Friday, November 22, 2013

Dark Day

Every generation has its "where were you when..." day and some generations have more of said days than others.  For my father's generation it was Pearl Harbor.  My grandfather's generation remembered the Crash o' '29.  I have several such days and today is one of 'em: it's the 50th anniversary of JFK's assassination.  

I was only 18 at the time but I was already in the Air Force, specifically in the early months of radar maintenance training at Keesler AFB in Biloxi, Mississippi.  I was in class when we... my instructors and my classmates... got the news.  Another instructor, a Staff Sergeant known for his practical jokes, stuck his head in the door of our classroom and said "the president's been shot."  Our instructor said "that's not funny, Bob (or Joe, or Phil... I don't recall the guy's real name)" and got a very brief deadpan response to the effect of "I'm not joking, it's all over the teevee and the radio."  There was a moment of stunned silence until our instructor said "I'll be right back" and exited the classroom.  He went down to the front office for instruction on how to proceed, returning in about ten minutes.  All of the students in Allee Hall... some 800 (or so) airmen in basic electronics courses... were told to "go on break and stand by."

And so we did.  Transistor radios appeared out of nowhere and small groups formed in the break areas to huddle around them.  It was eerily quiet except for the tinny radio speakers.  We stood outside silently listening and smoking for about a half an hour when instructors appeared at the doors of the building to order everyone back inside.  Once we were back in the classroom we were told school was cancelled for the remainder of the day and we were to form up and march back to our barracks areas.  The same thing was happening all over the base... the entire 3380th School Group closed down.

We marched from the school area back to our barracks, a distance of about two miles, picking up additional formations of other students as we passed more school buildings along the way.  The marching... to and from school, every day, five days a week... was normally NOT a quiet affair, what with thousands of troops digging their heels into the asphalt, flight leaders calling cadence, and flights singing marching songs.  But not on this day.  All that could be heard were boots in cadence and the occasional "yer right, yer right, yer right."  No songs.  No murmurs.  No nothing... just boots.

We got back to our squadron areas, came to a halt, did a right-face on command and received a curt "Dismissed!"  And then we all filtered into day rooms in the squadron areas to gather around black and white televisions as the rest of the story unfolded.  I don't remember much else about the day but I do recall the silence... the pervading and all-encompassing silence.


Dark Day, Part II.  Here are two thousand words on the WX:


You'll note the worst of it is well to the north and east of P-Ville.

I turned on the heat.


  1. "...turned on the heat."

    Now if we can figure a way to turn off the fan.

    re: the first part.
    We were returning from deployment.
    I had the duty.
    That meant no liberty until Monday.
    It was a real downer all the way around.

    1. Yeah the wind ain't helping matters one lil bit.

      In re: no liberty. I don't recall a single thing about that weekend... but given it was the week before payday I doubt I did anything at all. I was chronically broke as a young airman at that time, and so was everyone else.

  2. I was 7, in 2nd grade. I remember it particularly clearly, because our family was moving from the Detroit 'burbs to our landing place Up North that weekend. Looking back, my world got tossed in all sorts of ways that day. . .

    I have a cousin who was born that day - November 22, 1963. Her mother, my aunt, was born on December 7, 1931; she was having her 10th birthday party during Pearl Harbor. And HER mother, my grandma, was born in 1902. . . on September 11. Grandma didn't live to see her 99th birthday, but all the same, it's probably just as well that my cousin doesn't have any kids. . .

    1. Wow... that's a remarkable set of coincidences where your cousin is concerned. I hear ya about "just as well."

  3. I was in grade school and a PA announcement was made. The teacher put her head down and began crying. I knew it must be important, but I still remember thinking "what is a president, and what does assassinated mean." I mean, I was a confused, we were reading "run spot run", Dick and Jane, etc... But, I remember where I was! :-)

    1. You must be about the same age as The Second Mrs. Pennington, Christiane. (TSMP was seven at the time.)

  4. Part I. I was 23 and in class and in my second semester of college teaching. Just as I dismissed the class, students in the hall waiting to enter for the next class rushed in and told us what they'd heard over their transistor radio. The initial reports we heard only said he'd been wounded so everyone had hopes he'd survive. But by the end of the next class we learned he was dead. Joyce and I spent the weekend and the following Monday looking at our little black and white TV. Most everyone alive then remembers the sadness and grief. But there was also a lot of fear in the air considering that only a year had passed since the Cuban missile crisis had brought us close to nuclear war.
    Part II. Turn up the heat and stay warm.

    1. I remember both the grief and the fear. The Air Force went to DEFCON Three (normal status is DEFCON Five, DEFCON One is the US is under attack) right after the assassination and stayed there for about a week. It WAS pretty scary.

      The furnace is cookin', as we speak!


Just be polite... that's all I ask.