How Edward R. Schowalter Jr. Held Hill 400 and Won the Medal of Honor

Feb 11 , 2026

How Edward R. Schowalter Jr. Held Hill 400 and Won the Medal of Honor

Edward R. Schowalter Jr. stood alone on the frozen hilltop with bullets tearing through the air like a storm of hellfire. His unit shattered, his left arm shattered, blood seeping through his fingers, he refused to fall. This wasn’t just a fight for ground. It was a fight for every brother who counted on him. All around, the air crackled with death, but Schowalter’s voice cut through the chaos, fierce and unyielding.

Background & Faith

Born in Oklahoma in 1927, Schowalter carried the grit of the plains and the steadiness of faith forged in church pews. Raised by a family steeped in discipline and quiet resolve, he learned early that honor isn’t worn like a badge—it’s lived in sweat and sacrifice. He joined the U.S. Army as a young man, ready to face shadows far darker than any Oklahoma night.

The Book of Psalms—words of refuge and strength—provided him a quiet anchor when words failed on the battlefield:

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil...” (Psalm 23:4)

That faith shaped his code. Duty first. Men second. God always.

The Battle That Defined Him

The date was May 23, 1951, at Hill 400, during the brutal Korean War push against a relentless Communist onslaught. Captain Edward R. Schowalter Jr. commanded Company F, 17th Infantry Regiment, 7th Infantry Division. The enemy force was overwhelming—Chinese troops surged wave after wave, driving to crush his position.

Schowalter’s orders were clear: hold the hill at all costs. When the first assault broke through the defensive lines, he was already wounded, his left arm mangled by shrapnel. But there was no time to retreat, no space for doubt.

He took a rifle in his right arm, barking commands, and organized perimeter movements with a dislocated shoulder. When his men faltered, he charged into the enemy ranks himself—half-blind from pain, half-crazed by instinct and fury.

“For two hours, I thought I’d be the last man standing,” Schowalter later reflected, a hard edge to the memory.

The enemy tried to overrun his command post. Running low on ammunition, Schowalter resorted to hand grenades, throwing them with one arm while firing with the other. When that failed, he improvised—using enemy grenades to turn the tide.

His leadership refused to let the enemy sweep them away. His voice echoed across mud and blood: “We are not going to give up this hill—not today.”

By dawn, the hill was his, but only barely. The unit was battered, bloodied, but alive. Schowalter’s wounds didn’t end there; infection came a-knocking. But he refused evacuation until the perimeter was secure and every man accounted for.

Recognition

For his valor that day, Edward R. Schowalter Jr. was awarded the Medal of Honor—the nation’s highest military decoration. The citation reads:

“While serving as commanding officer, he repeatedly exposed himself to hostile fire to rally his men and to destroy the enemy under harrowing conditions…”

General Matthew Ridgway, commander of the Eighth Army, called the battle on Hill 400 “one of the finest displays of leadership and courage ever witnessed in the Korean conflict.”

Corporal James Thompson of Schowalter’s unit remembered,

“He was the rock we clung to when everything else was falling apart. When he said ‘hold,’ we held.”

The Medal of Honor wasn’t just metal. It was a testament to a soldier who bled for every man under his command—and refused to quit, no matter the cost.

Legacy & Lessons

Schowalter’s story smashes the myth of the flawless hero. His heroism was raw—punctuated by pain, doubt, and sheer will. His scars tell the history of sacrifice, and his actions echo the truth that leadership often means carrying others when your own strength fails you.

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13). That may well be Schowalter’s emblem. In battle, he embodied this scripture, holding the line not just for country or orders—but for the brothers beside him.

His story demands remembrance not as a relic of war but as a living call to courage: to stand firm when the darkness wants to swallow us whole, to defend what is right and just, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

No battlefield glory lasts if it doesn’t leave a legacy—a beacon for the fallen and the living alike. Edward R. Schowalter Jr. left that beacon, blazing against the night for generations of warriors and civilians searching for meaning in sacrifice.

He fought not just with bullets, but with unwavering purpose. He bled not just wounds, but a testament to enduring faith and unbreakable resolve.

In the silence that follows gunfire, his story still speaks.

Sources

1. U.S. Army Center of Military History, Medal of Honor Recipients: Korean War 2. MacGregor, M. J., U.S. Army in the Korean War: The Blood and the Fury. 3. Ridgway, Matthew B., The Korean War: Volume II - The Outbreak (Official Eighth Army History)