I stood at the very front of the audience, leaning up against the rail, with the former president’s podium barely 40 feet away from me. Over the next few hours we watched various local and statewide candidates, politicians and activists give speeches. Every time someone wasn’t up there speaking, some of Trump’s favourite music videos would play. There were vintage classics such as Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” rap remixes of his speeches, and even the recent populist anthem “Rich Men North of Richmond”.

Nobody present felt the temptation to leave even when the main attraction was an hour late. One woman behind me almost passed out from the heat. At one point, the giant flag suspended by two cranes above the stage folded back onto itself by the wind. This crowd was utterly dedicated to fixing it and would barely let US Senate candidate Dave McCormick speak until he assured them the staff would mend it. When the flag was restored, the crowd roared their approval. That flag would go on to be a cornerstone of what will surely be one of the most famous pictures in American political history.

At around 6pm, the presumptive Republican nominee emerged, wearing a MAGA hat and no tie — his preferred attire for hot daytime rallies. Beginning without a teleprompter, five minutes in he asked his team to pull up a chart of illegal migration into the United States over the last 20 years.

This chart may have saved his life, because as he was turning his head to explain, we all heard a series of loud popping sounds. Most instinctively dropped to the floor to be safe, but many of us were convinced it was a firework. A few of us stood up only to hear another shot — what we would later find out was the death of the would-be assassin at the hands of the Secret Service.

We then saw Trump emerge from inside a shell of Secret Service agents to direct a fist pump at the crowd, showing them their champion was still alive. It was an electric moment, but also calming. A hush descended as he was whisked away: what now?

I looked to my left and saw blood-stained shirts and a body being carried out from the bleachers. We would later find out that this was Corey Comperatore — the fire-chief and father who was tragically killed by a bullet intended for Trump.

I braced myself for a stampede as people tried to escape harm — we had no idea where the shooter was or that he was dead. Instead, almost everyone around me was quiet, orderly, and a bit dazed. A few women cried: “I can’t believe they tried to kill him.” What struck me was how little anyone in that audience was worried about their own safety. They only cared that their champion was alive and safe.

A few enterprising leaders such as Sean Parnell, former US Senate candidate for Pennsylvania, helped corral the audience out of the field and towards their cars. On the walk to the parking lot most were prayerful, quiet, and concerned. There were recurring discussions as to where the country is headed, as well as resolute vows that “we have to win”.

Friends who knew it was my first Trump rally texted me joking that “rallies aren’t all like that.” I disagree — this weekend’s event showed me in the clearest terms how singular the Republican base’s devotion is to him. There will never be anything else like it in American politics.

It is now clear that nothing can obstruct Trump’s momentum. If that crowd was representative, every single grassroots supporter of the former president will now walk through broken glass to vote for him in November. The only man in public life whom they trust has just taken a bullet to the ear while telling them how he plans to fix the country. Trump has always been more than a politician but now, to his fans, he has become a legend.

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Saurabh Sharma is President of American Moment.

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