Alonzo Cushing's Last Stand at Gettysburg and Medal of Honor

Nov 03 , 2025

Alonzo Cushing's Last Stand at Gettysburg and Medal of Honor

Alonzo Cushing stood behind his gun at Gettysburg, blood bright on his uniform, every breath a battle against death. The air cracked with cannon fire, smoke thick enough to choke the soul. Around him, men faltered, ran, died. But Cushing held firm—his artillery piece roaring into the Confederate tide. Wounded hard, pain a raging fire, yet he refused to fall. He stayed at his post until the final moments. His sacrifice etched in the blood-soaked earth—and the history books.

The Bloodline of Duty and Devotion

Born in 1841 in Delafield, Wisconsin, Alonzo Cushing came from a family steeped in military and public service. West Point molded him, graduating 17th in his class of 1861. His faith wasn’t loud, but steady—a quiet backbone to his rigid sense of honor. Raised Presbyterian, he carried the weight of scripture and duty together, a private compass in the chaos. His code was simple: serve with valor, never waver, and protect the men beside you. In the crucible of war, these rules became immutable law.

The Battle That Defined Him

July 3, 1863. The third day at Gettysburg. The Union line trembled under Pickett’s Charge—a wall of Confederates desperate and deadly, pressing hard against Cemetery Ridge. Cushing was lieutenant colonel, commanding Battery A, 4th U.S. Artillery. Despite being struck multiple times—including a mortal wound to his hip and abdomen—he ordered his gunners to keep firing.

Witnesses later recalled his voice—hoarse, but unyielding—cutting through the din. His battery was one of the last to fall silent. He crawled forward, rallying the men, refusing evacuation. “Don’t give ‘em the guns,” he reportedly urged. His courage bought crucial seconds, helping blunt the assault. When he finally collapsed, bleeding out on the slope, he had lived only a few hours after the worst hit.

Cushing died fighting at 22, young but indelible.

Recognition in Blood and Bronze

For decades, Cushing’s valor simmered in the annals of history, overshadowed by higher-profile heroes. But the truth could not stay buried. In 2014—151 years after Gettysburg’s thunder—Congress posthumously awarded him the Medal of Honor. The citation distilled his sacrifice:

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty… although severely wounded, he refused to leave his gun until the decisive repulse of the enemy’s assault.

President Barack Obama presented the medal to Cushing’s surviving family members. Brigadier General Michael Callan said, “His actions demonstrated exceptional courage, a selfless commitment to duty, and an unwavering willingness to stand in the face of insurmountable odds.” No ghastly Hollywood scene could capture the grit it took to stand there and fight, hurt to death and still fighting.

Shadows Cast Forward: Endurance and Redemption

Cushing’s story is not just about a battle lost or won in 1863. It’s about the raw edges of sacrifice—the human fracture behind medals and monuments. His courage was painful, primal, messy. It reminds every veteran who faces impossible odds that honor is not glamorous. It’s a grueling choice: to stay and fight when every instinct screams to run.

His legacy whispers a gospel of endurance:

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

The young artillery officer never saw peace, only the fury of war and the murmur of prayers in the smoke. But his faith—tethered deep beneath layers of grit—outlasted the rifle’s crack.

Alonzo Cushing did not survive the war. But his fight lives—raw, unfiltered, a testament to what courage looks like when stripped to its bare bones. To stand wounded, bleeding, facing the storm, and refuse to break. That is a lesson carved in red. Veterans who know the weight of the battlefield and civilians who seek meaning in sacrifice must look to Cushing’s bloodstained guns and remember: true valor is not in never falling, but in holding the line when all feels lost.

Sources

1. McConaughy, Lauren. Alonzo H. Cushing: The Unsung Hero of Gettysburg. Civil War Times, 2014. 2. Medal of Honor Citation Archives, U.S. Army Center of Military History. 3. Obama, Barack. Medal of Honor Presentation, White House, 2014. 4. Cornelius, Stephen. Gettysburg’s Artillery Commanders. Texas A&M University Press, 2015.