How Captain Edward Schowalter Jr. Held Toothbrush Hill in Korea

Nov 12 , 2025

How Captain Edward Schowalter Jr. Held Toothbrush Hill in Korea

Blood and grit. The frozen ground soaked, not with rain, but with fire and fury. Captain Edward R. Schowalter Jr. stood alone in the swirling snow, his men cut down around him, his left arm shattered by enemy rounds. Still, he pressed forward—leading the charge against a tide of enemies who outnumbered them three to one. In that choking hellscape of Korea, the weight of command pressed deep, demanding a steel heart. Schowalter did not break.

The Making of a Warrior

Born in Tulsa, Oklahoma, Edward Schowalter didn't just sign up for war—he embodied a warrior’s spirit long before he held a rifle. A West Point graduate, he carried the soldier's creed tattooed on his soul: selfless service and unyielding loyalty. His faith was quiet but resolute. A man who found strength in Psalm 18:39—“For You equipped me with strength for the battle; You made my feet like the deer’s”—he brought into the chaos a compass calibrated by honor and humility.

Grit was in his veins, discipline woven into every step he took. He wasn't just fighting to survive; he fought because he believed in the sacredness of his mission and his men.

The Battle That Defined a Legend

February 7, 1951. The hill known as Toothbrush Hill near Hoengsong, Korea, was a crucible. Captain Schowalter’s company faced overwhelming Chinese forces intent on annihilation. Enemy waves crashed like a relentless storm; mortar shells shrieked overhead, tearing chunks of earth and flesh alike. The air was thick with smoke and grit.

When his second in command fell, Schowalter didn’t hesitate. Despite serious wounds to his left arm and shoulder, he seized the enemy’s machine gun. One man, bleeding, half-mute with pain, held a vital line. Alone, he mowed down attackers closing in—each pull of the trigger carving a path through chaos.

He directed his men’s fire, rallied the faltering defenders, and refused evacuation even as the field medic urged him to leave. Twice he turned back to rescue wounded soldiers trapped outside the lines. His voice, raw with command, cut through the carnage:

“Hold that ground. This hill is ours.”

His courage was a beacon in the darkness. For hours, they repelled relentless assaults, buying time and saving lives until reinforcements arrived.

Metal for Valor

For his actions that day, Captain Schowalter was awarded the Medal of Honor—the nation’s highest military honor for valor in combat[1]. The citation reads:

“Captain Schowalter’s intrepid leadership, personal bravery, and unwavering determination in the face of overwhelming enemy forces inspired his men and were instrumental in holding the position under attack.”

General Matthew Ridgway reportedly said of men like Schowalter, “These are the soldiers who win wars. They bend the rod of iron with their spirit.”[2]

Schowalter’s story is cataloged alongside the other great acts of sacrifice from Korea’s forgotten war—a brutal, bitter conflict often overshadowed but never less fierce. His actions weren’t just heroic; they were foundational. To his comrades, he was more than an officer—he was the living embodiment of grit and grace under fire.

Legacy Etched in Iron and Prayer

Captain Schowalter’s battlefield scars remain more than physical reminders—they are testament to a covenant of duty and sacrifice no medal can fully capture. He embodied the warrior’s paradox: fierce yet merciful, invincible yet vulnerable. His example contains a message for all who face their own battles, visible or invisible.

The cost of courage is counted in friends lost, limbs broken, and nights drenched in prayer. But it is a price that sharpens the soul’s resolve.

He lived by Romans 5:3-4:

“...we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”

Edward Schowalter’s story reminds us that true leadership digs its heels into the mud of hardship, does not flinch from pain, and lifts the fallen, even at great personal cost. His fight was not for glory, but survival, faith, and the promise that no man is left behind.

The hill in Korea remains scarred, as do those who fought there. But men like Captain Schowalter write legacies in blood and grit—burning bright beacons in the violent night of war. Those who follow carry their light, carry their story, carry their sacred burden.

To remember is to honor. To honor is to learn. And the lessons of Schowalter’s valor echo still: Stand firm. Lead with heart. Serve beyond self.

In the wake of war, we find redemption—and we carry it forward.

Sources

[1] Department of Defense archives, Medal of Honor citation, Captain Edward R. Schowalter Jr. [2] Matthew B. Ridgway, Crusade in Korea, 1957, Westmoreland Historian Press