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Vietnam Memorial Wall of Faces; pictures for every etched name
Every year in the lead up to Veterans Day, the names are read aloud of the 58,281 people listed on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C. But this year, for the first time, there is a picture to go with every single name on the Wall.
MAYVILLE, Wis. - Every year in the lead up to Veterans Day, the names are read aloud of the 58,281 people listed on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C. But this year, for the first time, there is a picture to go with every single name on the Wall. That is thanks, in large part, to a man from Wisconsin who knows all too well the price of freedom.
The walk across the Root River in Mayville is never easy for Andrew and Laura Johnson. It’s not the distance or the grandson in one arm but what’s waiting for them on the other side – the name of a son they now only see in photographs.
"The grief never goes away," Laura Johnson explained. "It will always be there. It just changes and evolves."
Pictures are windows to our memories. The people we love are frozen in time.
"I think it took 21 badges to become an Eagle Scout," Andrew Johnson remembered. "I think David had something like 43. He was a pretty ambitious guy."
A decade after their eldest child’s death…
"David was deployed to Afghanistan in Kandahar Province," said Andrew. "He was in one of the most dangerous places in the world."
Army 1st Lieutenant David Johnson
He lives on in dozens of photos at the Johnson home.
"The older [grandchild] that’s 4 can walk past the picture and say, 'That’s Uncle David,'" Laura said.
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Army 1st Lieutenant David Johnson was 24 -- just a few weeks into his first tour -- when an IED exploded underneath him.
"He waived to his men and said, ‘I’ll see you guys later,’" Andrew said. "So he thought he was going to live, but he was just hit very hard and when the helicopter landed 30 minutes later in Kandahar, David was gone. January 25, 2012."
Laura and Andrew Johnson
"I think the good way to explain it is you’re going along life and a bomb kind of goes off in your front yard and changes everything in an instant," said Laura.
In the funerals that followed, in Mayville and at Arlington National Cemetery, one group, in particular, was always there.
"Whenever a Vietnam veteran became aware that I was Gold Star, man, they embraced me," Andrew remembered. "Hugged me, cried with me. I was special to them."
The War Memorial in Mayville is a long way from Washington, D.C., but the names on that wall mean just as much as the ones in black granite at the Vietnam Memorial. But what is a name without a face to go with it?
"An etched name on a wall, it’s cold," said Andrew. "It’s not personal."
Two years after his son’s death, Andrew learned of a project now called the Vietnam Wall of Faces – an effort to find at least one photo for each of the 58,281 names on the Wall.
"You’re talking about 50 years ago," said Tim Tetz, director of outreach for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund. "Times when not everybody walked around with a camera in their pocket."
Tim Tetz
A daunting task, though not to Andrew.
"I think it was very exciting because I knew we could do it," he said. "Wisconsin people care about their homes and communities."
With a long career as a newspaper publisher, he knew the power of a small-town paper.
"I could just see in my mind how it could be delegated out," Andrew remembered.
He focused on the names from Wisconsin, using a tried-and-true military strategy – divide and conquer.
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We have the Waukesha Freeman. You have the Green Bay Gazette. That was what they did," he said, shuffling through issues of those local papers. "Eau Claire News Leader, Journal Times in Racine."
Andrew and Laura Johnson
1,161 Wisconsin names became 450 and became 64 -- many from Milwaukee. That’s when he took a display to a statewide newspaper convention.
"This project was the most inspirational thing that I personally have ever been involved in," said Jessica McBride, a journalism lecturer at UW-Milwaukee who saw the display and wanted to help.
Jessica McBride
"She assigned all 64," Andrew remembered. "And not only did [her students] have to find them, they had to write a story about their life."
The last name in Wisconsin was Willie Bedford. They found five living siblings, but still, no picture.
"[The siblings] said, 'We have not seen a photo of our brother for 20 years,'" McBride stated.
But a particularly driven student, Rachel Maidl, didn’t quit. On her third try at North Division High School, she found an error in an old yearbook.
"It said B. Bedford, not Willie Bedford," Andrew said. "We were sure that was him, but we couldn’t verify it so we brought the yearbook to his sister."
The sister recognized her brother immediately. The final photo in the state was found.
"Wisconsin was the first big state with lots of people on it that we closed down," said Tetz. "And that was in no small part because of Andrew."
Andrew published a special section of his paper with all 1,161 pictures of Wisconsin veterans killed in Vietnam. He stayed with the project til 2020.
"We would go to other states and say, 'Wisconsin did it. You can do it,'" Andrew said.
He took his method to small newspapers and schools around the country.
"There’s two states. Now three states. Now four states," he remembers. "And the dominoes kept falling like that."
It all culminated in a phone call this summer.
"I got a call on Aug. 9," he said. " 'Andrew, we found them all.' Really? It’s like, 'Wow, that’s awesome.'"
"They had milestones. They had lives. They had children," Tetz said of what you see when you look at a picture. "They had families that are much like any of us, and it brings them to life."
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Andrew and Laura Johnson know the power of a photograph.
"There’s a lot more to Lt. David Johnson than just a little etching," Andrew stated.
They connect those we love and those we lost.
"Every soldier has a story," said Andrew.
The Vietnam Wall of Faces became a passion, a purpose.
"You don’t want to just wallow in your sorrow," said Laura. "You want to do something with it."
It took time, but Andrew and Laura will not allow the loss of one life to end their own.
"David would not want me to feel sorry for myself," Andrew said. "He would not want me to live a life of despair. He would want me to live a full life."