It was a sunny Saturday
morning in a little town just outside of Tokyo, Japan. The day was just getting
started. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. That would change very quickly.
Japan is 14 hours ahead of
the east coast of the US, and 15 hours ahead of Dallas, Texas. On Friday, November
22, 1963, at 12:30 p.m. it was 3:30 a.m., Saturday, November 23, 1963.
I was 9 years old.
We were stationed in Japan,
my father was a squadron commander at Tachikawa Air Force Base. He wasn’t at
home; he was at work.
Back then, we didn’t have
American TV. Our only English-speaking media was Far East Network operated by
Armed Forces Radio and Television Service, AFRTS. I turned on my radio at 8:45 a.m. so that I
could listen to my favorite Saturday morning radio show, Big John and Sparky due to air at 9:05. There was some program on, but the newsbreak
was 9 a.m. and lasted for five minutes. I had just enough time to get my bowl
of cereal, sneak it back to my bedroom and eat breakfast while listening to my
show. My mom and brothers were asleep. Perfect.
I was sitting on my bed
listening to the news when the announcer said something about the President
being shot. I really wasn’t paying attention until then. I turned up the radio
and put the cereal bowl on the desk that sat beside my bed.
The more I heard, the more
scared I felt.
The Cuban Missile Crisis had happened 13 months prior. The Cold
War still raged. There was the Pacific to the east and Russia, China and North
and South Korea to the west and southwest. We lived 658 miles from Vladivostok,
USSR. The kids all knew something really
bad was happening back home in America. The rumor mill said Russia was going to bomb the US. Our
fathers were not home. Our moms were extremely cranky, and the school kept having duck and cover drills. The military bases were on extremely high alert. Yes, we
were definitely on edge in a major way. When it was over, the relief was
incredible, even for the children.
Now, 13 months later,
someone had shot the President?? My dad wasn’t home - again - and we were NOT allowed to
call his office – for any reason.
At approximately 9:30 a.m. (6:30
p.m., November 22, 1963, Dallas time) the announcement was made that the
President was dead. I remember calling for my mother to wake up right away,
somebody had killed the President. Where was dad? Was dad okay? Who did this?
Why did it take so long for
us to hear about it? Back then, news
broadcasts and print media – AFRTS and Stars
and Stripes newspaper - to military personnel were heavily censored. (The
movies Good Morning, Vietnam and Full Metal Jacket weren’t far off the
mark.) In addition, because of where we were stationed, the military personnel had
to be in place and ready for anything to protect the bases and civilian
personnel before the word got out to the dependents.
I don’t remember a whole lot
about the rest of the day except that we were not allowed out to play and
neither were any of our friends. The radio stayed on constantly. We did turn on
the TV. This was the day of the first satellite broadcast from the US to Japan.
We cried for the President,
for Jackie, and for Caroline and John-John. We were no strangers to children
losing their dad. It had happened to our friends. Military children learn about
the death of a parent sooner than any child ever should. We were sad that
Caroline and John-John knew about that now, too.
The next days are a blur.
I do remember watching the
funeral.
I remember that it was two
weeks before my dad came home.
I remember the very vivid
realization in my 9-year-old psyche that nothing would ever be the same again.
