How Edward R. Schowalter Jr. Held Hill 400 and Earned the Medal

Oct 22 , 2025

How Edward R. Schowalter Jr. Held Hill 400 and Earned the Medal

Edward R. Schowalter Jr. stood alone on a blood-soaked ridge, his left arm shattered, a shell crater smoking at his feet. The howling masses of enemy infantry surged forward, swarming from all sides. They didn’t know who they faced—only that the American holding firm was hell-bent on stopping them. Shots tore through the night, but Schowalter galvanized the last fragments of his company into a human barricade.

No man quits on that ridge. Not while he’s still breathing.

Background & Faith

Born in Pennsylvania in 1927, Edward was forged in the quiet grit of small-town values and a devout Christian household. His faith wasn’t just Sunday words; it was the bulletproof vest for his soul. “Be strong and courageous,” he’d repeat—words from Joshua 1:9 under his breath like a prayer as he marched into battle.

That code followed him into basic infantry and later into the crucible of Korea. He took command of Company K, 31st Infantry Regiment—the kinds of men who counted on their leader to hold the line, to hold their lives in trust. For Eddie, leadership wasn’t a title; it was a blood oath.

The Battle That Defined Him

May 21, 1951: Hill 400, near the Iron Triangle. The Chinese People’s Volunteer Army threw wave after wave of attacks against Schowalter’s outnumbered men stacked on that strategic hilltop.

Enemy numbers eclipsed them nearly five to one. Mortars pounded the dirt. Artillery scrubbed the terrain with fire. Still, Schowalter’s voice rose above the chaos—orders sharp, resolute.

An enemy grenade blasted his left arm, exploding it practically off. The pain was a death-call, but Schowalter rejected it. He ripped off his blood-soaked uniform sleeve, bound the wound with a rag, and dragged himself back to the frontline.

He wasn’t done.

Despite blood loss and fatigue, Schowalter counterattacked. He rallied what was left of his company, personally neutralizing enemy machine-gun nests. His courage stilled the panic and gave soldiers a beacon to rally behind. He repelled the assault till reinforcements arrived.

“Despite severe wounds, he refused evacuation and personally led his troops against a numerically superior enemy force.” — Medal of Honor Citation, 1953[1]

Recognition

On March 12, 1953, President Dwight D. Eisenhower pinned the Medal of Honor on Schowalter’s chest. The highest decoration for valor, earned in the furnace of a bloody, desperate grind.

Commanders and brothers-in-arms spoke with reverence.

Lieutenant General Robert T. Frederick said:

“Schowalter's leadership under fire was the standard by which all others were measured.”[2]

Schowalter’s citation detailed not just personal heroism but the gravity of his presence amid crisis. He bore the burden so others could survive.

Legacy & Lessons

Schowalter’s story is the bitter, sacred grind of war. It’s about a man stripped to his rawest self and still standing. No smoke. No glamor. Just steel and sacrifice. His wounds spoke to pain endured; his decisive actions beckoned others to rise.

He lived access to that higher calling: sacrifice for the man beside you.

War grinds men down—but faith and duty reinstate them. Schowalter’s legacy lives in every veteran who pushes past the breaking point, who takes a bullet so others don’t have to.

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” — John 15:13

Those words pulse through the line of fire still. They remind us what it means to stand when the world falls apart.

Sources

1. U.S. Army Center of Military History, Medal of Honor Recipients – Korean War 2. Robert T. Frederick, Command Histories & Personal Interviews, U.S. Army Archives