I Shot JFK

by Jake Aaron

  “Anyway, it was a good decision to put me in with Gunnar. I was pretty hardheaded about not changing my ways, but Gunnar never gave up on teaching me good habits. If that weren’t enough, he marked himself as room orderly whenever it was my week. Room orderly is the guy who gets the demerits for discrepancies in common areas of the room. The custom is to rotate that weekly. It was a big thing for me to have him covering for me. I had such a bad reputation that ‘quill’ —demerits — automatically fell on me.

  “He wasn’t a pushover, let me tell you. He insisted I do the cleaning of the room when it was my week to his satisfaction, even though he was the nominal room orderly. No one else went that far out of their way to help me.

  “We had several patrols together in Ranger School. I miss him. He was a great influence, a great guy!”

  I patted Henry on the shoulder to thank him.

  *****

  “How do you do?” the lieutenant began. “I know how hard this must be for you — especially to lose someone with such humanity. You know, this place sets out initially to turn new cadets into drones. Thinking beyond functioning as a plebe is punished if it exceeds the whims and wishes of upperclassmen and officers.

  “In plebe swim class, I was ‘bobbing and breathing’ in 8-feet of water in the gym pool. That’s a technique to survive in such water while holding a rifle. It was a remedy coming out of the deaths of several grads’ unnecessary drownings in Ranger School. I was in the last wave coming across the pool, three at a time. Last, because I kept moving to the back of the line on the other side of the pool. I jumped into the pool with my rifle and bobbed slowly toward the other side where almost everyone was. Halfway across, I panicked and started to drown. Everyone else was out of the pool at that point.

  “As I was struggling for air, no one — not the instructor, not any cadet — came for me except one. In precious seconds, one plebe did a perfect life-saving scissors-entry, legs spread — left leg stretched forward and right leg stretched backward. You probably know that lets the rescuer continue to see what’s going on by keeping his head above water. It also announces, ‘Help is on the way.’ As the rescuing plebe hit the water, the authoritative civilian instructor blew his whistle loudly and commanded, ‘As you were, Olson. Halt, mister. Let him drown!’

  “The noise and shouting shook me out of my panic temporarily. Gunnar yelled at me, ‘Drop your rifle and swim.’ I did. Gunnar swam slowly next to me. We both reached the drain edge of the pool by the instructor at the same time and exchanged knowing looks. I remember looking at the classmates who didn’t come after me. They looked like vapid zombies.

  “Gunnar was different. He was a great human being!”

  *****

  Another lieutenant shook my hand. His face and eyes showed me how sorrowful he was. “Do you know where your brother was the night before graduation? I can tell you he didn’t get any sleep. He organized a bunch of firsties who were strong swimmers. I was captain of the swim team, so I got kickboards to transport the white paint. That night, five of us swam across the Hudson River to write, ‘Class of 1962’ on the large rocks. It was no walk in the park. People forget the Hudson is actually an estuary, so we had some surprises in a strong tide and brackish water. We started with five flashlights and finished with one.

  “I will really miss him! The Corps’ loss.”

  *****

  Another of the Class of 1962 approached. “Very few people know this. They do know that the Rockettes came up to the Academy during our Plebe Christmas. They put on a free show at the theater. Gunnar got them there with a strong written plea to the mayor of New York City. The mayor knew somebody who knew somebody. It was a great performance to cap our Plebe Christmas.”

  “Rockettes — they’re the precision dance company? Long-legged, high-kicking beautiful women?” I checked my facts.

  “The same. Upperclassmen returning for second semester from leave were envious. That performance was a first-ever at the Academy. You knew Gunnar wound up dating one the Rockettes?”

  I did not.

  *****

  “We will miss him,” one more lieutenant said to me. “I’m Bill Tate. I was in Gunnar’s squad during Beast Barracks. “I’ll never forget him.

