Alonzo Cushing's Last Stand on Little Round Top at Gettysburg

Dec 12 , 2025

Alonzo Cushing's Last Stand on Little Round Top at Gettysburg

He stood alone amid relentless cannon fire, blood pouring from his shattered leg, yet still barking orders to his gunners. The caisson behind him burned, yet he would not falter. Alonzo Cushing died clinging to his artillery post on Little Round Top, holding open the doorway of Union victory with his own life.

The Son of Wisconsin

Born March 1841, Alonzo Cushing was a scion of a family steeped in service and conviction. Raised in Wisconsin, his upbringing was marked by a stern devotion to country and faith. West Point molded him—a chosen instrument forged in duty and discipline. His was no blind patriotism; he believed war was hell, but hell wrought for a cause just and true.

Cushing’s faith was quietly fierce, rooted in scripture and the conviction that sacrifice bore fruit beyond the grave. Like many who answer the call to arms, he carried a solemn code: protect the men beside you, fight with honor, and never yield ground—not to the enemy, nor to despair.

The Battle That Defined Him

July 3, 1863.

The third day of Gettysburg. The Union line on Little Round Top was fracturing under the weight of Confederate assault. The 4th U.S. Artillery, Battery A, was crucial ground—the thin red line holding a jagged hill that would decide the battle, perhaps the war.

Cushing’s battery was under fierce siege. The enemy closed in, muskets cracking, cannons thundering. At a critical moment, a Confederate attempt to overrun the guns threatened to turn the tide.

Amidst the chaos, Cushing was struck multiple times: a bullet shattered his right arm, and another blasted into his leg, mortally wounding him. Still, he refused evacuation. Comrades reported him yelling orders, dragging himself closer to the cannon to keep firing.

“Lieutenant Cushing was heard by eyewitnesses to scream—‘Give ‘em hell! Don’t you dare give up that gun!’” wrote Lieutenant Colonel Freeman McGilvery[^1].

He stayed until he died—his hands tied with the reins of the horses, a man who chose duty beyond pain. His battery fired until seized by the enemy, but the position held, buying crucial moments.

The Price and the Honor

Cushing’s death was a wound felt deep across the Union Army.

In 1874, he was posthumously awarded the brevet rank of Major—a nod to valor recognized but delayed.

It was not until October 2014 that Cushing’s ultimate sacrifice was fully honored with the Medal of Honor, the nation’s highest military decoration.

The citation captured the essence of his courage:

“While commanding the regiment of artillery on Little Round Top, he gallantly maintained his battery under severe fire from the enemy who were making a determined assault upon the position; although seriously wounded, he refused to leave the guns, continued to fight and inspire his men with his daring and heroism until he fell from his wounds.”[^2]

Fellow officers spoke of his steady hand and resolute calm in the storm. Historian Ed Bearss called him "the most heroic artillery officer to die at Gettysburg"[^3]. A man who faced annihilation but made a stand that shaped history.

Legacy Etched in Sacrifice

Alonzo Cushing’s story is yanked from the depths of hell to light.

What does a man’s last stand mean when mortal pain suffocates hope? For Cushing, it meant purpose beyond the self. His sacrifice locked a hill that kept a Union flank alive. It’s a reminder that frontline courage is often quiet, raw, and paid for with blood.

His life testifies to the brutal calculus of war: no victory is cheap. Behind every line held, every cannon still firing, a man might have fallen, broken and bleeding, but unbowed.

A soldier’s creed written in suffering and loyalty. To never surrender what you hold sacred—not just ground, but honor itself.

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” — John 15:13

Cushing’s scarred hands reverberate today. To veterans carrying invisible wounds, to civilians grappling with sacrifice’s cost—his story whispers: There is a cause worth the pain. There is redemption in steadfast hope.

Keep the faith. Hold the line.

[^1]: The Gettysburg Battlefield: A Study in Command - Edwin B. Coddington [^2]: Medal of Honor Citation, Alonzo Cushing, U.S. Army (October 2014) [^3]: Edward C. Bearss, Cushing of Gettysburg: The Story of a Union Artillery Commander