eat onto the rear deck, reaching with her hand. The man, Special Agent Clint Hill, pushed her back into the car. When he finally got in himself she was sitting there with the President in her lap, face up, sobbing, "Jack, Jack, what have they done to you?" Hill could also hear the radio in the car crackling, "To the nearest hospital, quick. We have been hit."The limousine got to Parkland General Hospital, four miles away in about nothing flat. The shooting had occurred at 12:30 P.M. It was 12:35 P.M. when the sleek Lincoln pulled up at the hospital's Emergency entrance. Men in white, already alerted, raced out with stretchers, one for the President, another for the Governor. As they carried Mr. Kennedy's body inside, Mrs. Kennedy followed. Her pink suit, no longer immaculate, was stained with blood. So were her stockings, her shoes, her hands. In the emergency room she stood by watching as the doctors began working feverishly on the President. There was still the barest flicker of life in that valiant body but it was going out fast. Knowing it was all hopeless, like someone awake inside a nightmare, Jacqueline went outside to wait and pray.Shortly before one o'clock, last rites were administered to the President by Father Huber, a Catholic priest. At one o'clock the President of the United States was pronounced dead. He had been shot twice. The first bullet struck him in the neck, the second in the back of the head. Doctors said he could have recovered from the first wound; the second, however, had proved fatal. Governor Connally had been luckier. His wound, though serious, had not struck any vital organs. He would recover. Alone after Dallas, Mrs. Kennedy summoned the strength, grace, and dignity to go on.In 1968 Mrs. Kennedy married Aristotle Onassis, a Greek shipping magnate and 23 years her senior. Onassis died in 1975, and from 1978 until her death in 1994, Mrs. Onassis worked as editor for Doubleday in New Yor...