  “Those famous suitcases we had to drop the first day, had to go somewhere. Our platoons’ went to an empty room on the top floor of an opposing barracks. In the fourth week of Beast, we were allowed to get a limited number of items from there. Most people had their own toilet articles and alarm clocks, for example.

  “At the time, everyone of us was starving. The small ‘square meals’ coupled with high activity had all of us losing lots of pounds. About every other thought was about food. Some guys were even eating toothpaste. I was a football player and used to eating large portions. I knew Gunnar was hurting, too, but he gave me the only three Planters Peanut Bars he smuggled out of his suitcase.

  “He was one heck of guy!”

  *****

  “Alex, let’s go over in a corner where I can whisper and you can hear me.

  When we were away from the crowd, the classmate began, “I think you should know this about your brother. Few people know, but I think your family should know and maintain it as an important part of its history.

  “I was a yearling in a company adjacent to Gunnar’s, in the same barracks. One winter night when he and I were pulling CQ — charge-of-quarters duty, we both had an ‘all right’ physical inspection of the company area. We wound up checking the basement ‘sinks’ at the same time after taps. There was an unauthorized third party — a female civilian teenager — wandering around. From Academy lore, both of us thought separately: She’s the legendary nymphomaniac who is obsessed with cadets — the ‘Corps whore.’

  “Gunnar took charge and escorted her to his orderly room with me as his witness. He called for an ambulance and military police escort. It turned out that she was the daughter of one of the academic department heads, a full colonel. I don’t have to tell you what Gunnar’s proper decision meant to her family. I also don’t have to tell you that his conduct was exemplary. He said he couldn’t leave a lamb among wolves. I don’t need to say any more, except that he brought great honor to the Long Gray Line.”

  *****

  Back from the sidebar, an Army major approached me. His skin was eerily yellow. “Don’t be afraid to shake my hand. My doctor assures me I’m not contagious. I have recurring malaria from serving as an advisor in Vietnam. It comes back on me from time to time, giving me this heavenly glow,” he joked. “The jaundice makes me look like a zombie.

  “More importantly, your brother will be missed. I taught him calculus his plebe year. He found out I’d made a comment about his lacking a sense of humor in a report we routinely did on section leaders. As a second classman he came in and thanked me for that! No, he wasn’t being a wise guy. That was not him. Said it helped center him. It got to be a running joke between us.

  “I’d see him in hall approaching me, he say, ‘Funny day to be alive, sir!’ Always with a smile.

  “I’d say, ‘Don’t joke me over, Gunnar.’”

  “He was one of my best students. Came to class prepared. Looked for ways to apply classroom knowledge in life. A student who inspired his teacher. How about that?

  “God be with you, Alex, and our Gunnar!”

  *****

  A lieutenant general and his aide came next. “Gunnar was the cadet brigade commander my first year as superintendent. From the record, I could see he was an outstanding cadet even before that. He really surprised me when he turned down the Rhodes Scholarship.

  “You know being a Rhodes Scholar would have put a another feather in his cap; however, turning it down made him more of an icon than he already was. He became the stuff of legends when he decided to go stay the course in the Army. He may surpass Douglas MacArthur in the lore the Academy. Does that surprise you?’

  “General, as his twin, I knew him very well and he was always surprising me. I was most
surprised when he didn’t opt to go into the Air Force. From early boyhood, he dreamed of being a jet fighter ace. My uncle even spoke to him about going to the Air Force Academy.”

  “Alex, God is an Army man. He’ll take good care of Gunnar.”

  *****

  I had planned to pay for everyone’s drinks, but Hank and his classmates had covered that. I thought the stories were over when a well-lubricated first classman approached.

  “Alex, I am still here at West Point only because of your brother. You probably know that the Academy reviews our ratings by peers and upperclassmen periodically. When I was a yearling, I fell into the lowest tier. An officer board was convening to look at me for dismissal. I did not know where to turn. I went to your brother. He had a lot at stake as first captain to bet his reputation on me.

  “I was heartened when he stood up for me. He wrote the most persuasive letter of recommendation for me. He was the best squad leader I ever had. Many of us consider him the best brigade commander in the history of the Corps.”

