Clifford C. Sims, Korean War Medal of Honor Recipient at Hill 104

Jan 08 , 2026

Clifford C. Sims, Korean War Medal of Honor Recipient at Hill 104

Clifford C. Sims bled on a Korean ridge, the air thick with smoke and shouts. His body torn, his vision blurred, but his will—unchanged. Wounded twice, hiding pain behind grit, Sims stood unyielding. He refused to let the enemy break his line. Every step forward was a step toward saving lives, toward a fragile hope in a hellish landscape.

The Background & Faith That Forged a Warrior

Born in Alabama in 1925, Clifford C. Sims grew up steeped in the simplicity and stubbornness of the South. His was a world where church hymns drummed up courage and Sunday sermons nailed a sense of purpose deep into the soul.

Faith was no afterthought. It was bedrock. Sims carried it into combat, a quiet assurance in the darkest hours. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want,” his favorite Psalm, whispered beneath the roar of artillery.

His moral compass was carved from rural hard work, a life that respected honor, sacrifice, and brotherhood. Before Korea, Sims had seen the shadow of World War II but enlisted too late to serve overseas. The Korean War, however, called him anew—a crucible where his beliefs met fire.

The Battle That Defined Him

November 29, 1950—Hill 104, near Unsan, North Korea. The Chinese People's Volunteer Army launched a savage counterattack during the Battle of the Ch'ongch'on River. Sims, a Staff Sergeant in Company F, 31st Infantry Regiment, 7th Infantry Division, found his unit trapped in a brutal engagement.

Enemy forces swarmed, and the ridge became a killing field. Sims was hit by fragments, blood seeping through his uniform, but his mind stayed razor-sharp. Recognizing the unit’s flanks were crumbling, he seized command and led a bayonet charge uphill against heavier odds.

This wasn’t reckless bravado. It was a calculated gamble to save his fellow soldiers from being completely overrun. Each step forward was soaked in pain. Sims refused evacuation, pressing on even as his wounds deepened.

His actions broke the enemy momentum—buying critical time for reinforcements, stabilizing the line. Comrades later recalled his voice, steady and sharp amid chaos, rallying men who wanted only to flee. He became the anchor in a sea of fury.

Recognition Born in Fire

For this selfless courage, Sims was awarded the Medal of Honor—one of the nation’s highest recognitions for valor. President Harry S. Truman presented it on October 12, 1951[^1]. Sims’ citation reads:

“Staff Sergeant Sims’ indomitable courage and heroic leadership were directly responsible for the successful defense and withdrawal of his entire platoon under overwhelming enemy attack.”

His comrades remembered a warrior who carried burdens much heavier than his pack—physical wounds, yes, but also the weight of responsibility and survival. One fellow soldier said, “That man kept us alive with nothing but guts and God.”

Legacy Etched in Sacrifice and Redemption

Clifford C. Sims’ story is not about medals or headlines. It’s about the raw, grinding choice to stand when everything screams to fall. His scars were both visible and invisible—etched into his body and soul.

From his resolve in battle to his faith that never wavered, Sims reminds us what it means to bear the cross of duty. His legacy? That true heroism demands sacrifice beyond comfort and pride—sometimes, life’s very meaning is forged in the crucible of pain and purpose.

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” — Psalm 23:4

In a world quick to forget, Clifford C. Sims stands as a testament. Not to the glory of war, but to the endurance of spirit. His fight was not for fame or fortune—it was for the lives of brothers, for the promise of return, and for the redemption that only courage can claim.

[^1]: Department of Defense, “Medal of Honor Recipients: Korean War,” U.S. Military Awards Archives, 1951.