Henry Johnson, Harlem Hellfighter and Medal of Honor Recipient

Jan 08 , 2026

Henry Johnson, Harlem Hellfighter and Medal of Honor Recipient

Sgt. Henry Johnson stood alone in the dark and cold of the Argonne Forest, his body riddled with wounds, blades and bullets stripping flesh from bone, yet he fought like a man possessed. The German raiding party came with fire and fury, but Johnson was the line they never broke. No retreat. No surrender. Just the raw will to protect his brothers at any cost. His voice cracked across the night air—half scream, half prayer. “Not on my watch.”

From Harlem Streets to the World War

Henry Johnson was born in 1892 in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, but Harlem made him. Black America’s promise and pain shaped him. The son of a farmer turned mechanic, he carried scars of inequality into the Army’s segregated ranks. Yet, faith and fierce resolve built a steel backbone under that chocolate skin.

He enlisted in the 369th Infantry Regiment, better known as the “Harlem Hellfighters,” a Black unit called upon to prove their mettle. Faith wasn’t just Sunday words for Henry; it was survival code. A man with quiet faith in God and louder faith in his rifle. When the world tried to crush his spirit, he knelt in whispered psalms and rose with clenched fists.

“The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer…” — Psalm 18:2

The Battle That Defined Him — May 15, 1918

Dark crept between the twisted trunks of the Argonne. The enemy raided silently. Johnson and Pvt. Needham Roberts were on outpost duty when the Germans launched an attack, a sudden brutal onslaught in the tangled black of the forest night.

Johnson’s actions that night read like a soldier’s bible of courage. He grabbed a French-made Chassepot rifle, and through a storm of hand grenades and machine-gun fire, he fought back—alone against a dozen enemy soldiers. The fight turned personal with his fists, knives, and grit. At one point, he was stabbed multiple times, including a shattered jaw and near fatal wounds. But he never stopped fighting, never stopped protecting his comrade or his line.

Johnson’s struggle went beyond survival. He saved his unit’s position, repelled the raid, and prevented a collapse that could have turned the tide of that sector of the war. The toll was immense—wounded more than 20 times, near death. Yet he stumbled back to safety as a living testament to stubborn valor.

The Honors Finally Earned

For decades, Henry Johnson’s heroism slipped through the cracks of history and color-lined prejudice. Black soldiers often returned to silence, denied recognition in a nation still divided. Decades passed before the full weight of this warrior’s sacrifice was acknowledged.

Johnson was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor in 2015—97 years after his fight. The Purple Heart, Distinguished Service Cross, and French Croix de Guerre with Palm tell part of the story—one of the first Americans to receive such high French honors in WWI.

Commanders called him “a living symbol of bravery,” but no citation can quantify the scars etched in his flesh and soul. One comrade whispered in recounting those nights, “We were protected by a lion.”

Blood and Legacy

Henry Johnson’s story is a raw wound and a healing balm. It teaches a hard truth: courage is not recognized by skin, rank, or applause—only by the steel of the fight and the heart that beats through the chaos.

He died in 1929, largely uncelebrated in his lifetime. But his fight endures in the bloodlines of Black veterans who came after, in a nation relentlessly wrestling with justice and honor, in every soul forced to stand when the world says fall.

Redemption is found not just in medals but in memory, in the reckoning of past wrongs, and in the right to be seen for who you truly are: a protector, a fighter, a brother in arms.

“Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9

Henry Johnson fought with the fury of a thousand forgotten warriors. He bled so we might stand taller. Every wound etched into his scarred body echoes the sacred cost of freedom—not just fought on foreign soil, but on the uneven ground of justice and dignity.

Remember him. Because heroes don’t die, they multiply.

Sources

1. The United States Army Center of Military History, "Medal of Honor Recipients – World War I" 2. "Henry Johnson: The Harlem Hellfighter Who Stopped a German Raid," PBS American Experience 3. Christophe Cartier and Éric Alary, "Black Spartans: The Story of the Harlem Hellfighters" (2018) 4. Congressional Medal of Honor Society, "Sgt. Henry Johnson" profile 5. The New York Times, "Posthumous Medal of Honor for WWI Hero Henry Johnson," 2015