The day he was killed, I was boarding a ship in Inchon to return to the US. It took 21 day to reach Oakland, so we did not get a great deal of information about it.
Entry: 8585
THE JOHN F KENNEDY ASSASSINATION
DICK BISHOP wrote on April 5, 2020
Manchester NH
Comments:
The Assassination of John F Kennedy
Firstly let me start this by saying that to the entire Western World JFK was assassinated on November 22, 1963. For me, and for everyone else who was west of the International Date Line (IDL), JFK was killed on November 23, 1963. The IDL is approximately half way between the West Coast of California, and the Korean mainland. So when he was shot just after noon at 12:30 p.m. in Dallas, it was 2:30 a.m. of the next day in Korea. So there will always be that date disparity for me. I was one of several radio operators in the Communications (Commo) Platoon, of the 1st Battalion of the 15th Armor which was part of the 1st Cav Division. Each of us was required to work six hour, rotating shifts as follows: 6 a.m. to noon; noon to 6 p.m.; 6 p.m. to midnight; and midnight to 6 a.m. Our “radio bunker”, as we knew it, was nothing more than an insulated canvas Quonset hut with a thick and heavy plywood door, and a diesel fueled space heater. It was positioned on the top of a ridge that ran part way through the post or compound as we called it. The radio bunker was accessible by way of a dirt road designed for four wheel drive or tracked vehicles, or you could walk up the shortcut path that ran up the side from the Mess Hall. On that fateful night I had the midnight to 6 a.m. shift. A normal night was typically quiet, and lonely. All there was to do was to answer the phone if it rang, perform the hourly radio checks with the Division HQ command station, read, listen to the music on AFKN (Armed Forces Korean Network), or nap in between the radio checks. At the time, I was addicted to reading the Harold Robbins mysteries so I’ll assume that is what I was doing to fill my time until my replacement came up the path at 6:00 a.m. I had no inkling of just how traumatic that night would become for me, and how it would all unfold. At some point during the night (I never noticed the specific time); the radios came alive with a call to all stations from the radio net (network) commander at Division HQ. I believe it was about 3:00 a.m. That radio call was to alert all the stations and get them into a standby mode to ensure proper and timely dissemination of any and all info or immediate orders that was coming down from Division HQ and had to be provided to battalion command. A call from the 1st Cav Division HQ net commander would go out to all radio stations in the net and in turn, each station was required to affirm they received the call. The radio net was named Camp Chair for that month. The net commanders’ call would go like this. “Camp Chair; Camp Chair this is Camp Chair Alpha; radio check for all stations. Reply in order. Out” There would be about a 5 to 10 second pause and then you’d hear “Camp Chair Alpha, Camp Chair Alpha, this is Camp Chair Bravo – radio check – I hear you loud and clear. Camp Chair Bravo out.” Then every one of the radio stations (Charlie, Delta, Echo, etc.) replied in turn and in alphabetical order with the same info. I recall that my battalions’ call sign was Camp Chair Sierra. We all knew something important was going on but there was no word as yet coming across the 1st Cavalry Division radio network. Phone calls were going back and forth on the land lines. Everyone was trying to find out what was going on, but no info was available at that time of night. It wasn’t long, and a call on the radios came to all of the Camp Chair stations. Once the stations had all responded, the official message came down that JFK had been shot in Dallas, he had a head wound, and he was being treated in a Dallas hospital. That was all we were told and all we knew. My job at that point was to inform the Officer of the Day (OD) and he in turn would wake the battalion CO and inform him. I made that call immediately to the OD who was in charge of base security during the overnight period. There was no other action I needed to perform at the time other than manning the radios until six a.m. From the very first notification of JFK being shot until 6 a.m., I had little to do other than listen to the radio traffic, and reply to the hourly network checks. The radio traffic was busy but there was nothing revealing about the Presidents’ condition. I was alone in the bunker and getting antsy for six a.m. to come and be replaced. I wanted to be with, and talk to others. The three hours from the first notification, until my replacement came, seemed to take forever. Generally the shift replacement would show up five or ten minutes early just to socialize a little and take over possession of the classified copy of the SOI (Standard Operating Instructions). The SOI contained the current radio frequencies being used, the call signs for all the stations, and other classified and/or sensitive