Edward R. Schowalter Jr. and his Medal of Honor at Hill 770, Korea

Jan 02 , 2026

Edward R. Schowalter Jr. and his Medal of Honor at Hill 770, Korea

Bloodied and bare-knuckled, he stood alone. His men scattered, wounds bleeding deep, yet he fought. A bullet in the chest, shattered ribs — still, Edward R. Schowalter Jr. pressed forward. This was no act of valor born from glory, but raw, unyielding grit forged in fire.

The Making of a Warrior

Born March 23, 1927, in Cincinnati, Ohio, Edward’s early life bore the marks of discipline and faith. Raised with a steady hand and a firm grip on Catholic principles, he was taught honor above self. This wasn’t softness—it was steel tempered by belief.

“Duty before self,” a phrase drilled into his marrow. Schowalter’s creed echoed the ancient warrior’s path but never lost touch with grace. His faith wasn’t a shield from hardship; it was a compass through the storms.

Before Korea, he served in World War II as an infantry officer. That baptism in blood set a foundation—not just to survive, but to lead when others faltered.

The Battle That Defined Him: Hill 770, Korea

February 12, 1951. A bitter winter gripped the Korean peninsula. It was Hill 770 near Yanggu, where Schowalter, a First Lieutenant in the 17th Infantry Regiment, 7th Infantry Division, faced hell incarnate.

The Chinese People’s Volunteer Army launched a massive assault—a human wave overwhelming the defenders. Schowalter commanded a company tasked with holding the critical hilltop. His men were outnumbered, exposed, and exhausted.

The first wound came early: a bullet shattered his arm, nearly ending him. But the enemy kept coming. Bloodied and bruised, Schowalter rallied his soldiers with grit dragging him forward. His voice cut through the chaos.

Even when the enemy closed in, he fought in hand-to-hand combat, throwing grenades, shouting orders, refusing to yield ground. Twice more he was wounded — one bullet tearing into his chest. But he refused evacuation.

"Despite his wounds, First Lieutenant Schowalter continued to lead and inspire his men, holding the position against overwhelming odds." — Medal of Honor citation, 1951

Amid the shouts, explosions, and dwindling ammunition, Schowalter's steadfastness was the thin line between life and death. His leadership bought time, saved countless lives, and stalled the enemy’s advance.

Honors Earned in Blood

For his savage courage, Schowalter earned the Medal of Honor, the nation’s highest military decoration. Signed by President Harry S. Truman on July 11, 1951, the citation immortalized his heroism:

"With complete disregard for personal safety and severely wounded, First Lieutenant Schowalter remained at his post and furious counterattacks brought heavy casualties to the enemy and prevented the capture of his position."

Colleagues described him as a "warrior’s warrior." His battalion commander called him “a man who would fight to the last breath—and inspire others to do the same.”

Such praise wasn’t handed out lightly. It mattered less that he survived than that he refused to quit — an emblem of the warrior’s sacred trust to never leave a man behind.

The Legacy Carved in Scars

Schowalter’s story isn’t just about medals or battlefield feats. It’s about the blood, the silence afterwards, and the prayers whispered in the dark.

He lived as a testament to unyielding courage colored by humility. After the war, he continued serving in the Army, becoming a mentor for younger soldiers—sharing the costly lessons of leadership under fire.

His fight was a mirror for all who face overwhelming odds: perseverance amid pain, faith amid chaos.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you.” — Deuteronomy 31:6

This is the heart of Schowalter’s legacy—a warrior sustained not by the glory of battle but by the grace behind it. His scars tell a story not just of war’s brutality, but of a soldier’s enduring tear in the fabric of history—sewn with sacrifice and faith.

The battlefield writes heroes in blood and ash. Schowalter’s name rises above not because the fight was easy, but because he stood when others faltered. Every veteran carries that same scarred spirit—the weight of seeing too much, the burden of still fighting for what is right.

To remember him is to honor all who serve with grit and grace—a solemn vow etched deep in the soil of freedom.