The day had changed from a gray rainy day to a beautiful, bright, sunshiny day--perfect for a caravan. Before we landed I asked John if I could ride in the car with him in Dallas. He said, "Certainly."...

I did so hope Dallas would give the Kennedys a warm and cordial welcome ... I could not have been more pleased ... John and I were just smiling with genuine pleasure that everything was so perfect.

We had passed through the downtown area and its great surging, happy, friendly crowds. I could resist no longer and turned to the President and said, "Mr. President, you certainly cannot say that Dallas doesn't love you." He smiled in obvious pleasure ...

Then I heard a loud, terrifying noise. It came from the back. I turned and looked at the President just in time to see him clutch his neck and sink down in the seat. There was no utterance of any kind from him. There was no grimace and I had no sure knowledge as to what the noise was. I felt it was a gunshot and I had a horrifying feeling that the President had not only been shot but could be dead.

Quickly there was a second shot ... I reached over and pulled [John] to me and tried to get us both down in the car. Then came a third shot ... John was bleeding badly all over the front of his shirt. He was not moving in my arms. I thought my husband was dead ...

The Secret Service man said to the driver, "Pull out of the motorcade!" and on his radiophone told the motorcycles preceding us, "To the nearest hospital!"...

John moved slightly and I knew he was still alive. I started whispering in his ear, "Be still. It's all right" ... We made a sharp turn and I almost lost my balance with the heavy weight of my husband. Then, almost miraculously, we were at [Parkland] Hospital. The car screeched to a stop. Secret Service men were everywhere. They were crying, "Mr. President!" They were begging Mrs. Kennedy to get out of the car ... They were crawling all around us, but no one was taking John out of the car. I knew he was alive ...

Suddenly, John heaved himself up out of my arms and fell toward the door. Then some very kind and thoughtful man picked him up in his arms like he was a little tiny baby and put him on a waiting stretcher. They ran down the strange corridor with him. And I ran along behind the stretcher. What I was running from and what I was running to I did not know, but run I must ...

The world seemed to be crashing all around me and there was nothing I could do about it. My husband was still living. I knew because he was groaning and saying, "It hurts," as we ran ... They took him into a small room ... and left me standing, as alone as I have ever been, outside a closed door.