Henry Johnson’s Night of Valor with the Harlem Hellfighters

Feb 13 , 2026

Henry Johnson’s Night of Valor with the Harlem Hellfighters

Blood and mud. Night swallowed the forest around him. The snarling chorus of enemy raiders clawed through the darkness, a dozen shadows striking at once.

But Sgt. Henry Johnson stood his ground—alone. Gun blazing. Knife roaring. The line between life and death blurred in every breath until dawn found him bleeding, wounded, yet still standing.

Raised in Harlem’s Fires

Born 1892 in the rattling streets of Winston-Salem, North Carolina, Henry Johnson carried the weight of a nation still shackled by Jim Crow laws. Moved north to Harlem, New York—the same streets that birthed the Harlem Renaissance—he joined the "Harlem Hellfighters," the 369th Infantry Regiment, a segregated African American unit called to war.

Faith was his backbone. Raised in a Presbyterian home, Johnson’s prayers were hardened with resilience. “The Lord is my rock,” a whisper under his breath before overseas deployment. His code was clear: protect your brothers, no matter the cost. No surrender.

The Battle That Defined Him

May 15, 1918. Forest of Argonne, France.

Under cover of darkness, a German raiding party, estimated at 24 men, slipped into the trenches occupied by Johnson’s unit. In the chaos of war, confusion reigns—but Henry’s instincts screamed.

Grenade in one hand, pistol in the other, Johnson counterattacked. Wounded multiple times—bayoneted, slashed, shot—his resolve did not falter. When his pistol emptied, he drew his bolo knife, fighting hand-to-hand in soaked mud, the scent of blood and gunpowder thick in the air.

He killed at least four enemy soldiers, carried a wounded comrade to safety through the barbed wire and shell holes, all while alone, outnumbered, bleeding from 21 wounds. A guardian in the dark.

Honors Hard Won

For decades, Johnson’s heroism went unrecognized in the whitewashed history of the Great War.

It wasn’t until 2002 that then-Secretary of the Army, Thomas E. White, posthumously awarded Johnson the Purple Heart and the Distinguished Service Cross—later upgraded in 2015 by President Obama to the Medal of Honor. The nation finally said, “We see you.”

Johnson’s citation reads:

“During an enemy raid on his unit’s position, Sergeant Henry Johnson fought off numerous attackers with grenades, rifle fire and his bolos, despite being wounded multiple times. He saved the life of Private Needham Roberts, carrying him half a mile through no-mans-land under fire.”¹

Brigadier General James Reese Europe, who led the Hellfighters’ band, called Johnson’s courage “a light in the darkest trench.”

More Than a Medal: Lessons Etched in Flesh

Johnson’s story is not just one of valor. It’s a testament to the scars borne beyond the battlefield—racial injustice, neglect, and the fight for dignity.

He did not fight for medals. He fought because courage sometimes roars in silence, in unheralded sacrifice, in the refusal to break.

His legacy demands we remember the warrior’s true cost—the blood, the broken bodies, the ghosts who march alongside us still.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” (Psalm 23:1)

Henry Johnson’s story is a beacon—a razor-sharp reminder that salvation often wears battle scars, and redemption sometimes comes down to standing alone in the night, refusing to yield.

Sources

1. National Archives + Medal of Honor citation for Sgt. Henry Johnson 2. U.S. Army Center of Military History + History of the 369th Infantry Regiment 3. PBS + Henry Johnson: The Black Soldier Who Fought Back documentary