Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir, Clint Hil [large ebook reader TXT] 📗

Strategic Air Command, however, was placed on DEFCON 2, meaning they were prepared for war. Never before had we reached the stage of DEFCON 2. Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara put it best when he said, “We are staring down the gun barrel of nuclear war.”

The ExComm was meeting daily, sometimes twice a day, and the president was in and out of the Situation Room for immediate updates. Mrs. Kennedy was calm, but extremely concerned, and she remained close to the children at all times. She stayed mostly in the private quarters so that she could be available whenever the president needed her.

At the same time, the Secret Service was on heightened alert for whatever might happen. We were braced for an evacuation of key personnel by helicopter and knew exactly who would go in which helicopters. We all knew that in the event that a nuclear attack was imminent, there would be people scrambling to get on the helicopters. If people tried to get on who were not authorized, as a last resort we would have no choice but to shoot them. It was a sickening thought, but this was the reality of the situation we faced.

The following Friday, October 26, there seemed to be a breather in the negotiations. Word came that Khrushchev had agreed to keep his ships out of the quarantine zone for forty-eight hours. That morning, Mrs. Kennedy called me in my office and said, “Mr. Hill, I’m going to go to Glen Ora with Caroline and John. The president will be joining us tomorrow.”

“Okay, Mrs. Kennedy,” I said. “I’ll make the arrangements. I think some time in Glen Ora would be very beneficial to you right now.”

I tried to put Mrs. Kennedy at ease, but I knew that there would be no relaxing for the Secret Service agents. We had to remain vigilant, fully expecting that at any moment the word would come for us to evacuate immediately.

As it turned out, the president didn’t come to Glen Ora on Saturday, and I was about as tense as I’d ever been. All of us were. You didn’t want to think about what might happen, but you had to go over every possible scenario in your mind to be prepared. It was excruciating.

On Sunday morning, after a sleepless night, we got word that the president was coming to Glen Ora. When he got off the helicopter with a smile on his face, I knew that everything was going to be all right.

Khrushchev had agreed to dismantle the missiles in Cuba, and the Russian ships carrying nuclear materials had turned around. President Kennedy had redeemed himself after the Bay of Pigs disaster, and was in high spirits. But most important, he had won Khrushchev’s respect, and the two of them had averted nuclear war.

I thought to myself, Thank God, I won’t have to carry Mrs. Kennedy kicking and screaming into a bomb shelter.

16

The Third Palm Beach Christmas

Around the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis, there was another crisis that Mrs. Kennedy had to deal with on a personal level.

“Mr. Hill,” she said, “I just got word that Mrs. Tartiere is not going to renew our lease for Glen Ora, and she wants to move back in as soon as possible.”

She was visibly upset and I could understand why. Middleburg was the one place she really felt comfortable and could completely relax.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Kennedy. I know how much you enjoy being here.”

“Yes, this really came as a surprise and I just don’t know what to do. I love this area so much. I so enjoy being able to ride with the hunts, and it’s such a wonderful place for the children, and for the president to come and relax.”

“Well, you know Camp David is always available for you. I know it doesn’t have the ambience of Middleburg, but it certainly affords you privacy.”

“Yes, I know we have Camp David,” she said. Then she got that look on her face, that sort of mischievous look, as if a bright idea had just popped into her head. Her eyes widened, and she said, “Let’s just see what we can come up with.”

Over the past year and a half, as Mrs. Kennedy and I drove through the Virginia countryside, she had often commented about how much she liked the area and how wonderful it would be to have a place of their own someday. She had in fact looked at some property that was for sale, and I figured this was what she had in mind.

It wasn’t too long after this that we were at Glen Ora for the weekend, when she told me she had found out about some land that she wanted to go look at.

“It’s quite close to Bunny Mellon’s and it’s called Rattlesnake Mountain. Isn’t that a great name?”

“I suppose,” I said, “if you are partial to rattlesnakes in your backyard.”

She laughed and said, “I’ve made arrangements to go look at the property. It’s owned by Hubert Phipps, and I told him we’d meet him there this afternoon.”

“Okay. That sounds great. What’s the address?”

“There’s no address per se, but I told Mr. Phipps you would be able to find it.”

I checked with the state police and determined that Rattlesnake Mountain was not far from Middleburg, and near a little general store called the Atoka Store. So we got in the station wagon and drove out to meet Mr. Hubert Phipps at Rattlesnake Mountain.

I soon learned that Phipps was a gentleman farmer who owned about a thousand acres and was willing to sell about forty of them to the Kennedys. When we got there, I couldn’t believe we were in the right place because there was no mountain in sight. It turned out Rattlesnake Mountain was just an undeveloped piece of land slightly more elevated than the surrounding area.

As we traipsed around the brush and grass, I kept my eyes peeled for rattlesnakes, my hand on my revolver, just