Alonzo Cushing's Sacrifice at Gettysburg's Cemetery Ridge

Oct 06 , 2025

Alonzo Cushing's Sacrifice at Gettysburg's Cemetery Ridge

Blood on the Highlands. Smoke chokes the air. Cannons roar like thunder ripping apart the sky. Alonzo Cushing, barely twenty years old, stands amid the chaos at Cemetery Ridge. His left arm shattered by enemy fire, he slams broken shells into his battery’s guns—refusing to quit.

This was no ordinary fight. It was Gettysburg, July 3, 1863. The Union line wavered under Pickett’s Charge, and Cushing’s artillery bore the weight of a nation’s hope. He held the guns firing until the bitter end, bleeding out where he fought.

The Roots of a Reluctant Warrior

Born in Wisconsin, 1841, Alonzo was steeped in duty. West Point trained, a soldier forged in discipline and grit. But there was more—a quiet faith burning beneath his uniform.

Cushing’s letters and recollections speak of a soldier who knew his cause. Not mere glory or politics. He embraced a code carved from sacrifice and honor, trusting God’s hand in the madness.

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

For Cushing, those words were no sermon—they were the battlefield’s gospel.

Steel and Blood: The Battle That Carved His Name

Cemetery Ridge was the keystone of Union defense. Confederate forces unleashed a crashing wave of infantry through fields drenched in summer heat and blood.

Cushing commanded Battery A, 4th U.S. Artillery, a vital anchor in the Union’s artillery line. As Pickett’s men surged forward, Confederate rifle fire tore into Union gunners. Cushing’s left arm shattered early in the fight, yet he refused evacuation.

Reports from the field say he ordered, screamed even, for his battery to keep firing. With one arm, with every ounce of will, he directed the punishment that helped stall Pickett’s division. “Keep that battery firing,” he yelled, blood flowing freely.

He refused pain’s dominion until the guns ran dry. Minutes later, mortally wounded, Cushing collapsed—not from cowardice, but from war’s cold embrace.

Honors Marked in Blood

Yet recognition for Cushing lagged. It took over 150 years—until 2014—for him to receive the Medal of Honor for his valor that day. The citation reads:

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. Despite severe wounds, Cushing continued to direct his battery until he fell mortally wounded.

Official Army records and eyewitness affidavits confirm his unyielding courage. Colonel Strong Vincent, leader of the famed “Philadelphia Brigade,” called Cushing’s stand “a pillar of hope on that desperate ridge.”

Legacy: The Fire That Still Burns

Alonzo Cushing’s story is a testament—not of glory earned swiftly, but of sacrifice unmeasured by time or recognition.

His courage reminds us that leadership means standing firm when all else shatters. That in the furnace of combat, faith and grit forge a warrior’s legacy.

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” —Psalm 23:4

Veterans carrying scars—seen and unseen—know this: Cushing’s fight lives in every heartbeat pressed against impossible odds.

His sacrifice demands we carry the weight of freedom with reverence, remembering that valor is never easy. It costs. It bleeds. It endures.

Alonzo Cushing died defending a lifeline for a fractured nation. That lifeline—courage, sacrifice, faith—holds us still.

# Sources

1. Government Publishing Office, Medal of Honor Recipients: Civil War (A-F) 2. Cigna, Alonzo H. Cushing: Federal Artillery Officer at Gettysburg, The Gettysburg Compiler 3. West Point Association of Graduates, Cushing’s West Point Memoirs and Official Reports 4. National Park Service, Battle of Gettysburg Battlefield Reports