information. The replacement would make a log entry that he had assumed the duty. Once that was done officially, your shift was over and you could leave. My replacement did talk about what had been going on through the night. That news was already all over the battalion by word of mouth. Normally at the end of the midnight shift, we’d head down the down the foot path to the Mess Hall and have breakfast and then head back to the barracks to get some sleep. The view from the top of the path was quite panoramic. It took in another ridge about a mile away; most of the compound about 200 feet below; the motor pool at the far end of the compound with 50 tanks, several armored personnel carriers, and many support trucks; two Korean villages; and the mile long tank field outside of the tank gate at the far end of the compound. Right down below the path flew the American, South Korean, and United Nations flags. It was a pretty impressive view, never to be forgotten. Still no word on JFK … we knew it was a head wound but nothing more. I left my replacement at the controls and I left the radio bunker. I walked to the top of the path to head down to the Mess Hall and I was stopped dead in my tracks. Just when I got close enough to the edge to see the flags, I saw the American Flag being lowered, then raised to full staff, and then lowered again to half mast and tied off in that position. There was only one reason in the world that it could mean at that moment. My president was dead! Killed by a snipers bullet. I stood there in shock for probably a few seconds, but in hindsight it seemed forever. As the reality of it slowly sank in, I became more and more conscious and aware that he was gone. My emotions took over and the tears came. Crying at first, and then sobbing uncontrollably for a moment or two. The soldier in me, and my military training took over. I composed myself, probably wiped some tears from my eyes and I came to attention. I gave JFK the most heartfelt salute I had ever given anyone. I thought about it all for a moment, and then proceeded down the path to the Mess Hall. It was probably the best cup of rot gut coffee I had ever had. Friends and acquaintances were there and it was good to be with others. After the initial shock to the entire 1st Cav Division, the military objective came into view by command, and I, among others, was assigned to a radio outpost until further notice. I was the only crypto operator in the battalion so the duty fell upon me. The reason for the outpost was that there was concern that North Korea might come across the DMZ and I would be one of the first to see it if it happened. Once I was set up in the field position, I had a hex tent, my jeep, and an armored personnel carrier (APC) that I operated the radios out of. I was set up in the deepest part of a horse shoe set of hills. All that could be seen from the air, according to a bird Colonel that visited my location, was the tent and the jeep. The armored personnel carrier was so well camouflaged that it couldn’t be seen from his helicopter when he arrived, until it was at almost ground level. My mission assignment was to drive to the top of the nearby ridge, observe the DMZ for a set period of time and intervals, and then return to the APC and transmit what I witnessed to Division using the crypto gear to encode it. That mission lasted for 10 long days. We were on a DEFCON3 alert (Defensive Condition) alert, in full combat uniform carrying our M14 rifles at all times, steel helmet, and pistol belt with full canteen, bayonet and a full supply of ammunition. Luckily we weren’t carrying our packs but they were fully ready to go in our barracks. One thing I’d like to relate to you about the assassination is what it did to a bunch of young immature guys in uniform who had to go through this experience. Even though it was a non-combat situation, it took us from a group of 22 very young men who were friends, acquaintances, and work associates, into a cohesive, very well functioning platoon. For the lack of better words, we became sort of a band of brothers. That is the easiest way I can describe how that Commo Platoon changed. It was a scary time for us. We knew there was a possibility that we could be called upon to protect the South Korean people and the NATO forces. The need to depend on each other to have the others back became evident and was very real. At the end of my Korean tour, I was assigned to my last fourteen months of active to at Fort Ord, at Monterey Bay, California. Now that was great duty! Luckily, because Korea was considered a hardship tour, we were not allowed to serve two consecutive hardship tours at that time. As Viet Nam heated up, I was exempt from being assigned there unless my MOS as a crypto operator became a critical need. So that’s my story of how JFK’s assassination unfolded for me. At nineteen and 10,000 miles from my home in New Hampshire, it left me with a multitude of memories, emotions, and a bunch of long lost friends that I’ll never forget.
