Henry Johnson and the Harlem Hellfighters' Stand at Chateau-Thierry

Oct 02 , 2025

Henry Johnson and the Harlem Hellfighters' Stand at Chateau-Thierry

Blood and fire met under the cloak of a French night. A lone soldier stood—wounded, outgunned, unyielding—as shadows crept closer. No reinforcements. No surrender. Just grit and the silent prayer of a man who knew that death was the only option if he faltered.

The Roots of a Warrior

Henry Johnson was no stranger to hardship. Born in 1892 in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, raised in Albany, New York, he carried a legacy heavier than the months of combat that awaited him. A son of Black America entering a world that didn’t yet see his worth in uniform.

He joined the 369th Infantry Regiment—the "Harlem Hellfighters"—a unit often dismissed and relegated behind the line by the U.S. Army because of the color of their skin. But men like Johnson carried more than rifles. They bore steelclad faith and a warrior’s code.

His is a story mired in more than combat. It’s about brotherhood, belief, and the soil soaked with sacrifice.

Psalm 18:39:

You armed me with strength for battle; you humbled my adversaries beneath me.

The Battle That Defined Him

It was the night of May 15, 1918—near the village of Chateau-Thierry, France—in the bowels of a World War I nightmare. Johnson and Private Needham Roberts were manning a forward listening post far from safety.

The attack came swift.

German stormtroopers descended from the darkness, intent on annihilation. Amid flares, gunfire, and blaring whistles, Johnson body-slammed an enemy soldier, wrestled a knife away, and fought tooth and nail to defend his comrades.

Though wounded—stabbed six times—the Medal of Honor citation recounts:

"After holding the extreme point of the line for nearly one hour against repeated attacks and as a result of the brutal fight, Sergeant Johnson prevented the German raid from succeeding, thereby saving the men at the listening post and the 369th Infantry from a surprise attack."¹

His left arm shattered, his jaw broken, Johnson fought on with the ferocity of a cornered beast. When all seemed lost, he protected Roberts—half dead, half delirious—dragging him out of the slaughter zone.

This wasn’t just valor. It was survival stripped to its raw bones — and duty transcendent of pain.

The Medal of Honor and a Nation Slow to Praise

Henry Johnson didn’t receive the Medal of Honor from the U.S. until 2015—almost a century later. A delayed reckoning born of systemic racism, silence, and forgotten valor.

When President Barack Obama presented the Medal, he said:

“Sergeant Henry Johnson’s defense of his fellow soldiers was so exceptional, the French honored him in 1918 with their country’s highest combat decoration, the Croix de Guerre. But that recognition didn’t come from America—not then.”²

Johnson also earned the Croix de Guerre with Palm from France, the first American to receive that honor in WWI. Fellow soldiers remembered his courage as something beyond sum and count. Needham Roberts, the man he saved, called Johnson "one of the bravest men I ever knew."³

Legacy Etched in Blood and Bone

Johnson’s story isn’t just about medals or historic firsts. It’s the grit of a man fighting two wars—one overseas against the enemy, one at home against injustice.

The Harlem Hellfighters shattered stereotypes, showing the world that courage did not wear color. Henry Johnson’s scars became a testament to the cost of freedom and dignity.

In the words of Bishop Charles Blake:

“Courage grows in the crucible of sacrifice. The warrior who stands between death and his brothers teaches us what love really means.”

Our battles are not only fought on foreign soil but in the hearts of those who witness — and remember. Johnson’s struggle invites us to reckon with the cost of bravery overlooked, the redemption born from scars.

To lift up the fallen brother... to fight when every breath burns... that legacy is ours to carry.

In these times of quiet wars and whispered battles, may we honor those who stood in the dark so we could walk in the light.

"Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle." — Psalm 144:1

Sources

1. Medal of Honor citation, Sgt. Henry Johnson, U.S. Army Center of Military History, World War I Medal of Honor Recipients. 2. The White House, Remarks by the President at Medal of Honor Presentation Ceremony for Sgt. Henry Johnson, 2015. 3. Ishmael Reed, The Harlem Hellfighters, 1998.