The Bell UH-1 Iroquois, better known as the Huey, remains a powerful symbol of the Vietnam War. Some 7,000 of the helicopters were deployed to Vietnam and nearly everyone who served there flew on a Huey at some point. The distinctive “whomp-whomp” sound of the rotor blades is ingrained in the memory of every Vietnam veteran. For Americans watching the evening news back home, the Huey was a common sight in the televised coverage of the battlefront.

I’m a curator at the National Air and Space Museum, and 30 years ago I searched for a Huey that could become part of the Museum’s collection. I worked with the U.S. Army to locate a UH-1 that had a long and distinguished service history in Vietnam.

That’s how I found UH-1H, serial number 65-10126.

With the help of veterans organizations, I located several individuals with a connection to Huey 65-10126. One was Tom Johnson, an Army pilot who flew combat missions in 65-10126 when he served with the 229th Assault Helicopter Battalion, 1st Cavalry Division in 1967. I invited Johnson to come to Washington, D.C., for a reunion with the old helicopter that had been such an important part of his youth. He asked if he could sit in the pilot’s seat, and I agreed. As he touched the door handle to pull himself into the Huey, he suddenly froze and fell silent. No doubt his face-to-face encounter with this object had triggered memories in ways simple reminiscing never could have. The stories began to flow. Stories of battles fought, comrades lost, and a young man’s daring exploits—all with this very machine.

Over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to meet many famous aerospace personalities as they visited the Museum to see their air- and spacecraft on display. But in nearly four decades, I have never been part of a more powerful encounter between an object and memory than the day Tom Johnson and Huey 65-10126 were reunited.

My networking among Army veterans turned up others who served in Vietnam on this particular Huey. Van Ponder and Jim Palmer each served as the crew chief on 65-10126 when it flew with the 11th Combat Aviation Battalion, from October 1967 to June 1968.

Like all military aircraft that stay in service for a long period, Huey 65-10126 had undergone many modifications between the time it was in Vietnam and when it arrived at the Museum in 1995. Interviewing Palmer revealed that, initially, the twin M60 machine guns mounted on 65-10126 tended to misfeed and jam. To solve the problem, Palmer fitted the guns with a custom-made, motor-driven ammunition feed system he had designed and built himself. This system had been removed long ago. Without Palmer (and pictures supplied by his door gunner, Bob Stidd), I never would have known about this unique aspect of the technical history of the artifact.

Ponder and Palmer—along with photos taken by Huey pilot Al Watkins—revealed another, even more significant, piece of the aircraft’s history: Huey 65-10126 was a “smoke ship” during the time it was with the 128th Assault Helicopter Company. A smoke ship was a helicopter fitted with a system that could spew a heavy trail of dense, white smoke to provide visual cover for troops being dropped into combat zones by other helicopters. Very few Hueys were used this way during the war, which made 65-10126 an even more significant artifact than I had imagined.

Memory has played an enormous role in my understanding of this helicopter. I learned crucial aspects of its history that would have been otherwise unrecoverable. Beyond that, the relationship of memory and objects has changed the way I relate to this particular one. My encounters with Johnson, Ponder, Palmer, Stidd, and Watkins while researching this Huey revealed a history that is inextricably bound with their personal experiences. I cannot look at this helicopter without thinking of them.

Peter L. Jakab is a senior curator at the National Air and Space Museum.