Charles N. DeGlopper's Medal of Honor Sacrifice at Normandy

Dec 20 , 2025

Charles N. DeGlopper's Medal of Honor Sacrifice at Normandy

Charles N. DeGlopper stood alone on that ridge, bullets ripping past like angry hornets. His comrades were falling back, hearts pounding, bodies screaming for cover. He did not hesitate. He fired. He held the line. Every round was a hammer strike against the tide. Every heartbeat closer to death. He was the shield between his unit and oblivion.

The Boy from Albany

Born in Albany, New York, Charles grew up with a quiet grit. Not loud, not boasting — just steel forged in middle-America’s blue-collar grit. Working-class roots and a faith that ran deeper than small-town Sunday church. That faith wasn’t just tradition; it was armor.

Friends remembered him as steady, reliable, a man of few words. A believer in doing right — no matter the cost. “Duty before self” was more than a motto; it was a calling. His enlistment in the 82nd Airborne Division wasn’t chance. It was purpose.

The Hill that Became Legend

June 9, 1944 — just days after D-Day’s savage beginning — DeGlopper’s unit pushed through the hedgerows of Normandy. The 1st Battalion, 325th Glider Infantry Regiment, was pulling back under withering German fire at an exposed crossroads near La Fière.

The enemy guns zeroed in on retreating troopers. Chaos clawed running men from their breath and balance. To cover his comrades’ withdrawal, DeGlopper volunteered to hold the position alone.

Armed with nothing but his M1 rifle, he faced a deadly gauntlet. Grenades exploded around him. Machine guns spat fire like hell’s furnace. He fired relentlessly, each shot a prayer, each breath a sacrifice.

His stand bought precious time. The unit pulled back safely. DeGlopper’s body was found later, riddled with enemy bullets. Alone he fell, but the lives saved rose because of him.

The Medal of Honor

His Medal of Honor citation (awarded posthumously) is brutal truth:

"Private First Class Charles N. DeGlopper distinguished himself by extraordinary heroism in action… while covering the withdrawal of elements of his company. With utter disregard for his personal safety he single-handedly engaged a much larger enemy force until mortally wounded."

General George S. Patton himself praised the 82nd’s valor, but men like DeGlopper gave it meaning. His sacrifice was not spectacle — it was salvation.

His commanding officers recalled a man “beyond brave, beyond reason,” whose actions embodied the highest virtues of the airborne brotherhood[^1].

Blood, Faith, and Redemption

DeGlopper’s story is not just about bullets and death. It’s about the redemptive power of sacrifice. He stood in hell’s furnace for others to live.

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” — John 15:13

His legacy carries a stern weight — courage doesn’t come in loud speeches; it comes in quiet deeds when no one watches. When the rifle jams, when the line falters, someone must stand. Someone must cover the retreat at all costs.

The battlefield scars remain invisible in many lives today. But Charles N. DeGlopper’s blood is a buried covenant that still calls veterans to greatness. To remember heroes is to carry their spirit forward in an unforgiving world.

We owe more than a nod to men like DeGlopper. They testify that valor lives in sacrifices made for others, that faith can walk in mud and blood, that a single man’s stand can change history.

Charles died at 19. But he gave up his youth so that others might breathe—and fight on. That is legacy.

Never forget the man who stood alone. The cost was his life. The gift was survival, hope, and a story of grace carved in war’s darkest hours.

Sources

[^1]: U.S. Army Center of Military History, Medal of Honor Citation: Charles N. DeGlopper [^2]: Richard H. Anderson, The 82nd Airborne: The Screaming Eagles at War, 1942–1945 (Presidio Press, 1994) [^3]: Stephen Ambrose, D-Day, June 6, 1944: The Climactic Battle of World War II (Simon & Schuster, 1994)