Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir

23

That Day in Dallas

Clint Hill walks beside car as President and Mrs. Kennedy depart Love Field

The White House was alive with activity when I arrived at 8:00 A.M. November 21. The fact that Mrs. Kennedy was going with the president added a whole different dimension to the trip. This would be her first domestic political trip since her husband had become president, and everybody wanted it to go well.

I immediately went to the lower level of the West Wing, where the White House Transportation Office was gathering baggage, and dropped off my suitcase. From this point on I wouldn’t have to worry about my bags. When I arrived at my hotel room that night, all of my stuff would be there, waiting for me. There was no such thing as lost or misplaced luggage when you traveled on Air Force One.

At about 10:40 I heard the unmistakable sound of the helicopter landing on the South Lawn. I put out my cigarette, gathered the portfolio with all the details of the trip, and headed to the Diplomatic Reception Room to prepare to board the presidential helicopter.

It was always an impressive sight to see the Marine helicopter land right there on the lawn at the White House. And no one loved it more than John. As if on cue, the tousle-haired little boy came running in with Agent Bob Foster, as the president and Mrs. Kennedy followed closely behind.

“Hey John,” I said. “Are you coming on the chopper?”

He looked up at me with the biggest grin you can imagine and said, “Yeah! Look!” He pointed out the French doors. “There it is!”

His enthusiasm was contagious, and everybody laughed.

It had become habit now—almost every time the president left the White House, he would ask one of the children’s agents to bring John for the short ride to Andrews Air Force Base. President Kennedy got such a kick out of seeing John’s enthusiasm on the helicopter. I don’t know who enjoyed it more—the president or his son.

As soon as the chopper touched down, the pilot powered down the rotors. When the Navy aide standing at the portico gave us the “okay” sign, we filed into the helicopter, which, as soon as the president boarded, became Marine One.

It was a short six-minute ride to Andrews, where pilot Colonel Jim Swindal had the presidential aircraft ready to go, engines running. It certainly was an impressive plane—with the blue, silver, and white theme that Mrs. Kennedy had had a hand in designing—and the proud UNITED STATES OF AMERICA boldly painted on the side. At times I still had to pinch myself that I was one of the privileged few who got to ride on Air Force One—on a regular basis. Only the presidential party and the shift agents assigned to the president and first lady would ride on Air Force One. Paul Landis was assigned to the backup plane with the afternoon shift agents. The president’s midnight shift agents were already headed to Fort Worth to set up security for our arrival there later in the evening.

The entire day’s itinerary was timed to the minute, and we had left the White House a few minutes late, so there was no time to delay.

“Okay, good-bye, John,” the president said as he leaned over and gave his son a hug.

“I want to come,” John whined. Tears welled in his eyes.

Mrs. Kennedy kissed him on the cheek and said, “It’s just a few days, darling. And when we come back, it will be your birthday.”

Wiping away a tear, she added brightly, “Maybe we’ll have a surprise or two.”

This didn’t appease John in the slightest. He was really crying now. Oh, how he wanted to go on the big plane with Mummy and Daddy.

President Kennedy leaned over and gently patted his son on the leg. “John, like Mummy said, we’ll be back in a few days.”

Then the president stood up and looked at Agent Bob Foster, who had slid into the seat next to John.

“Take care of John for me, won’t you, Mr. Foster?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” Foster replied. “I’ll be glad to do that.”

John continued to cry as the president and Mrs. Kennedy exited the helicopter. Before I got off, I gave a quick look around to make sure nobody had left anything.

“Bye-bye, John,” I said. “You have fun with Mr. Foster now, okay? We’ll be back in a few days.”

We’ll be back in a few days . . .

ON THE FLIGHT to San Antonio, I sat in the aft cabin next to Roy Kellerman, the Assistant Special Agent in Charge (ASAIC) of the White House Detail. Forty-eight-year-old Kellerman was the supervising Secret Service agent on the trip, and just as I would be with Mrs. Kennedy the entire time, so would Kellerman be with the president. Kellerman was in his twenty-third year with the Secret Service and was one of the agents we all really looked up to. Extremely detail-oriented and methodical, he had started as a shift agent with President Franklin D. Roosevelt, and had risen through the ranks while serving under presidents Truman, Eisenhower, and now Kennedy. At six foot four, with gray-streaked black hair, a leathered complexion, and steely eyes, he was an imposing figure—of all the agents, he probably had the most intimidating appearance of any of us. President Kennedy trusted him completely.

The Air Force One stewards served a light lunch to all on board. It was good to get something to eat because once the activity of the day began, we agents never knew when we’d get our next meal. When the opportunity presents itself, take advantage because it may be a long time until you have that chance again.

At 1:30 P.M. local time, we landed at San Antonio Airport. I looked out the window to see what awaited us.

“Take a look at that crowd,” I said to Kellerman. “I bet there are five thousand people there.”

