‘WE WERE SENT TO KILL BIGFOOT’ – Army Veteran’s Terrifying Sasquatch Encounter

Part 1: The Unexpected Call

I had never expected my life to return to anything resembling normal after the chaos of two combat tours overseas. I returned home, bought a small house in the Pacific Northwest, settled into a quiet routine. The constant noise of battle was replaced by the sounds of a ticking clock, and I found peace in that silence. Life felt predictable, almost boring. I had no intention of ever stepping back into the fray, especially not for something as strange as this.

But then, one cold October afternoon in 2019, everything changed.

It started with a call. The number wasn’t familiar, but I answered anyway. It was from a guy I hadn’t heard from in years—my old squadmate, Jake. I immediately recognized his voice, even though it sounded rougher than I remembered. We made small talk for a few minutes, talking about how things had been, but there was an unmistakable tension in his voice. He was trying to get to something.

Finally, he asked me a question that threw me off guard: “Do you need money?”

I paused for a moment before answering, “I’m doing okay, just the usual stuff. You know—keeping up with bills, repairs on the house… dental work I’ve been putting off.”

Jake didn’t miss a beat. He said he had a private security gig—5 days of work for $15,000 in cash, no questions asked.

The amount of money hung in the air between us like a weight. I didn’t need to think long. My roof was leaking, and I was weeks away from another set of bills piling up. Fifteen thousand would solve a lot of problems, so I agreed to hear him out.

What he told me next sounded ridiculous—something about a private security contract to track down and eliminate a “threat” in the deep wilderness of Northern Washington. I could already tell this was sketchy. But the money—$15,000 cash—was too good to pass up.

He told me to pack for cold weather, bring my rifle, and meet him at a small airfield in two days. And so, after some hesitation, I packed my truck. Survival gear, cold-weather clothing, rifle, and a few days of provisions. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

Part 2: The Mission Briefing

I arrived at the airfield around 3 p.m. on a gray Thursday afternoon. As soon as I pulled in, I saw the others. Five vehicles parked at the edge of the tarmac, all rugged and practical—nothing flashy. I recognized Jake immediately. He looked older, grayer, but still had that military presence about him. We exchanged a brief handshake, and he introduced me to the others.

There were eight men in total. I could tell they were all veterans, just by the way they carried themselves. No one used last names. Everyone had that same silent tension in their eyes.

We didn’t talk much, but it didn’t take long for the briefing to begin. Inside the hangar, a civilian helicopter sat on the tarmac, its blades spinning slowly. The briefing was led by a man in his 50s, dressed in expensive outdoors gear. He introduced himself as “Sam,” a former military intelligence officer now working in private security. Sam’s face was dead serious, and his words were about to make my blood run cold.

The contractor running the operation spoke calmly, but what he said next sounded like something out of a bad movie.

“Sasquatch are real. Not folklore. Not misidentified bears. Real creatures.”

I remember looking at Jake, thinking it was some kind of sick joke. But his face didn’t change. Neither did the others. They were dead serious.

Sam went on to explain that these creatures, known as “Bigfoot” or “Sasquatch,” were a remnant hominid species, incredibly intelligent, and strong enough to kill a human with ease. They lived in the most remote parts of the wilderness, avoiding human contact at all costs. But recently, they had become more active. Three hikers had been found dead in the Cascade Mountain Range over the last eight months. The official reports blamed bear attacks, but the evidence didn’t add up.

The crime scene photos Sam showed us made it impossible to deny that something far worse was responsible. Bodies torn apart. Massive claw-like wounds. The wounds didn’t match any known animal, and the ranger who found them had gone on record stating that the attacks were too deliberate to be caused by a bear. They were intelligent, methodical.

And then, Sam dropped the bombshell. There was a sighting. A ranger had seen one of these creatures up close just two weeks before. Eight to nine feet tall, covered in dark brown fur, walking upright, and—most chillingly—staring at the ranger with humanlike eyes before disappearing into the trees.

The rangers were terrified. They didn’t have the training or resources to deal with a creature like this. But they had a solution: us. Veterans. People who’d faced worse.

The plan was simple: track the creature to its den, eliminate the threat, and get out. No records. No official involvement. Just a cash payment of $15,000 and a promise of a bonus if the job was completed successfully.

Part 3: The Encounter

The helicopter ride to the target area was tense. We all sat in silence, each of us checking and rechecking our weapons. We were headed into a valley deep in the wilderness, where no roads or trails existed—just dense forest and jagged mountain terrain. As we neared the coordinates, I could feel the unease building. There was something in the air, something that didn’t sit right.

The helicopter touched down in a small clearing, and without hesitation, six of the men jumped out, spreading out in a defensive formation. Jake, who had been assigned as the team leader, led the way, while Richards and I stayed by the helicopter to cover the landing zone.

The temperature was dropping fast, and the forest was eerily quiet. No birds. No rustling animals. Just silence.

About 20 minutes later, the team radioed in that they’d found tracks—large, humanoid tracks leading toward a creek. The forest had grown even quieter, and I could feel the weight of the situation. We were no longer alone.

Richards and I were still on high alert when we saw something move at the edge of the clearing. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light, but then it stepped into view.

A creature. Massive. Easily eight and a half feet tall. Covered in dark brown fur, its shoulders wide and arms hanging low, past its knees. The face was almost human, but not quite. Heavy brow. Flat nose. Jaw jutting forward.

It stared at us. My heart stopped.

Part 4: The Fight

Before I could react, Richards fired. The shot rang out, and I saw the impact. Fur and blood sprayed from the creature’s chest. It flinched but didn’t go down. It didn’t even stumble. Instead, it roared—a deep, guttural sound that made my teeth rattle and my blood run cold.

I fired. My training kicked in, but my mind was screaming that this wasn’t possible. This was some sort of nightmare.

The creature charged. We both fired again. The shots hit. I saw the blood, but the creature didn’t fall. It didn’t even slow down. It was moving impossibly fast for something so large, and it was headed straight for us.

The helicopter pilot, realizing what was happening, tried to take off. But there was no time. The creature was closing in fast.

I backed toward the helicopter, fumbling for a fresh magazine as the creature closed the gap. Just 20 yards away now. Richards was still firing, his shots precise but ineffective. The creature was too big, too fast, and too strong.

As the helicopter rose, the creature leaped. I’ve never seen anything move like that. It covered the distance between us in a single bound and caught the landing skid with one massive hand. The helicopter tilted violently, the pilot struggling to gain altitude as the creature dragged us back toward the earth.

I couldn’t get a clean shot without hitting the helicopter, and panic set in. But then the pilot grabbed the emergency axe. He swung it down onto the creature’s hand, driving it deep into the flesh.

The creature howled in pain and let go, but it was far from done. The helicopter jerked upward, just in time to avoid another attack.

We had only one chance to escape, but this wasn’t over. We were still in its territory.

Part 5: The Forest of Nightmares

As we lifted off, I could see the creature standing in the clearing, bleeding but still very much alive. The helicopter climbed higher, and I thought we were safe. But I knew better. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t just a wild animal. It had purpose. Intelligence. And it wasn’t done hunting us.

The next few hours were a blur of gunfire, terror, and desperation. We made our way deeper into the forest, following the blood trail. But the sounds that followed us were