Let's talk World War One, folks.
Henry Johnson, born 1897, was born into poverty. While he worked in the New York City subway system, people over in Europe were blowing each-other up over stupid reasons because their friends were getting blown up, because THEIR friends were getting blown up, because some jerk decided to shoot the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne. European politics isn't something I like to get into, but it seems like all of the world's problems revolve around it.
You know what you did, Europe.
When the United States joined the fight, Henry joined the fight too, in an all-black brigade known as the 369th Infantry Regiment, later nicknamed "The Harlem Hellfighters".
These Harlem Hellfighters were known as such due to never losing a man through capture or losing ground. The Germans were afraid to fight them, and that's not a joke I'm making. They were the ones who called them the Hellfighters.
"Auch, Nein!"
On watch in the Argonne Forest on May 14, 1918, Johnson's claim to fame would come. He fought off a German raid in hand-to-hand combat with a bolo knife, which is basically a small machete. In the process, Henry managed to kill multiple German soldiers and rescuing a fellow soldier while
experiencing 21 wounds, which must have been terrifying for the German soldiers. If you shoot something once, there's a good chance it'll die.
"Zurückziehen!!!"
Johnson was the first American to ever receive the Croix de Guerre, the
highest award for bravery offered by the French Government. Almost a century later, President Barack Obama (And sweet Jesus, that sounds great to say) posthumously awarded him with the Medal of Honor. He's buried at Arlington. If you see him there, pay some respect to the man who was willing to fight for a country that hasn't had the best racial relations.
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