Edward R. Schowalter Jr. and the Medal of Honor at Hill 605

Jun 16 , 2026

Edward R. Schowalter Jr. and the Medal of Honor at Hill 605

Edward R. Schowalter Jr. stood alone in a hailstorm of bullets, his rifle jammed, blood seeping from two shattered ankles. Around him, the hill burned with enemy fire and the screams of dying men. Instead of faltering, Schowalter lifted himself up, refusing to yield. That day, Hill 605 in Korea became the crucible that revealed a warrior forged in iron and faith.

Background & Faith

Born in 1927 in Wisconsin, Edward grew up in a small town where grit was as common as dirt roads. The son of a World War I veteran and a devout mother, his upbringing was steeped in discipline and quiet, resolute faith. He carried a pocket Bible, its worn pages a steady compass through chaos. Schowalter’s code wasn’t written on paper—it was etched into his marrow: protect your brothers, stand firm on principle, lay down your life if called.

When the Korean War erupted, Schowalter was a lieutenant in the 31st Infantry Regiment, 7th Infantry Division. He believed in the mission and in leading from the front, not from afar. He lived by the words of Psalm 18:35—“You have given me the shield of your salvation.” That shield carried him through hell.

The Battle That Defined Him

April 22, 1951. The enemy had entrenched themselves atop Hill 605 near Soksa-ri, threatening to break through UN lines. Schowalter’s company was ordered to retake it—a crucible of fire in a war boxed by cold and rugged peaks.

Facing a force vastly superior in numbers, his platoon sustained heavy casualties. Schowalter’s feet were shattered by enemy shell fragments, blood pooling beneath him, pain screaming with every breath. But surrender was not in his vocabulary.

He personally directed artillery strikes within yards of his position, refusing to call for a withdrawal. While his men regrouped, Schowalter fought the enemy pawing at his heels. Twice, he stood to man a machine gun, blasting waves of attackers back despite excruciating pain.

His legs broken, he hoisted himself up one last time to order a counterattack that reclaimed the hill. His voice, cracked and raw, carried the weight of salvation—bringing hope where others saw death.

Recognition

For his “conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty,” Edward R. Schowalter Jr. received the Medal of Honor. His citation reads:

“Lt. Schowalter, though severely wounded, unhesitatingly refused medical aid and evacuation, continuing to inspire his men by his fearless leadership… His indomitable fighting spirit under overwhelming odds served as a beacon to his company…”[1]

General Matthew Ridgway, reviewing the battle, said:

“Schowalter’s stand embodies the finest traditions of the American soldier—undaunted, valiant, unbreakable.”

Comrades remember him as “the heart of the fight,” a man who bore physical agony like a shield so others might live.

Legacy & Lessons

Schowalter’s story is not just about bravery. It’s about a conscious choice to fight on when every bone screamed to stop. It’s a testament to the power of leadership born in sacrifice, and faith turned to action in the blackest hour.

His scars run deeper than flesh—etched in the lives saved and the hill reclaimed. The wisdom in his fight still speaks: courage is not absence of fear; it is command over it. Duty is heavier than pain, and redemption is wrapped in sacrifice.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the LORD your God who goes with you.” —Deuteronomy 31:6

Edward R. Schowalter Jr. carries the legacy of all who fought so freedom might endure. His story is a reminder that sometimes the greatest victory lies not in the ground taken, but in the soul unbroken amid the storm.

Sources

1. U.S. Army Center of Military History, "Medal of Honor Recipients: Korean War," Medal of Honor Citation for Edward R. Schowalter Jr. 2. Official Records, 7th Infantry Division, Battle Report: Hill 605, April 1951 3. Ridgway, Matthew B., Soldier: Memoirs of Matthew B. Ridgway (1956)