“And that’s just the airport,” he said as he got up out of his seat. “Last word I got was that the police were expecting a hundred and twenty-five thousand along the motorcade route.”

It wasn’t anything we hadn’t dealt with before. I just hoped Mrs. Kennedy had gotten some rest on the flight. It was going to be a long day. When Mrs. Kennedy emerged from the presidential cabin, she had changed into a short-sleeved white suit with a narrow black belt, and elbow-length white gloves. Knowing we would be riding in the open convertible, she had put on a black, beret-style hat to keep her hair from blowing in the wind.

When President and Mrs. Kennedy emerged from the rear door of the aircraft, the crowd went wild. Vice President and Mrs. Johnson and Governor John Connally and his wife, Nellie, were lined up at the bottom of the stairs to greet them in a formal procession. Everybody knew their places. It had all been planned down to the minute and arrivals like this were almost always the same.

The president and Mrs. Kennedy acknowledged the large crowd with waves and smiles, as the agents formed an envelope of protection around them. Not too close, but within an arm’s length, at all times. The schedule called for them to proceed directly to the waiting limousine, but the people behind the fence line were screaming and waving signs that said KENNEDY IN ’64. In typical fashion, President Kennedy couldn’t resist going to the fence to shake some hands.

Mrs. Kennedy took me completely by surprise and followed the president toward the crowd. She had never done this before. This was the kind of thing she tried to avoid. I stayed close to her as she followed the president’s lead, tentatively reaching her gloved hand into the crowd. Ladies were shrieking at the sight of the president and calling out “Jackie! Jackie!”

Mrs. Kennedy had indicated to me that she wanted to help her husband and I guess this was one way she was doing so. I thought back to our conversation at Atoka and her concerns.

Do you think the climate in Dallas is so hostile to the president that the people could mistreat us like they did Adlai?

No indication of that here in San Antonio, I thought. You couldn’t ask for a friendlier or more exuberant crowd.

The motorcade vehicles were lined up ready to go, in a set procession, as outlined in the White House Advance Manual, which every White House Detail Secret Service agent carried. Two Secret Service vehicles had been flown to San Antonio ahead of time—the presidential limousine and the Secret Service follow-up car—while standard cars had been leased locally for the vice president and other members of the party.

After a few minutes, the president waved good-bye, and he and Mrs. Kennedy took their seats in the limousine with Governor and Mrs. Connally.

The midnight-blue Secret Service parade limousine, SS-100-X, which we had been using since March 1961, was specifically designed for motorcades like this. SS-100-X was the most advanced presidential parade limousine of its time. The Ford Motor Company and Hess & Eisenhardt had taken a standard Lincoln Continental convertible and modified it, using specifications provided by the Secret Service. The original wheelbase of 133 inches was extended to 156 inches—with the extra room all being in the rear passenger compartment; built-in jump seats in front of the rear seat allowed for additional passengers; a hydraulic lift allowed the president to be raised nearly a foot higher if he so desired; a loudspeaker system could be used to address a crowd.

Then of course, there were the various roofs—the metal roof, a convertible top, and the Plexiglas “bubbletop.” There was a roll bar that ran from one side of the car to the other, above and slightly to the rear of the front seat, which provided support and acted as the fastening device for the different tops. What we had come to realize, in the past two and a half years of using the car, however, was that while it made for a great handlebar for the president to hold on to while standing in the car during a motorcade, its presence made it extremely difficult, almost impossible, for the agent in the right front seat to be able to get into the rear compartment, in the case of an emergency.

One final drawback of this unique car was that, with the modifications, its weight had been increased from 5,215 lbs to 7,800 pounds, without passengers. And the specially designed 350-horsepower engine, although adequate for normal use, did not facilitate quick acceleration.

What was most useful, from the Secret Service standpoint, were the special handles on the trunk and the steps on the rear bumper area where two additional agents could ride, and have immediate access to the occupants, should the need arise. But, as I’d been told the day before, the president did not want us there, on the back of the car.

The Agent in Charge always rode in the right front passenger seat of the presidential vehicle, while the rest of the agents in the motorcade rode in the follow-up car—the large 1956 Cadillac convertible we called Halfback. Like SS-100-X, it had been modified with some special features. It could hold nine people in seats and had running boards along both sides, which, when you were standing on them, provided an elevated vantage point to observe the ever-present crowds. The running boards also served as launching platforms to get off and on the vehicle. Handholds attached to the edge of the windshield frame aided in our movement back onto the car.

Behind the front seat, built into the divider from the rear, was a cabinet that held additional armaments. On this day, the AR-15 rifle was there.

Normally President and Mrs. Kennedy would ride side-by-side alone on the rear bench seat, with guests occupying the jump seats. For some reason, Mrs. Connally joined the president and Mrs. Kennedy on the rear seat, while the governor sat in front of them, in the jump seat. It was a cloudless, sunny day, perfect weather for a political parade—and ideal for 100X to have no top on at all. Just the way President Kennedy liked it.

