Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir by Clint Hil (love letters to the dead TXT) 📗

that the hours had been extended through the night. The doors finally closed at 9:00 A.M. There would barely be enough time to get everything ready for the ceremony, remove the president’s body from the Capitol, place it back on the caisson, and return to the White House, where the world leaders were gathering. The schedule called for Mrs. Kennedy and the children to leave the White House at 9:45 A.M. and drive to the Capitol. The ceremony would be brief, and by 10:00 A.M. the procession from the Capitol to the White House would begin.

Mrs. Kennedy decided it would be best if Caroline and John did not go to the Capitol this morning for the short ceremony. She and the president’s brothers, Bobby and Ted, would go alone and the children would remain at the White House. Sergeant Watkins brought Mrs. Kennedy’s Chrysler limousine to the North Portico. I got in the front passenger seat, with the three of them in the back, and we drove out the Northeast Gate onto Pennsylvania Avenue and down to the Capitol.

The avenue was lined with people the entire way. More than 250,000 of them had gone through the Rotunda since the president lay in state, and more would have, if time had permitted.

We arrived at the Capitol, marched up the steps, and entered the Rotunda. I stood back as Mrs. Kennedy and the two brothers went directly to the casket, knelt, and prayed. They rose, and we all walked back out the same door, down the steps, and waited at the ground level as the casket was lifted off the bier and brought down the steps. Once again my thoughts were with the honor guard, carrying this very heavy casket down that long set of stairs. It was obviously very difficult, but they made it, and placed it back onto the caisson. The cortege was formed and the procession began to move from the Capitol to the White House.

As we progressed slowly up Pennsylvania Avenue, the size of the crowd increased and the silence emanating from the teary-eyed people was deafening. We arrived at the White House to find a sea of people comprised of the diplomatic corps and two hundred foreign dignitaries from nearly one hundred countries around the world. They had traveled from Europe and Asia, from Africa and Australia, as well as North and South America. There were princes and princesses, kings and queens, presidents and vice presidents, prime ministers and foreign ministers. But the names really told the story. Charles de Gaulle, Haile Selassie, Prince Philip, Queen Frederika, King Baudouin of Belgium, Berlin mayor Willy Brandt, and Ireland’s president, Éamon de Valera to name a few. Included in this mass of humanity was Lyndon Johnson, the new president, and his wife, Lady Bird.

All of these people had gathered to accompany Mrs. Kennedy as she walked behind the caisson that carried the president’s body, from the White House to St. Matthew’s Cathedral.

The security was complex, to say the least. Many of the leaders had come with their own security personnel, and they were mixed in with people who had been brought in from all areas of the U.S. government to assist the State Department, which was responsible for protecting visiting heads of state. Nearly every Secret Service agent from around the country—more than 250 of them—had flown in to help.

The procession left the White House led by a company of U.S. Marines. Next came nine pipers from the Scottish Black Watch, their bagpipes belting out the songs of Ireland the president so loved, as they marched ahead of the six gray-and-white horses pulling the caisson bearing the president’s body. Next came the presidential flag, followed by Black Jack, the riderless horse.

The walking procession came next, led by Mrs. Kennedy, Bobby and Ted Kennedy, flanked by Paul Landis on the left and me on the right. The various heads of state were to follow, but at the last minute Mrs. Kennedy decided she wanted Caroline and John, who were riding in the Chrysler limousine, to be close to her. They had been behind President Johnson and the mass of world leaders, so Agents Tom Wells and Bob Foster worked their way through the dignitaries to get the car up front. Now the procession could begin.

The haunting bagpipes started to play, and we walked.

Clint Hill (left) walks with Mrs. Kennedy and family during funeral procession. President Lyndon Johnson in background.

Lining the one-and-a-quarter-mile route to the cathedral were thousands upon thousands of people, weeping. Step by step we walked, Mrs. Kennedy with her black-veiled head held high, as the people—black and white, children with parents, and elderly folks with canes—openly grieved.

The Requiem Mass at St. Matthew’s was extremely emotional. Mrs. Kennedy sat with Caroline and John on either side of her, and I sat directly behind Mrs. Kennedy. Luigi Vena, a tenor from Boston, sang “Ave Maria,” just as he had at the Kennedys’ wedding in 1953. Cardinal Cushing, who officiated, was a friend of the Kennedy family and had performed the services for Patrick’s funeral, just three and a half months earlier. During the service, at one point he referred to the president as “Dear Jack.” When he said that, it was just too much for Mrs. Kennedy, and the stoic demeanor she had displayed to this point briefly faded.

I had anticipated the need for handkerchiefs and had a couple handy. I reached from directly behind her and placed one in her hand. She used it the rest of the service.

At one point, as had happened on Saturday in the Rotunda, John got fidgety. With Mrs. Kennedy’s nod of approval, Agent Foster picked him up and took him to an anteroom. In an effort to keep him occupied, Bob had him practice his salute.

He wasn’t doing too well, still insisting once again on saluting with his left hand. It had been two weeks since his visit to Arlington Cemetery with his father on Veteran’s Day. But a Marine colonel