I Shot JFK Read online

  “He was clear in that wink-wink, inscrutable way that higher-ups use to mean ‘I’ve told you all I can. You figure out the rest.’ Anyway, I think it was a good review, Alex. Time will tell!”

  *****

  Gunnar enjoyed his second Christmas at home. He demanded Mexican food once a day. Huevos rancheros did not count. He drank coffee at the Red Rooster. He drove old friends around in Uncle Walt’s Edsel. And he spent an inordinate amount of time at Lt Col Stringer’s house. In the blink of an eye, he and I were flying back East to school.

  In late January, Gunnar’s class celebrated 500th night — five hundred days before they would graduate, an Academy tradition. Lt Col Stringer’s daughter Emily was his date. She was at Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts. For the occasion, there was a big banquet and dance with a live band. Over the last year, I scheduled my visits to not interfere with their dating. Gunnar was always dismissive of that, “Alex, you will always be my first priority.”

  “Right after Emily?” I kidded him. I don’t know how everyone could be his first priority, but that’s how everyone felt. I know I did.

  Gloom Period was always bad, but this would be his worst. You remember that Gunnar wanted to be a fighter pilot. He wisely kept that ambition under his hat, as he said, “You just never know …” He liked the Army, too. One of his favorite tactical officers was an Air Force captain who taught thermodynamics. One Saturday in early February, the captain was flying a proficiency flight out of nearby Sewart AFB. His T-33 Shooting Star flamed out on takeoff. He ejected, but the parachute did not have time to deploy. The loss haunted Gunnar for weeks. Grimly he recounted the tragedy to me, “You just never know …”

  *****

  In April, President Kennedy totally disappointed this campaigner with his half-hearted support for the Bay of Pigs invasion against Castro. He vacillated. By going back on his word, he let hundreds die needlessly. He allowed Communism to prevail. He looked as if he did not know what he was doing. I was sorry I’d ever voted for him. I had campaigned for this waffler?

  On weekends, Gunnar tried to talk me down from my tirades about “dumb John,” my new name for the President. “Dumb-john is what we call plebes here,” he laughed. I can’t be criticizing my commander-in-chief, but the plan to take back Cuba failed in so many ways …”

  “I can criticize incompetency, Gunnar. This guy is a kid playing at an adult game. He’s not up to the job! I hope he’s impeached.”

  In the Thayer Hotel dining room, Gunnar spoke loudly for overhearing ears, “Peach? No, apple! Let’s have apple pie.”

  I got the message: It’s always 1984 at West Point. Big Brother is always listening. “How about those Knicks?” I asked.

  *****

  Later in the spring, Gunnar had a counseling session with his tactical officer. Instead of the usual assessment of strengths and weaknesses, he heard nothing but positives from the major. “Gunnar, I can’t tell you more at this time, but I’ll tell you what I’d tell anyone with a record like yours: Practice your command voice. I’d suggest going up the path above the supply building when no one is around. Make your commands come from the diaphragm. Bang ‘em together. When you’re out there on the Plain, it’s hard to project when the wind’s in your face. That’s all I can say now.”

  Gunnar was upbeat in telling me his news. “It sounds to me as if I’m being considered for the adjutant position during Beast Barracks. That’s a great job — a cadet captain. You’ve seen the adjutant do the lonely, long quick march at parades posting the orders. I’m excited!”

  Weeks later, the “make list” came out. That list announced summer positions and assignments. It had better news than Gunnar had ever imagined.

  College — Senior Year

  After the USMA class of 1961, the one ahead of Gunnar’s, graduated in June, Gunnar headed off on his First Class Trip, which featured an extensive tour of Army facilities in the United States. The aim was to orient the future Army officers on the five combat arms. In turn, this would help graduates prioritize their preferences for their pending careers. General order of merit would determine each’s chance for getting the combat arm he wanted to serve in. Academic rank, athletic performance, and military bearing factored into that calculation.