It seemed that half the city of San Antonio had come out to watch the president drive by. They lined the streets with WELCOME JACK AND JACKIE signs, screaming and hollering all along the motorcade route from the airport to Brooks Air Force Base.

I was riding on Halfback, immediately behind the presidential vehicle, with the agents on the 8:00–4:00 shift from the president’s detail. Standing in the forward position on the left running board of the follow-up car, next to driver Agent Sam Kinney, this put me in close proximity to Mrs. Kennedy, who was seated on the left side of the presidential limousine, and gave me a somewhat elevated position from which to observe the crowd. There was an agent standing behind me, two others on the right running board, two agents in the backseat, and Emory Roberts, the 8:00–4:00 shift leader, was in the right front passenger seat.

As we traveled from San Antonio International Airport through the streets of the city, there were many places where the crowd was so dense that the people had spilled into the street. These were the situations in which I’d seen a mass of people surge toward the car, changing an otherwise peaceful motorcade into a swarm of chaos. It could happen in an instant. So, whenever I saw a particularly dense crowd alongside the road, I would jump off the running board, run to catch up with the presidential vehicle, and run alongside so that I was between Mrs. Kennedy and the people, until the crowds thinned. This could go on for a block, or a mile. Jump off, run, jog along for a while, fall back to the follow-up car, jump back on the running board. Off and on, on and off, for fifteen miles. The Florsheims were getting a good workout.

We arrived at Brooks Air Force Base, where another nine thousand people cheered as President and Mrs. Kennedy entered the stage area. The president made a speech to dedicate the Aerospace Medical Center, the program concluded, and we were back in the vehicles for another motorcade to Kelly Air Force Base where Air Force One, the vice president’s plane, and the backup plane had been moved from the San Antonio airport.

At this point, the 4:00–midnight shift took over the president’s protection, and the morning shift—Emory Roberts’s 8:00–4:00 shift—headed to the venue in Houston to set up security in advance of the president’s arrival. Paul Landis and I didn’t have any replacement shift, so we carried on—me handling the motorcades and Paul moving ahead to our destination.

Everybody boarded their respective planes and flew to Houston—a thirty-five-minute flight. The first stop had been a success, and on board Air Force One, the president was thrilled. When we landed in Houston, we did the whole routine all over again—complete with Vice President and Mrs. Johnson and Governor and Mrs. Connally greeting the President and Mrs. Kennedy as they got off Air Force One.

There was a large, friendly, and enthusiastic crowd at the airport—nearly twice as many people as had been in San Antonio. And as before, President and Mrs. Kennedy willfully went to the fence line to greet the people who had come out to give them such a warm welcome.

I guess this is how you win votes and elections—shaking as many hands as possible, hoping that brief personal connection will turn into a vote.

I could tell Mrs. Kennedy was a bit tired, but she really seemed to be enjoying it.

After several minutes, it was time to pile into the cars again for the motorcade into the city to the Rice Hotel. There hadn’t been time to securely transport SS-100-X and the follow-up car, so they were sent on to Dallas, to be used the following day. In Houston, the cars were standard Lincoln convertibles loaned to the Secret Service by the local dealer. The presidential vehicle was a bit tight as President and Mrs. Kennedy and the governor squeezed into the backseat, while Mrs. Connally was jammed in the front seat between driver Agent Bill Greer and ASAIC Kellerman. Not much room to move.

The follow-up was also a standard Lincoln convertible, which was not very efficient for the agents working the motorcade. I sat on top of the car frame, with my legs straddling the door, one inside and one out. When the crowds were bigger, and I thought I might have to jump off quickly, I’d move to a sidesaddle position. It was awkward, and uncomfortable as hell. Running alongside the presidential vehicle was preferable, but it was impossible to run and keep up the entire way.

At the Rice Hotel another huge crowd was waiting to greet President and Mrs. Kennedy. More hand-shaking in the crowd, and then up to the suite that had been arranged for them to rest and relax for a few hours before the evening’s activities.

Mrs. Kennedy’s hair was windblown from having been in the open-top cars, and I could see in her eyes that she was somewhat drained.

“How are you doing, Mrs. Kennedy?” I asked. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Hill, I’m fine. It’s been such a wonderful day, hasn’t it? I do need a rest, though, or I imagine I’ll collapse later this evening.”

“Well, just let me know if you need anything.”

I waited outside the suite with ASAIC Roy Kellerman as various people came and went. Ken O’Donnell and Dave Powers, the special assistants to the president—and both longtime friends—conferred with President Kennedy, while Mary Gallagher assisted Mrs. Kennedy. They rested, ate dinner, and changed clothes. At one point the president called for Vice President and Mrs. Johnson to join them in the suite, and after a short visit the Johnsons left to attend the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC) dinner within the hotel.

The schedule called for the president and Mrs. Kennedy to drop by the LULAC reception at 8:20 P.M. On my copy, Mrs. Kennedy had written in red pencil: Speech?

