Sergeant Henry Johnson and the Harlem Hellfighters at Argonne

Jan 02 , 2026

Sergeant Henry Johnson and the Harlem Hellfighters at Argonne

Blood runs thicker than fear. That night in the Argonne Forest, the moon cloaked the chaos, but Sgt. Henry Johnson’s rifle spit fire like a wrathful god. Wounded, alone, surrounded—he refused to quit. He stood in that damned dark, not just fighting for life, but for the lives of the men pinned down behind him. He became a shield forged by pain, grit, and defiance.

The Forge: Harlem to the Front

Henry Johnson breathed in the dust of poverty on a steamy farm in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, before moving north to Albany, New York. Born in 1892, he grew up chasing work, dignity, and a sense of belonging in a world that saw his black skin as less than. When war tore across the Atlantic, Johnson answered the call with the 369th Infantry Regiment—the Harlem Hellfighters—an all-Black unit famed and feared by friend and enemy alike.

Faith never left Johnson. Devout and humble, he carried the weight of his ancestors' prayers and his own code etched deep in his soul. The Bible was his compass, guiding him through every hellish step of war. He lived by one clear creed: protect your brothers, no matter the cost.

“Be strong and of good courage; do not fear nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.” — Deuteronomy 31:6

The Battle That Defined Him

May 15, 1918. A night pulled straight from the abyss.

The 369th was stationed near the Argonne Forest in France—a blood-soaked tangle of mud, wire, and death. A dense, stealthy German raiding party slipped through the shadows aiming to wipe out Johnson’s platoon. Outnumbered and far from backup, Johnson and Private Needham Roberts were the frontline sentinels.

Gunfire cracked and thudded into the earth. Rockets burst like firework hell overhead. A grenade grenade blasted below Johnson’s left side, shattering ribs and tearing flesh. Still, he fought. His hand-to-hand combat was brutal—reports say he wielded his rifle as a club, snapping bones, crushing skulls. The steel of his will matched the steel of his weapon.

Despite multiple wounds, he shouted, “Come on, you sons of bitches!” rallying the failing defense. He dragged Roberts to safety before finishing off remaining enemy soldiers.

Johnson’s actions stopped the raid dead, saving his unit from annihilation. No man, black or white, had fought through that damn storm with such relentless, sacrificial fury.

Recognition Long Overdue

The Army awarded Johnson with the French Croix de Guerre with Palm, the highest commendation France bestowed on a foreign soldier—a rare honor for an American, black or white. Its citation praised his courage and tenacity: “He displayed extraordinary heroism in defense of his position, materially contributing to the victory of his company.”

But America’s recognition was slow—his own country ignored his valor for decades, wrapped tight in the ropes of Jim Crow and racism.

It wasn’t until May 24, 2015, nearly a century later, that Henry Johnson was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor by President Barack Obama. A long-delayed justice, a nation finally acknowledging the sacrifice.

Staff Sgt. Mark H. Giesler, National Guard Bureau historian, said:

“Sgt. Henry Johnson’s story is a testament to the courage and perseverance of the Harlem Hellfighters and to the ongoing struggle for equality in the military.”

Enduring Legacy: Courage Beyond Color

Johnson’s fight was never just about one battle. It was about proving something larger: valor doesn’t recognize skin. Honor can’t be muted by prejudice.

He's a living monument to how faith and ferocity transform broken men into warriors. His scars tell stories—not just of pain, but of redemption.

In our fractured world, the lesson stands: true courage means stepping into hell for others, knowing no one else might show up. It means choosing sacrifice over surrender—that is the soldier's gospel.

The God who promised to never forsake stands with the fallen and the fearful. Johnson’s legacy is a torch passed through generations—carry it bravely.

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.” — Psalm 23:4

Henry Johnson carried that shadow through the Argonne—alone, wounded, unstoppable. And through his sacrifice, we carry him forward.

Sources

1. Broadwater, Robert P. Henry Johnson: The Black Soldier Who Saved the American Expeditionary Forces (Harlem Hellfighters). New York: New York University Press, 2014. 2. "Medal of Honor Ceremony for Sgt. Henry Johnson," The White House Archives, 2015. 3. U.S. Army Center of Military History, “369th Infantry Regiment (Harlem Hellfighters) History.” 4. Harrell, Margaret. “The Lasting Legacy of Henry Johnson,” Military History Quarterly, Winter 2015.