Alonzo Cushing at Gettysburg and the Cost of Courage

Jan 08 , 2026

Alonzo Cushing at Gettysburg and the Cost of Courage

Alonzo Cushing’s hands didn’t falter. Blood poured, eyes blurred, but his cannon roared defiance atop Cemetery Ridge. Bullets tore flesh, artillery shells exploded, chaos unfurled all around. Yet, he held the line.

Death hovered, but the guns kept firing.

A Soldier’s Faith Forged Early

Born into privilege near Milwaukee in 1841, young Alonzo soon traded comfort for a code carved in steel and scripture. West Point was more than an academy—it was a crucible. His faith wasn’t a whisper in the storm; it was the steady heartbeat beneath his uniform.

Cushing was a devout Episcopalian. God was the unseen comrade on that field. His diary, sparse but telling, reveals a man who wrestled with purpose beyond medals—he sought to serve something immortal.

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” —John 15:13

This verse wasn’t just ink on parchment. It was the gospel of Alonzo’s artillery battery.

The Battle That Defined Him: Gettysburg, July 3, 1863

Cemetery Ridge. The Union line’s backbone. Over 15,000 Confederate troops surged in a brutal climax—Pickett’s Charge. The infantry’s tide threatened to break the Union center.

At 22 years old, Captain Cushing commanded Battery A, 4th U.S. Artillery. His orders were hold at all costs.

Enemy shells shredded limbs and men alike. A Confederate bullet shattered his right arm. He refused aid. His horse fell dead beneath him. Still, Cushing never ceased directing fire.

He moved from cannon to cannon, rallying men with voice fractured by pain:

“Give them the grape, Captain!”—a sergeant implored in the chaos.

His reply, steady as iron, was a testament to grit beyond agony.

“As long as I have strength, we will fight here!”

Even as he clutched his shattered limb, he ordered continued volleys, sealing the breach.

Minutes later, mortally wounded and slumped over his gun, he uttered his last orders.

The enemy faltered. The line held.

Recognition: Valor Immortalized

Medal of Honor. The nation’s highest tribute didn’t come until over 150 years later—in 2014. The delay stands as a bitter reminder: heroism often lies buried beneath bureaucracy and time.

His Medal citation reads:

"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty... while occupying a key position on Cemetery Ridge."

Officers and comrades recall Cushing’s unwavering resolve. Lewis Richardson, an artilleryman under Cushing, said:

“His will was iron, his heart, unyielding. Even broken, he was the soul of that battery.”

President Barack Obama, in his ceremony speech, honored Cushing’s sacrifice as emblematic of selflessness that defends the republic's ideals.

Legacy of a Fallen Warrior

Cushing’s story is bloodied proof that courage isn’t absence of fear—it’s mastery over it when the smoke blinds the eyes.

He embodies what every combat vet knows: sacrifice writes the truest history. The scars he bore and the wounds he refused to yield resonate with thousands who have faced unbearable trials on foreign soil.

In his final moments, Cushing fought not for glory but for the brother beside him, for a cause they believed just.

His life’s beacon shines far beyond Gettysburg. It proclaims that honor demands everything—even life itself. And that faith, when fused with fierce loyalty, creates a legacy no enemy can erase.

“Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down: for the LORD upholdeth him with his hand.” —Psalm 37:24

Alonzo Cushing’s shadow looms large on every battlefield still raging in the hearts of soldiers and civilians alike.

In the quiet aftermath of gunfire, his story whispers this: true courage is the echo of sacrifice toward redemption—etched forever in the blood of the fallen.