May 4th Protest - the Shootings

Cara Lyle had the same recollection every spring about that month of May when the four students were shot at Kent State. Her entire perspective had changed after the sophomore year of college. The routine drive to campus on that fateful day would mark the end of her naiveté forever.

Unaware of the violent rallies from the night before, she headed toward the "art barracks" which were formerly ROTC buildings from the 1940's. There, as usual, she would wait for the art professor to open the building.

Two of the adjacent barracks were gone - reduced to char and ashes. The one barrack that was still standing was the usual meeting place for her art classes, though.

It was no real surprise how easily fire could level the old wooden structures. Saddened at the loss the historical markers, the wistful moments were suddenly eclipsed by the sounds of shouting, and off in the distance the frenzied clangor of a bell.

Soon, a hoard of protestors gathered at the edge of the adjacent commons; armed militia followed behind. The National Guard struggled to ease the unrest, but shootings ended the demonstrations, instead. Trucks full of more military personal arrived in the driveway next to the art barracks building.

They encircled the students who were now in the center of the commons area, still clanging the "Victory Bell" which was originally intended for football games. Now, the Victory Bell would always be remembered with the May 4^th shootings.

Clouds of teargas split the mob apart. Some of the students picked up the tear gas canisters and hurled them back toward the soldiers. Rocks hurled from the throng found the mark in the surrounding uniformed brigade.

Cara was angered and incredulous at the same time. She stood at the top of an incline next to a nearby tree as more soldiers passed. Always envious of the students whose parents paid for their education, she thought of how they had too much free time.

Momentarily, a truck arrives at which time military personnel unload small, rectangular wooden boxes. As lines of soldiers carried them off, Cara read the stenciled letters - live ammunition. Shocked at the sight of these "live ammunition" boxes, Cara's mindset lagged between shock and disbelief. She still never would have thought of the shooting deaths of four students.

"If I were you, I'd go somewhere else," a voice came from around the other side the tree. When a face appeared to go with the voice, it was somber. The soldier was carrying one of the wooden ammo boxes, and was looking very stressed and tired.

Cara wandered away in an aimless stupor as a chill swept over her. She found herself on the wide walkway of the east side of the commons, when she heard sounds of marching boots. She had to step off into the grass and let the marching soldiers go by, because it appeared that, otherwise, they wouldn't stop. They would continue marching in cadence, and their big black boots would stomp her down, she imagined as her fright level increased.

She heard what sounded like four gunshots, but she wouldn't believe it could be shooting. Maybe the kids had started throwing firecrackers - or could it be the live ammunition she saw the soldiers unloading? She was out of view of the commons area by now, and a new anxiety about her friend, John, curled her insides into knots. Little did she know that two of the students from the rock-throwing crowd were now dead.

John's classes were in the building next to the commons, and she only hoped he would realize that he could find her at the student union, because she wouldn't leave without him. Luckily, he was tall and he found her in the mass of students who were squeezing into the student union building for protection. John had just traveled the same footpath where two more students now laid dead.

John confirmed that the shootings had indeed happened, and that they'd better hurry and get off campus before any barricades went up. He heard that the roads going out of town would also be manned with soldiers who would prevent anyone from leaving the confines of the entire town of Kent.

Cara's belief system went through a revolution that day. She would never take anything at face value again. John began joining the marches on Washington, and maintains a politically radical viewpoint to this day, forty years after the May 4^th shootings.