Luther Dean Stanford

Aviation Ordnanceman 3rd Class Luther Dean Stanford served in the US Navy from September, 1943 through July, 1944. His Tours of Duty: San Diego, CA, Norman, OK, Norfolk, VA, Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. He was Killed in Action in a seaplane accident in Great Exuma, Bahama Islands, on July 1, 1944. He was posthumously awarded the following Medals: American Campaign Medal, European African Middle Eastern Campaign Medal, WWII Victory Medal.

Known as Dean, he was born August 27, 1925, in Electra, Wichita County, Texas. He was the third child of Arthur Glenn Stanford and Ronnie Emily Smith Stanford. His eyes were green, and his hair was black and curly. Dean had two older brothers, Glenn and Raymond, and a younger sister, Rama Beth. Arthur worked in the oil fields of Wichita County, and Emily was a homemaker. While Dean was in high school, he worked at the Electra Skating Rink as a floor bouncer. He enlisted in the Navy the day before his 18th birthday in 1943.

The photo below was taken in May of 1944 when he came home to visit his mother for Mother’s Day. He was KIA two months later.


Luther Dean Stanford is buried in the New Electra Cemetery, Electra, Wichita County, Texas.

-by Jeannie Magers Wesley

© 2020, all rights reserved.

7 thoughts on “Luther Dean Stanford”

  1. I would like to dedicate to this sailor. I found this in my grandmother’s treasures. They were given by Resthaven Cemetery in Houston any time they attended to a fallen soldier. At last count I’ve found 4 killed in action and 1 missing in action, neighbor boys that this poem speaks to. The original is on cemetery letterhead. I apologize for the small font. To dumb to figure out how to enlarge. Feel free it should be shareable and editing allowed. This is
    “The American Kid”🇺🇸

    (copied and pasted)

    By H. P. (HAP) HAYMAN 

    It dropped from the clouds like a Falcon A streak of gray in the blue; Just one mortal thrust, red flame and then dust, And another Nazi was through.
    It roared to stop at the hangar This Bird, & monster of might; With feathers of steel from its beak to its keel; An Eagle, alone born to fight. 

    Surely, none but Colossus could pilot This fearful phantom-like thing, Whose vitals belched death through its blistering breath with destruction in each shiny wing. 

    No Superman guided this Vulture Nor fondled the grim deadly toy; For, instead of a Giant superbly defiant, There emerged just & curly-haired Boy.
    He’s the lad who lived down the alley; Who delivered your paper each day; He’s the clerk in the bank who now drives a tank The freckle-faced boy cross the way. 

    He’s the 4H boy from the country – The bellboy down at the Club; He’s the Stock Exchange runner and now machine-gunner; The Torpedo-man in the Sub, 

    He’s just one of ten million youngsters Who lives in the towns of your state; He helped mow your lawn, ran a milk truck at dawn, Now a lad on a strange “Blind Date”. 

    Take a look at a huge Battle Wagon Just watch it maneuver-deploy: 
    The gaze at its guns weighing thousands of tons – Everyone is manned by a Boy. 

    He’s the kid who shied rocks at your house cat Threw spitballs at Mary in school; Who, on each Halloween painted everything green, And was always acting the fool. 

    Though our Elders may guide future destiny And clamp on Pandora’s loose lid – When it comes to a fight to protect our own right Just depend on the American Kid. 

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Isn’t that an amazing poem. On the letterhead H.P. “Hap” Hayman. He had a radio on KPRC 950 on Sunday mornings in the World War II era.

        Liked by 1 person

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