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Ribbons represent a soldier's personal D-day

An 86-year-old repressed what he saw in World War II until a friend and his wife urged him to open up and to get his just rewards.

By ROBERT SAMUELS
Published January 23, 2005

Draped in heavy armor, Stanley Waltz and his fellow soldiers of the famed Big Red One couldn't swim through the neck-high waters of the English Channel to get to Omaha Beach. They grabbed one another by the shoulders and hopped through the waves, avoiding bullets aimed at them from the Axis Powers.

His experience earned him a presidential unit citation. But Sgt. Maj. Waltz never formally received that honor until Thursday morning at the St. Petersburg National Guard Armory.

There he finally received the ribbon representing the citation, as well as seven others for his military service between 1941 and 1945.

But pinning those ribbons on Stanley Waltz's chest this week meant more to his family than recognition for his courage in North Africa and Normandy.

It was the commemoration of the 86-year-old's new willingness to recall some of the tragedies he witnessed during World War II.

"I don't cry easily and I don't think I'll cry today," Waltz told the 30 people at the ceremony. "But when I think about that day, tears come to my eyes."

In 1941, Waltz left his job as a meat packer at a local St. Petersburg supermarket for Fort Blanding, Fla. He left his family and a girl five years younger he hardly knew named Rita Rambo, who promised to write.

Waltz sailed on the HMS Queen Mary in the summer of 1942 to fight in World War II, where he was charged with communicating to each company where they should go next.

"I remember trying to get through in Algeria," Waltz said. "All of the stations were too far away so I couldn't call them using an electric line."

So, Waltz said, he jumped in a jeep to communicate messages from company to company. Sand flew up in the air as he drove through the combat in the desert, he said.

From Algeria, Waltz and his troops moved into Sicily, fought on D-day and then in the Rhineland. His military records show that he was never wounded. He received an honorary discharge in 1945.

Returning from war, Waltz said he wanted to live a normal life. He sold paint. He bought a Model-T.

Through the letters he sent Rita during the war, they fell in love. When he returned, they started dating and married in 1947.

Stanley and Rita Waltz had four children. He hardly mentioned the war to his children. Sometimes their youngest daughter, Wendy, would watch them cook with a little black cookbook her father had picked up in Europe, she said.

"I remember going through this ceder chest that he had and saw a gun," Wendy Burgasser said. "I was shocked. I thought, "Why did Daddy have a gun?' He was the cook."

But Rita Waltz, an assertive, energetic woman, wanted her husband to be more open. She urged him to write about his experiences for a 1994 article about D-day in the St. Petersburg Times.

"People need to know the truth about what people like my husband went through," she said. "It's so important to the younger generation that you don't sugarcoat it."

Stanley consented. Visions of horror reappeared before him as he tried to scribble words on the page. He went for a page and a half, then stopped. He couldn't take reliving the memory anymore.

His piece appeared that year on May 25. His opening line: "As I walked onto the beach, I saw what I wish I could erase from my mind."

Then came Harley Reynolds.

Waltz said he met Reynolds about four years ago. But Reynolds, a staff sergeant, remembers seeing Waltz in North Africa while they were both a part of the 1st Infantry Division, known as the Big Red One, when he'd communicate messages to the first sergeant.

Now, at 80, Reynolds wants to correct the false account about the war. It bothered him that Waltz had never received any of his honors, Reynolds said, even though he was a member of one of the most famous military divisions ever.

Unlike Waltz, Reynolds is outspoken and loves to tell his war tales of camaraderie.

Reynolds' openness influenced Waltz, his family said.

"I can't thank Harley enough," Mrs. Waltz said. "What he's done for Stanley has been so wonderful for me and my family."

In December, Stanley's health began fading. He had a life-threatening case of diabetes.

The disease reminded his family of his mortality. Again, Rita told him: "Stanley, you have to get your awards."

So Thursday at the armory, Reynolds pinned on ribbons for valor, good conduct, going through Africa, the presidential unit citation and more.

Wearing a dark blue suit with a new parade of colors near his heart, Waltz told 30 people about Normandy, hopping through the water and seeing the bodies on the beach.

"I never thought of myself as a hero," Waltz said, addressing soldiers from the Army National Guard's 53rd Support Battalion. "There were people who died on that beach. But I've got a story to tell."

Sitting in the front row, Rita began to weep. The truth had been told to the younger generations.

[Last modified January 23, 2005, 00:14:21]