At 8:40 P.M. the president and Mrs. Kennedy came out of the suite, smiling, and joking with Ken O’Donnell and Dave Powers.

Mrs. Kennedy had changed into an elegant black cut-velvet dress, with long sleeves and a neckline that accentuated her three-strand string of pearls. She had touched up her makeup and her hair was once again perfectly coiffed. She looked stunning.

Members of the hotel staff had lined the corridor, and as we walked past them to the elevators, the president smiled and said “Hello” as he guided Mrs. Kennedy, his hand gently on her elbow.

Kellerman and I escorted them to the LULAC dinner on the second floor of the hotel for a surprise visit. The president spoke briefly and then introduced Mrs. Kennedy, who proceeded to address the group in Spanish. They loved it. The crowd gave her a standing ovation and shouted “Viva Jackie!” and “Viva Kennedy!” as the president stood by, looking admiringly at his wife, and obviously elated by the response of the crowd.

We departed the Rice Hotel and drove to Sam Houston Coliseum to pay tribute to Congressman Albert Thomas. When the speech was finished we departed for Houston International Airport and once again boarded Air Force One. It was 10:15 P.M. when we departed Houston for Carswell Air Force Base, near Fort Worth.

Vice President and Mrs. Johnson were once again there to greet the Kennedys as they arrived at Carswell after the fifty-minute flight. It was now 11:05 P.M. and thousands of people were there to view the arrival, including a lot of young children. Considering the late hour, this was somewhat of a surprise to me. The crowd was boisterous, quite enthusiastic, and very pro-Kennedy. Once again President and Mrs. Kennedy willingly approached the crowd and expressed their thanks for the outpouring of affection. They entered the vehicles—again the standard Lincoln convertibles—but this time, because of the darkness, the top was up, making it feel that much more crowded.

There were some people standing alongside the road on the way into town, but when we pulled up to the Hotel Texas at 11:50 P.M., it was mobbed. There had to be four thousand people standing in the street and parking lot outside the hotel.

I couldn’t believe it.

It’s nearly midnight and here all these people are standing outside just to catch a glimpse of the president and the first lady? These people are crazy.

When President and Mrs. Kennedy got out of the car, the crowd went nuts.

Sure enough, the president dove into the crowd, Mrs. Kennedy followed, and I went right along beside her.

Finally, we escorted President and Mrs. Kennedy up to Suite 850. ASAIC Kellerman and I got them settled and made sure everything was all right before we turned their security over to the midnight shift.

It had been a long day for everybody.

I went down to the lobby to see if I could locate something to eat. The clock read almost 1:00 A.M., which meant by my body clock it was almost 2:00 A.M. East Coast time. I hadn’t eaten for over thirteen hours. I had a craving for a nice big juicy burger and some fries. At the moment, I couldn’t think of anything but food.

Paul Landis and a few of the other agents who had come in on the backup plane were in the lobby with some of the press corps. Everybody was famished. The Fort Worth Press Club was nearby and the newsies said the agents could join them.

Merriman Smith from the UPI was the senior member of the press corps, and I knew him quite well.

“Come on along, Clint,” he said. “We’ll get you fed.”

We all walked over to the Press Club only to find the food was all gone.

They had some peanuts, so I had a scotch and soda and some nuts, bought a couple packs of cigarettes, and left. We heard there was a place called the Cellar Club nearby that served food. We went there only to find the only thing they were serving was some kind of homemade fruit drink. It was horrible. I went back to my hotel room, right next to the presidential suite—disappointed and hungry.

I called the Fort Worth White House switchboard and requested a wake-up call for 6:00 A.M., then called the hotel room service with an order for a nice big breakfast for 6:45. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was sound asleep.

It had been a long day.

I awoke at 6:00 A.M. to the sound of the phone ringing. Those White House switchboard operators never failed. There was noise outside the hotel so I got up and looked out the window to see what was going on. It was drizzling rain, and a crowd was already gathering to hear President Kennedy speak. He wasn’t scheduled to go out until about 8:30 A.M. and the people were already gathering—in the rain.

It never ceased to amaze me, the star power President Kennedy had. It was really an unquantifiable thing—and Mrs. Kennedy had it, too. People just went crazy over them.

I shaved and showered, and promptly at 6:45 A.M. breakfast arrived. The coffee was hot and black, and the eggs, bacon, and hash browns really hit the spot. This was one luxury I fully enjoyed.

I packed everything back in my suitcase so it was ready for the transportation guys to send over to the LBJ Ranch in Austin, where we were to spend the night, and got ready to go to the presidential suite.

I was standing in the hallway with Roy Kellerman and Emory Roberts when President Kennedy came out, flanked by Dave Powers and Ken O’Donnell.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” President Kennedy said. “Did you have a good night?”

“Good morning, Mr. President,” we responded.

“There’s quite a crowd out there,” Dave Powers said, gently urging the president. “Time to get moving.”

