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It was the other 9/11.
				It&rsquo;s understandably not nearly as infamous, even locally. It didn&rsquo;t involve terrorists, for starters. It didn&rsquo;t bring the world seemingly to a standstill. And it didn&rsquo;t prompt the creation of a new federal department dedicated to &ldquo;Homeland Security.&rdquo;
				It still matters.
				It was the 1950 Sept. 11th, the day a train carrying members of Wilkes-Barre&rsquo;s 109th Field Artillery Battalion stopped near the town of Coshocton, Ohio, the seat for a county by the same name. About an 80-mile drive from the center of Columbus, you can guess why settlers built the community of Coshocton. Just look at the geography.
				Coshocton rests at the juncture of the Walhonding and Tuscarawas rivers, where they merge into the Muskingum, itself ultimately emptying into the Mississippi. According to <a href="https://www.coshoctoncounty.net/about-coshocton/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">coshoctoncounty.net</a>, &ldquo;Coshocton&rdquo; is a derivative of a Native American word that means &ldquo;union of waters.&rdquo;
				Coshocton has a population a bit above 11,000, and according to the U.S. Census, and that hasn&rsquo;t varied much since the train bearing the 109th paused there.
				It was struck from behind by another train.
				As recounted in a Monday page 1A story by staff writer Kevin Carroll, the accident killed 33 troops and wounded another 278. They had been on their way to Camp Atterbury, Indiana, a mobilization point for assignment in the Korean War.
				Congress never actually issued a declaration of war. Despite all the foreign fighting and military entanglements in the last 70-plus years, the U.S. Congress has not passed a declaration of war since June 5, 1942, for what we now call World War II.
				And it was, time-wise, barely a war. The invasion of some 75,000 soldiers from the North Korean People&rsquo;s Army at the 38th parallel into South Korea occurred June 25 that year. The U.S. started sending troops to support South Korea in July. Thanks to the collision of two trains near Coshocton, Ohio, 33 brave men never even got to their mobilization point, much less to South Korea. They died nearly 7,000 miles from Seoul.
				This particular tragedy is more than a moment in a small Ohio town. It&rsquo;s a node connecting hundreds, even thousands of lives, forward and back in time, where many threads come together. The soldiers came to Wilkes-Barre, and headed to the Korean conflict in its early stages. Fate ordained they wouldn&rsquo;t get there, wouldn&rsquo;t even get past the western border of Ohio.
				Yet fate made them, in some ways, a bigger part of our regional story. Big enough to learn a bit about Coshocton, which few of us would ever have done otherwise. Big enough to take a moment and place their fate in the timeline of the Korean War. Big enough to merit repeated commemorative services ever since, most recently the Sunday ceremony held in Wilkes-Barre, outside the armory building &mdash; itself a host to numerous events that have both shaped and reflected the nature of this area, from circus to auto display and much more.
				Dog tags individually hung on crosses planted in the ground paid tribute to the 33 who died 70 years ago. It&rsquo;s important we remember them. It&rsquo;s important to remember a lot of things in the past, not necessarily for that moment, but for all that moment touches.
				This should have been an uneventful respite near that town, at the junction of those rivers, on the way to that undeclared war. History isn&rsquo;t just remembering a moment. It&rsquo;s remembering what led to that moment, and everything that moment changed.

Our view: Honoring victims of 109th train crash still matters