Dear Diary,
On our way to the Trade Mart for the Presidential luncheon, we were rounding the curve, going down a hill, and suddenly there was a sharp, loud report. It sounded like a shot. The sound seemed to come from a building off my shoulder in the distance. A moment passed, and then two more shots rang out in rapid succession. Then the Secret Service men were down in the lead car. Over the car radio system, I heard "Let's get out of here!" and our Secret Service man, vaulted over the front seat on top of Lyndon, threw him to the floor, and said, "Get down." As we ground to a halt, Secret Service men began to pull, lead, guide, and hustle us out. I cast one last look over my shoulder and saw in the President's car a bundle of pink, lying in the back seat. It was Mrs. Kennedy lying over the President's body. People came and went. Always there was the Secret Service agents… People spoke of how wide-spread this might be. There was talk about where we would go - to the plane, to our house, back to Washington? It was decided that we would go immediately to the airport. Hurried plans were made about how we should get to the cars and who was to ride in which car. Our departure from the hospital and approach to the cars was one of the swiftest walks I ever made in my entire life. Never will I have forget this.
Love always,
Lady Bird
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