A few minutes later, I heard women shrieking, and a thunderous applause. President Kennedy had just walked outside the hotel.

I remained at the security post, just outside the entrance to the suite, giving Mrs. Kennedy as much privacy as possible. Mary Gallagher was already inside packing Mrs. Kennedy’s bags and helping her get ready.

At 9:10 A.M. the security phone at the entrance to the presidential suite rang. It was agent Bill Duncan, the advance agent, calling from the breakfast being held downstairs.

“Clint, the president wants you to bring Mrs. Kennedy down to the breakfast—now!”

“Okay,” I said, “we’ll be right there.”

I checked Mrs. Kennedy’s schedule and where it listed the breakfast there was a red check mark and a red-penciled footnote in her handwriting: JBK won’t attend.

Oh well, I thought, everything is subject to change.

I walked into the suite and said, “Mrs. Kennedy, the president wants you down at the breakfast. Are you ready?”

“Come on in, Mr. Hill,” she answered, not noting the urgency in my voice. I walked into her bedroom, where Mary was hurriedly packing Mrs. Kennedy’s suitcase.

Mrs. Kennedy was dressed in her pink suit, the one with the navy collar. But I could tell she wasn’t completely ready. She hadn’t planned on going to the breakfast.

“Good morning, I hope you slept well,” she said cheerfully.

“We’ve got another long day ahead,” I said, trying to subdue my urgent attitude.

“Yes, I never realized how tiring campaigning could be,” she said. “I guess I didn’t do too much of it the last time.”

“Mrs. Kennedy, did you know that the president is waiting for you at the breakfast?”

“I wasn’t planning on going to the breakfast,” she said.

“I know, Mrs. Kennedy, but the president wants you down at the breakfast right now.”

She looked in the mirror and said, “Okay, I just need to put on my hat.”

There was a matching pink pillbox hat laid out on the dresser next to some gloves. She put it on, looked in the mirror to adjust it, and then asked Mary to help her with the buttons on her wrist-length gloves.

Now she was ready. I opened the door and we walked out of the suite, toward the elevators.

Paul Landis had received the message and was waiting in the hall near the elevators.

“Good morning, Mr. Landis,” she said with a smile.

“Good morning, Mrs. Kennedy, another busy day ahead for you.”

“Yes, we will all be ready to relax tonight, won’t we?”

The three of us got into the elevator and began the descent to the mezzanine level.

I led the way, walking briskly, with Mrs. Kennedy following, and Paul behind her. As we entered the Grand Ballroom, the place erupted with applause. The room was packed with people sitting at long tables. They had utilized every square foot of space available and about two thousand people were in attendance.

I could hear people commenting as she walked by: “Oh, isn’t she lovely?” “Oh my goodness, she’s even prettier in person!”

I led her to the dais and she was guided to her seat at the head table.

President Kennedy stepped up to the podium and said, “Two years ago, I introduced myself in Paris by saying that I was the man who had accompanied Mrs. Kennedy to Paris. I am getting somewhat that same sensation as I travel around Texas.”

He paused, as the entire audience laughed.

Then, he added, glancing at Mrs. Kennedy, “Nobody wonders what Lyndon and I wear.”

Mrs. Kennedy blushed and displayed that girlhood smile of innocence she had perfected. The president, in his inimitable way, had hidden what I knew was his displeasure with her lateness, turned the situation into a compliment of his wife, added a dose of humor, and the crowd loved it.

The breakfast concluded with gifts to both the president and Mrs. Kennedy, and we escorted them back to the suite. They had about a half an hour to relax before we headed to Dallas.

IT HAD BEEN raining lightly that morning in Fort Worth, so ASAIC Kellerman called Agent Win Lawson, the advance agent in Dallas, to check on the weather. It hadn’t yet been determined whether SS-100-X would have the Plexiglas bubbletop on or off. It took some time to attach the bubbletop, and Sam Kinney, the driver agent in charge of the vehicles, would need to know as soon as possible.

Lawson reported it was clearing up and should be nice.

ASAIC Kellerman said, “Tell Sam, top off.”

That was the standard motorcade situation during the Kennedy administration. It was the same whether he was in Berlin, Dublin, Honolulu, Tampa, San Antonio, or San José, Costa Rica. Unless it was raining or there were other adverse weather conditions, the president wanted the top off during parade-type motorcades. He wanted maximum exposure with no evidence there was anything between him and the people. People felt a connection to President Kennedy when they saw him in person. That’s what had gotten him elected, and now he needed to get reelected.

AT 10:40 A.M. we left the Hotel Texas and headed for Carswell Air Force Base, where Air Force One, the vice president’s plane, and the backup plane were ready to go. We used standard Lincoln convertibles again, but it had stopped raining, so the tops were off.

There were large crowds all along the thirty-minute route back to Carswell, and again a large crowd was waiting at the air force base. More shaking hands, and finally it was time to go.