  One facility was Fort Belvoir, VA, the center for the Army’s Combat Engineers. Many at the top of their graduating class would select that branch. Fort Monmouth, NJ, was the home of the Signal Corps. Gunnar laughed at the cynical mantra of some classmates planning careers with AT&T: “Signal Corps and out in four (years).” Armor had its headquarters at Fort Knox, KY. “We didn’t see the gold,” Gunnar quipped.

  The first classmen toured two of the Army’s Artillery locations. Fort Sill, OK, and Fort Bliss, TX. At Fort Sill, Gunnar enjoyed getting to “direct fire” on junked automobiles with a 105 howitzer. He explained that meant aiming straight at the junkers rather than more common “indirect fire,” which meant firing in an arc to reach a more distant target. He said that the legendary “Artillery punch” at the Officers’ Club was everything it was cracked up to be. The concoction was a secret mixture of many hard liquors in the bar. Fort Bliss acquainted cadets with Air Defense Artillery, including Nike missiles.

  Fort Bliss was only 85 miles from Alamogordo adjacent to El Paso, TX , so the three of us met Gunnar for supper one evening. Of course, Gunnar ordered a combination Mexican-food plate. We headed across the border to Juarez after a dessert of flan. We marveled at the modern, upscale area of Juarez. Gunnar commented that the margaritas were right up there with Artillery punch.

  The next day, Gunnar was off to Fort Benning, GA, the home of the Infantry. the mainstay of the US Army. The last man in the graduating class usually wound up in the Infantry, but many at the top of the class with aspirations to be generals also would chose that branch. The “jump school” for paratroopers was also at Benning. Gunnar recounted in a letter, “I was shocked to see not one, but several classmates, balk at jumping off the 250-foot towers in tethered parachutes to simulate a parachuted fall and landing. We were so far into our Academy training that it amazed me. I, personally, had learned to overcome such instincts in plebe gymnastics class. The task was to run full speed at a long horse aimed at my privates, leap, spread my legs, and vault over it. I ran as fast as I could, then stopped short of the obstacle on the first go. My instructor, an Army captain, curtly directed me to do it right. I did — surprising myself. The parachute balkers … a major tore into them, and each decided to jump.”

  *****

  Gunnar joined us in Alamogordo in July for 30 days of leave. You guessed it. He was back at the Red Rooster meeting old friends. He visited all of the high school teachers who had written him letters of recommendation for the Academy. We spent weekends in the mountains of Ruidoso fishing and hiking.

  In the background were the drums of war. President Kennedy implied an acquiescence to the Soviet demand for long-term partition of Berlin. It seemed everywhere we went people looked to Gunnar as the authority on the Berlin Crisis. That was nothing new; people had always asked his opinion as if he were an expert. Ironically, he knew more about the situation than he could tell.

  During the work week, when I got back home from my recurring summer job working with the chimps at Holloman AFB, I took Gunnar out in the desert to fire pistols and rifles. He was a very good shot, but I was better. Many times he insisted on bringing Emily with us. She was home from Smith College.

  When Gunnar wasn’t with Emily, he and Uncle Walt had a good time with pranks. The best one was played on Gunnar’s favorite history teacher, Mr. Arnold. He and Uncle Walt did a reconnaissance of the teacher’s neighborhood and found a weekday when none of Mr. Arnold’s family was home. That day they dug up the huge “Impeach Justice Earl Warren” sign that was prominently displayed on the outskirts of Alamogordo, coming in on Hwy 54 from Tularosa. They loaded the sign in a borrowed pickup and erected it in concrete in the teacher’s front yard. Gunnar attached a small card: “For
removal, call …”

  That evening, Uncle Walt and Gunnar showed up at the teacher’s door step in work clothes, shovels in hand. “Hey, Mr. Arnold, how’s it going?” Gunnar began. “You called?”

  Mr. Arnold had the biggest smile on his face. He could not contain the grin. He liked a good joke. “Come in. Come in. So that’s beer all around? I take it I can thank you two for that monstrosity in my yard?”

  “I want you to know, Mr. Arnold, we’re not going to charge you anything for removal,” Gunnar choked out.

