RESTORING MY

FATHERS 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 Fathers 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 didnt know him that well. I didnt
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-
lers 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
surfs 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, Youre Bill
Stanleys son, arent you? His
words stunned me. Excuse me? I
replied. Stanley, Sgt. William J.,
Youre 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 fathers
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 dads friend Wayne, he
said. Thats 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 Waynes head splat-
tered across your fathers 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 FATHERS HONOR by David E. Stanley
dying. I grabbed your dad by the
shoulder and he snapped back to
action. We made it to the bluffs
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 veterans 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 fathers 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 fathers 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 didnt get the vet-
erans name and I never saw him
again. But in those few moments
hed given me something that was
priceless - a connection to my dad
that Id 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
mothers 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 dads memoirs
had also revealed the details of the
one battle he couldnt 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 Vernons
son Elvis completed his tour of duty
and my dad, a master sergeant, was
serving in the 3rd Armored Divi-
sion.
My mothers 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.
Moms marriage made the headlines
and propelled us into royalty we
were suddenly part of Rock and
Rolls 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 FATHERS 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, hed tried to live by the code
of honor, sacrifice and courage. At
that moment, with the veterans
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-
thers Honor.

WILLIAM J. STANLEYS 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 Armys
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 OHara-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 63, 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 Dees 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
Presleys 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 mans identity, Bill
noticed he was an American and
struck up a light conversation.
Handsome and charming, Vernon
quickly gained Bills 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 Presleys 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 Bills 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, Dees divorce from Bill be-
came final. She married Vernon,
taking Bills 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 FATHERS 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 Presleys 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.
RESTORI NG MY FATHER 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 nations greatest crusades for
freedom yet became a casualty of
fame a story about redemption
and restoration, driven by a sons
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 Fathers
Honor.
_________________________________
For more information visit
www.impellofilms.com
Or Call (214) 507-0243
Copyright 2011 Impello Films, Inc.
RESTORING MY FATHERS HONOR by David E. Stanley