Alonzo Cushing's Gettysburg Stand and His Medal of Honor

Jan 27 , 2026

Alonzo Cushing's Gettysburg Stand and His Medal of Honor

Alonzo Cushing stood alone in that hellish hail of iron and smoke, his cannon belching fury while his blood streamed down the hill. Wounded through the chest, his fingers gripped the ramrod like life itself depended on it—because it did. The guns had to keep firing. If Gettysburg fell, so did a nation's hope.

The Quiet Roots of a Warrior

Born in Wisconsin, 1841, Alonzo H. Cushing carried with him the quiet dignity of a family steeped in service. West Point molded him—Class of 1861—sharp mind, steady hand, Christian heart. A man forged in discipline and faith, he believed his duty was not just to country, but to a higher calling. His letters reflected a solemn pledge to honor above life itself. Against the chaos of war, Cushing’s quiet confidence was anchored in Psalm 23:4 — “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”

The Battle That Defined Him

July 3, 1863. Cemetery Ridge. The third day at Gettysburg.

Amid the thunder of Pickett’s Charge, artillery across the defensive line faltered or broke. But Cushing held Battery A, 4th U.S. Artillery. His position — a lynchpin. The cannon fired round after round under brutal enemy infantry onslaught. Early wounds slowed him, but every command screamed resolve.

“Lieutenant, your left shot away,” witnesses reported, bullets striking as if cursing the man who refused to quit.

Despite a shattered arm and three mortal wounds, Cushing refused evacuation. His voice, raspy but unwavering, ordered the men, kept firing the guns. No retreat. No surrender. With every breath, he siphoned strength to hold the line, exposing himself more each moment like a linchpin in a dying gear.

Before collapse, he knelt beside his gun, signaling steadfastness. By the time Union sharpshooters found him, the 22-year-old artillery officer was dead, bleeding out but unbroken.

Valor Inscribed in Steel and Scroll

Alonzo Cushing’s heroism went largely unsung for over a century. It wasn’t until August 7, 2014—151 years later—that the Medal of Honor was awarded posthumously.[1] The citation read:

“For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty... repeatedly voluntarily exposing himself to enemy fire to direct effective fire on the advancing enemy... ultimately giving his life.”

His courage inspired comrades like General Alexander S. Webb, who called Cushing’s stand “one of the most heroic in the history of our Army.”[2]

His Medal of Honor sits as a monument not just to sacrifice, but to relentless duty under fire.

Legacy Etched in Valor and Faith

Alonzo Cushing’s story is not a relic tucked in dusty archives. It’s a raw pulse in the marrow of every soldier who knows pain and honor collide on the battlefield. His stand reminds warriors and civilians alike that valor isn’t about glory—it’s about holding fast when all hope seems lost.

His sacrifice echoes Hebrews 12:1:

“Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus...”

Through the scars and blood, Cushing chose faith over fear, mission over mercy. His life speaks to the power of duty tethered to conviction, the sacred covenant between a soldier and the cause greater than self.

Alonzo Cushing left us a battle standard not of flags or medals, but of unwavering heart. He teaches that even in death, courage endures. That the greatest victories are won not by might, but by steadfast spirit. His legacy demands we carry forward—not just remembrance, but redemption. That every fighter, every survivor, keeps firing even when the world turns to ash around them.

Not all heroes march away victorious in the living, but their shadow lingers—guiding us through the fires of our own trials. Cushing’s is one of those shadows, forever burning bright.

Sources

1. U.S. Army Center of Military History, Medal of Honor Recipients: Civil War (A-F) 2. McMillan, A. (2014). The Last Hero of Gettysburg: The Story of Alonzo Cushing. Smithsonian Books