Dec 21 , 2025
Henry Johnson, Harlem Hellfighter, honored with 2015 Medal of Honor
Sgt. Henry Johnson’s blood was spilled in the freezing mud of the Meuse-Argonne. Bullets shredded flesh; explosions ripped earth. But when the enemy surged, the man who would later be called “Black Death” stood like a wall of iron. Alone, against a German raiding party, wounded, he fought with a ferocity unmatched. His courage sparred with death—and won.
From Albany’s Streets to the Trenches of France
Henry Johnson was born in 1892 in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, but he grew up in Albany, New York, where the sharp edges of segregation’s bite sculpted his early life. He joined the 15th New York National Guard, a segregated Black unit later federalized as the 369th Infantry Regiment—code-named the “Harlem Hellfighters.”
Faith ran deep in Johnson’s soul. He was baptized into the African Methodist Episcopal Church, a bedrock in his community. The same faith that carried him through hardship. The sermons he heard were steeped in stories of endurance and salvation. In those dark days in France, that grounding was a lifeline.
He carried a soldier’s code rooted in honor—protect your brothers, face the impossible, never flinch. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13) Those words might have echoed in his mind as he faced down a storm of German steel and fire.
The Battle That Defined Him — May 15, 1918
The trench was breached by a German raiding party—well trained, well armed. No warning. Johnson and Private Needham Roberts were alone on sentry duty along the French front lines, physically isolated.
Soon, the raiders attacked the post with grenades and rifle fire. Johnson was hit multiple times—stabbed, shot—yet he refused to yield.
What followed was close-quarters carnage. Johnson used grenades, the butt of his rifle, and sheer animal fury. He stabbed one enemy with his bayonet, beat another to death with a rifle. At one point, he saw Roberts injured badly—one of the few who stood with him—and protected him fiercely under a hail of bullets.
The fight stretched over hours. Johnson reportedly killed or wounded dozens of the attackers. Miraculously, he survived, though his body was a tapestry of wounds. His actions saved Roberts and prevented the enemy from destroying his unit’s position.
He bore scars that told the story in blood and bone.
Recognition Not Given, Then Finally Earned
For decades, Johnson’s valor simmered in obscurity. The military kept him out of the spotlight, a victim of the era’s racial prejudice.
His unit, the Harlem Hellfighters, had earned respect from French allies, who awarded Johnson the Croix de Guerre with palm—a rare and high French honor, pinned by General Charles Mangin himself. But his own country delayed any real acknowledgment.
In 1919, the Distinguished Service Cross came, America's second-highest military award. The White House declined to award the Medal of Honor then, a stain on the record of justice.
“He was a soldier’s soldier, more deserving than many who received the Medal of Honor at that time,” wrote Col. William Hayward, commander of the 369th Infantry.
Only in 2015—97 years after the battle—did the United States award Henry Johnson the Medal of Honor, posthumously. President Barack Obama recognized his sacrifice, calling him a “true American hero.”
The Eternal Battle’s Lessons
Johnson’s story is a mirror held to America’s face—of courage tested, honor denied, and justice delayed. His fight was not just against an enemy in the trenches, but against a systemic enemy of racism and forgetfulness.
He teaches us what real valor looks like: that heroism does not ask for applause or medals in the moment. It grinds through pain, doubts, and the neglect of those who owe you but will not give.
His legacy burns on beyond the medals—etched into the soul of every wounded warrior, every veteran silenced or sidelined.
“The Spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” (Mark 14:38) Johnson’s flesh broke, but his spirit did not.
His stand on that dreadful night was a shout across the generations: Stand your ground. Protect your brothers. Fight the good fight, even if no one watches.
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