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I can only record what the news says:

There were five soldiers, on crowd control in the concourse. Earth soldiers, controlling Martian crowds.

Or, not controlling, as it turns out.

They were going to be transferred home the next day, a woman sobs to a reporter. Who did she lose - a son, a husband? It doesn't matter. The violence of Mars has a face, now.

I think we've hit shatterpoint.

{Archivist's note: Shatterpoint, at the time, was a common term used by Martian miners to describe the area on a rock surface that would break the rock with a minimum of applied pressure. If you hit the wrong kind of shatterpoint, you could be facing a mine collapse.}