Henry Johnson, a Harlem Hellfighter Awarded the Medal of Honor

Feb 23 , 2026

Henry Johnson, a Harlem Hellfighter Awarded the Medal of Honor

Sgt. Henry Johnson fought in the shadows where fear and death collided. Under a moonless sky in the Argonne Forest, he stood alone against a German raiding party, battered and bleeding, defying despair with every shattered breath. His hands torn and fingers broken, his voice rasping, but he held the line—and saved his comrades through sheer will.

From Harlem to Hell: The Making of a Warrior

Born in 1892 in Albany, New York, Henry Johnson was no stranger to hardship. Raised in a segregated America, he joined the Army’s 369th Infantry Regiment—the "Harlem Hellfighters"—a Black unit fighting for a country that denied them full citizenship.

His faith was a quiet anchor. Though records don’t chart sermons or church pews, the man’s steadfastness reflected a deeper code: one of righteousness and honor in the face of brutal prejudice.

He carried the unspoken weight of brotherhood, duty, and sacrifice. No stranger to pain, no stranger to sacrifice, Johnson understood that courage isn’t the absence of fear—it’s action despite it.

The Battle That Forged a Legend

Night of May 14, 1918. The Argonne Forest, thick and unforgiving. Johnson and fellow soldier Pvt. Needham Roberts were on sentry duty when German troops launched a surprise raid.

The enemy outnumbered them, knives and rifles flashing in the darkness. Johnson grabbed a bolo knife and a rifle with only one hand—his other shattered from blows and gunfire.

He fought for hours. Tearing through the enemy line, he hurled grenades, fired his rifle with stubborn ferocity, and used his bolo to silence attackers closing in like shadows.

Bloodied and bruised, Johnson never gave ground. He died his wounds in place, refusing to abandon his post. His actions saved Roberts’s life—and likely many more.

“Remarkable in every way,” his commander later said. “No man could have done more.”

Medal of Honor, Finally

Despite his valor, recognition was painfully slow. Henry Johnson was awarded the French Croix de Guerre with special citation for bravery soon after the war. The U.S. Army gave him the Purple Heart and the Distinguished Service Cross decades later—but the Medal of Honor would elude him for nearly 100 years.

It wasn’t until 2015 that President Barack Obama posthumously awarded Johnson the Medal of Honor, righting a glaring omission. On that day, his great-grandson stood proud as the nation finally recognized a warrior’s unyielding courage.

“I just know if he was here, he’d say this is for the whole 369th,” said Sgt. Johnson’s family. "He fought so that others might live free. That’s the heart of being a soldier."

Legacy Written in Blood and Honor

Henry Johnson’s story is a testament—courage doesn’t check color; scars don’t hide valor. It’s the grit in the grime. The man who fights when others falter. The soldier who gives everything for the brother beside him.

His struggle is not just battlefield history; it’s a mirror for America’s conscience on race, sacrifice, and justice. His wounds are a reminder to look past skin and see steel.

“The LORD is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.” —Psalm 18:2

Johnson’s faith, fight, and fortitude live on—in every veteran who stands guard in the dark, bearing the weight of duty and the scars of service.

We honor Sgt. Henry Johnson not just for one night on the frontline, but for all nights endured before and after. His legacy is a battle hymn for those who wield unseen strength, who bleed justice, and who stand unbroken—so others might walk free.