Sgt. Henry Johnson's Valor with the Harlem Hellfighters in WWI

Jan 25 , 2026

Sgt. Henry Johnson's Valor with the Harlem Hellfighters in WWI

Fire cracked the night. Bullets tore through the darkness like angry hornets. Alone, wounded, Sgt. Henry Johnson embraced the chaos. No thought for himself—only the men behind him. Steel rain crashing down, but he fought like a demon born from hell itself. One black soldier, standing tall against a storm of death.

Born in the Storm

Henry Johnson came from the foothills of Albany, New York. Born in 1892, he’d grown up scrapping in tough streets and fields, weathered by hardship. He knew early: life demands a fight, and a man takes the hits or makes a stand.

Faith wasn’t spoken with grand sermons, but in quiet moments before battle—a whispered Psalm or a prayer for protection. The Bible shaped his grit: “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid…” (Joshua 1:9). To Johnson, honor wasn’t an abstract word. It was his blood, his purpose.

When the U.S. called men to the colors in 1917, he answered with the 369th Infantry Regiment, later famed as the "Harlem Hellfighters." They were Black men, fighting in a segregated army, playing by a different set of rules—each inch of ground hard-won before the first shot.

The Battle That Defined Him

The date was May 15, 1918. In the thick forest near the French village of Côte-d’Or, Johnson’s outpost faced what some called a “suicide mission.” The order was simple: hold the line.

Around midnight, a German raiding party launched a surprise attack. Gunfire and grenades exploded in the gloom, ripping through the night like fiery thunderclaps. Johnson’s position was cut off, surrounded, and outnumbered.

Despite sustaining multiple wounds, Johnson fought back desperately. He used his rifle, but when it jammed, he didn’t hesitate. With a bolo knife, he plunged through enemy lines, slashing with the ferocity of a cornered beast. By some accounts, he faced as many as twenty enemy soldiers in a brutal hand-to-hand fight.

His actions saved his fellow soldier, Needham Roberts, and prevented the raiders from overrunning the unit’s trench. Johnson never quitting, fighting while bleeding, eventually collapsing from his wounds—face and body a battlefield itself.

This wasn’t an act of glory or ambition. It was raw survival and protecting brothers in arms. One man battling the flood of death to buy time and save lives.

Honors Delayed, But Not Denied

Henry Johnson’s fight should have echoed through history right away, but his race delayed the recognition he deserved. His awards began with the Croix de Guerre, presented by the French government—a testament from the nation that witnessed his courage firsthand.

The United States military was slow to honor Johnson properly. It wasn’t until decades later, in 2015, that Congress posthumously awarded him the Medal of Honor. President Barack Obama declared then:

“Henry Johnson paved the way for generations of African American soldiers to serve a country that didn’t always serve them back.”

His Silver Star came posthumously as well, alongside other decorations. His story emerges as a mirror reflecting the sacrifices of Black veterans who bore double burdens—both foreign bullets and systemic injustice.

Fellow soldiers described him as fearless. Needham Roberts, the man Johnson saved that night, later said:

“He was a lion. I owe him my life.”

Shadows, Scars, and Strength

Johnson lived the rest of his days haunted, struggling with injuries and poverty—another silent casualty of war. But his legacy grows stronger with every telling. He stood not just for a moment in 1918, but for all who fight unseen battles in silence.

His life reminds us: valor isn’t always recognized the instant it’s given. Sometimes, it waits in the shadows. Like scars that fade only to thicken with time, true courage is measured in endurance.

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints” (Psalm 116:15).

Johnson's story is redemption incarnate—a testament that sacrificial courage transcends time, race, and recognition.

Let Sgt. Henry Johnson’s bloodied hands remind us: in the crucible of combat, honor is forged through sacrifice and faith. His fight was ours yesterday, ours today, and ours forever. Wherever soldiers answer the call, his spirit marches with them—unyielding, unbroken.

“Greater love hath no man than this,” and Henry Johnson gave it all.

Sources

1. Smithsonian Institution + Henry Johnson (soldier) 2. Congressional Medal of Honor Society + Henry Johnson Medal of Honor Citation 3. Obama White House Archives + Remarks on Medal of Honor Presentation, 2015 4. U.S. Army Center of Military History + The Harlem Hellfighters in World War I