(4 of 6)
The campus was suddenly still. Horrified students flung themselves to the ground, ran for cover behind buildings and parked cars, or just stood stunned. Then screams broke out. "My God, they're killing us!" one girl cried. They were. A river of blood ran from the head of one boy, saturating his school books. One youth held a cloth against the abdomen of another, futilely trying to check the bleeding. Guardsmen made no move to help the victims. The troops were still both frightened and threatening. After ambulances had taken away the dead and wounded, more students gathered. Geology Professor Glenn Frank, an exMarine, ran up to talk to officers. He came back sobbing. "If we don't get out of here right now," he reported, "the Guard is going to clear us out any way they can—they mean any way."
In that brief volley, four young people —none of whom was a protest leader or even a radical—were killed. Ten students were wounded, three seriously. One of them, Dean Kahler of Canton, Ohio, is paralyzed below his waist by a spinal wound.
The Fatalities
WILLIAM K. SCHROEDER, 19, a psychology major from Lorain, Ohio, was the second-ranking student in Kent State's Army ROTC unit. A friend recalled that he was "angry and upset" that the ROTC building had been burned down. A former Eagle Scout, high school basketball and track standout, he was the image of the clean-cut, academically conscientious Middle American boy.
He apparently was only a spectator at the Monday rally. Even so, he illustrates the fact that youth's sentiment is shifting too rapidly to permit any student to be neatly tabbed. "My son was very opposed to the Viet Nam War," said William Schroeder's mother, "and his feelings against the war were growing."
SANDRA LEE SCHEUER, 20, a junior from Youngstown, Ohio, was walking to a class in speech therapy (her major) when she was caught in the Guardsmen's fire. A bubbly girl and an honor student, Sandy seemed too gregarious and full of laughter to take much interest in politics or protest. Although she sympathized with the peace movement, she did not join her college friends when they went to work for Senator Eugene McCarthy's presidential campaign. "Sandy lived for what everyone else lived for—to find someone to love and someone who loved her," said her best friend, Eileen Feldman.
JEFFREY GLENN MILLER, 20, a transfer student from Michigan State, where he found fraternity life a lot of "adolescent nonsense," was no militant activist either. But he did call his mother in Plainview, N.Y., to say that he felt he had to join the demonstrations. He wore his hair long, liked bellbottoms, love beads and rock music. A psychology major, he was, according to acquaintances, "a great believer in love." "I know it sounds like a mother," said Mrs. Elaine Miller, "but Jeff didn't want to go to war, not because he'd be hurt, but because he might have to hurt someone else."