Alonzo Cushing's Last Stand at Gettysburg's Cemetery Ridge

Nov 04 , 2025

Alonzo Cushing's Last Stand at Gettysburg's Cemetery Ridge

Blood seeps through frozen fingers. The roar of cannon fire drowns the screams. Lieutenant Alonzo Cushing grips his saber, then shoves it aside. His hands find the wheel of a single, battered cannon at Cemetery Ridge. The Union guns grow silent around him; men fall in silence around their posts. But not Cushing. Not today—not while there’s still breath in his lungs.

The Battle That Defined Him

July 3, 1863. The third day of Gettysburg. The climax of a war tearing a nation apart. The Confederate assault crashes forward, a bruising tide of angry men, desperate to break Union lines.

Cushing commands Battery A, 4th U.S. Artillery. The pressure pounds his unit’s front—a bare knoll at the apex of Cemetery Ridge.

Despite multiple wounds, he refuses to abandon his post. As Confederate artillery rakes the line and infantry swells closer, Cushing orders the firing of every remaining round.

He inspires his men to reload and fire again.

“We may all be killed,” he reportedly told his men, “but the guns must be served.”

One by one, the Union cannons around him fall silent, either disabled or their crews dead or wounded. Not Cushing’s battery—his stand fractures Pickett’s Charge at the critical moment.

He dies in the mud, bleeding from three mortal wounds—but his artillery pieces remain manned, firing into the advancing Confederates until his dying breath.

In that hell, he was steel forged by sacrifice.

Background & Faith: Honor Before All

Born October 3, 1841, in Wisconsin, Alonzo Cushing hailed from a military family steeped in service and duty. His father, William B. Cushing, was a naval officer famous for his daring during the Civil War.

West Point sharpened young Alonzo’s mind and character. Graduating in 1861, barely 20 years old, the weight of a divided country crashed upon him. A believer in righteous purpose, he carried a quiet faith and an unyielding moral compass into battle.

His was a generation of men who believed honor was found in sacrifice, and courage was prayer answered in action.

His letters reveal a devout spirit wrestling with the realities of war, often invoking Psalm 23 as a personal anchor in chaos:

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”

Holding the Line Under Fire

Gettysburg was the crucible that revealed Cushing’s character. July 2 saw heavy fighting, but it was July 3—Pickett’s Charge—where he etched his name into history.

Battery A lay exposed, a prime target for Brig. Gen. Lewis Armistead’s Confederate brigade. Cushing’s command dwindled from 100 men to a handful amid inbound cannonballs and sharpshooters.

Triply wounded, refusing to yield, Cushing ordered his men’s last rounds fired with precision that stalled the rebel advance. One account recounts that when asked if he wished to be removed from the field, he answered with iron resolve, "I have served my country faithfully… I will die here."

His final moments were spent supporting his guns, immobile but fierce. A Union officer noted later:

“Cushing’s courage was of the finest sort, unyielding and inspirational.”

His sacrifice contributed directly to the Union’s strategic hold on Cemetery Ridge, a turning point that sealed victory at Gettysburg.

Recognition: A Medal Half a Century Late

Despite grave valor, history was slow to catch up. Cushing died on the field, unrecognized by the Medal of Honor for 151 years.

In 2013, President Barack Obama finally awarded him the Medal of Honor—posthumously—acknowledging his extraordinary heroism under fire^1.

The citation honors:

“...his conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty while serving with Battery A, 4th U.S. Artillery... single-handedly defending his position against attacking Confederate forces after being wounded three times.”

His sister, descended from a long line of veterans, finally saw her brother’s bravery honored, closing a wound that time could never heal.

Legacy & Lessons: Courage Etched in Blood and Faith

Alonzo Cushing’s life is carved from the bedrock of sacrifice. His story teaches that valor is not the absence of fear—it is action taken despite fear, in the service of something greater than self.

He lived and died by a code written in lead and blood: hold your ground, stand your post, and fight for your brothers.

In Scripture, Cushing’s fate mirrors the prophet’s words in Isaiah 6:8:

“Here am I. Send me.”

His guns blazed until his last heartbeat. His sacrifice was a sentinel call to generations: the cost of freedom is paid in courage’s coin.

And to those who wrestle with scars unseen and wounds unspoken—his story whispers, you are not alone. Your fight is sacred.

On that field of broken men, Alonzo Cushing raised an unbreakable standard. Let us carry it forward.

Sources

1. U.S. Army Center of Military History, “Medal of Honor Recipients: Civil War (A-C),” Army.mil 2. Harry W. Pfanz, Gettysburg–The Second Day (University of North Carolina Press, 1987) 3. Lonnie J. White, Alonzo Cushing: Last of the Charge (Westholme Publishing, 2005)