Dec 20 , 2025

Alonzo Cushing's Medal of Honor for Gettysburg Valor and Sacrifice

The stench of gunpowder choked the air. Cannon smoke wrapped around the bloodied fields of Gettysburg. Amid the chaos, Lieutenant Alonzo Cushing grasped his dying hand to the wheel of his artillery piece. Surge after surge crashed down on Cemetery Ridge. Wounded and fading fast, he pushed his men to keep firing. Against the tide of death, he refused to yield.

This was no ordinary sacrifice. This was a soul forged in iron and fire.

---

The Making of a Warrior

Born February 3, 1841, in Wisconsin, Alonzo Cushing came from a lineage steeped in military tradition. West Point shaped him into an officer of unwavering discipline and sharp resolve. Faith carved its own space in him, whispered through prayers and quiet moments before battle. His letters reveal a man wrestling with mortality but anchored by divine purpose.

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

In the crucible of the Union Army, Cushing’s honor was not just a pamphlet ideal. It was a code: defend the line, no matter the cost.

---

The Battle That Defined Him

July 3, 1863. The third and final day of Gettysburg. Confederate forces launched their desperate charge—Pickett’s Charge—aimed straight at the heart of the Union line on Cemetery Ridge. Cushing, then a 22-year-old First Lieutenant in the 4th U.S. Artillery, commanded Battery A, a cluster of six cannons anchoring the ridge.

The weight of the moment settled like lead. Enemy infantry closed the gap with every breath. Cushing’s battery bombarded the advancing troops with deadly precision. His commands rang out over the roar of musket fire and cannon blasts.

Wounded early—a bullet tearing through his spleen—he refused evacuation. His blood stained the soil, but his voice stayed firm: “Keep them off. Keep firing.” His men carried out orders with grit, inspired by his iron will. Despite multiple wounds, he reorganized his artillery to cover critical gaps, buying crucial time.

As rebels surged closer, artillerymen fell one by one. Cushing steadied others with grim determination, his blood pooling beneath him. His final moments were spent cradling the mortar, ordering the relentless barrage until a fatal shot silenced him. His last act sealed the Union position.

---

Recognition Long Overdue

Months turned to decades before honor caught up with Alonzo Cushing. In 2014, 151 years after Gettysburg, President Barack Obama awarded him the Medal of Honor—the nation’s highest tribute to valor—for extraordinary heroism at Gettysburg[1].

The citation tells of a warrior who “continued to direct the firing of his cannon, despite wounds, until he died on the field.”

Brigadier General S. W. Crawford, who stood nearby that day, recalled Cushing’s defiance of death: “I had a hand in his burial, and as the body was lowered, I paused and said to myself, surely men like this are the very flower of the Army.”

This was a soldier who counted courage over comfort. Who chose to bleed so others might live.

---

Lessons Etched in Blood

Alonzo Cushing’s story pulses with timeless truths for those who fight and those who watch from home.

Courage does not wait for safety.

He embodied the brutal calculus of sacrifice. The battlefield does not negotiate; it demands. And in its furnace, Cushing found clarity: loyalty to comrades, obedience to cause, faith in something larger than himself.

The scars he left—both physical and spiritual—remind us that redemption often rides on the back of suffering. The soldier’s legacy is more than medals. It’s a call to stand firm when all odds scream retreat.

His life whispers across time: Hold fast. Hold true. Hold the line. For valor is not in survival, but in the refusal to yield.

---

Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord…that they may rest from their labors; and their works do follow them. — Revelation 14:13

Alonzo Cushing died young. But his courage lives eternal. He shows us what it means to bleed for a cause greater than self. To bear wounds not as burdens, but as badges of purpose. That’s a legacy any man or woman who has stood in harm’s way can claim—and one we owe our deepest reverence.

Remember the fallen. Honor their fight. Carry their torch.

---

Sources

[1] US Department of Defense + “Medal of Honor Recipients – Civil War” [2] Harry W. Pfanz, _Gettysburg: The Second Day_ (University of North Carolina Press) [3] S.W. Crawford, _Regimental History of the Fourth United States Artillery_

---

Older Post Newer Post

---