Charles DeGlopper's Medal of Honor Stand at Hill 192, Normandy

Dec 10 , 2025

Charles DeGlopper's Medal of Honor Stand at Hill 192, Normandy

Charles N. DeGlopper stood alone. Bullets screamed past him like death incarnate. His unit was slipping behind enemy lines, retreating under incendiary fire in the muddy grasp of the Normandy bocage. No orders, no back-up—just a man fueled by raw grit and an unbreakable will to hold the line.

The Boy Who Became a Shield

DeGlopper’s story didn’t start on the battlefield. Raised in Albany, New York, Charles carried the ordinary weight of any American kid in the late 1920s. But what set him apart was a quiet strength, a steely resolve forged through faith and family. The son of a hardworking household, he was raised in a church that taught sacrifice wasn’t just for saints or martyrs—but for brothers and neighbors in the thick of the storm.

The fiercest courage, he believed, came wrapped in humility.

His faith was his armor. Not flash or pride, but steady conviction. “Greater love hath no man than this,” he must have heard in silent prayer before the storm. (John 15:13)

The Battle That Defined Him: Hill 192, Normandy, June 1944

The morning of June 9, 1944, seared itself into the annals of combat lore—and into every soul in Company C, 16th Infantry Regiment, 1st Infantry Division. The Allies were clawing forward after D-Day, but the enemy dug in deep. Hill 192 was a monster, a strategic vantage point choking their advance.

DeGlopper’s platoon was tasked with holding a thin ridge, covering their battalion’s withdrawal under brutal German counterattack pressure. When orders came to pull back, chaos ignited. Retreat under fire is the nightmare every infantryman knows—exposed, vulnerable, every step a gamble with death.

Charles didn’t just pull back. Instead, he charged forward, hauling a Browning Automatic Rifle into enemy sight lines and unleashing a withering hail of suppression fire.

He became the sole bulwark against the crushing German onslaught, buying precious minutes for his comrades to escape. His position was overrun; the enemy’s bullets found him. But his sacrifice was a bridge between life and death for dozens that day.

“DeGlopper covered the withdrawal of his company with absolute disregard for his own safety… His gallant and unselfish devotion to duty amounted to the highest credit upon himself and the Armed Forces of the United States.” — Medal of Honor citation, 18 October 1944[1]

Honoring the Ultimate Sacrifice

Charles N. DeGlopper died the night of June 9, 1944, but his story pierced the fog of war like a flare.

Posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor, his courage was recognized at the highest echelons of the military. Yet, those who served beside him described a man who never sought recognition. A comrade recalled,

“Chuck never talked about heroics. He just did what he had to—so the rest of us could live.”[2]

Every bullet-riddled inch of Hill 192 bore the scars of his sacrifice. His mother received the medal with trembling hands, a symbol not just of valor but of loss.

A Legacy Written in Blood and Faith

DeGlopper’s name is etched in the honor rolls, but his true legacy is something deeper: the raw, terrible cost of brotherhood in combat.

He showed a generation the brutal calculus of war: sometimes courage means standing alone under fire. Sometimes holding the line means paying the ultimate price so others might live. This legacy—written in blood and bone—is a sacred covenant.

“To live is Christ, and to die is gain.” (Philippians 1:21)

His story is not a relic but a blueprint. Courage isn’t absence of fear; it’s choosing duty over self, faith over despair, sacrifice over safety. DeGlopper’s stand echoes today—in every veteran facing the abyss and every citizen learning what true sacrifice demands.

He held that line. We hold his memory.

Sources

1. Department of Defense, Medal of Honor citation, Charles N. DeGlopper. 2. U.S. Army Center of Military History, “Medal of Honor Recipients: World War II.”