At a recent gathering devoted to honoring veterans’ stories, a panelist offered a simple yet powerful truth:
“Objects tell their own stories.”
It was a striking reminder that history isn’t just found in archives or interviews. It’s stitched into uniforms, tucked into footlockers and woven into parachute silk transformed into wedding gowns. These everyday artifacts speak volumes, capturing emotion, memory and meaning in ways words sometimes cannot.
At the Library of Congress Veterans History Project (VHP), we do not collect physical artifacts. However, we are honored to preserve the stories behind them. Photographs of meaningful objects, paired with oral histories or personal narratives, help us capture the full richness of veterans’ experiences. When families wish to donate items such as uniforms, medals or dresses, we gladly refer them to repositories, which are specially equipped to care for and interpret these powerful objects.
One such story comes from Eva Romero Jacques, who served as an administrative aide in the Pacific Theater during World War II. While stationed in New Guinea and the Philippines, a fellow service member handed her a parachute and noted that some women were using them to make clothing. Unsure what to do with the fabric, Eva later met a tailor who transformed it into a formal gown. Decades later, during her oral history interview with VHP, Eva still had the dress and marveled at its durability. The gown not only withstood the test of time but also served as a testament to creativity and perseverance.
Another VHP interviewee, Ruth Alberta Batic, also turned parachute silk into something deeply meaningful: a wedding dress. In an era of rationing and sacrifice, Ruth’s gown reflected both practicality and hope. With material in short supply, parachute silk became a substitute for bridal satin, yet the resulting dress was no less special. It embodied love, determination and the spirit of making do and making it beautiful.
Perhaps one of the most romantic parachute dress stories in our collection belongs to Nancy E. Rutan. On September 9, 1947, in Nampa, Idaho, Nancy married World War II veteran Leonard L. Rutan. While serving in Honshu, Japan, Leonard had come across a warehouse full of military supplies. Among them was a brand-new silk parachute. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to bring it home in his duffel bag, he mailed it to his parents. He didn’t know yet what it would become.
After the war, Leonard met Nancy. When they became engaged, a neighbor and seamstress named Martha Miller had a suggestion. Why not use that parachute silk to make a wedding dress? The result was a stunning gown, elegant and filled with meaning. On their wedding day, Nancy walked down the aisle in silk once intended for war, now transformed into a symbol of new beginnings.
Stories like these remind us that history doesn’t always arrive in a textbook or a museum display case. Sometimes, it’s folded in a cedar chest. Sometimes, it’s passed down with a photograph, a handwritten letter or a shared memory.
At the Veterans History Project, we are proud to preserve these deeply personal narratives. These are stories of service, sacrifice, love and innovation. Through their voices and memories, veterans and their families continue to teach us about resilience, hope and humanity.
Because sometimes, history is not just written. It is worn.
Comments (8)
Amazing 🤩 story love it
My christening dress was made in 1945 of parachute silk and has been worn by three generations of our family. As the slip under the dress is also made of that silk, those who hold the baby being christened must be careful to hold firmly lest the baby slip out of their hands.
The article reminded me of how useful parachutes were. During the war my father was billeted for a while with a Dutch family. One day he brought home a torn parachute, thinking Mrs. Crewel might like to make a dress out of it. She was delighted, but she didn’t make a dress. She made underwear!
The Perth County (Ontario) Regiment took part in the liberation of The Netherlands. When the Colonel married his pretty Dutch sweetheart, her wedding gown was made from a parachute. They both lived long active lives as cherished citizens of Stratford, Ontario.
Recently I made a ring bearer’s pillow from scraps of parachute silk left from the bride’s grandmother’s wedding gown. I loved that story!
Thank you all for sharing such touching and creative memories!
Luanne, your ring bearer’s pillow made from the bride’s grandmother’s gown is such a touching continuation of family history. Liz, the story of the Colonel and his Dutch bride is beautiful and full of heart. Dorothy, I smiled at the idea of parachute silk becoming underwear. Such resourcefulness! Elizabeth, a three-generation christening dress is truly special (and I loved your note about how slippery it is).
These memories are a gift. Thank you for bringing them into the conversation.
Warmly,
Kerry
My grandmother worked in a silk factory as a seamstress, making clothes and other fineries before the War (she had started working at the age of 13!) When the factory converted, they made parachutes. She didn’t tell us this until later in life and it was such a touching moment to learn how my grandmother’s careful stitches could have literally saved hundreds of lives that she never knew about. Hearing the other side of the story- parachutes converted back into the type of products her factory usually made- makes experiences like hers come full circle.
This is such a beautiful story, Alli. It’s amazing to think how your grandmother’s quiet craftsmanship had such a profound impact. Knowing the parachutes eventually returned to their original purpose really does bring it all full circle.