RESTORING MY FATHER’S HONOR By David E. Stanley

Filmmaker D. (David) Edward Stanley talks about his father, Sgt. William J. Stanley and the events that inspired him to take this story to the screen in his next feature film Restoring My Father’s Honor.

Master Sgt. William (Bill) J. Stanley had known only victory in 17 years of military service. From the bloody beaches of Normandy France in 1944 to the carnage of the Korean War he was a combat soldier of honor and courage. But the day came, at the height of the Cold War in 1958, when Bill Stanley would face a battle waged not of guns, tanks and military might; but of greed, power and money. For the first time in his impeccable career, Purple Hearts, Bronze Stars, and the love of his country would not be the measuring stick for hero-ism. A new enemy had arrived on the US military base in Frankfurt, Ger-many, and Bill Stanley would unknowingly be drawn into a war that would become the one battle he could never win. A battle that would not only cost him his family, but the honor of his country that he had dedicated his life to defend.

June 6, 1994 marked the 50th anni-versary of D-Day. It was the per-sonal account of one soldier, from among the nearly 175,000 who had come ashore at Normandy France 50 years earlier that had drawn me to this place.

I had spent nearly every moment reading, researching and recon-structing the events of D-day since receiving the memoirs of my father, Sgt. William J. Stanley, just two days after his funeral in February 1991.

I didn’t know him that well. I didn’t even attend his funeral. But now I was here to honor him, for history had put him here June 6, 1944 on sacred ground known as Omaha Beach.

They have been called the greatest generation, these men who came from all walks of life to liberate Hit-ler’s Fortress Europe.

Most had suffered the effects of the crash of ‘29 and the Great Depres-

sion and many had grown up poor and uneducated but still they came, to fight for their country.

Tens of thousands made the pil-grimage. Veterans, whose once youthful faces now drawn by the passage of time, walked the beaches of the Normandy coast.

Some walked alone lost in thoughts of yesteryears while others de-scribed to their families the events of what has become known as the Longest Day.

I walked the beach alone replaying the events my father witnessed first hand as part of the first wave at Omaha Beach. As I stood and looked out over the English Chan-nel the words from his memoirs filled my mind.

At three in the morning on June 6, 1944, we were offloaded to LCM crafts, about thirty-six feet long, each holding about forty men. Each of us occupied about one square

Sgt. William J. Stanley - 1942

foot per man and carried over 125 pounds of equipment.

We circled for one and a half hours in the storm, and then headed for the beach. One hundred feet from shore, my landing craft hit a sand bar. Thinking we were on the beach, the coxswain dropped the ramp, which was a signal to disembark. We ran into twelve feet of water. There was widespread panic.

“I made my way to shore, stumbling and pushing bodies of my American

comrades aside. There was one way to go - ahead.”

The weaker and non-swimmers drowned. The war ended for them one hundred feet from the Invasion on Omaha Beach. The shock, fear,

and reality of what happened are indescribable.

When my feet touched the beach, I made my way to shore, stumbling and pushing bodies of my American comrades aside.

June 6, 1994 - David Stanley stands on Omaha Beach 50 years after his

father came ashore.

There was one way to go - ahead. Machine-gun fire hit the water, and bodies became sandbags and protec-tion.

Not one American son could ever be prepared for this. Everything was instinctive and I kept moving ahead. We huddled behind the sand dunes on the beach while the artillery con-tinued firing toward us.

The choice was either to huddle there and be killed by machine-gun fire or move forward. We re-grouped and moved ahead. We gradually advanced and the beach-head was established.

After the second day, there was a lull in the fighting and divisions began reforming. We molded again into a fighting force. We were close-knit groups, and received little news about what was happening in the other areas.

We began moving ahead. I saw gliders with dead pilots and dead paratroopers hanging from trees and house roofs. We kept moving

with little resistance, scared and tired. We passed through small vil-lages, at times were shot at by French collaborators. After three days we had a twelve-hour reprieve where I fell into an exhausted sleep.

The weather had broken. The sun shone brightly, and for the first time I felt a degree of warmth…

Now, standing at the exact place 50 years later to the very minute that my father and his company had ar-rived to face hell, his words became very real to me. I could hear the explosions and machine-gun fire coming from the bluffs above the beach. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. The sounds of the dy-ing echoed in my mind and the surf’s edge ran with the blood of the dead.

June 6, 1994 - David speaks to a veteran who came in with his father on the first

wave of D-Day

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoul-der. I turned. It was veteran, a man I had never seen before. Without hesitation he spoke, “You’re Bill Stanley’s son, aren’t you?” His words stunned me. “Excuse me?” I replied. “Stanley, Sgt. William J., You’re his son right?” the veteran

repeated. My knees buckled as emotion overwhelmed me.