The president’s Secret Service detail had changed shifts at 8:00 A.M. I boarded Air Force One with ASAIC Kellerman and the 8:00–4:00 shift agents, while Paul Landis rode with the 4:00–midnight shift agents in the backup plane. The vice president’s plane and the backup plane would arrive a few minutes before Air Force One, and we’d go through the same routine as we had the day before, with Vice President and Mrs. Johnson waiting at the bottom of the steps to greet President and Mrs. Kennedy as they came off Air Force One. Meanwhile, the midnight shift was already on its way to Austin to prepare for the arrival and overnight at LBJ’s ranch.

With everyone on board, Air Force One was wheels up for Love Field in Dallas, and fifteen minutes later we were there.

There was a large crowd waiting behind a chain-link fence as Air Force One pulled up to its arrival point at Love Field. I checked my watch and noted the arrival time in the little black datebook I always carried: 11:40 A.M. Central Standard Time.

President and Mrs. Kennedy exited the plane, USAF 26000, through the rear doors and as they walked down the stairs, the crowd was delirious. Flags were waving, people were applauding and calling out—it was another exuberant welcome in yet another Texas city. At the bottom of the steps, Vice President and Mrs. Johnson and Dallas mayor Earle Cabell and his wife were there to greet President and Mrs. Kennedy. I stood an arm’s length away as Mrs. Cabell presented Mrs. Kennedy with a large bouquet of red roses.

It seemed strange to have the vice president and his wife continually greet the Kennedys at each arrival point in Texas. In this case they had just seen each other a few minutes earlier in Fort Worth. But this was the beginning of a campaign and strange things are done strictly for the photo opportunity. Our destination in Dallas was the Trade Mart, where 2,600 people had paid to have lunch with President and Mrs. Kennedy, and to hear him speak. It would have been much quicker to drive direct from Fort Worth to the Trade Mart in Dallas. Instead we drove from the Hotel Texas in Fort Worth to Carswell Air Force Base, boarded Air Force One, flew to Love Field in Dallas, then drove to the speech site. All of this to get a photo of President and Mrs. Kennedy coming off Air Force One in Dallas and to have a motorcade for maximum exposure. It seemed like a waste of time and money to me, but then politics and security really don’t mix well. Kind of like oil and water.

As soon as they had gone through the receiving line, the president looked toward the crowd.

Without hesitating, the president headed straight for them. I waited for Mrs. Kennedy’s reaction, and with her red roses in her arms, off she went behind him to greet the public. Paul and I stayed as close to Mrs. Kennedy as possible, looking into the crowd for any telltale sign of trouble. She and the president moved along the fence line shaking hands for about five minutes, much to the great delight of the people who had come to greet them.

Finally, they took their places in the presidential limousine—SS-100-X. Mrs. Kennedy sat in the left rear seat, the president in the right rear. After they were seated, Governor and Mrs. Connally folded down the jump seats—with Mrs. Connally directly in front of Mrs. Kennedy, and the governor directly in front of President Kennedy.

Agent Bill Greer was in the driver’s seat. A native Irishman, and a Catholic, Greer and the president had become good friends in the past three years. Greer spoke with a bit of a brogue, and had a great sense of humor. But most important, he knew SS-100-X better than anyone. He had driven it in motorcades all over the world, and knew how it handled in every type of situation. When Greer was driving, there was no question the president was in good hands.

ASAIC Roy Kellerman was the last one in the car, as he took his place in the right front passenger seat. I was standing next to Mrs. Kennedy, my right hand holding on to the door, scanning the crowd, as Bill Greer started driving forward.

ASAIC Kellerman radioed to base and all units, “Lancer and Lace departing.”

It was 11:55 A.M. in Dallas.

Leading the motorcade, ahead of SS-100-X, was an unmarked sedan, driven by Dallas police chief Jesse Curry, with our advance agent Win Lawson in the front passenger seat. The only way Bill Greer knew where to go was to follow the lead car.

I jogged alongside 100X, next to Mrs. Kennedy, until Greer started picking up speed and the crowds had dissipated on our way out of Love Field. Then I dropped back and jumped onto the left running board of Halfback.

Driver Agent Sam Kinney was at the wheel of the Secret Service follow-up car. His job was to stay as close as possible to the presidential vehicle—keeping no more than five feet between the two cars—at all times. Both Kinney and Greer were highly experienced, and they had been working together as a team for a long time.

Assistant to the Special Agent in Charge Emory Roberts was the supervising agent sitting in the right front seat of the follow-up car. In the rear passenger compartment were George Hickey, responsible for the AR-15; Glen Bennett from the Protective Research Section, handling intelligence; and presidential assistants Ken O’Donnell and Dave Powers. Manning the running boards were Agents Jack Ready and Paul Landis on the right side, responsible for the right side of the presidential vehicle. On the left side were Tim McIntyre and myself, responsible for our side. Specifically, I was responsible for Mrs. Kennedy.

