The Three Bullets
November 22, 1961 was, no doubt, the worst day of my life. Engraved in my mind like words on a tombstone, the events of that day are easily recalled, but agonizing to remember.
The limo, containing the greatest man America has ever known, pulls out of the building. I take my position with all the other guards. I ride slowly behind that car, scanning the crowds for danger. It is surreal. All the people gathered along the roadside to see the president cheer as we pass. Always the gentleman, our president smiles and waves at the crowds on either side. His safety is essential to the welfare of America. All I had to do was look for threats to this man’s life. It was a simple task, but the pressure to keep him safe made my heart pound with anxiety. Why would anyone want to murder our beloved John Kennedy? Yet, I know there will always be someone so rancorous that nothing can stop them. …show more content…
“Oh God,” I thought, “Please let someone live. Oh, It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I was not looking.” The president’s limo speeds off in the direction of the nearest hospital, leaving my police officers behind to instruct the bystanders to lay flat. The crowds scream. The ladies faint. We order people to lay flat or get low. After we cleared the area, I look in the direction the limo had gone. At the start of that horrific day, the great man who had done so much for my family had shaken my hand before climbing into his navy limo. My thoughts had been focused only on the great accomplishments of the man before me. No one in that garage could have imagined the gruesome events of that fateful day. I know I did not. Returning to the present, I hurry after the mob of people pushing and shoving to get away. No one wants to be left alone in that square. I act upon instinct, not truly knowing what I was doing. Thank goodness for all the secret servicemen who drilled the motions into our
November 22, 1961 was, no doubt, the worst day of my life. Engraved in my mind like words on a tombstone, the events of that day are easily recalled, but agonizing to remember.
The limo, containing the greatest man America has ever known, pulls out of the building. I take my position with all the other guards. I ride slowly behind that car, scanning the crowds for danger. It is surreal. All the people gathered along the roadside to see the president cheer as we pass. Always the gentleman, our president smiles and waves at the crowds on either side. His safety is essential to the welfare of America. All I had to do was look for threats to this man’s life. It was a simple task, but the pressure to keep him safe made my heart pound with anxiety. Why would anyone want to murder our beloved John Kennedy? Yet, I know there will always be someone so rancorous that nothing can stop them. …show more content…
“Oh God,” I thought, “Please let someone live. Oh, It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I was not looking.” The president’s limo speeds off in the direction of the nearest hospital, leaving my police officers behind to instruct the bystanders to lay flat. The crowds scream. The ladies faint. We order people to lay flat or get low. After we cleared the area, I look in the direction the limo had gone. At the start of that horrific day, the great man who had done so much for my family had shaken my hand before climbing into his navy limo. My thoughts had been focused only on the great accomplishments of the man before me. No one in that garage could have imagined the gruesome events of that fateful day. I know I did not. Returning to the present, I hurry after the mob of people pushing and shoving to get away. No one wants to be left alone in that square. I act upon instinct, not truly knowing what I was doing. Thank goodness for all the secret servicemen who drilled the motions into our