November is an emotional month for the city of Huntington, because we’re reminded every year about the 75 men and women that lost their lives on the night of November 14th, 1970.
After their loss to the East Carolina Pirates (17-14) in Greenville, North Carolina, the Marshall Thundering Herd took a plane flight back home to West Virginia, but they never landed. Instead, the plane crashed just short of the landing strip into a hillside, killing everyone aboard. The passengers included most of the 1970 football team, coaches, management, and community members. In addition, four members from the flight crew died, too.
On that night, so many families lost their loved ones. Sons lost fathers. Mothers lost their sons. If you lived in Huntington, you knew someone directly affected by this tragedy. Since November first, we begin to think about this incident. We start hearing about the fountain ceremony and showing of the movie, but we never think too hard about before the crash.
I think about the boys who just started college. As a freshman myself, I know that college is so exciting and enlightening. They just had made new friends and connections, and I wonder what they might have done differently had they known their life would end so soon and abruptly. I think about how I’m excited to return home for Thanksgiving, probably just as these boys were. I’m sure they were excited to see their families again, eat together, and maybe play some Thanksgiving football, but instead, their families were left grieving their losses and attending funerals across the town.
I think about the community members. Huntington is nothing without Marshall University and its Thundering Herd. Every saturday during football season, that’s all you hear about. Whether our boys are playing at home or away, you hear, “What’s the score? Are we winning?” or you’re in the stadium, chanting, “We are . . . Marshall!”
I think about the four crew members that died. In our remembrance, they are often forgotten. We think about the team that died. We see the iconic picture of the 1970 football team with its coaches. We see the fountain everyday. But we never take a moment to think about these men and women. They were doing their jobs, serving our team, and died doing so. We don’t stop to think about their families who never expected to get a devastating phone call. We don’t stop to think about their lives.
I’ve visited other landmarks related to the event as well. I’ve seen the plane crash site. It’s just off of highway 75 (yes, it was named highway 75 before the plane crash even happened). If it didn’t have the land marker, it would look just like any other hillside, but there is a little sign and porch there. During this time of the year, the road has constant traffic from community members, students, and loved ones. They place pennies face-up on the edge, representing hope. We leave flowers and banners, remembering our fallen 75.
At Spring Hill cemetery, the graves of many of the lost ones lie, including six unidentifiable bodies. There is also a monument in their remembrance. Also during this time, people flood the area, bringing flowers, memorabilia, and other items. Before the school year begins, the Marshall football team runs from campus all the way to this cemetery; this humbling run reminds the players that they’re playing for something more than themselves. They’re playing for those who went before them and died.
Huntington lives and breathes Marshall football, and a part of Huntington died when the team died. The town went silent, except for the tears and heartbreak. Time seemed to have stopped, because for the citizens of Huntington… it had. Our pride and joy was stripped away from us. We thought, “What now? How do we cope from this?” The heartbreak hurt us so much that we did not know how to continue our lives knowing what had been taken from us.
But now, our team has rebuilt itself, but of course, Huntington will never be the same again. Instead of playing to win every Saturday, we play for the 75. We play for those players and coaches that died doing exactly what they love. After November 14th, the fountain in the heart of our campus is turned off as reminder of the suffering enduring here in Huntington during that winter. The water doesn’t turn back on until the following spring, representing our rebirth as a team, university, and a community.
