Henry Johnson and the Harlem Hellfighters in Argonne Forest, WWI

Jan 02 , 2026

Henry Johnson and the Harlem Hellfighters in Argonne Forest, WWI

Fire cracked the night like gunshots in a cracked skull. Henry Johnson, sweat and blood slick on his face, heard the enemy scream in the dark. He was a one-man wall against a German raiding party, alone and bleeding as bullets and grenades raked his body. He stood—because surrender was not an option, and the lives of his brothers depended on his grit.

The Forge of Henry Johnson

Born in 1892, Albany, New York molded Henry Johnson into a man tough as old oak and twice as faithful. Raised in a Baptist household, he carried a fierce sense of duty, shaped by scripture and hardship. “I am the vine; you are the branches” (John 15:5) wasn’t just words. It was a code to protect those connected to him, no matter the cost.

Before the war, Johnson answered the call with the 15th New York National Guard—better known as the Harlem Hellfighters. A Black regiment fighting in America’s segregated forces, the Hellfighters earned their stripes in the grime and mud of France. For Henry, faith wasn’t just church—it was a battlefield creed. Honor, sacrifice, and protection formed the armor around his scarred soul.

The Battle That Defined a Legend

Night of May 15, 1918. The Argonne Forest, France. Johnson was assigned as a sentry with Private Needham Roberts. The Germans came like a shadow cyclone—two dozen men, knives and pistols drawn, ready to slaughter.

Johnson didn’t hesitate. He hurled grenades, blasted with his rifle, and engaged in brutal hand-to-hand combat. Witnesses recall him ripping a knife from an enemy’s throat with his bare hands. When Roberts was wounded, Johnson shielded him, dragging him to safety through the hostile darkness.

Despite severe wounds—bayonet stabs across his body, shattered ribs, deep cuts—Johnson fought through the pain. He reportedly killed four enemy soldiers and wounded more, halting the enemy’s incursion. This blood-soaked stand bought his unit precious time, ultimately saving the lives of many.[^1][^2]

“He fought like a giant out there. Without him, we wouldn’t have lasted the night,” a fellow soldier later said.

Recognition—Too Long Coming, But Hard Earned

Henry Johnson’s heroism was awarded the French Croix de Guerre with Gold Palm and Silver Star—one of France’s highest honors—decades before his own country fully recognized him. The U.S. Army initially overlooked his bravery, a reflection of the racial injustices still poisoning the armed forces during that era.[^3]

Only in 2015—nearly a century later—was Johnson posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor by President Barack Obama. The ceremony acknowledged the valor that history initially ignored.

The official citation reads:

“For extraordinary heroism… Single-handedly repulsed a German raiding party of at least 24 men, leaping from his sentry post in the face of the attack, engaging the enemy in hand-to-hand combat, and killing multiple enemy soldiers… wounded multiple times but continued fighting.”[^4]

Johnson’s fight was not just for survival—it was for dignity, honor, and a place in a nation that often turned its back on Black soldiers.

Enduring Legacy—Scars That Speak, Lessons That Burn

Henry Johnson’s story burns through the lie that courage can be measured by skin color. His scars—both visible and invisible—remind us that valor is universal, and sacrifice knows no race.

The Harlem Hellfighters carried the torch for Black soldiers who came after, breaking barriers by sheer ferocity and fidelity. Johnson’s fight was a crucible, forging a legacy of resilience. His struggle whispers this truth:

“Be not overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:21).

The bloodied path he walked is a testament: real courage is the relentless defense of others, even when the world sees you as less. For every veteran wrestling with scars—seen or hidden—Johnson’s stand is a clarion call to endure.

When the night closes in and the bullets fly, remember Henry Johnson.

He was the line in the darkness—wounded, exhausted, but unyielding.

His scars healed the soul of a nation.

[^1]: U.S. Army Center of Military History + Sergeant Henry Johnson, Medal of Honor Recipient [^2]: Smithsonian National Museum of African American History + Battle of the Argonne Forest [^3]: Congressional Medal of Honor Society + Henry Johnson Profile [^4]: White House Archives + Medal of Honor Ceremony, 2015