Sep 22 , 2025

Alonzo Cushing’s Last Stand at Gettysburg’s Cemetery Ridge

Alonzo Cushing gripped his sword arm with bloodied fingers. Shells screamed overhead. The enemy swarmed—waves of rebels closing in on his battery at Cemetery Ridge. For hours, he’d refused to quit, despite wounds that would have put any man down. His cannon roared again. His last breath rippled into the chaos. “Hold this ground.”

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The Battle That Defined Him

July 3, 1863. The sun scorched Gettysburg’s blood-soaked fields. Cushing, a 22-year-old artillery officer in the Union’s 4th U.S. Artillery, commanded Battery A atop Cemetery Ridge. As Pickett’s Charge thundered forward, Confederate infantry surged, desperate to break the Union line.

Cushing was already wounded—pierced through the shoulder, arm shattered by gunfire. Yet, he remained. Against the tide, he directed his gunners, adjusting fire to cut down approaching enemies. When his men faltered, he took their place, loading and firing the cannon himself.

The soldiers who witnessed him said his voice was steady but fierce, each command a defiant roar amid deafening artillery and musket fire.

“Lieutenant Cushing...continued at his post until he fell with a mortal wound.”

— Medal of Honor citation

He died at his piece, the battery’s stand critical in turning back the Confederate assault that doomed Longstreet’s gamble. His sacrifice sealed Cemetery Ridge’s bulwark. Almost no one survived around him.

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Background & Faith: A Foundation of Duty

Born August 27, 1841, in Wisconsin Territory, Alonzo was the scion of a military family. Raised with firm Christian principles and a sense of duty, his faith was tempered by the harsh realities of frontier life. West Point was the proving ground where honor meant more than medals.

He believed in more than tactics — he believed in a cause worth every wound, every drop of blood. A letter home reveals a man grounded in Scripture and courage:

“We must do our duty, trusting God’s will. ‘Be strong and courageous.’” (Joshua 1:6)

His upbringing forged a code—never yield, never abandon your post, never desert your brothers in arms. This code didn’t falter when the bullets flew. It burned brighter.

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Combat and Command Amid Inferno

Gettysburg was no ordinary engagement. It was a crucible of fire, death, and resolve. On Day Three, under relentless bombardment, Cushing’s battery was nearly overrun. Despite leadership attempts to withdraw, he refused. His mortal wounds should’ve forced him back, but Cushing embodied a warrior’s grit.

He took personal command of the guns, loading and firing with a shattered arm. Witness statements recorded how he encouraged his men even as blood spattered the ground around him.

His actions gave Union troops precious seconds to reinforce the line against Pickett’s Charge—the decisive moment that ended the Confederates’ offensive hopes.

He died in the mud and blood at his gun, where he chose to stand and fight.

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Recognition: Valor Immortalized

Alonzo Cushing’s heroism was nearly lost to history. Post-war, his story faded behind the tides of thousands who fought and died. Twenty-seven years passed before the medal machinery turned.

In 2014, after decades of advocacy, President Barack Obama posthumously awarded Cushing the Medal of Honor. The citation praised his “extraordinary heroism” maintaining artillery fire under mortal wounds “toward turning the tide” of Pickett’s Charge.

Lieutenant General Charles F. Wilkinson, then Superintendent of West Point, said:

“Alonzo Cushing's sacrifice embodies the everlasting spirit of the Long Gray Line—steadfast, selfless, and fierce to the end.”

The honor was overdue, but the story—etched in the earth of Gettysburg—endures.

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Legacy & Lessons: Courage Beyond the Flesh

Alonzo Cushing's tale is raw proof that valor isn’t measured by survival, but by the will to stand when everything screams to fall. He was a young man who could have fled, who could have avoided death—but chose to fight for the greater good.

His scars, his bleeding hands, his ended breath on a battlefield under siege—these are not just relics. They are vivid reminders of what sacrifice demands from warriors, from citizens, from men and women who answer the call.

Redemption is found not in glory, but in the faithful fight. Cushing’s courage calls us still. To bear our burdens, to face chaos with purpose, and to hold our ground—no matter the cost.

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

The bloodied scars of Alonzo Cushing remind us: valor is eternal. Duty is sacred. And some men—their names carved in sacrifice—live forever where cannon fire echoes.

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Sources

1. Medal of Honor citation, United States Army Center of Military History — Alonzo Cushing (CA-1863) 2. West Point Association of Graduates — Lieutenant Alonzo Cushing Biography 3. "Cushing’s Stand at Gettysburg," Gettysburg National Military Park archives 4. The New York Times, “Obama awards Medal of Honor to Alonzo Cushing,” November 2014

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