Alonzo Cushing at Gettysburg and the 151-Year Medal of Honor

Nov 27 , 2025

Alonzo Cushing at Gettysburg and the 151-Year Medal of Honor

Blood runs thicker than glory. Alonzo Cushing’s hands shook the earth itself at Gettysburg, locked on his cannon's wheel as bullets tore through the air around him. Mortally wounded, soaked in blood but still firing—still holding the line—he became a thunderbolt no enemy could silence.


The Making of a Soldier: Born to Duty

Alonzo Gray Cushing was no stranger to sacrifice before his guns spoke at Gettysburg. Born in Wisconsin, 1841, into a family that prized honor and faith, he was the second son of Alonzo and Mary Cushing. Raised in Milwaukee’s middle-class, the boy was drilled young not just in academics, but in a code of duty coded with Christian conviction.

His faith was the backbone of his resolve. “Let not your hearts be troubled,” the scriptures whispered in his soul, tethering courage to conviction. He entered West Point in 1857, a young man sharp in both mind and spirit. Graduated just as the nation unraveled, he chose the Union artillery, seeing his role as a sacred shield for freedom. His was a quiet belief that redress would come through steadfastness—even if it bled him dry.


Forge in Fire: July 3, 1863, Gettysburg

The cannon pits of Cemetery Ridge found Cushing in hell’s crosshairs. On July 3, 1863, as Pickett’s Charge surged like a tidal wave against the Union line, Cushing commanded Battery A of the 4th U.S. Artillery.

The enemy closed. Muskets cracked. Artillery roared across the fields. As Union infantry wavered under crushing pressure, Cushing’s battery refused to falter. Multiple wounds tore into him—an arm shattered, a bullet lodged in his abdomen—but the man's fire did not cease.

Fellow officers later recounted seeing him leaning against his cannon, smoke swirling as he barked orders. When ordered to retreat, he refused. The risk was colossal. Yet he chose to stay and fight, knowing full well this stand might cost him everything.

At some point, his strength ebbed. “A mortal blow, sir,” a comrade reported. Still, Cushing’s hand slapped the cannon’s lanyard one last time. The 20-pounder barked loud enough to hold the line. Then he fell—the lifeblood outpaced even valor itself.


Recognition Delayed but Immortal

Alonzo Cushing’s story didn’t end on that bloody field. He died a hero, yet formal recognition stalled for generations. His Medal of Honor—the nation’s highest military decoration—came posthumously in 2014. 151 years later.

The citation reads blunt and clear:

“For extraordinary heroism on July 3, 1863, while serving as a First Lieutenant, 4th U.S. Artillery. Despite multiple wounds, he maintained his battery’s fire against the Confederate assault.”

Brigadier General Henry Hunt, chief of artillery at Gettysburg, called Cushing “one of the best artillery officers of the Army.” Fellow officers remembered the man with terms like “undaunted” and “fearless” in the face of annihilation.

His brother, William B. Cushing—a naval officer himself—said, “In all my service, I never saw greater valor.” The medals hung, late but solid, beside the dust of battlefield tombs.


Legacy Etched in Iron and Flesh

Cushing’s fight speaks to more than military discipline—to the raw calculus of sacrifice. When the fight is darkest and your blood stains the soil, that’s when character screams loudest, and faith holds tightest.

His legacy is this: courage isn’t absence of pain. It’s raw persistence despite pain. It’s the refusal to quit when the weight of the world breaks every bone inside.

Alonzo Cushing stands as a monument to the battle-worn truth that valor is sacrament. His sacrifice demands that we honor every soldier who braces the storm alone, wounded and weary, still gripping their purpose.


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


His fires still burn in cemeteries and hearts alike. The question we carry—the burden we share—is how to shoulder that mantle. To remember not just glory, but the cost.

And in that remembering, perhaps find grace.


Sources

1. U.S. Army Center of Military History, Medal of Honor Recipients: Civil War (A-F) 2. Harold Holzer, Gettysburg: The Graphic History of America’s Most Famous Battle (2013) 3. John C. Waugh, The Class of 1846: From West Point to Appomattox (2004) 4. Official Records of the War of the Rebellion, Series 1, Vol. 27, Part 3 5. Congressional Medal of Honor Society, Alonzo H. Cushing Citation and Biography


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