  “You and I both miss him,” I spoke for him.

  A fellow firstie escorted him away, and another of Gunnar’s classmates appeared in front of me.

  *****

  “Alex, did you hear about the Class of ’62 setting an Academy record for assembling a pontoon bridge at Camp Buckner?”

  This time I got to tell a story. “You mean where the companies compete on which can put the bridge across a river the fastest — without any prior instruction?”

  “That’s the one!” he said.

  “That’s when one of your crazy classmates charged with leading his company goaded his men, ‘If you set the record with me, I’ll run across the bridge naked. His company not only beat the other companies, but set an Academy record. The dutiful cadet took off all his clothes and ran across the newly constructed bridge. Meanwhile, a block away, the commandant, a brigadier general, observed this unbecoming conduct and turned to his aide with a furrowed brow. His aide came back with the explanation. The commandant smiled.”

  “Sounds like you don’t know, Alex.”

  “What?”

  “The crazy cadet was your brother, Gunnar!”

  I’m sure I turned pale. The shock took me away from my grief and anger. I thought I could read Gunnar better than that. When he told me the story, he must have got an additional kick out of remaining anonymous. That he would do; he was self-effacing.

  *****

  One visitor, Sean O’Reilly, approached. He wore thick glasses and did not fit the mold of the trim, athletic-looking officers and cadets. He wore a nice-looking Navy blue Brooks Brothers suit.

  “Alex, you may not remember me. I remember you! We were in first grade at Whittier Elementary in Albuquerque together. I read about the tragedy in the paper. I wanted to pay my respects.

  “I had a habit of coloring frogs red in first grade. My teacher would get upset with me, and most of my classmates ridiculed me as being stupid. Gunnar got several of his friends to start coloring their frogs red. That took the peer pressure off. I could handle the teacher’s comments better than my classmates’.

  “I’ve thought many times how that was a critical inflection point in my life. And there was another time in third grade where our cub scout troop went for a long hike in the desert looking for rocks and different species of cacti. I forgot my canteen. Gunnar was the only scout who shared his water with me. I always wanted to thank him again as an adult. I’m late, but I’ll thank you, Alex.”

  “What do you do, Sean?”

  “Oh, I’m working on my PhD in mathematics at Columbia. I had a learning disability, as my teacher guessed, but I would never have survived first grade without Gunnar. Who knows, I might have had heatstroke later in the desert, too.”

  “Sean, thanks for coming,” I said. “I think I remember you. Could you have been considered a class clown back at Whittier?”

  “Guilty as charged!” Sean smiled. Now the universe gets it revenge on me as a teacher.”

  “You did a lot for Gunnar in return. You couldn’t know that. He was pretty straight-laced in school. He told me he owed his sanity to people like you who would break up the routine — by breaking up the class, if you will. Specifically, he told me of one time when you were sent to the class cloakroom for punishment. Gunnar nearly split a gut when you pulled yourself up on a supporting bar and threw your leg over the high dividing wall. He said you really brought waves of spontaneous laughter to the class. The teacher apparently was not amused.”

  Sean laughed, “That was me. I’d forgotten about that.”

  “Sean, he told me that story so many times. Thank you for helping me remember a very good time with him,” I said.

  *****

  Hank came over to check on me, “How are you holding up? They’re not giving you a break.”

  “I know, Hank, today is like It’s a Wonderful Life. Gunnar really did help a lot of people. And I thought I knew him!” I read Hank’s gesture and head dip.

  “Scotch, one ice cube. Thanks!” I had to drink to Gunnar.

  Another of Gunnar’s classmates introduced himself. “You know at least twenty-five of my classmates in this room today would probably not be here today if it weren’t for Gunnar.”

  “More stories about demerits or studies?” I asked.