We traveled on Mockingbird Lane to Lemmon Avenue with four Dallas police motorcycle officers riding alongside the presidential vehicle, two on each side. The purpose is to create an extra barrier between the president and the crowd, but presidents generally do not like this arrangement because of the loud noise emanating from the motorcycles. It makes conversation within the vehicle very difficult.

The number of spectators was quite few as the motorcade began its journey toward downtown Dallas, and Agent Lawson, in the lead car, had Chief Curry increase the speed. Bill Greer followed the lead, and as 100X increased speed, so did Halfback. Agent Kinney was keeping the two cars very close together. He kept his eyes on the back of the presidential vehicle and the gap between the two was never more than five feet.

Amazing, I thought. I wonder how many times Sam has done this and never had an accident.

The closer we got to downtown Dallas, the larger the number of spectators became. Groups formed along the way, some bearing signs, one of which read PLEASE MR. PRESIDENT STOP AND SHAKE OUR HANDS! President Kennedy could not turn down an opportunity like this, so he requested Bill Greer stop the car.

Suddenly the people with the sign charged toward the car. Roy Kellerman bolted out of the front seat of 100X, and those of us on the follow-up car jumped off and moved to our designated positions. It was our job to deny access to the presidential vehicle, but the president was standing up, smiling, shaking as many hands as he could. Loving every minute.

Mrs. Kennedy looked more uncomfortable when the people came at the car, but she went right along with it, smiling, waving, and shaking hands when we stopped.

It was always interesting to watch how different agents maneuvered themselves to get off or on the follow-up car while it was moving. Successfully going from a moving vehicle—the follow-up car—onto a fixed, stationary surface—the street—was a real challenge. The faster the vehicle speed, the more difficult it became. You had to have great balance and quick feet or you would end up going head over heels onto the street. To get from Halfback to the presidential vehicle while both were moving meant throwing yourself forward with your feet and legs going a similar speed as the vehicles. Not easy to do.

And when you dropped back to the follow-up car, you had to time it right, and jump with confidence, because if you fell, there was a damn good chance you were going to get run over.

The crowds became denser as we neared the center of town. People were yelling and clapping, waving banners and signs—it was an enthusiastic reception. Between the noise of the motorcycles, and the people, you could hardly hear yourself think. I didn’t like being so far behind Mrs. Kennedy in this situation so I made a sudden decision and jumped off Halfback, ran to catch up to 100X, and leapt onto the rear step of the car. The president glanced back at me, but he didn’t say anything. I knew he didn’t want us on the back of the car, but I had a job to do. I would answer later if necessary.

When the crowds dissipated, I returned to Halfback.

Crowds spill onto Main Street in Dallas on 11/22/63

As we turned onto Main Street, the spectators really increased. Both sides of the street were packed—ten to twenty people deep on each side, spilling into the street. Bill Greer, driving 100X, kept the car to the left to keep President Kennedy, who was in the right rear, as far away from the crowd as possible. Because of the crowds, the motorcycles were having a hard time staying alongside the president’s car.

That put Mrs. Kennedy, seated in the left rear, right up next to the people. I immediately jumped from Halfback and got on the left rear of 100X to be near Mrs. Kennedy.

I crouched on the step, in an effort to be less conspicuous, yet still be in proximity should anything happen. I constantly scanned the crowd. People were everywhere—yelling, cheering, clapping. There were people on rooftops and balconies and fire escapes. People hanging out of windows. It was a beautiful sunny day, and warm. Windows were open all along the route.

Again I saw the president glance my way but not say anything. I stayed there, on the rear step of the limousine, all the way down Main Street.

Main Street came to an end, and the car turned right, onto Houston. At this point the number of spectators diminished considerably. I noticed on the right side of Houston that there were office buildings, and on the left was what appeared to be a plaza. Some concrete columns and a grassy area with a few people, but not many.

Clint Hill crouches on back of limousine on Main Street, Dallas, 11/22/63

I looked back at Halfback, let go of the handhold, jumped off 100X onto the pavement, and in one fluid motion, jumped back to my position on the left running board.

Immediately in front of us as we traveled down Houston Street was a red brick building about seven floors high. Some windows were open in the building, but there was no indication of any problem. Windows had been open all along the route.

We turned left onto Elm Street. It was an unusually sharp turn, and because 100X was no ordinary vehicle, Greer had to slow down considerably. Halfback had similar problems and Kinney maneuvered slowly through the turn.

The vehicles straightened out and began to return to our normal parade pace of about ten miles per hour. I was scanning to the left at the grassy area when I heard a sudden explosive noise, over my right shoulder, from the back of the motorcade.

I turned my head toward the noise, and as my eyes moved across the president’s car, I saw President Kennedy grab at this throat and lurch to his left.

I jumped off the running board and ran toward 100X. I wasn’t thinking, only reacting. Somebody had fired a shot at the president, and I had to get there. I had to get on the car and get myself between the shooter and the president and Mrs. Kennedy.

I was running as fast as I could. Nothing else mattered.