  Mr. Arnold was quick, “So I owe you for installation?” He laughed.

  “How about another beer apiece, and we call it even,” Gunnar offered. Uncle Walt enjoyed the show.

  *****

  As his leave approached its end, Gunnar had less reluctance to going back to West Point than before. After much probing, he told me he had a one-month stint as “King of Beasts” in August. That meant, he was going to be the top first classman for new cadet barracks — the highest ranked cadet! Someone else had the honor in July. I also drug it out of him that he had a shot at being “First Captain,” the top-ranking cadet and brigade commander during the academic year. The revelation gave him cold chills — “good ones,” he said. As his twin, I felt them, too. My big brother, what a guy!

  *****

  Meanwhile, the tensions over Berlin went from a simmer to a boil. President Kennedy appeared to be vacillating on his stance. Now he was increasing the overall size of the Air Force, Navy, Army, and Marines. He was doubling the draft.

  I became more convinced of JFK’s unfitness for his office. I had several recurring dreams where Kennedy called Gunnar into the Oval Office. He asked Gunnar for advice. Then I woke up.

  *****

  Just before Reorganization Week, Gunnar finished his stint as King of Beasts. “I have good news and bad news,” he began. “First the good news, I was chosen as First Captain, the brigade commander, for the academic year. The bad news is that I had an incident as Kings of Beasts that almost cost me that honor. I had a jeep to use with my duties. In the last week, I parked it on a gentle sloping hill. You guessed it: I didn’t set the brake. I just happened to turn around to see it rolling backward. I jumped in just in time before it went over a cliff. Fortunately, no one saw that. Luck was a lady that afternoon, as Frank Sinatra would say. Keep that story to yourself, please. I don’t want to go through my Army career with the nickname Jeep — or Brakes.”

  As First Captain, Gunnar sat at the top of the cadet pyramid militarily. His friends termed him “top zebra,” owing to the many chevrons he wore on the upper arm of his uniform. When he was notified of his selection, his first move was to go shake the hand of the other King of Beasts, his competitor. Reorganization Week, Uncle Walt, Aunt Cece, and I saw him flawlessly lead his first parade. Lt Col Sterling insisted on being there with Emily.

  As I watched Gunnar lead his initial parade as first captain, it hit me. If my brother, the top cadet, had fought disillusionment, disappointment, and despair every day for the three years up to now, how hard was the life of a fellow cadet who was struggling just to get through? I had no ready answer.

  *****

  First-class year was a blur for Gunnar. Engineering studies were challenging, as always. One of his favorite civil engineering stories was how he followed the directions to the letter on making concrete to design specifications. In the laboratory, his specimen tested slightly above the desired strength. He got dinged for it.

  Like his classmates, Gunnar was proud of the large gold ring he wore on his left hand. He explained, “It surprised me to learn that in 1835 West Point was the first institution to have class rings. The hematite stone I chose may not be the most esthetic choice, but it reminds me of my tough days on the Hudson — a constant reminder that things could be worse. The gray color symbolizes Gloom Period. Until graduation, I wear the ’62 class crest closer to my heart — another tradition. The eagle on the ring is closer after that.”

  *****

  October 21, 1961, I went up to West Point to see a parade, a football game, and Gunnar. Not everyone has a brother leading thousands!

  “Gunnar, that parade was really impressive,” I observed.

  “Not so much from the inside. Some very obvious mistakes. The fact that we grade our companies on how they execute during a parade should tell you there is a lot of room for error and improvement,” Gunnar explained. “I’m glad it looked good from the outside.”

  The football game was a romp over Idaho, with West Point winning 51-7. The campus was jubilant. Emily, who had also come up for the weekend, asked, “How shall we celebrate?”

  Gunnar smiled, “How about a walk down Flirtation Walk?”

  Emily blushed.

  Gunnar added, “Sorry, Alex, you can go to the library.”

  That was okay. I needed to study.

