Now the police are zooming in to take a stand at Division Street. The crowd charges forward to get there first before the police can set up. But the police are ready, and they move in on the running crowd as it enters the intersection. Teargas is fired.

The Weathermen have been divided. Some made it through and they are now circling back north to join the rest of the group.

I stand half a block from the intersection. People are running full speed past me the other way. A girl stops and lights a phosphorous smoke bomb. The intersection is filled with gas and smoke. Through it I can see the revolving blue and red lights of police cars. Police are pushing their captives into the wagons.

A squad car is coming up Clark Street against the flow of the retreating Weathermen. It is blocked. Its windows are smashed in seconds. The driver drops it into first and speeds through the crowd.

The crowd, on the run, winds cast on the first side street to rejoin the smaller part of the group, which had been cut off. After they pass an apartment building, one of the stragglers in the group is grabbed by a bystander. They start fighting. Another Weatherman comes on to help the kid. They get the man, who is in a Grey suit and is about 30 years old, down on the ground. One of the two starts kicking the man while he's down. His fur-draped mother starts screaming to let him alone. The kids back off and one is grabbed by some other men and dragged into a building, where he is beaten. A policeman drives up on his motor scooter. Someone yells to him, "A man in there has pulled a gun." A crowd is gathering. There are no other police anywhere around. The cop splits.

I leave to find where the Weathermen have gone. It isn't easy. Their line of march is only about half a block long, and they move so fast that by the time you find them they're either on top of you or gone again.

I find them going north on Astor Street back up towards Lincoln Park. They seem to have been travelling in s-type patterns, constantly changing their direction to avoid the police.

Astor Street is a very quiet street; it has trees, sports cars, and ripple-front brick apartments; it is a lot like Georgetown. The Weathermen seem to have momentarily lost the police. They are wiping out cars and the windows of the more expensive looking places. Doormen are surprised. A dusty Volkswagen bus is left alone.

A boy and his girl driving up the street in his car are engulfed by the crowd. They stop the car and sit there as the people in helmets pour by. The back windows of the car are broken, while the two sit looking straight ahead.

But the Weathermen are now going in the exact opposite direction from their objective, the judge's hotel. They hit North Avenue which is the street immediately south of Lincoln Park. They are in a very bad position.

Once more they turn east, and one block later are at the corner of North and the Lakeshore Drive expressway. They have led themselves into a corner. They must get themselves back into the city to survive. They turn north parallel to the expressway, followed now by patrol cars. They take the first right back into the city and run into an ambush a block later.

Buckshot zings into the trees over the heads of the kids.

Two or three policemen step out front and level their pistols at the crowd. Blam, blam, blam, blam, blam. They empty their guns at the kids. Several people go down. But they are not hit; they're ducking. It takes about half a minute for the Weathermen to realize that those were blanks. But by then they are retreating. They have no guns.

A girl is lying in the intersection. She has been shot through the leg with a real pistol bullet. A boy has been shot in his shoulder and the side of his body. The police have a lot of people they grabbed pinned up against patrol cars.

Police come charging down their middle in a V. The group is split,