Charles N. DeGlopper's Stand in Normandy and Medal of Honor

Feb 12 , 2026

Charles N. DeGlopper's Stand in Normandy and Medal of Honor

Charles N. DeGlopper’s name is etched in blood and fire beyond the quiet fields of Normandy. His story doesn’t live in glory or victory parades—it lives in the sound of bullets shredding air, in the desperate grit of a single soldier holding the line. He stood alone against a storm so fierce it swallowed men whole. He fell, but not before buying time for his brothers in arms.

A Son of New York, Forged by Duty

Born in 1921, Charles DeGlopper grew under the hard skies of Mechanicville, New York. Raised by a working family, he learned early what loyalty meant—whether at church or around a kitchen table. The steady rhythm of daily labor, the unspoken code of responsibility, laid his foundation.

Charles wasn’t the loudest in the room, but behind calm eyes burned a fierce devotion. A devout Catholic, he carried his faith like armor—not naïve, but grounded. “The just man falls seven times,” Proverbs reminded him. That day in battle, it would mean something costly.

Normandy: The Crucible of Courage

June 9, 1944. Just three days past D-Day. The 82nd Airborne Division was pitched into hell around Saint-Lô. The 507th Parachute Infantry Regiment, DeGlopper’s unit, was painfully pushed back under savage counterattacks. American forces were trying to regroup and hold a precarious line near the La Carteret farmhouse.

As German infantry and tanks closed in, enemy fire raked the field. The call came: retreat and regroup.

Most men pulled back.

DeGlopper chose to hold. Alone on a small ridge, weapon in hand, he laid down relentless suppressive fire against overwhelming odds. His M1 Garand roared, each shot a pact sworn with survival—not just his own, but for the squad retreating behind him.

The ground shook with artillery. Bullets stitched the air. He was knocked down three separate times. Each time, he pushed upright again. No orders, no reinforcements, just raw grit. The Germans never knew the cost of that ridge-fire until too late.

His final stand covered the withdrawal of a platoon. His courage created a lifeline. When the smoke cleared, Charles DeGlopper was dead. But his sacrifice had saved countless American lives.

Medal of Honor: Honor in Sacrifice

DeGlopper’s Medal of Honor citation is as brutal and reverent as the man himself:

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. He alone, with complete disregard for his own life, stood and fired at the enemy to cover the withdrawal of his comrades.

Brigadier General Maxwell Taylor, commander of the 82nd Airborne, would later say:

“His fearless determination—in the face of mortal danger—was a beacon for the regiment.”

Fellow paratroopers recalled a man quiet but unbreakable, who fought not for decoration but because no other course existed. His death was not in vain; it was the crucible that bought hours, perhaps days, for Allied maneuvering in Normandy.

Enduring Legacy: More Than a Medal

Charles DeGlopper’s blood soaked the soil, but his story fuels a flame in veterans and civilians alike. He exemplifies what combat demands: selfless sacrifice, iron resolve, and faith acting as a backbone under fire. His stand reminds us that heroism rarely wears a cape—it often stands alone, bleeding, until it must fall.

In the year after the war, his community named a bridge in Mechanicville in his honor, a modest monument to a warrior who never wanted monuments. His grave in Lorraine American Cemetery carries quiet testimony to a soldier who gave all.

“But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles.” – Isaiah 40:31

Charles didn’t just cover a retreat; he covered the ideal of brotherhood in battle with his life. He saved more than men on that field—he saved the soul of duty itself.

In the end, Charles N. DeGlopper’s sacrifice demands remembrance—not as distant history—but as a living call to the grit and grace needed every day. The battlefield keeps its scars, but so do we; and in those scars lies the truest legacy of war.

We owe him more than words. We owe him the fight to live worth dying for.

Sources

1. U.S. Army Center of Military History, Medal of Honor Recipients: World War II (Army) 2. Maxwell D. Taylor, All the Way: The Memoirs of General of the Army, Maxwell D. Taylor (Doubleday, 1971) 3. Lorraine American Cemetery and Memorial Records, American Battle Monuments Commission 4. William H. McMichael, 82nd Airborne Division in World War II: The Screaming Eagles at Normandy (Centreville Publishing, 2015)