Alonzo Cushing’s Final Stand at Gettysburg and His Faith

Feb 26 , 2026

Alonzo Cushing’s Final Stand at Gettysburg and His Faith

Blood pumping. Smoke choking the air. Cannon roaring beneath my hands—one shot, two, a third—while the world around me fractures.

Alonzo Cushing did not quit. Not when thousands charged. Not when bullets tore through his uniform and life spilled out but still clutched the wheel of his gun. He stayed—fighting on the line between life and death at Gettysburg.

A Soldier Born of Faith and Duty

Born into a West Point family, Alonzo Herbert Cushing carried honor stitched deep into his soul. West Point to artillery officer—no glory sought, only duty. His faith was no secret; the weight of Scripture moved steady in his heart.

“My life is no longer mine alone.”

This was no mere soldier’s boast but a conviction he lived by, grounded in James 1:12:

“Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life.”

The young artillery officer embodied sacrifice before sacrifice was demanded.

The Battle That Defined Him

July 3, 1863—The guns thundered over Cemetery Ridge at Gettysburg. The Confederate assault crashed like waves against Union lines. Cushing commanded Battery A, 4th U.S. Artillery, holding a critical position as Confederate troops surged forward in Pickett’s Charge.

Despite being outnumbered and wildly exposed, Cushing directed his men with relentless calm. When a private beside him fell dead, he took up the rammer himself. When half his gunners fled or died, he refused to abandon the cannon.

Bullet wounds shredded his body. Yet he stayed, shouting commands with bloodied lips, eyes burning with resolve.

Witnesses describe a man both broken and unyielding. Lieutenant Francis "Frank" Brownell, who assisted Cushing, later recounted the officer’s final stand:

“He shot and rammed and poured death upon their ranks until he sank, fainting from loss of blood.”

His fell at the guns, the last to leave the breach, refusing to surrender until mortal strength ebbed away.

Recognition in Life and Beyond

Cushing’s courage was recognized immediately in choked whispers and farewell prayers, but official honor lagged decades. His gallantry earned promotion, but the Medal of Honor came only in 2014—over 150 years after the battle.

His citation reads in quiet heroism:

"For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving as a Battery Commander... Distinguished himself by gallantry."^[1]

Frank Brownell, Medal of Honor recipient himself, lauded Cushing’s stand:

“He died at his post... winning his honored place forever in the history of his country’s defenders.”^[2]

The Legacy of a Fallen Hero

Cushing’s story is a testament to grit beyond measure and faith beyond fear. Battlefield scars are not just physical—they run through time, binding sacrifice to remembrance.

He gave everything—blood, breath, life—because the cause was greater than self. His life whispers to every veteran: hold the line. Stay the course.

For civilians, his life exhorts something harder still: to honor sacrifice not just in stories but in gratitude and consequence.

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” — John 15:13

He died as soldiers die—unyielding, bound to duty—and yet his life speaks redemption. In his final hours, amidst cannon smoke and carnage, Alonzo Cushing carried a light extinguished by war but ignited forever in the legacy he left behind. That light beckons us—scarred, bruised, worn—to fight the good fight, not just for glory, but for grace.

Sources

[1] Government Publishing Office, Congressional Medal of Honor Society Citation [2] Brownell, Francis E., Memoirs and Personal Letters Collection, U.S. Army Military History Institute