Feb 24 , 2026
Henry Johnson's Argonne Valor with the Harlem Hellfighters
Sgt. Henry Johnson fought through hell itself on a cold night in the Argonne Forest. Bullets tore through the darkness, ripping at his flesh and soul. Alone. Outnumbered at least a dozen to one. Yet he stood—refusing to fall, refusing to quit. His fists, his rifle, every ounce of his being became the shield for his comrades.
Blood and grit defined that night. So did a silent vow—a warrior’s promise to protect the men beside him, no matter the cost.
Background & Faith
Born in 1892, Albany, New York, Henry Johnson carried in him a backbone forged of hard work and quiet faith. A son of humble means, he grew up in a world that often weighed against Black men. A sharecropper’s child, one of thirteen siblings, he earned his keep with simple, honest labor.
Johnson’s faith was a steady drum, a quiet strength. The Bible was never far from his reach. Psalm 23 whispered in the wind behind enemy lines:
“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil...”
His sense of duty went beyond race or rank. He enlisted with the 15th New York National Guard—soon to be the 369th Infantry Regiment, famously the Harlem Hellfighters. A battalion that didn’t just fight on the battlefield but battled segregation at home.
Johnson carried a code—stand firm, protect the brother next to you. That code was tested on the forest floor in 1918.
The Battle That Defined Him
May 15, 1918. A chilling night under French skies. Johnson and Private Needham Roberts were part of a sentry patrol near the French village of Fontaine.
The darkness shattered when a German raiding party hit—about 30 men strong. The ambush was brutal. Roberts was wounded immediately. Johnson didn’t flee. He fought. With rifle, pistol, and bare hands he defended the line. For over an hour, he battled the enemy despite being wounded repeatedly—shot in the arm and thigh, bayoneted, clubbed.
Eyewitnessing soldiers later called it “unbelievable.” Johnson used his rifle as a club, shot enemies at close range. When the gun jammed, he fought with fists and a bolo knife.
He reportedly killed four enemy soldiers, holding the line and saving Roberts and the rest of the patrol. Johnson inflicted casualties and drove the Germans back.
“The Germans probably thought there were two dozen men,” an officer said later, “but it was only Henry Johnson.”[1]
Recognition Amid Injustice
For decades, Sgt. Johnson’s heroism was overshadowed by the color of his skin. The Medal of Honor, America’s highest military award, didn’t come until 2015—nearly a century after his valor that night.
He received the Croix de Guerre from France in 1918—one of the first African American soldiers so honored. France recognized him among heroes. America lagged.
His service record speaks volumes: wounded in action, extreme bravery under fire. A report from his company commander said: “His courage was unquestionable. His actions saved lives and stopped a planned raid.”[2]
Only after tireless historical reevaluation and advocacy did the United States award Sgt. Johnson the Medal of Honor posthumously, a correction long overdue.
Legacy & Lessons
Henry Johnson’s story is a scar etched into the face of American history—painful but necessary.
He fought two wars: one abroad against an enemy of freedom, the other at home against injustice and racial prejudice.
His legacy carries a warning and a charge: valor extends beyond medals. It reaches into the heart’s grit, rectitude, and sacrifice.
Justice delayed is justice denied, but faith endured even in those delays. Johnson’s fight reminds veterans and civilians alike that courage can be quiet, relentless, and redemptive. He stood not for glory but for the man beside him.
—
The blood-soaked earth of the Argonne was soaked further in silent prayers—prayers of redemption, perseverance, and hope. Sgt. Henry Johnson answered those prayers with his life: a testament that true warriors are forged in sacrifice, tempered by honor, and lifted by unyielding faith.
“Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war…” —Psalm 144:1
His story survives not in medals alone, but in the fierce light of a warrior who refused to be broken.
Sources
1. PBS, African Americans and World War I, "Henry Johnson and the Harlem Hellfighters" 2. National Archives, Military Service and Award Citations, Sgt. Henry Johnson, 369th Infantry Regiment Records
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