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

Army Veteran Claims Secret Mission to Hunt Bigfoot – A Terrifying Sasquatch Encounter in the Cascade Mountains

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I never intended to tell this story. For years, I convinced myself it was better left buried with the memories I tried so hard to forget. But the truth has a way of resurfacing, especially when the things you saw refuse to stay silent in your mind. What happened in the mountains of Washington in 2019 changed everything I thought I knew about the wilderness, about survival, and about what might still be hiding in the darkest corners of the world.

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My name isn’t important, but my background is. I’m a former U.S. Army veteran who served two tours overseas. After leaving the military, I returned home hoping to build a quiet life. I bought a small house, worked part-time at a hardware store, and lived mostly on my pension. Life was simple. Sometimes boring. But after years of chaos in combat zones, boring felt like peace.

That peace lasted until a phone call in October of 2019.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when my phone rang with an unfamiliar number. Normally I would ignore it, but something told me to answer. On the other end was Mike, an old squadmate I hadn’t spoken to in almost six years. We exchanged the usual greetings, catching up briefly about life after the service. But I could tell he hadn’t called just to talk. His tone carried the same seriousness I remembered from the battlefield.

Eventually he asked me a strange question.

“Do you need money?”

The question caught me off guard. I told him I was doing okay, which was mostly true. My pension covered the basics, but the roof on my house needed repairs and I’d been postponing some expensive dental work. Mike explained that he had an opportunity—private contract work that would last less than a week. The pay was fifteen thousand dollars in cash.

Fifteen thousand dollars for five days of work.

Even before he explained the details, I knew something about the offer was strange. Jobs that pay that kind of money rarely come without serious risks. When I asked what the work involved, he became vague. He said they needed experienced veterans who could handle weapons, rough terrain, and stressful situations.

He also told me I would get a full briefing when I arrived.

Against my better judgment, curiosity—and the promise of money—pushed me to say yes.

Mike gave me an address for a small airfield in northern Washington and told me to arrive two days later. He advised me to bring cold weather gear and a rifle if I still had one. The instructions sounded less like a job and more like the beginning of a military deployment.

Over the next two days I debated whether to go. Every instinct told me the situation felt suspicious. But another voice in my head reminded me how much that money could help. Eventually I packed my truck with supplies, ammunition, and my old rifle.

Early Thursday morning, I began the six-hour drive north.

The farther I traveled, the more isolated the landscape became. Highways turned into narrow roads winding through endless forests. The mountains rose in the distance like dark walls against the sky. By the time I reached the airfield, the sun was already starting to drop toward the horizon.

The place looked abandoned.

There was a single runway, a few old hangars, and dense forest surrounding the clearing on all sides. Several trucks and SUVs were already parked near one of the hangars. Mike stood nearby waiting for me.

He looked older than I remembered, with more gray in his hair, but the same confident posture remained. After a quick handshake, he introduced me to the others who had arrived.

There were eight of us in total.

Every single one was a veteran.

You could tell immediately by the way they carried themselves—alert eyes, disciplined movements, and the quiet understanding that comes from shared military experience. Nobody used last names, and no one asked too many questions.

Around four in the afternoon, we were called inside the largest hangar.

At the far end of the building, someone had arranged a makeshift briefing station with maps spread across a folding table. Standing beside it was a man in his fifties wearing expensive outdoor gear. He introduced himself only by his first name and explained he had once worked in military intelligence before moving into private security consulting.

Then he asked a question none of us expected.

“How many of you believe Bigfoot is real?”

For a moment, I actually laughed.

The idea sounded ridiculous. But when I looked around the room, no one else was laughing. Their expressions were serious, focused. The man continued speaking as if the question had been completely normal.

He explained that Sasquatch—commonly known as Bigfoot—were not myths or folklore. According to him, they were a surviving species of ancient hominid, highly intelligent and perfectly adapted to life in remote wilderness.

Then he showed us the photos.

