Jan 12 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing's Last Stand at Gettysburg's Little Round Top
He stood alone at the guns, powder smoke choking the air, three bullets in his body, every breath a war cry. When the Confederate tide surged, he didn’t falter. Alonzo Cushing kept firing—until he bled out. His last act was a defiant roar against defeat, a final testament written with blood and iron at Gettysburg’s Devil’s Den.
The Battle That Defined Him
July 3, 1863. Little Round Top, Gettysburg. The Union line buckled under the weight of Pickett’s Charge. Major Alonzo Cushing commanded Battery A, 4th U.S. Artillery, perched on the hillside, his guns the last anchor against the Confederate storm.
Like a man possessed, he orchestrated his crew through hell’s roar. When enemy sharpshooters riddled the team with lead, when musket balls pierced his robes and flesh, Cushing refused to yield. Twice he was shot through the legs. Twice he fell. Twice he rose, whispering commands. His horse was killed beneath him, and yet Cushing stayed — on his knees, behind the guns, ordering the bombardment that stalled the rebels.
The ground around him became a slaughterhouse. His wounds deepened, agony blinding his gaze. Still, his hand remained firm on the artillery's rammer. No man grounded the Union line like this. His courage sealed the fate of the battle — and possibly, the war.
Background & Faith
Born August 18, 1841, in Wisconsin, Alonzo was steeped in duty and unyielding principle. West Point sharpened his edge; religion carved his soul. Raised near Milwaukee in a family of public servants, his faith was a ballast in chaos.
His chapel journal entry, years before Gettysburg, held a line he lived to embody: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13) He wore the Bible’s armor as surely as his uniform.
Cushing’s faith wasn’t idle. It burned in his decisions, giving strength when reason told him to surrender. His code of honor demanded sacrifice. God above, man beside, enemy ahead — never retreat.
The Hellfire of Gettysburg
The artillery hill at Little Round Top was the Union's eyeball amid the storm. Cushing’s battery was a centerpiece in a web of defenses. As waves of Virginians surged, his sixty-four-pound guns answered with grating fury.
General Gouverneur K. Warren, the hero who held the hill, noted Cushing’s grit in dispatches: “His efforts were critical. He died a soldier’s death at his post.”
Cushing’s Medal of Honor citation, granted over 130 years after the battle, captures his grit plainly:
“While under a heavy fire of artillery and infantry, remained at his gun until he was mortally wounded.” [1]
His wounds included two rifle shots through the abdomen and one through the leg, but it was the refusal to abandon his position that cemented his legend. His endurance was more than physical—it was spiritual grit, a man’s last stand marking the Union Army’s salvation there.
Recognition Through the Ages
Alonzo Cushing’s Medal of Honor came posthumously in 2014, after decades of advocacy by historians and descendants. His courage faded into the shadows of history but never dimmed from the record books.
President Barack Obama remarked on his valor at the ceremony:
“Major Cushing’s story is one of extraordinary bravery, self-sacrifice, and an unwavering commitment to duty.” [2]
He became a symbol for all who stand with wounds unseen but unbroken. His story reminds soldiers and civilians alike of the cost of freedom.
Other accolades included the Brevet rank of Lieutenant Colonel on the day he died—an honor marking his battlefield gallantry.
Legacy & Lessons—Blood and Spirit Intertwined
Alonzo Cushing’s life is a blueprint of warrior grace—the kind carved from pain and faith rather than mere glory. He teaches us that heroism is not just the roar of battle but the silence after the shots fall, the choice to fight on through the agony.
His courage was not a reckless charge but a deliberate act of love for his comrades and country. The scars he wore deep inside still speak: sacrifice is sacred, and redemption is earned with suffering embraced, not shunned.
“Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” (Hebrews 12:1) Cushing ran that race, limp and bleeding, right up to eternity’s gates.
He bled for a line on a hillside that decided a nation’s fate. But what he really left behind was a lesson engraved in bone and prayer: surrender is never an option when men stand for justice. Valor is never drunk on glory—it is baptized in sacrifice.
This is the legacy of Alonzo Cushing. A soldier who stood, fought, and bled beyond all odds—because freedom demands nothing less.
Sources
[1] U.S. Army Center of Military History, Medal of Honor Recipients: Civil War (A–L) [2] The White House, Remarks by the President at Medal of Honor Presentation Ceremony for Major Alonzo H. Cushing (2014)
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