The Trip

The Trip

As part of my Bucket List Tour my trip back to Marshall University and Huntington, WV after 40 years surprisingly, to me, turned out much better than I expected. As I entered the state of West Virginia I felt nervous energy embrace me as I realized that I was so close to the trip I pictured over the last 40 years.

It was Memorial Day weekend and my first call was to Red Dawson an assistant coach at the time of the crash. He left on recruiting trip right after that game at East Carolina. Red was in the middle of moving that weekend but dropped everything he was doing to have breakfast with me.

We discussed some of the guys that were lost, our struggles with survivor guilt that matched in so many ways, although Red’s had to be 20 times worse because he had a hand in recruiting most of the boys lost. Red told me how he handled the grief over the years and shared some very personal things that will remain personal. Talking with Red was easy, it was like we knew each other for years and I guess in our hearts we really did.

A young lady who was once a reporter with the school paper and was now a journalist offered to take me anywhere I wanted to go. I declined her generous offer thinking that I wanted to be alone as I retraced my steps from 40 years ago.

Red told me how to get to the airport and the crash site but declined an invitation to join me. As tears welled up in his eyes he said he could never bring himself to go there.

I went over to the campus later that day and took in the memorials honoring those who were lost. The sound of the fountain provided a calmness that can only be described as something almost heavenly. At that point, I knew that the guys were feeling that same calmness. It was pretty obvious that Nov. 14, 1970, was a part of every day at Marshall; reminders are everywhere you turn.

The campus looked much different than I remembered it, but I found my way around fairly easily. I drove about two blocks down to the stadium and took in even more memorials.

Then I went up to Springhill Cemetery and paid my respects to the 6 unidentified players and Nate Ruffin who was buried with his teammates in 2001. Everywhere I went people wanted to help. A jogger stopped and offered to take a picture of me at the obelisk that had all the names of the crash victims inscribed.

I stopped and bought a wreath and some rose petals (75 petals to be exact). When the store owner found out why I was there he didn’t want to charge me for what I bought and told me what he remembered about that night in 1970. He gave me more specific directions, but I got lost anyway ending up at the airport where I believe I recognized the same metal buildings where they brought the plane parts and the bodies in for identification.

As I approached the buildings, which seemed much smaller now, I felt my body weaken and my steps become shorter. I got as far as the doorway and that’s as far as I could go feeling sick and reliving the sounds and smells from 40 years ago. I collected myself as I sat in the car for a while determined to find the crash site where I had first viewed the devastation from the hidden back road in 1970.

I back-tracked and found where I went wrong and continued up the road where a sign let me know I was going the right way. The road now is blocked off at the top and as I approached the crest of the hill I knew this was the place. The trees were bigger and everything was a little greener in May but I just knew I was there.

I got out of the car and walked up the hill a little ways and saw the overlook they constructed along with the large sign telling the story of my friends. The first thing I noticed was that it was a peaceful site and that wild daisies flourished on the roadside. As I stood on the overlook and I took the 75 rose petals from my pocket and one by one I let them go and watched as they floated down the hillside where I remember the wreckage being located. On the other side of the trees, I could see the runway that was just seconds away from the crash site. I couldn’t help thinking, just 10 more seconds and I would not have had to make this trip.

I stood there for a long time listening to the breeze and the peacefulness at the site. Many things went through my mind about my friends, about the last 40 years, and about the day when Mr. Harris invited me to go to the game and then told me to keep a previous commitment because that’s what you do, “You keep your commitments” he said, “there will be other games”, he followed.

As it turned out there were no more games and Mr. Harris and Art were not coming home. I remember those early days when I wished I had gone and couldn’t understand why I was spared.

The trip helped me find peace with my feelings about those unwelcome times and to re-focus on my promise to Art’s mom that I would never let her son and husband be forgotten.

We Are Marshall-We Are All One Heart- Roy 2011