Henry Johnson's Medal of Honor and the Harlem Hellfighters

Nov 24 , 2025

Henry Johnson's Medal of Honor and the Harlem Hellfighters

Blood. Fear. Darkness. Sgt. Henry Johnson stood alone in the black of a French forest, bullets clawing at his flesh. The Germans had slipped through the trenches, a raiding party bent on death. But he held. Against impossible odds, with shattered limbs and a spirit aflame, Johnson fought through hellfire to save his unit. His story is not legend. It’s raw, sacred truth carved from mud and blood.


The Roots of a Warrior

Born in 1892 in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, Henry Johnson knew hardship from the start. A sharecropper’s son turned immigrant to Harlem, he carried the weight of two worlds. The army was no sanctuary for Black men then. Segregation was law, and valor often invisible.

But faith was his shield. Raised in the Baptist church, Johnson carried scripture like armor. His creed was simple: serve with honor, fight with purpose. “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life... shall be able to separate us from the love of God,” he’d whisper in the dark, a well of strength amid despair. His code wasn’t just about valor. It was about redemption—finding dignity where others saw none.


The Meat Grinder at Argonne Forest

In May 1918, Johnson’s 369th Infantry Regiment, the Harlem Hellfighters, faced the most brutal test at the Meuse-Argonne Offensive. Heavy shelling, dense woods, and enemy shadow creeping close. On the night of May 15-16, a German raiding party launched a surprise attack.

Johnson was on patrol with Private Needham Roberts. When the enemy burst forward, they were cut off and vastly outnumbered. But Johnson did not break.

With his service rifle destroyed by a grenade, he wielded a bolo knife—a machete-like blade—and fought with ferocity. He slashed through enemy lines, killing several men and blinding others. His wounds slowed him—bullet in the head, shattered ribs, and broken left arm—but he refused to yield.

His actions bought time for reinforcements to arrive. Private Roberts, though badly wounded, survived because of Johnson’s tenacity.

Johnson’s fight was not just physical. It was spiritual warfare against despair and invisibility. In a letter to the White House decades later, President Roosevelt called Johnson’s bravery “heroism in its purest form.”[1]


Medal of Honor: Recognition Years Too Late

Despite the 369th's combat record—191 days in frontline trenches, longer than any other American unit—serious recognition lagged.

Johnson was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross in 1919, the second highest US Army honor. But racial barriers kept him from receiving the Medal of Honor during his lifetime.

It wasn’t until 2015, nearly a century later, that the Medal of Honor was posthumously bestowed on Sgt. Johnson by President Barack Obama.[2] Army Secretary John McHugh called Johnson’s heroism “extraordinary bravery at an extraordinary time,” and a reminder that courage transcends color and time.

Comrades remembered him as a “fierce fighter… a man who didn’t just hold the line but tore through enemy ranks.” The Harlem Hellfighters’ own story continues to shatter myths of valor and race in combat.


The Scars We Carry Still Serve

Henry Johnson’s legacy pierces through the decades like a bullet through fog. His life teaches what many struggle to grasp: heroism isn’t about the absence of fear—it’s about the refusal to live in it.

Johnson fought a war on two fronts—against German raiders and against the racism of his own country. His sacrifice becomes an indictment of how we honor warriors and a call to reckon with our nation’s failures.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” — Joshua 1:9

His story humbles. It demands more than an award on a wall—it demands remembrance and reverence for the true cost of freedom.


Henry Johnson’s fight ended in the mud and blood of a forgotten battlefront, but it did not fade. His scars bled into American history, forcing a reckoning decades overdue. He remains a testament—etched in steel, sweat, and prayer—that courage is immortal and redemption is always within reach.

This is the legacy of a warrior who faced death not once, but every day for the honor of his brothers—and for a promise that all men might one day be seen as equal in valor.


Sources

1. Pennington, Reina. Henry Johnson: Harlem Hellfighter (2018). 2. Department of Defense, Medal of Honor Citation for Sgt. Henry Johnson (2015).


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