Charles N. DeGlopper's Medal of Honor sacrifice in Normandy

Nov 20 , 2025

Charles N. DeGlopper's Medal of Honor sacrifice in Normandy

The sky split open with artillery fire. Smoke choked the air. Men around him fell silent, some screaming, others frozen in mud and terror. Charles N. DeGlopper stood alone. His rifle cracked, a lone bulwark against the enemy’s advance. He wasn’t meant to be here—not like this. But there he was, holding a bridge against death itself, buying seconds that cost everything.

The Boy from Mechanicville

Born April 27, 1921, in Mechanicville, New York, Charles was a son of the soil—raised where hard work was the currency and faith was the foundation. Catholic by upbringing, his early life was steeped in a faith that valorized sacrifice and service.

There’s a quiet steel forged in those small towns, the kind that no drill sergeant can teach. He carried that with him when he joined the U.S. Army. Assigned to Company C, 2nd Battalion, 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 82nd Airborne Division, his courage was never supposed to be tested like this—but war does not ask permission.

The Battle That Defined Him

June 9, 1944. The Normandy countryside blistered by days of relentless fighting. The 82nd Airborne was pushing forward, securing key bridges vital to the American advance. DeGlopper’s unit found itself forced into retreat across the La Fière causeway near Sainte-Mère-Église, under hellish fire from a determined enemy.

Enemy machine guns raked the narrow strip of land like a scythe.

DeGlopper volunteered to cover the withdrawal—a one-man rear guard against waves of German soldiers. He moved forward, weapon blazing, eyes blazing, despite repeated wounds. Each burst bought precious time—seconds stretched to minutes in a killing field.

His defense slowed the enemy, allowing dozens of his men to escape the killing zone. But DeGlopper paid in blood. Mortally wounded, he lay in the mud, still fighting until the end.

“Private First Class DeGlopper’s gallantry and defiance of death held the enemy fire,” reads his Medal of Honor citation. He made the ultimate sacrifice so that others might live.

Recognition in Blood and Honor

For that raw act of valor, Charles N. DeGlopper received it—the Medal of Honor, awarded posthumously by General Dwight D. Eisenhower himself. The citation does not mince words:

“Throughout a day-long retreat under withering fire, PFC DeGlopper courageously covered the withdrawal of his company. His fierce resistance enabled his comrades to escape encirclement and probable destruction.”

Leaders spoke his name in respect, comrades in hushed reverence.

Master Sergeant Jerry McNerney, one who fought beside him, said: “Charlie’s actions were the very definition of valor. He wasn’t ordered; he chose to stand his ground.”

A Legacy Written in Blood

DeGlopper’s story is a raw lesson in the calculus of combat. One man, faced with the enemy, chooses sacrifice over survival—not for glory, but for the boy beside him, the man marching behind.

Where does such strength come from? Perhaps from faith. Perhaps from duty. Perhaps from the silent voices of home.

Hebrews 13:16—“Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.”

His sacrifice was no mere footnote. In the decades since, streets, schools, and veterans’ halls bear his name—not to glorify death, but to honor the spirit that gave life meaning.

Charles N. DeGlopper died a warrior, but lived eternal in every moment where courage conquers fear, and sacrifice outlasts the gunfire.

His story stands as a beacon for those who follow the long road through sacrifice and redemption. Let it remind us: True valor is the cost we pay so that others might walk free.