Robert E. Femoyer, Medal of Honor Bomber Who Kept Calling Coordinates

Oct 09 , 2025

Robert E. Femoyer, Medal of Honor Bomber Who Kept Calling Coordinates

They say a man’s true measure shows when his blood flows but his voice does not fade. Robert E. Femoyer sat in the cockpit, wounded deep, pulse thudding like war drums, clutching his radio. Saved his crew with nothing but grit and a voice strained through every line. That was the hour he became a legend—not by firing a gun, but by refusing silence.

Background & Faith

Born in Clarksburg, West Virginia, 1921, Robert Femoyer was more than a pilot. He was a son of faith and tenacity. A student of Marshall University, a devout believer, his anchor was Psalm 23. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” That was no empty phrase. It was his armor.

By 1943, Femoyer wasn’t just flying missions—he was carrying a sense of higher purpose into the skies. The war tested his body but never cracked his spirit. His faith forged a code: protect your brothers, complete the mission, and accept the scars as symbols of honor.

The Battle That Defined Him

November 2, 1944. The skies above Merseburg, Germany, turned into a hellstorm.

Femoyer was bombardier officer aboard a B-17 Flying Fortress with the 96th Bombardment Group. The target: crucial chemical plants fuelling the Nazi war machine. Anti-aircraft flak shredded the sky. The plane caught fire. Shrapnel tore through Femoyer’s side, lung punctured, blood leaking fast.

He was bleeding out, fading fast.

But the mission’s success hinged on precise bombing coordinates. Without radio contact, the formation faced chaos—and slaughter.

Wounded to near death, Femoyer demanded the radio. No matter the pain, no matter the cost, he spoke coordinates for 40 agonizing minutes.

“I was able to call out the point to the formation until the last moment,” Femoyer later wrote in a fading letter home.

His voice steadied gunner and pilot alike. His transmissions were a lifeline amid the carnage. Only when the plane was safe and the mission struck true did he let go. He died shortly after landing, a warrior sacrificed on foreign soil but victorious in battle.

Recognition

The Medal of Honor came posthumously—awarded by President Harry Truman in 1945.

Femoyer’s citation [1] reads: “By his heroic endurance and fortitude . . . he saved his crew and contributed materially to the success of a vital air mission.” His steadfastness under fire inspired officers and enlisted alike.

Colonel D.E. Myers, squadron leader, called him “a man of uncommon courage and devotion.” Crew members remembered him not just for skill, but for the spirit that demanded, “Don’t stop until it’s done.”

Legacy & Lessons

Robert Femoyer’s story is carved deep in the bedrock of sacrifice. He didn’t survive to tell it—his voice did.

His courage warns us all—heroism is often quiet suffering. It is choosing purpose over pain when the world burns around you.

His faith, a guide through chaos. His sacrifice, a testament we owe each other our all.

“Greater love hath no man than this,” Femoyer lived that verse. Die for your brothers. Die for the mission. Die so others might live.

His blood soaked the skies but wrote a message for every generation of warriors: In every battle, salvation rides on the voice that refuses to fall silent.

Sources

1. U.S. Army Center of Military History, Medal of Honor Recipients: World War II 2. Marshall University Libraries, Robert E. Femoyer Papers 3. Air Force Historical Research Agency, 96th Bombardment Group Records