Sgt. Henry Johnson and his long-delayed Medal of Honor

Oct 06 , 2025

Sgt. Henry Johnson and his long-delayed Medal of Honor

Sgt. Henry Johnson fought a war within a war—where valor met prejudice, and the enemy was never just the frontline.

That night on May 14, 1918, in the dark woods of the Argonne Forest, Johnson stood alone against a German raiding party. Outnumbered, wounded, blood pouring from five bullet and bayonet wounds, he fought like a man possessed—not for glory, but for survival, for his brothers, for the promise of walking off that hill.

Born Into Battle

Henry Johnson was born in 1892, Albany, New York. A carpenter’s son turned soldier. A man who carried the weight of his country’s contradictions on his broad shoulders—loyalty to a nation that questioned his very place within it.

Raised in a devout Christian household, he learned early that sacrifice was sacred. “Greater love hath no man than this,” the words of John 15:13 echoed silently with him in camp and combat. His faith wasn't just a comfort—it forged an unbreakable will.

Johnson enlisted in 1917, joining the 369th Infantry, the Harlem Hellfighters. A regiment of Black soldiers fighting in a segregated army, dismissed by some, but lethal beyond measure when unleashed in combat.

The Night of Reckoning

It wasn’t just Germans he faced on May 14. It was fear, fatigue, fire, and the venom of betrayal by the racial barriers back home. Suddenly, a raiding party struck his unit’s forward listening post—ten deadly men moving in the dark, bent on blood and sabotage.

Johnson’s post was the line between death and dawn for his comrades. When the first bayonet slashed into his flesh, he didn’t falter. The bullet wounds came next—five times hit—yet each one seemed to stoke his fury. He grabbed grenades, a bolo knife, and a rifle, turning the dark into a slaughterhouse.

The Harlem Hellfighter hacked, stabbed, shot, blew whistle to alert the unit. His battle cry wasn’t just for survival, but salvation—the kind that takes years to fully understand. He killed multiple enemies, saved his squad, and died so far from ending the fight.

Medal of Honor—Delayed but Undeniable

The Medal of Honor did not come swiftly. Institutional blindness and prejudice blocked recognition. It took nearly a century and relentless advocacy before President Obama awarded Sgt. Johnson the Medal posthumously in 2015.

“He defended his unit with great valor, despite being outnumbered and severely wounded.” - U.S. Army official citation¹

His Croix de Guerre, awarded by France in 1918, came when America still refused to fully honor him. French troops saw his courage clear as day. French Commander Colonel Baussant said, “That man was an army by himself.”

Lessons Etched in Flesh and Bone

Johnson’s story is not just about heroics on a battlefield but the scars of fighting for a country that failed to fight for him. The cost never was just in blood—it was in dignity.

His legacy cuts into the marrow of what it means to serve—unseen, unsung, unyielding. Courage is not the absence of fear but the resolve to move through it, even when the world turns its back.

“Though he was severely wounded, Sgt. Johnson held the line, saving lives and buying time for reinforcements.” — Medal of Honor citation¹

He reminds us all: True valor demands sacrifice beyond the battlefield—the sacrifice of recognition, of equality, of justice.

“I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.” — 2 Timothy 4:7

Sgt. Henry Johnson’s fight wasn’t just a moment in the muck of war—it was a lifetime of courage demanding we reckon with our history, our promises, and what it means to honor those who gave all in silent defiance of injustice.

Sources

1. U.S. Army Center of Military History — “Medal of Honor Recipients: World War I” 2. Joyce, Nanette & Toomey, Roy. When Harlem Was in Vogue. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1973 3. French Ministry of Defense Archives — Croix de Guerre citations, 1918