  *****

  His officer teachers urged Gunnar to compete for a Rhodes Scholarship. He wasn’t sure how that would fit into a career, but he wound up applying. At West Point, he met before several committees to get endorsement from the Academy to move forward. At the final Academy screening committee, a panel officer asked, “Mr Olson, on standardized tests you are one standard deviation above your classmates in verbal aptitude. How do you react to that?”

  “Frankly, sir, that leaves me speechless …” The ensuing laughter was a sign of the Academy’s forthcoming recommendation. He enjoyed a unanimous faculty push. On Christmas leave, Gunnar flew to Albuquerque to meet the state’s Rhodes committee. As a semi-finalist, Gunnar went on to meet a committee on the Stanford University campus.

  Gunnar told me about the interview. “The committee wanted to know what event in my life could have interfered with my getting where I am in life. I loosened the committee up recounting the jeep episode. I made it humorous …”

  “Of course!” I had to interject.

  He went on, “It showed I am human and understand how circumstantial our lives are. The next question from the committee was when I had gone against conventional wisdom. There I recounted my challenging the content of a West Point course in the art and science of warfare. It seemed to me that we glossed over the Battle of Midway in World War II. That naval battle was considered a decisive engagement in the war. Some consider it the most decisive. My contention was that, just because the Army is a ground force, we should not give short shrift to fact and history. After all, a potential chairman of the joints chiefs of staff of the armed forces needs to know how that battle was won. I explained that the result was that my professor took my recommendation forward and the course will be appropriately changed. I saw unanimous nods from the committee.

  “The last request from the committee was to elaborate on a significant event in life, one that I had already provided a written answer to. I recounted the episode in New Cadet Barracks, where an upperclassmen had used the window-closing tool on me and my classmates. I reflected on the event. My classmate Simon, who had stood up for himself, was gone from the Corps. Yet, wasn’t Simon showing the kind of courage the Academy wanted to produce? Had I proven myself unworthy by not standing with Simon. Of course, then I would have been driven out, too.”

  I think the committee liked that a military man would have this much self-insight; they liked that Gunnar could challenge himself. They chose him to be a Rhodes Scholar. He had a huge advantage over his competitors. He interviewed extremely well because he didn’t feel any pressure; he was not completely sold on the “king-maker” scholarship. He could take it or leave it.

  With all the jubilation over Gunnar’s success, everyone thought Gunnar was happy. As his twin, I could tell something was bothering him at the core. “Tell me about it, Gunnar. What’s going on?”

  “Alex, I have a feeling Emily is expecting an engagement ring over our Christmas break. She is very special, but I’ve been so confined in the last three-and-a-half years. I think it would be a mistake to lock myself into another binding commitment on graduation. Frankly, it wo
uld not be fair to her either. What do you think?”

  “First, Gunnar, you are better at sensing people than I am. Second, while you are acutely aware, you are not a mind reader. You and I can pretty well read each other, but let her bring up the engagement thing. You may change your mind, so you don’t want to get into some kind of whipsaw tragedy that does not need to occur in the first place. I do agree with you that the consecutive commitments would be too much for me to contemplate. I think med school next year will give me a better appreciation of the pressure you’ve been under as a cadet.”

  As I finished my advice, Bobby Lewis’s “Tossin’ and Turnin’” came on KOMA radio out of Oklahoma City. Gunnar and I exchanged knowing looks and nodded at each other. How appropriate the music!

  *****

  Gunnar was now walking the path of “Saint Pete” — Pete Dawkins, class of 1959, first captain and Heisman Trophy winner, Rhodes Scholar. Gunnar parried on the comparison, “I might have to actually go out for the football team to get the Heisman, and no one would ever accuse me of being a saint.”

  Gunnar had many soul-searching moments his first-class year. While he had the option of going into the Air Force on graduation to be the fighter pilot of his childhood ambitions, he decided he would go Army, and not just Army but Infantry. Furthermore, he did the unheard of; he turned down the Rhodes Scholarship. He was the toast of the officer corps at West Point. That was not why Gunnar made his choice. The path was pure Gunnar — well thought out and representative of his character.