  “No, I mean he saved their lives. First-class year, many of us were legally drinking our pitchers of beer and dancing at a local tavern Saturday night during Gloom Period. The fog rolled up the Hudson River Valley suddenly while we partied. When it was time to head back to West Point, you couldn’t see more than twenty-five feet in front of you. The pressure to get back in time was immense. It was a sure ‘8 and 8’ — eight hours walking the area plus eight demerits.

  “Gunnar stepped up. He hollered. ‘I’m your first captain, and I’m pulling rank. I order you stay here until the fog lifts. It’s my responsibility. It’s on me. I’ll take the heat.’

  “Several of us told him it wouldn’t work, but we knew it was worth a try. We followed his orders. As I said, there were at least twenty-five firsties in that bar. When the fog lifted, we rode in taxis or girlfriends’ cars. We missed taps by two hours that night. Subsequently, punishments came down as expected on everyone of us who were late. An embarrassed Gunnar apologized to us classmates and bravely went to the commandant over the issue. No one did that.

  “Most people had to wait to see the commandant, if for no other reason than to remind them they were seeing the only brigadier general on the post. He was outranked only by the superintendent, a three-star general. Gunnar no more than sat down outside the office when he was summoned by the general’s aide.

  “The commandant returned Gunnar’s salute and began, ‘Gunnar, I think I know why you’re here. Please have a seat.’ The general poured two doubles of Pine Creek Canadian Whisky. He handed Gunnar a tumbler. ‘From a friend. Since I expect you’ll be sitting in this office one day, I want to explain my decision process — a lot of considerations. Gunnar, I have to hold everyone accountable for doing their duty. I need to consider the precedent I set. I need to be even-handed in the strictest sense of military discipline. Keep in mind that I just gave an ‘8 and 8’ to a yearling last spring. A first classman from his company gave him a ride to Washington, DC. Both were on leave. The two returned an hour late because the first classman forgot about the daylight-savings-time adjustment. The first classman rightly took complete responsibility for the lateness. Nonetheless, I also held the yearling accountable. He got ‘8 and 8,’ too. That being said, I’m proud of what you did. I’d sure as hell follow you anywhere. Tell your drinking buddies we’re having a civilian dignitary at Friday supper and Saturday’s parade. I think I’ve said enough. Good to see you, Gunnar — as always. Dismissed.’

  “That Friday, the Prime Minister of Canada spoke briefly from the poop deck of the mess hall. He granted amnesty to all cadets for their scheduled tours on the area. We had to live with the demerits,” he smiled. “Eve
n if the punishment had not been stayed, Gunnar did the right thing in getting us to do the right thing. What a guy! We will miss him.”

  “So let me get this straight, the general liked what Gunnar did so he got the Canadian Prime Minister to visit and ask for amnesty?” I asked.

  The classmate smiled, “That’s it. He wanted to telegraph his actions with the Canadian Whiskey and the dignitary visit. Gunnar was smart. Gunnar knew he had a victory when he left the commandant’s office.”

  I took a drink. Any other day, I would have been exhausted from meeting so many unfamiliar faces. The revelations about Gunnar buoyed me up. I thought I knew Gunnar’s life story. There was so much more that I was unaware of.

  *****

  “Alex,” a lieutenant classmate of Gunnar began, “Cow year before the Army-Navy football game, Gunnar recruited three of us, besides himself, for a special project. We were chosen from different companies across the Corps so that we would not be easily associated in any investigation. On a weekend leave several weeks before the game, we met up near Annapolis to kidnap — pardon the pun — Billy, the Navy goat mascot.

  “We employed sound battlefield tactics. We diverted the guards on the goat, moved in stealthily, and left with Billy. The superintendent of the Naval Academy formally asked West Point’s superintendent for return of the goat. We kept a tight lid on the whole operation. There were multi-pronged efforts to find out who had the goat. Some of the officers investigating were intent on finding the culprits; others, secretly pleased to learn nothing, went through the motions of discovering us. Meanwhile, there were rumors that the goat had been slaughtered and the meat served up as hamburger in the Annapolis chow hall.