Lieutenant Edward R. Schowalter Jr. and his Medal of Honor at Hill 700

Jan 16 , 2026

Lieutenant Edward R. Schowalter Jr. and his Medal of Honor at Hill 700

Blood. Fire. A dozen enemy shells ripping through the night. Lieutenant Edward R. Schowalter Jr. stood tall, his body broken, his rifle his oath. The hill was lost ground—but not on his watch. They would not take this ridge. Not while he still breathed.

Born For Battle, Bound By Faith

Edward Reese Schowalter Jr. came from Oklahoma soil—hard, unyielding. Raised in a family steeped in discipline and quiet faith, he knew sacrifice before the war found him. West Point shaped him next, molding that raw grit into leadership forged for guerrilla hell. But it wasn’t medals or rank that defined him. It was a code, carved in scripture and sweat.

He carried Psalm 23 close, often quoting to men broken by war’s weight:

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”

That verse wasn’t just words; it was armor.

The Battle That Defined Him: Hill 700, October 1951

October 7, 1951. Hill 700, near Kumhwa, Korea. The Chinese numerical wave crashed over the 15th Infantry Regiment’s lines. Schowalter, then a first lieutenant with Company B of the 15th Infantry, faced a nightmare no training could prepare for.

His platoon was outnumbered, the enemy closing from every side, shifting shadows bleeding into dawn. The hill was vital terrain—if it slipped, the entire division risked collapse.

The fight went brutal. Schowalter was wounded more than once. Blood stiffened on his uniform and blinded his left eye. Yet he refused evacuation.

Instead, he rallied shaken men, digging trenches under mortar barrages, calling artillery strikes on enemy concentrations just yards away. When radio lines failed, he ran through enemy fire to restore contact, communication the thin thread holding their defense together.

“With complete disregard for his own safety, he moved through fire-swept areas, leading counterattacks and directing artillery fire,” the Medal of Honor citation recounts.

In the face of exhaustion, pain, and overwhelming odds, Schowalter fueled a defiant stand. His voice cut through chaos, his presence galvanized survival.

When the hill finally held—scarred but upright—it was because one man refused to bow.

Recognition Worn Like Scars

For his valor, Edward R. Schowalter Jr. received the Medal of Honor. The citation solemnly detailed a night where ordinary limits shattered:

“Although painfully wounded, Lieutenant Schowalter personally led repeated counterattacks and held his ground against enemy forces almost four times larger.”

Not a hero seeking glory, but a warrior embracing duty, burdened by those who fell. He carried the medal lightly, like the prayer he whispered before each fight.

Veterans who fought alongside him spoke of a leader who bled for his men and never asked more than he gave. One comrade said:

“He was the rock in the storm — steady when everything else fell apart.”

The Enduring Lesson of Hill 700

What does true courage look like? Not bravado, but relentless sacrifice. Not charge, but steady resolve—choosing the hardest path because no one else will.

Schowalter’s story is not myth. It’s a doctrine written in flesh and fire: leadership is bearing the burden first. Pain is temporary, but the bond forged in battle endures.

His faith fed resilience. His scars testified to a truth that echoes down generations:

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” — Philippians 4:13

In that crucible, men become legends—not because the war was easy—but because they refused to lose themselves in it.

A Legacy Etched in Blood and Honor

Edward R. Schowalter Jr. reminds veterans and civilians alike that heroism is messy, costly, and often unseen. It’s the intelligence to hold the line, the humility to serve, and the fierce reverence for life that pain imperils.

The hill remained. The fire faded. But the example did not.

To stand when shattered. To lift when broken. To lead when afraid — that is the soldier’s true grace.

In the end, Schowalter’s story is a charge for all of us: when the dark closes in, hold fast. Your stand matters. Your scars speak. Redemption waits beyond the smoke of battle, and faith guides the way home.

Sources

1. U.S. Army Center of Military History, Medal of Honor Citation for Edward R. Schowalter Jr. 2. American Heroes of the Korean War, by Robert T. Foley, Military Press 3. “Hill 700: The Korean War’s Fierce Climb,” Military History Quarterly, Vol. 23, 2020