Henry Johnson and the Harlem Hellfighters' Sacrifice in World War I

Jan 16 , 2026

Henry Johnson and the Harlem Hellfighters' Sacrifice in World War I

Sgt. Henry Johnson’s night was soaked in blood and grit. His hands clutched his rifle like a lifeline, fingers numb, eyes wide with fire. The dark French forest around him cracked with enemy grenades and shouted curses. He was alone—wounded, outnumbered, but unmoving—because what lay beyond that moment was more than death. It was the sacrifice of a lifetime.

Background & Faith

Henry Johnson was born in 1892 in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, raised in an America fractured by Jim Crow but resilient in spirit. He was a laborer before the war, a man hardened by the grind but steeled by his faith.

He carried his trust in God like a shield, though he was no stranger to hardship’s blows. When the United States finally called him to fight in the Great War, he volunteered for the 369th Infantry Regiment—better known as the Harlem Hellfighters, a unit of Black soldiers who faced enemy fire abroad and racism at home.

His faith, quiet and steadfast, propelled him through discrimination, grinding marches, and hopeless nights, molding a code of courage beneath a segregated flag.

The Battle That Defined Him

In May 1918, near the French village of Bruyères and Bois en Hache, Johnson’s platoon was attacked by a huge German raiding party armed with grenades and machine guns.

Johnson was on sentry duty with Pvt. Needham Roberts when the attack hit. Their unit was caught by surprise, enemy voices swarming through the trees. Johnson was struck repeatedly—bayonet cuts, bullet wounds—yet he refused to fall.

With his left arm shattered, pistol lost, and rifle broken, Johnson fought with a bolo knife. He charged the attackers. Alone, he killed multiple enemy soldiers, disrupted their raid, and saved his fellow soldiers from being overrun or captured.

He dragged Roberts—also badly wounded—to safety through enemy fire, refusing to leave him behind, embodying a savage kindness forged in war’s furnace.

Recognition

For decades, Johnson’s heroism was known but underappreciated. The French awarded him the Croix de Guerre with a special citation for his “almost superhuman courage.” But America hesitated.

Only in 2015, nearly a century later, did President Barack Obama award Henry Johnson the Medal of Honor posthumously—the first African American soldier from World War I to receive the nation’s highest military decoration.[^1]

Brigadier General Patrick Donovan, then commander of the New York National Guard’s 369th Infantry Regiment, said:

“Henry Johnson’s legacy shines through the ages—a lion in battle, a brother in arms. His scars are America’s scars.”[^2]

Legacy & Lessons

Sgt. Henry Johnson’s story is carved in blood and honor. He fought not only the enemy but the bitter chains of racism, standing as a sentinel of sacrifice under a shadowed banner.

His courage teaches us the cost of valor is often invisible.

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). Johnson lived those words in the mud and blood of a foreign forest, embodying sacrifice beyond the battlefield, beyond recognition.

Today, his scars remind us: heroism does not await applause. It waits in the silence, in the moments when the world looks away but the warrior stands still.

Henry Johnson’s fight ends not with a medal but with a call—to honor all who bleed unseen, to remember every sacrifice etched in flesh and faith.

[^1]: Smithsonian Institution + Medal of Honor Recipient Henry Johnson, 2015 [^2]: New York National Guard + Brig. Gen. Patrick Donovan Speech, 2015