Henry Johnson's Valor at Argonne Forest with Harlem Hellfighters

Nov 15 , 2025

Henry Johnson's Valor at Argonne Forest with Harlem Hellfighters

Blood thicker than fear.

Night ripped open in the Argonne Forest, 1918. The air thick with hate and gunpowder. A dozen Germans closing in on a dozen weary Americans. SGT Henry Johnson alone stood between death and the men he loved like brothers. He fought like hell. Wounds tearing flesh, bullets tearing night, but not a step back. Not on his watch.

Born into Battle and Belief

Henry Johnson was born in 1892 in Winston-Salem, North Carolina—a world shackled by Jim Crow, but raised with something fiercer than hate. He moved to Albany, New York, where he joined the 15th New York National Guard, later the famous 369th Infantry Regiment—The Harlem Hellfighters.

This wasn’t just a fight abroad. It was a fight for dignity. For America to see him as a man forged in God’s image. Johnson carried a code—honor above all, faith grounding his resolve. Psalm 23 echoed in his heart:

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”

In his faith lay a warrior’s peace—a steel forged in the fires of both earthly and spiritual battle.

The Battle That Defined Him

May 15, 1918. The dense forest swallowed light and hope alike. German raiders stormed the lines near Ville-sur-Cousances. Johnson and fellow soldier Needham Roberts were on sentry duty when the enemy struck—25 soldiers, cold and calculated, intent on slaughter and chaos.

Johnson’s story cuts like a knife through history: outnumbered, surrounded, badly wounded but unyielding. He grabbed a rifle in one hand, a bolo knife in the other. For hours, he hacked, shot, and bled in the mud. Alone, twice wounded but refusing to fall, he killed or wounded at least a dozen enemy combatants while saving Roberts and the rest of his unit.

No reinforcements came. No retreat was given. This was raw, unfiltered valor. He bore wounds to his face, arms, and legs, blood darkening his uniform. Still, his fingers clenched the trigger till the last shot.

The Harlem Hellfighters’ commanding officer later said of Johnson’s actions:

“There was no finer fighting man in the ranks of the Allied armies.”

Honor Long Delayed

Johnson’s heroism was undeniable, yet recognition was a long, crooked road. Racism shadowed his valor like the war’s dark woods. He received the Croix de Guerre from France, awarded personally by General John Pershing, but the United States withheld similar honors for decades.

His Medal of Honor came posthumously, only in 2015, nearly a century after his blood-soaked stand. The citation reads:

“For gallantry in action…he fought off a German raiding party in hand-to-hand combat, saving the lives of his comrades.”

Later tributes include a statue in Albany and efforts naming a post office in his honor[1]. But medals cannot fully capture the man’s sacrifice. They mark the scars, but never the pain carried home.

Legacy in the Blood and Bone

Henry Johnson’s story teaches this: courage is not the absence of fear or pain, but rising every time they come calling. His fight was sacred. A push against not just enemy bullets but the bullets of prejudice.

His scars ran deeper than flesh: a nation slow to embrace its black heroes. Yet he carried no bitterness, only steadfast loyalty and faith. A reminder that redemption comes through sacrifice, even when the world is slow to see the worth of a warrior’s soul.

For every veteran who bears scars unseen, Johnson’s blood whispers a hard truth: Your fight matters. Your legacy endures.

“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” —Psalm 27:1

Sources

1. New York State Military Museum, 369th Infantry Regiment: The Harlem Hellfighters 2. Congressional Medal of Honor Society, Sgt. Henry Johnson Citation 3. National Archives, WWI Military Service Records—Henry Johnson 4. PBS, Henry Johnson: A Soldier’s Story documentary