Henry Johnson, Harlem Hellfighter who earned the Medal of Honor

Oct 03 , 2025

Henry Johnson, Harlem Hellfighter who earned the Medal of Honor

The night screamed with gunfire and death. Henry Johnson stood alone, bloodied and battered, but unbroken. The cold muck beneath him soaked his uniform; the air was thick with the metallic taste of fear and grit. When a dozen enemy shadows stormed his trench, he didn’t flinch. He fought until his hands bled and his body betrayed him—because surrender was not an option. Not on this night, not ever.

Background & Faith

Henry Johnson was born in 1892, in Albany, New York—a son of modest means, raised in the hood of Harlem when the city was still rough and raw. A man forged amid struggle, he found in his faith a quiet strength that no racism or hardship could steal. The church wasn’t just a refuge; it was his armor.

His creed was simple. Serve with honor. Protect your brothers. Believe in a power larger than yourself. “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2 Timothy 1:7). That verse was a whisper in the dark before the war, a roar in the trenches during it.

Johnson joined the 369th Infantry Regiment, the “Harlem Hellfighters.” Despite being Black in a segregated army, he carried the weight of his duty with a soldier’s plain dignity. The Hellfighters were no strangers to enemy fire or discrimination—but neither were they strangers to valor.

The Battle That Defined Him

May 15, 1918. Near the village of Apremont, France.

Henry Johnson was on guard with his comrade, Needham Roberts, when enemy raiders—German stormtroopers—slipped through the lines. They came in to wipe out the men in the trenches. Johnson and Roberts faced an onslaught.

Outnumbered and outgunned, Johnson refused to let their position fall. His rifle malfunctioned early in the fight. No time for repair, no handoff to Roberts. He grabbed a bolo knife and fought like the devil himself was chasing him through hell.

Despite severe wounds—bayonet slashes, bullet holes, a shattered face—he stayed in the fight. Johnson fired, slashed, and fought off the raiders alone, saving Roberts and the entire unit from a massacre.

His actions bought vital time until reinforcements arrived. When the smoke cleared, the trench was still theirs.

“Sgt. Johnson displayed exceptional courage and determination that saved not just his life but that of his comrades and the integrity of the line.” — 369th Infantry Regiment Citation[1]

Recognition

Henry Johnson’s fight was legendary, but recognition was painfully slow—filled with the ugliness of racial injustice. He received the Croix de Guerre from France in 1918, their military’s highest honor for bravery.

Back home, the U.S. military system turned a blind eye. It took nearly 80 years before the Medal of Honor, the nation’s highest military decoration, was posthumously awarded to Johnson by President Barack Obama in 2015.

Johnson’s wartime reports, eyewitness accounts, and official commendations confirmed what those bloodied trenches already knew: he was a warrior without equal.

“Johnson’s actions on that night demonstrated selfless valor above and beyond the call of duty.” — U.S. Army Medal of Honor Citation[2]

Legacy & Lessons

Henry Johnson’s story is carved into the rugged mountain of American military lore. Not because he sought glory, but because he embodied what every soldier must: sacrifice without hesitation, courage beyond pain, fidelity when the darkest hours descend.

His fight remains a beacon for those forgotten by history’s original telling—the Black soldiers who bled and died without due recognition.

The true measure of a hero isn’t medals or parades. It’s whether he could stand and fight when all seemed lost. Johnson stood.

His legacy demands we look deeper, fight harder against injustice, and remember that valor does not wear one skin tone or creed. It bleeds red for all.

For every veteran who has ever swallowed fear and carried on, Johnson’s story is a torch passed from one generation to the next.

“You shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.” — Isaiah 58:11

His waters haven’t failed. They still flow—strong, steady, and relentless.

Sources

1. U.S. Army Center of Military History + 369th Infantry Regiment Combat Reports, 1918 2. White House Press Release, Medal of Honor Ceremony, 2015