On November 14, 1970, tragedy struck Marshall University and the Huntington community. That night, the aircraft carrying the Marshall football team crashed, killing all seventy-five souls on board. A memorial fountain was built to commemorate the lives lost, and every year on November 14th, the Marshall community comes together at noon for the fountain ceremony.
Today was the forty-seventh anniversary of the crash.
There are no words to describe what it is like to attend the fountain ceremony. Nothing can really capture that somber feeling of being there in person. This was my second year of attending the ceremony as a daughter of Marshall University. I looked around to see a sea of green, and it brought joy to my heart. Even after all these years, people (alumni, students, and community members) still come out to honor the seventy-five.
Before the fountain is turned off, the heart of the campus is silent. All that can be heard is rushing water. In this moment, a feeling of heaviness overcomes everyone in attendance. The memories of that night replay for many, and for those of us who were yet to be born, we can only imagine the pain and heartache that victims' loved ones must have felt. All of us understand the importance of this ceremony; all of us can feel the weight of this tragedy. It is ingrained within us as we lost sons and daughters of Marshall.
Then the fountain is turned off, and for a moment, the campus is covered in silence.
See, tradition runs deep within Marshall University. At football games, we chant "We Are...Marshall." To many, this may sound like a silly cheer, but it is so much more than that. This cheer connects us all together, and sometimes I close my eyes and I can feel the presence of 1970 football team. I can imagine them looking down on our current team and smiling. I wonder if they would still have attended the games, rooting for The Herd. You never lose that Marshall pride, and I'm sure that they wouldn't have either.
At Marshall, everyone is connected. We are not just a university, we are a family. I cannot stress that enough. The atmosphere here is so unique; we all have a deep love for this school. I remember throughout middle school and high school, my favorite Saturdays were spent at the Joan C. Edwards Stadium. My sister attended Marshall and played in the band. I would cheer her and the team on from the stands, screaming until my voice was hoarse.
Needless to say, I visited the school quite frequently. Everyone on the campus was just so welcoming and nice, and I was sold at a very young age. Marshall was all that I've ever known; it was home to me.
When the day came that I was actually "One of the Herd," I just felt so complete. I could go on and on and on about the love I have for the school and the journalism department here. Marshall is my home away from home, to say the least.
I'll be honest, some days I find myself stressed from the work load of college or feeling homesick. But, it's days like today at the ceremony, where I am surrounded by my Marshall family, that my love for this university is reinforced. One of my greatest accomplishments thus far is making the decision to become a daughter of Marshall.
So today, I remember the seventy-five. I remember the loss our university faced. To me and my Marshall community, those who died in the 1970 plane crash were more than just victims. They were a huge part of this college. Their legacy has greatly impacted Marshall; all of us our taught about what happened. Our football team always plays in their honor. Documentaries and a movie were made to tell their stories. Freshmen were now allowed to play college football because of our rebuilding after the crash. Their legacy is a major part of the Marshall University legacy.
We are Marshall.