“I am sir, but how did you know?” I asked. “Because you look just like him son,” he said. “I served with him. We came in together.” The veteran pointed out into the surf. “We hit the beach about 50 yards out,” he continued.

“All hell was breaking loose. Men were dying all around us as we fought the weight of our heavy equipment, the strong surf and the bullets raining down on us from the German positions on the bluffs.”

His memory of the event echoed what I had read in my father’s memoirs almost to the very letter, save one. As the veteran talked his personal pain began to emerge. His voice cracked and his hands started to shake. He was fighting back tears but was determined to finish his story.

“All hell was breaking loose. Men were dying all

around us as we fought the weight of our heavy

equipment, the strong surf and the bullets raining down on us from the

German positions on the bluffs.”

“Riddled with fear we continued to move forward, your dad, myself, and your dad’s friend Wayne,” he said. “That’s when it happened.” Wayne popped his head up to check the German positions and a bullet caught him dead on. The remains of what was left of Wayne’s head splat-tered across your father’s face. He froze in total disbelief and horror. It was as though we where in a shoot-ing gallery with hundreds dead or

RESTORING MY FATHER’S HONOR by David E. Stanley

dying. I grabbed your dad by the shoulder and he snapped back to action. We made it to the bluff’s edge leaving behind forever any

innocence we might have brought with us to that bloody beach.”

By now the tears that had flooded my eyes were flowing down my face. I looked into the veteran’s face and extended my hand to shake his. As he took my hand I pulled him close to me and hugged him. I whispered in his ear, “thank you sir.” He spoke back, “you should be proud of your father son.” “I am sir, I am,” I replied.

For the last three years I had been seeking any information concerning my father’s life and military career. The quest that began with my fa-ther ’s memoirs had taken me through hundreds of books and ar-ticles on the subject of WWII. Documents I obtained from the Army detailing my father’s 19 years of service covered my desk. Medals issued to me as his youngest son graced the walls of my office but now here I was standing face to face with history.

I wanted to know more about the stranger now standing next to me, but he just gave one last look and walked away. I didn’t get the vet-

eran’s name and I never saw him again. But in those few moments he’d given me something that was priceless - a connection to my dad

that I’d never had before. As I re-gained my composure; a sense of great pride for what my father had experienced here replaced the sad-ness.

This was a moment that would for-ever be burned in my memory. My mother’s limited communication with me about my father while I was growing up had included just two things. He was a combat vet-eran and he was an alcoholic. On this day, I embraced one with great pride and understood the other.

More then ever I wanted to know him, to grab hold of a heritage that was such a contrast to the life I had lived. You see, my dad’s memoirs had also revealed the details of the one battle he couldn’t win. Details that had been kept from me all these years. I never knew the events that led to my father being swept out of my life.

I was too young to remember, just three years old at the time when Mom divorced my dad to marry Vernon Presley, father of famous singer Elvis Presley.

The two met and fell in love in Germany in 1958 while Vernon’s son Elvis completed his tour of duty and my dad, a master sergeant, was serving in the 3rd Armored Divi-sion.

“My mother’s limited communication with me

about my father while I was growing up had included just two things. He was a

combat veteran and he was an alcoholic. On this day, I embraced one with great pride and understood the

other.” Mom’s marriage made the headlines and propelled us into royalty – we were suddenly part of Rock and Roll’s first family. Dad slipped into oblivion.

Vernon Presley in Germany - 1958

The repercussions of this battle would not only cost him his family and career, but the honor of his country that he had dedicated his life to defend.

For me, something had always been missing. And that day on the beach I found it. I discovered a heritage

RESTORING MY FATHER’S HONOR by David E. Stanley

Men of The First Infantry land on Omaha Beach - June 6, 1944

and connection with the man whose blood flowed in my veins. Though flawed, he’d tried to live by the code of honor, sacrifice and courage. At that moment, with the veteran’s words still fresh in my ears, I be-came determined to lift my dad out of the shadows of oblivion and tell his story. A story to Restore My Fa-ther’s Honor.

WILLIAM J. STANLEY’S journey began in Wilmington, North Caro-lina, during the early days of the Great Depression. Born of working class parents, he joined the Mary-land National Guard in 1938 at the age of 15.

With war clouds gathering on the horizons Bill was officially inducted into federal service with the Army’s 29th Infantry Division in February of 1941.

A true patriot who lived by the creed, ‘God, Country and Family, he relished the opportunity to fight for the land he so loved and respected. It was men like Sgt. Stanley and countless other American soldiers whose heroic efforts on the battle-fields of Western Europe helped ensure victory in World War II.