I have been told there was a second shot, which occurred at this time. I did not hear it. My feet were hitting the pavement; the motorcycle engines were loud in my ears.

I’m almost there. Mrs. Kennedy is leaning toward the president. I’m almost there.

I was almost there. And then I heard the shot. The third shot. The impact was like the sound of something hard hitting something hollow—like the sound of a melon shattering onto cement. In the same instant, blood, brain matter, and bone fragments exploded from the back of the president’s head. The president’s blood, parts of his skull, bits of his brain were splattered all over me—on my face, my clothes, in my hair.

My legs were still moving. I assumed more shots were coming. I reached for the handhold and grabbed it.

Just as I grabbed it, the car lurched forward. Bill Greer had stepped on the gas, and the car reacted with a jolt. I slipped. I was gripping with all my strength, my feet now back on the pavement. My legs kept moving, as I held on, trying to keep up with the rapidly accelerating car. Somehow—I honestly don’t know how—I lunged and pulled my body onto the car, and my foot found the step. In that same instant, Mrs. Kennedy rose up out of her seat and started climbing onto the trunk.

What is she doing? What is she doing?

The car was accelerating—we were really speeding up.

Good God, she’s going to go flying off the back of the car! Her eyes were filled with terror. She didn’t even know I was there. She was reaching for something. She was reaching for a piece of the president’s head.

I thrust myself onto the trunk, grabbed her arm, and pushed her back into the seat.

When I did this, the president’s body fell to the left onto her lap.

As I peered into the backseat of the car, I saw the president’s head, in her lap. His eyes were fixed, and I could see inside the back of his head. I could see inside the back of the president’s head.

“My God! They have shot his head off!” Mrs. Kennedy screamed.

Blood was everywhere. The floor was covered in blood and brain tissue and skull fragments.

“Get us to a hospital! Get us to a hospital!” I screamed at Bill Greer.

I wedged myself between the left and right side of the vehicle, on top of the rear seat, trying to keep my body as high as possible to shield whatever shots might still be coming. I had my left hand on the top of the left door frame and my left foot wedged against the inside of the right frame, my right foot hanging over the top of the car frame on the right.

I twisted around to make eye contact with the follow-up car. They had to know how bad it was. With my one free hand, I gave them the thumbs-down sign and shook my head.

My head turned back to the gruesome scene in the car. Nellie Connally was hunched over the governor. And Mrs. Kennedy had her husband’s head in her lap.

“Jack, Jack, what have they done to you?”

Thoughts swirled in my head. Will we get there in time? Go faster, go faster! He’s not breathing. Hang on Mr. President. Hang on. My God, what more can happen to her?

And then came the thought that haunts me still: How did I let this happen to her?

CHIEF CURRY, DRIVING the lead car, had slowed down to see what happened.

“Take me to the hospital, quick!” Bill Greer yelled.

Curry immediately sped up and got in front of us. We were now traveling on a multilane freeway going very fast. Sixty, seventy, eighty miles an hour. Still wedged up high, I was holding on with every ounce of strength in my arms and legs.

I turned my head and my sunglasses blew off.

Governor Connally lifted up and I realized for the first time that he also had been shot.

All time had stopped. It took an eternity to get to the hospital. Finally, we pulled up to the emergency section of a hospital. The sign said: PARKLAND MEMORIAL HOSPITAL.

It was 12:34, four minutes since the first shot rang out in Dealey Plaza. An eternity.

Sam Kinney had stayed right behind us the entire way. When the cars stopped everyone raced to the presidential car. Emory Roberts took one look at the condition of President Kennedy and said, “I’m taking my men to Johnson.”

Everyone knew it was the right thing to do. The agents in the follow-up car had seen the impact.

Agent Lawson had run into the emergency room to get help and gurneys because no one was outside to assist us. He came out with two gurneys and an orderly. The first thing we had to do was remove Governor Connally from the car. We couldn’t move the president until the jump seat was folded up.

We got the governor on a gurney and he was taken inside. Mrs. Connally had remained amazingly composed, and went inside the hospital with her husband.

Mrs. Kennedy had not moved. She was holding on to the president, his head still in her lap.

“Mrs. Kennedy,” I said. “Please let us help the president.”

She would not let go.

“Please Mrs. Kennedy,” I pleaded. “Please let us get him into the hospital.”

She looked up at me. She was in shock. Her eyes were looking, but not seeing. And then I understood: She doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. Nobody should see the president like this. I understand, Mrs. Kennedy. You’re right. Nobody should see the president like this.

I took off my suit coat and placed it over his head and upper torso.

Now no one will see him, Mrs. Kennedy. It’s okay now.

She still hadn’t said a word, but as soon as my coat was covering the president, she released her grip.

Together, Agents Win Lawson, Roy Kellerman, Dave Powers, and I lifted the president’s lifeless body onto the gurney.

Three shots had been fired in Dealey Plaza. And the world stopped for four days.