By Gene Hays
USMC (Ret.)
Cornelius (“Connie”) Charlton was the eighth and biggest of Mrs. Van Charlton’s 17
babies — he weighed 15 lbs. 8 oz. at birth —and he was a good boy from the time he
could toddle.
Unlike many other U.S. parents, the Charltons never thought for a moment that he
would grow up to be President. The Charltons were Black; they had great hopes for
Connie.
When he was 15, he stood 6 ft. tall and weighed 180 lbs. He never touched liquor,
tobacco or profanity; he was honest, liked to cook, did well in his schoolwork and
yearned to be a soldier.
“Mom, tell ’em a little tale,” he begged. “Tell ’em I’m old enough to join the Army.” His
mother made him wait until he was 17, but she was delighted. Connie’s father, a thin,
patient man, had toiled as a West Virginia coal miner for 38 years, and then, seeking
opportunity, had moved the family to the noisy streets of The Bronx. All he had found
were part-time jobs as a porter and sexton.
In Mrs. Charlton’s mind, soldiering would be a fine career. When Connie finished his
freshman year in high school and enlisted in the Army, his mother kissed him goodbye
as she had kissed his three brothers who served in World War II, and a fourth who
enlisted after V-J day. News of Connie came to the Charltons intermittently.
He served as an enlisted clerk at Aberdeen Proving Ground. He was transferred to
Okinawa when he was 21 and he wrote proudly that he was with the 25th Infantry
Division in Korea — and a sergeant. He had raised a mustache “befitting his position.”
Then the Charltons got word that Connie had been killed. Connie died on June 2, 1951,
near Chipo, Korea, at the summit of a heavily defended hill which his company had
been attacking without success for two days.

When his platoon leader was wounded on the third day, Connie took over. The assault
party was pinned down by intense fire from automatic weapons in fortified
emplacements above them.
Connie crept forward, knocked out the first two positions with hand grenades, and
organized a new assault. He was badly wounded. The platoon was driven back by a hail
of explosives.
Undaunted, he regrouped his men and led them forward once more. They were driven
back again. At the crest of the Hill. Bleeding profusely from the chest, he saw to the
removal of other wounded men, and rallied the survivors. They fought to the crest. But
there was an enemy emplacement hidden on the reverse slope of the hill. He charged it
alone and was again hit by a grenade.
But before he died, he “raked the position with devastating fire which eliminated it and
routed the defenders.”
Charlton made the ultimate sacrifice and was posthumously awarded the Medal of
Honor.