Dec 09 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing's Last Stand at Gettysburg and Medal of Honor
Alonzo Cushing stood at the heart of a maelstrom, a small artillery battery surrounded by the thunder of cannon and the crush of Confederate steel. Bullets sliced the air. Blood soaked his uniform. Yet he would not yield—not when every shot from his guns meant holding the line, buying time for the Union army. Mortal wounds tore through him, but his resolve never wavered. That hellish July day at Gettysburg, 1863, defined a soldier’s soul forged in fire.
The Blood Runs Deep: Roots and Resolve
Born in 1841, Wisconsin soil cradled a boy who would rise steeped in a firm sense of duty and unshakable faith. Alonzo Hall Cushing came from a family proud of service—his father, William, a congressman, but more importantly, a man who instilled purpose beyond politics.
Christian conviction shaped Alonzo, a belief that honor was a covenant stronger than life itself. As a young cadet at West Point, he was determined, unflinching in his study of warfare and the higher calling it demanded.
“I have often thought the soldier’s life — apart from its perils, privations, and hardships — is the most honorable on earth,” Cushing reportedly said, reflecting a warrior spirit cradled by faith and duty.
When war erupted, it was no mere adventure: it was a sacred burden.
The Battlefield Furnace: Gettysburg, July 3, 1863
The crescendo of 72 hours at Gettysburg turned on a knife’s edge. Cushing commanded Battery A, 4th U.S. Artillery. Positioned on Cemetery Ridge, their guns hammered at Pickett’s Charge—the desperate push of Confederate men trying to pierce the Union center.
By midday, the artillery position was overrun. Cushing had already been hit twice: a leg wound, worse a bullet to his groin. Most would have fallen back. He refused. Instead, he propped himself against a caisson, directing fire with a focus sharpened by agony and imminent death.
Men around him disintegrated beneath volleys of musketry and shell splinters. But Cushing’s battery roared on, each shell an act of defiance.
“Still in his saddle, seriously wounded, he continued to command until he fell dead at his post,” recorded the official Medal of Honor narrative decades later.
Witnesses described the scene as a skeleton crew of men around Cushing’s guns, fighting as if hell itself depended on those final dozen minutes. His last act was a testament to the warrior’s creed: fight on, no matter the cost.
Honors Etched in Blood: The Medal of Honor
Alonzo Cushing’s bravery echoed long after the smoke cleared. Yet the highest honor waited a century to find him.
On March 7, 2014, nearly 151 years after his death, President Barack Obama awarded Cushing the Medal of Honor posthumously. The citation commemorates a young officer who “voluntarily remained in command despite his grievous wounds and continued to direct his artillery piece until he fell mortally wounded.”
Union General Winfield Scott Hancock called it “one of the most gallant acts I have ever witnessed.”
“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” — John 15:13
This was no empty phrase to Cushing—his sacrifice bore the weight of every man who fought and died beside him.
The Lasting Fire: Legacy and Redemption
Alonzo Cushing’s story is not just Civil War history. It is the skeleton key to understanding courage amid chaos. He stands as a sentinel—reminding veterans and civilians alike that valor is more than moments of glory; it is persistence in the face of ruin.
This is what sacrifice really means. When the world collapses, you fight with every ragged breath left. You hold the line because someone else’s life depends on your shoulders.
His gravesite in West Point Cemetery is a solemn shrine: a reminder etched in stone that the soldier’s true prize is not medals, but the enduring legacy of loyalty, faith, and redemptive purpose.
When the guns cease and the banners fade, what remains is one truth: courage wrung from suffering—an offering for those who come after.
In the darkest silence after battle, Alonzo Cushing’s spirit still whispers.
Stand firm. Fight on. Hold the line.
Because in that final stand, the heart of a soldier beats eternal.
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