Duery Felton and the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Collection

BY MARY BRUZZESE

Duery Felton, a member of Silver Spring, Maryland, Chapter 641 and the curator of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Collection, is unique in his profession: He does not decide what is included in the collection he curates.

The Vietnam Veterans Memorial was dedicated on November 13, 1982. Even when it was just a construction site, people began leaving offerings there. The first offering is believed to have been from the brother of a Navy pilot who was killed in Vietnam and posthumously awarded the Purple Heart. The brother tossed the medal into the concrete foundation. No one can be completely sure if this really happened. “But we like to tell the story,” Felton said, “because it shows that The Wall has a heart.”

Since that first offering, thousands and thousands of items have been left. It is impossible to know the exact number, but Felton believes it’s “between 300,000 and 400,000 items, conservatively.”

In The Wall’s early years, between 1982 and 1986, the National Park Service wasn’t sure what to do with these items. “This was the first time that people came to a memorial from around the world, for a protracted period of time, leaving unsolicited items,” Felton said. He first began working with the collection during this time, when the items were kept in several storage facilities on the Mall. The collection became official in 1986 and was named the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Collection.

The collection is housed in Landover, Maryland. Whatever is left at The Wall is picked up by Park Rangers and delivered daily. Veterans Day and Memorial Day, not surprisingly, are big days for offerings. Felton anticipates that the thirtieth anniversary of The Wall in November will be gigantic. “I’m scared,” he laughed.

“I look at this collection as being curated by the public,” Felton said. Rather than curating in the tradition sense, he is responsible for “protecting it, maintaining its integrity.”

The collection is vast and varied. The offerings include huge numbers of letters, flags, wreaths, photos and photo collages, shadow boxes, stuffed animals, religious items, and renderings of The Wall and the Three Servicemen statue. There are enormous numbers of military-related items such as dog tags, POW/MIA bracelets, combat boots, unit insignia, and medals. A giant flag, signed by hundreds of people, that flew over a compound in South Vietnam, was left in the ’90s. There is also a lot of captured enemy paraphernalia. In July an NVA canteen with a bullet hole in it was left with a note explaining that it came from the battle of Dak To. There are walking sticks and sonogram photos. People have left beer and whiskey, cigarettes and joints.

Sometimes explanations are attached. Norman Jewison, the director of the film In Country, left a film canister on behalf of the cast and crew filled with thank-you letters. A small figurine of a collie was left with a note from the family, reading: “Built and painted by a 12-year-old boy, who died a 21-year-old man March 23rd 1969.” Perhaps the most famous object in the collection is a POW/MIA motorcycle left by a Wisconsin motorcycle group in 1995. When they deposited the motorcycle at The Wall, the group explained that it was not to be sat on until the last POW/MIA had been accounted for.

Sometimes donors call Felton or his colleagues to provide information about their offerings. At one point baseballs in clear containers with the DUI 20th Engineer Brigade decal were left repeatedly. Felton eventually received a call from a man who said he left the balls because baseball is an American pastime, and his many dead friends would not be able to see the baseball greats of today.

Felton’s vast knowledge helps identify many objects or at least offer a theory about why they may have been left. The many origami cranes that are left may relate to the legend that accumulating one thousand origami cranes brings good luck. Sometimes rocks are left at The Wall, which Felton speculates is related to the Jewish tradition of leaving stones on graves. As a Vietnam veteran who served with the 1st Infantry Division in 1967, Felton is able to recognize and identify many military-related items. A pack of M&Ms, Felton theorizes, may have referred to medics’ use of the candy as placebos when they ran out of painkillers.

Felton often consults others. “It’s impossible for one person to know everything about this collection,” he said. “It’s too varied. But I know a lot of people in different fields who assist me.” For many of the objects, though, Felton and the public can only be left guessing. Felton believes this is part of the collection’s appeal. “People come to see the collection because it’s a mystery,” he said. “It’s the seduction of the unknown.”

The first official exhibition of the collection, held by the Smithsonian American History Museum in 1992, received such a high volume of visitors that guards were posted in the exhibit’s doorway to limit the number of people coming in at one time. Visitors even left offerings at the exhibit. The exhibition was originally scheduled to run for six months but was extended over and over again until the museum closed for renovations in 2003.

“We’ve noticed that people have started personalizing things,” Felton said. More than half of the items left in recent years are made of paper, including posters, notes, and letters. As the years have passed, more things have been left by the children and grandchildren of those whose names are inscribed on The Wall. “It’s part of the evolution,” Felton said. “It’s a living memorial, and consequently a living collection. It’s always changing.”

There are offerings in the collection that have particularly moved Felton, such as the black beret with the 101st Airborne Division insignia that was left with a note from the donor saying he was the surviving member of a twelve-man team that was wiped out. “I’ve often wondered why it took twenty years for this person to surrender the beret,” Felton said.

A bag containing dog tags, a photograph of two men, and a headband was left along with a note reading: “To all…from Echo Company, 1st Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division, 1968-70…I leave you my headband which contains my sweat from the war, my dogtag, and a picture of me and Mike. Another time, another place.”

“I opened the bag up,” Felton said, “and the smell of Vietnam wafted through the room. Conversation abruptly stopped. I was taken back to that place.”