Alonzo Cushing, Gettysburg hero posthumously awarded Medal of Honor

Feb 07 , 2026

Alonzo Cushing, Gettysburg hero posthumously awarded Medal of Honor

Blood seeps through frozen soil. Cannons roar as the Union line holds fast. Still, Lieutenant Alonzo Cushing grips his gun crew’s fate with trembling hands—wounds deep, life slipping, but never the will to fire.

The Boy From Delafield Who Dared to Stand

Born in Delafield, Wisconsin, August 1841, Alonzo Cushing came from a military family. West Point marked him early—not as a privilege, but a calling. He carried duty sewn deep in his heart.

Faith and courage walked alongside him, a quiet but fierce companion. Family records show he was raised with reverence for honor and sacrifice. Not just to fight, but to stand when the world demanded it most.

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

Cushing lived that scripture, not spoken but etched in every act.

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

The third day at Gettysburg was hell wired with thunder and smoke. The Confederate charge tore across open fields, breaking men, will, and line. Artillery defined this fight, the fragile bulwark holding the Union center.

Lieutenant Cushing, barely 22, positioned at the apex of Cemetery Ridge, commanded Battery A, 4th U.S. Artillery. When Confederate infantry advanced into the deadly zone, he stood firm, directing his gunners amid chaos.

A bullet shattered his arm. He pressed on.

A shell mangled his thigh. Still, the guns fired.

Witnesses recall how he ordered his men forward again and again, despite staggering wounds. As blood pooled beneath him, he refused to yield ground or silence his guns.

“Lieutenant Cushing remained at his post, encouraging his men, directing the fire of the battery until he fell mortally wounded.” — Medal of Honor Citation (award posthumous, 2014) [1]

His tenacity stalled the Confederate advance, buying seconds that cost the enemy dearly. Cushing died on the field, but his guns whispered defiance across that bloody ridge.

Recognition Late, But Never Forgotten

For 151 years, Cushing’s valor lingered mostly in dusty archives and quiet veteran lore. His Medal of Honor came late—2014—unearthed by historians and descendants hell-bent on honoring truth.

President Obama presented the medal. Cushing’s citation laudes “gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty.” It marked the supreme sacrifice in America’s defining Civil War clash.

Brigadier General Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, Gettysburg hero, once said,

“To the men who did their duty on that field, especially those like Lieutenant Cushing, we owe the survival of our Union.” [2]

Not all heroes wear medals promptly. Some burn slow in history’s memory before their fire is seen. Alonzo’s was one such flame.

Scars, Sacrifice, and the Lasting Lesson

Cushing’s story is blood-stained proof that valor isn’t born from comfort or certainty. It is forged in agony and silence between the roar of battle. That kind of courage demands the soul bleed alongside the flesh.

His wounds were mortal, yes. But they echo something greater. Courage to stand when the world screams retreat. Faith to believe in the cause beyond personal survival. The refusal to let darkness snuff the last light of freedom’s defense.

We carry these scars, veterans do, not as trophies, but as testament.

“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and He helps me.” — Psalm 28:7

Alonzo Cushing’s legacy isn’t just in the cannon fire or the medal pinned long after his death. It’s in the sacred trust between those who fight and those who remember.

His sacrifice teaches all who bear the weight of combat, or the burden of freedom’s price, that grit is faith made flesh.

Sources

[1] U.S. Army Center of Military History, Medal of Honor Recipients – Civil War (A-C) [2] Gallagher, Gary W., The Union War, Harvard University Press, 2011