James E. Robinson Jr.'s Medal of Honor Action at Montélimar, 1944

Dec 21 , 2025

James E. Robinson Jr.'s Medal of Honor Action at Montélimar, 1944

It was a rain of bullets—merciless, unrelenting. The German lines broke and reformed like waves crashing against a dark shore. Amid the hellfire, a slender, unyielding figure emerged—James E. Robinson Jr. On that battlefield near Montélimar, France, July 1944, he refused to fall. Every step forward cost blood and grit. He carried more than a rifle—he carried the fate of his men.

Blood on the Cotentin Soil

James E. Robinson Jr. didn’t wake up wanting fame. Born in Texas, he was grounded in quiet faith and sturdy work. A son of simple means, his honor was shaped by prayer and resolve. “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends” (John 15:13) was more than scripture to him. It was a creed.

Robinson answered the call to serve with the 157th Infantry Regiment, 45th Infantry Division—known as the Thunderbirds—a band of warriors forged from Oklahoma, New Mexico, and Texas. They were not angels; they were men, hardened and ready, yet still human.

The Battle That Defined Him

July 28, 1944—near Montélimar, France. The Allies needed to cut the German escape route from southern France. What followed was a nightmare tangled in smoke and steel.

Robinson's platoon hit a withering crossfire. Machine guns tore through the hedgerows. Men fell screaming, pinned down and helpless. It was a killing field.

Robinson did not hesitate. He charged forward alone—three times. Under intense fire, he assaulted enemy machine-gun nests, neutralizing defenders one by one. His movements were surgical, relentless, inspired by a warrior’s instinct.

“He moved with a steady fearlessness, a man possessed by duty and desperation.”

The third assault nearly cost him his life—he was shot down, wounded badly in the shoulder and arm. But the man who refused to break got back on his feet.

He returned, rallied his platoon, and led a counter-attack overturning the German positions. His courage drew his men out of despair. He turned a rout into victory.

Honors Wrought from Valor

For this, James E. Robinson Jr. was awarded the Medal of Honor—the nation’s rarest and highest recognition, presented by President Harry S. Truman in 1945.

His citation reads:

“With complete disregard for his own personal safety, Lieutenant Robinson repeatedly exposed himself to hostile fire to silence deadly enemy machine guns and to lead his platoon forward, thereby saving incomplete destruction of his unit.”

Leaders called him “an indomitable spirit.” Comrades remembered a man who carried the weight of others’ lives as if they were his own.

One fellow soldier, Pfc. Richard Wilkins, whispered years later:

“Without Jimmy, I wouldn’t have made it home.”

The Legacy Carved in Strife

Robinson’s story is not about glory. It is about the cost of courage, the heavy toll of choosing to stand while others fall.

He lived with wounds—both visible and invisible. Yet he bore them like a soldier, silent and stoic. His faith, a quiet fortress against the madness of war.

The Thunderbirds carry his name with reverence. His heroism teaches that true leadership means moving forward when every instinct screams retreat—that valor isn’t the absence of fear, but the mastery of it.

“Though he falls, he shall not be utterly cast down: for the LORD upholdeth him with his hand.” (Psalm 37:24)

James E. Robinson Jr. stood tall amidst chaos and carnage. His battle was raw, brutal, and pure testament to human grit and grace.

In remembering him, it’s not medals that speak loudest, but the echo of a man who chose sacrifice over survival, light over darkness.

For those of us who have walked similar valleys, his story is a map—a call to bear our scars with honor and to lead, even when the cost seems too high.