At first they looked like the typical blurry images you see online. Dark shapes moving through forests, captured by trail cameras. But the next set of pictures was different.

Crime scene photographs.

Three hikers had been found dead in the Cascade Mountains during the previous eight months. Their bodies were torn apart with wounds that investigators officially blamed on bear attacks. But the man explained that the injuries didn’t match any known animal.

He claimed park rangers had secretly reported sightings of enormous upright creatures in the same region.

Our mission, he said, was simple.

Track the creature believed responsible for the attacks and eliminate it.

The operation would remain completely off the record. No government involvement, no documentation, no questions asked. If the job succeeded, each of us would receive fifteen thousand dollars.

We had two hours to decide.

Outside the hangar, I stood with Mike staring at the mountains in the distance. The whole situation felt surreal. Hunting Bigfoot sounded like something from a late-night TV show, not a real mission.

But the photographs were real.

And something had killed those hikers.

Eventually I made the decision to stay.

By late afternoon we were boarding a civilian helicopter bound for the coordinates provided by the contractor. The flight took nearly an hour, carrying us deep into some of the most remote wilderness I had ever seen.

Endless forests stretched beneath us.

No roads. No towns. Nothing but mountains and trees.

We landed in a small clearing surrounded by towering pines. The air felt colder immediately, and the silence was unsettling. Six members of the team moved into the forest to track the suspected creature while two of us—including me—remained behind to secure the landing zone.

For the first twenty minutes, everything seemed normal.

Then we saw it.

At the edge of the clearing, something enormous stepped from behind the trees.

The creature was at least eight feet tall, covered in dark brown fur with shoulders wider than any human I’d ever seen. Its arms hung nearly to its knees, and its face looked disturbingly human.

For a few seconds, we simply stared at each other.

Then my partner fired his rifle.

The shot hit the creature square in the chest, but instead of falling, it barely reacted. I fired next, striking its shoulder. The creature roared—a deep, terrifying sound that echoed through the forest.

And then it charged.

What followed felt like a nightmare unfolding in real time. Bullets hit the creature repeatedly, yet it kept moving toward us with unbelievable speed. The helicopter pilot tried to lift off as the monster reached the aircraft.

In a single leap, it grabbed the landing skid.

The helicopter tilted violently as the pilot struggled to maintain control. For a moment I truly believed we were about to die right there in the clearing. Only after the pilot struck the creature’s hand with an emergency axe did it finally release its grip.

The helicopter managed to pull away.

But the creature didn’t retreat in fear.

Instead, it turned and ran into the forest—straight toward the rest of our team.

Moments later our radios erupted with chaos.

Multiple creatures had surrounded them.

The sounds of gunfire and roaring filled the forest as we rushed toward the fight. When we reached the ravine where the team had been ambushed, the scene looked like a battlefield.

Several men were wounded.

Two were already dead.

And massive shapes moved silently among the trees around us.

That was when I realized the truth.

We hadn’t encountered a single creature.

We had walked into the territory of an entire group.

The creatures moved strategically, coordinating their attacks with frightening intelligence. At one point I watched one of them pick up a rock the size of a basketball and throw it with incredible force toward the helicopter.

They weren’t just animals.

They were thinking, planning, and defending their territory.

Eventually the survivors managed to retreat back to the helicopter and escape the mountains, though the aircraft was badly damaged. As we flew away, I looked down at the clearing one last time.

Three enormous figures stood at the tree line watching us leave.

They didn’t chase us.

They simply observed as if sending a message.

This is our land.

We barely made it back alive. Two men never returned home. Several others carried injuries that would change their lives forever.

Officially, the mission never happened.

The area in the mountains was quietly closed to hikers due to “increased bear activity.” No reports were filed, and no public explanation was given.

But I know what I saw that night.

Something intelligent still lives deep in those forests.

And if anyone ever decides to go hunting Bigfoot again… they should remember something important.

Out there in the wilderness, we might not be the hunters.

We might be the prey.