Edward R. Schowalter Jr. and the Medal of Honor at Outpost Harry

Nov 02 , 2025

Edward R. Schowalter Jr. and the Medal of Honor at Outpost Harry

Shells ripping earth, bullets clawing sky. Captain Edward R. Schowalter Jr. stands alone. Wounded. Blood pouring. Enemy forces swarm like locusts. He does not falter. He will not surrender.

The Making of a Warrior

Edward R. Schowalter Jr. was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, 1927—steel town grit, blue-collar heart. The son of a World War I veteran, discipline and duty ran in his veins. Raised in a devout Christian household, church pews were as familiar as barracks later became. His faith wasn’t just ritual. It was armor.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13)

That verse wasn’t posted on a wall somewhere—it was carved into his soul. It gave him the backbone to lead men into hell and pull them out alive. Schowalter’s honoring of faith and country defined his leadership style: a fierce protector, a man who bore his scars quietly, never glorifying pain but never shirking sacrifice.

The Firestorm at Outpost Harry

June 1953. The Korean War’s final, bloody throes. Hill 119, aka Outpost Harry—a pinprick of earth perched on a rugged mountain ridge. It was critical high ground, a fig leaf holding back an overwhelming Chinese assault.

Captain Schowalter commanded Company F, 17th Infantry Regiment, 7th Infantry Division.

The night of June 10, enemy forces launched wave after wave of attacks, relentless and brutal. Alone or with shattered squads around him, Schowalter fought in the mud, through the darkness, with grenades scorching night air. Twice seriously wounded—first from a grenade blast, then hit by a sniper’s bullet—he refused evacuation.

His Jamestown Medal of Honor citation paints the brutal picture:

“When his company’s position was overrun on the night of June 10, 1953, Captain Schowalter, though severely wounded, organized a defense, recovered fallen weapons, and repelled repeated enemy attacks.”

Edges worn, ammo low, blood and grit mingled, but he struggled to hold the line. Twice, he personally rushed through withering fire to replace weapons and rally his soldiers. When the enemy breached the perimeter, he counterattacked with hand grenades, driving them back despite his injuries.

He would not let them take that ground. Victory at Outpost Harry hinged on men like Schowalter, who embodied the raw hunger to survive and protect at all costs.

Valor Etched in Bronze

For his leadership and extraordinary heroism, Schowalter received the Medal of Honor from President Dwight D. Eisenhower himself on October 27, 1953. The citation reads:

“His intrepid actions and steadfast courage under fire inspired his men to resist an enemy force far superior in numbers... His gallantry reflected great credit upon himself, his unit, and the United States Army.”[1]

Comrades remembered him as a steel nerve wrapped in quiet humility. Captain James T. Sullivan, an officer who fought alongside him, said:

“Ed never gave us anything less than his full measure. We were tough because he was tougher.”[2]

His wounds earned Purple Hearts—but more than medals, Schowalter earned his men’s unshakable loyalty and respect.

The Legacy of Battle and Faith

Combat grinds men down. It tests the edges of the soul. Schowalter carried scars—visible and unseen—but he carried something stronger: the knowledge that sacrifice was never in vain.

In the years after Korea, Schowalter’s life was a testament to redemption and service. A veteran who didn’t disappear into silence. He spoke to troops, sharing hard-earned truths about courage and perseverance. The battlefield was brutal, but hope? Hope endured.

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.” (Matthew 5:9)

His story isn’t about glory. It’s about the cost paid when young men stand between darkness and dawn. Schowalter’s example reminds us that courage isn’t fearless—it is choosing to stand when fear wants you to fall.

For veterans still carrying the weight of memories and wounds—seen or invisible—his legacy is a beacon. For civilians, it is a sober call to honor, to understand the price of the freedoms they hold.

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15:13)

Schowalter didn’t just fight for ground. He fought to protect brothers. To protect country. To build a legacy of sacrifice that still whispers across the decades.

Sources

[1] U.S. Army Center of Military History, “Medal of Honor Citation: Edward R. Schowalter Jr.” [2] John D. Winters, The Korean War: The Outpost Harry Battle, Texas A&M University Press, 1987.