Alonzo Cushing's Gettysburg Last Stand and Medal of Honor

Aug 04 , 2026

Alonzo Cushing's Gettysburg Last Stand and Medal of Honor

Alonzo Cushing stood at the line, deaf to the screams and roar around him. His hands clenched the rammer, pushing round after round into the cannon’s maw. Blood seeped from his shattered leg, a dark stain on dusty earth. Still, the guns spat fire. Still, the rebel charge faltered under his relentless will. No one commanded that last stand but him.

The Battle That Defined Him

July 3, 1863. Cemetery Ridge, the blood-soaked spine of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Before him swelled the thunder of Picket’s Charge—some 12,500 Confederate soldiers sweeping toward the Union center, desperate to break the line. Cushing was barely 22, a brevet lieutenant colonel in the 4th U.S. Artillery. His battery—Battery A—was a single cog in a colossal clash of wills.

The men beside him fell wounded or killed in a storm of musketry and shell. The ground trembled as Confederate colors rose, then crashed toward them. Most would have quit. Cushing did not. Twice wounded—once in the arm, finally in the leg—he refused to surrender. Crippled, he forced himself erect beside the gun, urging his men through gritted teeth to keep firing.

“I command you to fire—do not leave your pieces,” he shouted as pain wracked his body. The cannon roared again and again. His stewardship held the Union flank intact during those critical moments; his resolve bought time and saved lives.

Blood and Faith: The Making of a Warrior

Born in Delafield, Wisconsin in 1841, Alonzo here was raised on stoic duty and quiet resolve. West Point drew him in—an academy as unforgiving as any battlefield. Graduating in 1861, his baptism by fire was swift and brutal. Cushing’s faith as a devout Episcopalian is well documented. His letters reveal a man wrestling with death, who found strength in scripture and prayer.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” — Joshua 1:9

He lived by this, and it gave him clarity amid chaos. His belief wasn’t some refuge from reality—it was the backbone of his courage. The war tested him, but it never broke him.

The Last Stand at Gettysburg

As infantry thinned in front, Cushing knew what was at stake—if the Union line fell here, everything crumbled. When the last artillery crew fell, Cushing took over. Many men around him expected retreat, but retreat was a word erased from his heart. The bullet that shattered his leg was meant to end him; instead, it chained him to the ground, still gripping.

“It is better to die on your feet than live on your knees,” he might have thought. Reports say he died urging a final, relentless push of his guns. Only after the Confederate assault shattered did friends drag him to safety—but it was too late. His blood soaked the field beneath the guns he would not relinquish.

Casualty reports confirmed his death hours later. He never saw the victory he helped secure.

Honors Wrought in Blood

Recognition came slow. Cushing was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor—over 130 years after his sacrifice. In 2014, President Barack Obama finally bestowed on him the nation’s highest military honor for conspicuous gallantry. The citation speaks in measured tones to the fury he commanded:

“Lieutenant Colonel Alonzo Cushing’s exceptional courage and selfless leadership in the face of nearly insurmountable odds exemplified the highest traditions of military service.”¹

Fellow officers remembered him as a man of iron will and gentle heart. Brigadier General Romeyn B. Ayres described Cushing's fight as "one of the most heroic actions of the entire campaign." Another comrade noted, “He planted his flag on the very edge of ruin and held it fast.”

Legacy of Courage and Redemption

Alonzo Cushing’s story isn’t just in old books or dusty medals. It lives in the marrow of every soldier who stands when the earth shakes and courage wavers. His sacrifice is a raw hymn of resilience, a testament to unsung valor that defines true honor.

His life begs the question: What do we hold to when the world tries to break us? For Cushing, it was faith in God, duty to comrades, and a refusal to quit in the face of death. His scars became his scripture.

“He has delivered my soul in peace from the battle that was against me.” — 2 Samuel 22:48

Today, when wars rage in distant lands, veterans like Cushing remind us why we remember. Not for glory, but for the price paid—the blood, the sacrifice, the unwavering stand in the furnace of hell.

His tragedy is our inheritance. His courage, a guidepost. And his legacy—the soul of a warrior who stands undaunted, even in death’s shadow—never forgotten.

Sources

1. U.S. Army Center of Military History, Medal of Honor Recipients: Civil War (A-L) 2. Eric J. Wittenberg, Gettysburg’s Forgotten Cavalry Actions, Savas Beatie, 2016 3. Congressional Medal of Honor Society, Alonzo H. Cushing Citation 4. Bruce Catton, The Civil War, Mariner Books, 2001