Alonzo Cushing's Last Stand at Gettysburg and Lasting Sacrifice

Nov 02 , 2025

Alonzo Cushing's Last Stand at Gettysburg and Lasting Sacrifice

Alonzo Cushing’s last stand was a crucible forged in fire and blood. Amidst the roar of Gettysburg’s thunder, his artillery crew’s relentless volley pounded hope into the Union line—even as his life slipped through his fingers. Mortally wounded, with sight fading and limbs broken, he refused to fall silent. To retreat was death’s whisper; to persist was deafening defiance. He fought not for glory, but to hold the thin line between survival and slaughter.

Born Into Duty: Faith and Honor

Alonzo was not just a soldier. Born in 1841 to a family steeped in service, his roots dug deep in the fertile soil of duty and sacrifice. West Point sharpened his mind, but his heart was molded by a stubborn faith.

He lived by a creed older than armies: greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).

His mother’s prayers and the scripture etched into his soul carried him through hell. The young artillery officer understood that justice came at a price, and he was ready to pay it in full.

The Battle That Defined Him

July 3, 1863. The third day of Gettysburg. The Union Army braces on Cemetery Ridge, the air thick with gunpowder and dread. While Pickett’s Charge loomed, Captain Alonzo Cushing manned Battery A, 4th U.S. Artillery, at the critical center of the line.

Hordes of Confederates surged forward—wave after wave—but Cushing’s guns never faltered. His lieutenant wounded, Cushing climbed over the cannon, rallying his men. Bullets tore through flesh; shells shredded earth; yet he ordered every shot fired. Even after a bullet shattered his right arm and later pierced his chest, he refused to yield.

His voice dwindled to a whisper as blood soaked the earth beneath him, but he kept firing, kept commanding. One last order: hold the guns.

When the carnage finally stilled, Cushing’s body lay broken, but his spirit stamped into the very soil of that battlefield. His guns had stalled the Confederate advance, buying precious time for Union lines to regroup.

Honor Beyond the Smoke

At a time when heroism often blurred into myth, Cushing’s story was raw and brutally earned. Posthumous recognition followed decades later—he was awarded the Medal of Honor in 2014, nearly 151 years after his sacrifice.

His citation reads:

“While courageously commanding his battery in the face of a Confederate assault, Captain Cushing voluntarily took a position on the parapet, directing the fire of his battery. During this close-range action, he was mortally wounded but refused to withdraw and continued to encourage his men.”[1]

General Winfield Scott Hancock, who witnessed the carnage, said:

“No braver or more devoted officer stood in the ranks of this army.”[2]

No ribbon or medal can weigh the cost he paid. His valor echoes as a lesson carved in blood.

The Enduring Legacy of Cushing’s Stand

Cushing’s fight was a testament to the warrior’s paradox: strength in vulnerability, victory through sacrifice. He stood as a bulwark not just against an enemy, but against chaos itself.

His legacy challenges every soldier and citizen: it is not the length of life, but the depth of conviction that defines a man.

In his name, we remember that courage is messy, expensive, and often lonely. Redemption is earned not in glory, but in the willingness to give all when the moment demands everything.

That battery on Cemetery Ridge was more than gunpowder and cannonballs—it was a sanctuary of faith under fire. Alonzo Cushing’s final act was an unyielding amen to the creed he lived by: greater love, ultimate sacrifice, eternal honor.

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

Sources

1. Congressional Medal of Honor Society, Medal of Honor Citation – Alonzo Cushing 2. J. David Petruzzi, “No Braver or More Devoted Officer,” Gettysburg Magazine, 1996