After the war Bill returned to the US and was stationed at Camp Camp-bell, Kentucky where he met Dee Elliot, a young Scarlet O’Hara-type beauty. Full of youth and enthusi-asm, Dee wanted desperately to see the world and experience a higher quality of life than her modest Ten-nessee upbringing had afforded.

She saw her ticket in this 6’3’, 240 lb., heavy drinking, two-fisted mountain of a military man, Bill Stanley. Bill and Dee got married in 1949 and had three boys, Billy, Ricky and David. Dee began to realize her

dream to see the world when Bill was assigned to the US base in Or-leans, France.

Bill and Dee’s wedding Day - 1949

A transfer moved the Stanley family to Frankfurt, Germany and the 3rd Armored Division in 1958. Soon after there was a buzz on the Army base that a handsome young Ameri-can singer had arrived and would serve in the same division.

The stage was set for a chance en-counter when Vernon Presley, Elvis Presley’s recently widowed father, entered a local nightclub in Frank-furt and took the table next to Bill and Dee.

Dee Stanley with Vernon Presley

Unaware of the man’s identity, Bill noticed he was an American and struck up a light conversation. Handsome and charming, Vernon quickly gained Bill’s trust and used their quickly developing friendship

to get close to his star-struck wife, Dee.

Unknown to Bill, Vernon and Dee soon became involved in a secret love affair while Bill was out on maneuvers with his troops. Their affair led to a web of deceit and be-trayal.

Bill eventually uncovered the truth and threatened to fight back. But his military accomplishments were no match for Vernon Presley’s fame, money and power. Denying his friendship with the Stanleys and his affair with Dee, Vernon unleashed his full arsenal to protect his inter-ests. Not even Bill’s fellow soldiers believed his accusations against the Presley entourage. His dogged ef-forts to tell the truth soon landed him in a straight jacket and finally a padded room at Walter Reed hospi-tal for psychiatric evaluation.

Defeated, Bill fell into a deep de-pression. That, coupled with a seri-ous drinking problem, led to the harshest punishment imaginable for a soldier, a less than honorable dis-charge from the Army without a pension.

“His dogged efforts to tell the truth soon landed him

in a straight jacket and finally a padded room at Walter Reed hospital for psychiatric evaluation.”

In 1960, Dee’s divorce from Bill be-came final. She married Vernon, taking Bill’s three boys out of his life forever. The nuptials made head-lines across the country and around the world – headlines that vindi-cated Bill and proved his story. But it was too late, the damage was

RESTORING MY FATHER’S HONOR by David E. Stanley

done. Bill had lost his marriage, his boys, his pension and the honor of the country he had fought so pas-sionately for nearly twenty years to defend.

Vernon Presley marries Dee Stanley on July 3, 1960

In this brief two-year period from 1958 to 1960, this once proud mili-tary soldier and dedicated family man was reduced from combat hero to a broken man, left with nothing but heartbreak and the memory of the only battle he ever lost.

Since that time in 1958, the years have seen the deaths of Elvis and Vernon Presley. Bill Stanley died in 1991 without a military funeral and without honors.

Unlike Elvis Presley’s funeral, which drew hundreds of thousands, only a few people attended the fu-neral of Bill Stanley in the small suburb of Jacksonville, FL. The con-tributions he made toward securing the freedoms of America were seem-ingly forgotten.

Bill never spoke of the wars that rocked the world or the one that shattered his personal and profes-

sional life. But through the memoirs presented to his son, David, after his death, the truth can now be told.

“Few people attended the funeral of

Sgt. William J. Stanley. The contributions he made toward securing the free-

doms of America were seemingly forgotten.”

R E S T O R I N G M Y FAT H E R ’ S HONOR is a film currently being produced by David E. Stanley.

It is a true story of William J. Stan-ley, a soldier who fought in some of this nation’s greatest crusades for freedom yet became a casualty of fame… a story about redemption and restoration, driven by a son’s determined pursuit to set the record straight and unveil the facts that led to the destruction of both a father and the honor of a combat hero. A truth that until now has been buried for nearly 50 years.

D. (DAVID) EDWARD STANLEY

David was first exposed to the art of film making as a young boy while

growing on the back lots of film gi-ants like MGM and Paramount where he watched his stepbrother Elvis Presley make movies. 

At the age of 16 David began work-

ing and touring with Elvis as a per-sonal aide and bodyguard. From 1972 to 1977 he did hundreds of shows with his world famous stepbrother and was part of some of the most

historical concert events of the 20th century.

Today, David is a producer & presi-dent of Impello Films, Inc.  His first feature film Protecting The King is

based on his years touring with the King of Rock & Roll.

As a filmmaker David taps into his ability to write and produce stories that create dramatic contrasts and

access a wide range of human emotions. He is currently producing his next film Restoring My Father’s Honor.

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RESTORING MY FATHER’S HONOR by David E. Stanley