show me he could be helpful, even if
he didn't have any documentation showing that he had queried St. Louis.
The following day my fax cranked out five pages from Radcliffe.
Unfortunately, it was all about his attempts to get confirmation from
the Pentagon, various retired nurses groups, and other organizations
that the nurses had served in the military -- information I had not
asked for -- while my request for St. Louis documentation was completely
ignored, except to say that St. Louis had no listing for the women. The
next day I left a message with his wife indicating that what I really
needed was the St. Louis material. She said her husband would get back
When I hadn't heard from Radcliffe in four days, I gave him a ring just
to make sure that he knew what I wanted. He was confrontational and
disdainful of my efforts, even though he wouldn't let me tell him what I
was doing. "I really don't have time now," he said. Nor did he offer to
make it. He again told me to follow up with the Pentagon and the nurses
organizations and didn't want to hear anything about St. Louis. The
message I got was that if the women weren't on file with the places he
had checked, then it was unimportant that I had found their records at
the St. Louis center.
"I could have my twelve-year-old go to St. Louis and get records," said
Radcliffe, as if to offer the ease of getting information there as his
reason for not pursuing that avenue first, if at all.
I was beginning to think Radcliffe was the end of the chain. The nurses
had been his responsibility, and he had not tried the obvious -- St.
Louis. On top of that, could the airmen, whose records the Air Force so
easily unearthed for their Roswell rebuttal, also have been his
responsibility? No wonder he didn't want to talk to me.
Even so, I decided to take Radcliffe's advice and touch base with his
sources. I would redo Radcliffe's search and see what he had found. If
Schmitt was correct and the Air Force was now covering its tracks, the
evidence, after all, would be here.
I started with Stars and Stripes. I was told they had back issues of
their newspaper but no records for the Roswell nurses or any other
nurses. I was referred to Stars and Stripes, Pacific and European,
housed at the Pentagon. They didn't keep records of nurses, either, but
suggested the Women in Military Service Memorial Foundation, also in
Washington, a source Radcliffe had not cited, but which Schmitt had
At the foundation, Lieutenant General Wilma Vaught, Retired, entered all
the names into her database, but couldn't find a match. Still, there was
a rub. Vaught pointed out that someone had to submit the names of the
women in order for them to get into the database. It is something anyone
can do, but "there's a potential of 1.6 to 1.7 million names and we've
only got about 150,000, so there are all kinds that have never been
entered," she said. It's not surprising, then, that the Roswell nurses
Following Radcliffe's lead, I also contacted Captain Ethel Cerasale,
Retired, a Floridian and past president of the World War II Flight
Nurses Association, who has been active in the group since 1960. She
didn't check her records because she has been involved with the
organization for so long that she has the members' names in her head.
"As far as my records go, I've had them around for a long time, and I am
very familiar with them. And I don't recognize any of the names," she
said. But she also said that there was no reason to assume that there
was something strange or suspect about a woman not being on file with
her organization. "It was a very small group who were Air Evacuation
Nurses," said Cerasale, "and we only have about 500 members now."
Undeterred, I called Colonel Ruth Fussell, Retired, another Radcliffe
source in Florida, who I assumed was the head of, or an officer in, the
Society of Retired Air Force Nurses. To my surprise, she was not an
officer in the organization and never had been. "I don't even go to the
meetings anymore," she said. She didn't have any records, but did check
her membership directory -- the sort of booklet all members receive --
which didn't list any of the Roswell nurses. But that didn't surprise
Fussell since the society is a voluntary organization. "People don't
have to belong," said Fussell. Why had Radcliffe approached her? "I
don't know," said Fussell.
Maybe I did: Perhaps Radcliffe didn't know how to do this sort of
research. In any event, I slogged on.
But the story was the same at the National Archives and at the U.S. Army
Center of Military History, both in Washington, DC. Experts in both
places directed me, specifically and emphatically, to the records center
in St. Louis.
"The St. Louis Records Center has the personnel files, which are proof
that someone served," said Archivist Deanne Blanton of the Military
Reference Branch of the National Archives.
"This is only a small office," said the Nurse Corps Historian, Major
Connie Moore . "The people who keep personnel records are in St.
It was uncanny. Even when I replicated Radcliffe's search, all roads led
to St. Louis. Even if I'd done it his way, I would have gotten to the
Roswell nurses in three days tops.
Radcliffe, on the other hand, had asked these organizations for the
records, and when they couldn't comply, concluded he'd come up against a
plot to hide the fact that these women had ever served in the Army Nurse
Corps at all. In his fax to me he even cited the records of the Society
of Retired Air Force Nurses and the WWII Flight Nurses Association and
wrote, "They claim to have everyone who was ever a nurse." Right.
Where does this leave us? If we can believe the records, and I suppose
if we are entertaining conspiracies, we have to enter the caveat that
maybe we can't, the mystery is solved. The records have been found and
the whereabouts of all the nurses -- except for the elusive Nurse X --
have been determined. And remember: We have little more than the word of
Glenn Dennis that this woman ever existed because, like 10 or 15 percent
of Roswell personnel, her photo was not in the yearbook. In any event,
it can no longer be claimed that the women vanished, if it ever could.
As to the second mystery -- the mystery of Randle and Schmitt -- that
remains unsolved. Were they feeding me misinformation from the start?
Did they know, all along, that Captain Joyce Godard was dead and
Lieutenant Colonel Rosemary Brown was still alive? If so, why did they
lead me on, deliberately encouraging a national magazine to publish a
story they knew was a lie?
Or, on the other hand, was their research just unforgivably sloppy? Did
they delegate so much responsibility to untrained help that they lost
oversight and ultimate control? Did they really think the nurses had
vanished off the face of the earth after service at Roswell, only to
learn otherwise in the face of OMNI's investigation and then, in a
panic, try to hide their mistake?
Their explanations aside, I don't think I'll ever really know.
Anyone who has read the books of Randle and Schmitt knows they have put
in a lot of work over the years. Here are a couple of guys trying to
reconstruct an event that occurred almost 50 years ago. No easy task.
And if they are right, they are also butting heads with elements of the
federal government. But they have been caught with their pants down on
this one. Not only do they now say they fabricated their "vanishing
nurses" claim, which they hoped would be published in OMNI, they also
cited evidence that just didn't stand up to inspection. It seems to me
that in UFOlogy, more than in fields where follow-up and replication are
common, researchers have a special obligation to get it right and not
inflate their claims. To paraphrase astronomer J. Allen Hynek, one of
the scientific fathers of the field, "extraordinary claims require
extraordinary evidence." Randle and Schmitt have not produced the latter
(Originally appeared in OMNI Vol. 17, No. 8, Fall 1995)