Terry DeVine column: Wondering what might of been

I've often wondered how my life might have changed had President John F. Kennedy not been struck down by an assassin's bullet 40 years ago today.

Would he have removed us early from that quagmire called Vietnam, or would he have committed the resources necessary to win that war?

Would I have been spared the many months of combat that left so many of my fellow Marines (many good friends) dead, or maimed for life, and the visions that still haunt my sleep 35 years after the fighting and killing?

I was a young college student when Kennedy was struck down in the prime of his life. Had he lived, he would be 86.

Me, I was 17 on that fateful day that I believe changed the course of the nation.

I was sprawled on the bed in my college dormitory room, figuring to catch a few winks before an afternoon class.

For some reason, and I didn't normally do this during the day, I had turned on my Channel Master transistor radio. Suddenly the music stopped and a serious-sounding voice announced that the president had been shot in Dallas. At first I thought I had imagined it, but then he repeated it and said it was not known how seriously the president was hurt.

I was out of that bed like a rocket and running down the first floor hallway yelling all the way, "The president's been shot, the president's been shot."

Several students were studying in the front lobby, but the black and white TV set was off. Not for long. Walter Cronkite was already on the air.

I must have been aware of the magnitude of the event because I clearly remember trying to grasp what we were dealing with here. Did the Russians do it? Would we be at war next week? Everyone in that lounge had similar thoughts. I could see it in their eyes.

I then ran to the student union and found several of my friends there. We learned that Kennedy was dead. Moments later, the university's president announced that classes were being dismissed immediately. It was a Friday afternoon.

I grabbed my dirty laundry, jumped in my car and headed for home, an hour up the road. I went straight to the daily newspaper in my hometown, where I had worked part-time in the newsroom since I was 14.

The newsroom was buzzing at the Watertown (S.D.) Public Opinion, an afternoon newspaper, and editor Alex Johnson had ordered the presses held for a late afternoon edition.

I scurried back and forth, tearing copy from the 66-word-per-minute Associated Press teletype printers. The ding, ding, dinging bells on the printers announced incoming bulletins containing new information. The clacking of the linotype machines and the smell of melting lead pigs wafted into the newsroom. The odor of fresh ink climbed the stairway from the pressroom.

I remember there were no smiling faces in the newsroom that day, a place that was usually filled with chatter and laughter. It was serious business. The editor of the society page was crying, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. The city editor was under the gun but not his usual cantankerous self. He was grim and seemed troubled as he feverishly worked to put together pages, edit copy and write headlines.

I headed home later. My mother was very upset. A devout Catholic, she had been pleased when the charismatic Kennedy had become the first Roman Catholic elected to the presidency. The priests at the local parishes occasionally talked about Kennedy from the pulpit.

Would he have been a great president, or even a good one? Would he have changed the nation's direction, taken us down a road not filled with so many potholes?

We'll never know. The questions were left unanswered in the blood-covered backseat of a black limousine on a sunny November day in Dallas 40 years ago when shots rang out and destroyed our nation's leader.

Readers can reach Terry DeVine at

(701) 241-5515 or tdevine@forumcomm.com