Alonzo Cushing's Stand at Gettysburg and Lasting Legacy

Nov 11 , 2025

Alonzo Cushing's Stand at Gettysburg and Lasting Legacy

Bullets screamed through the smoke-choked air. Cannon roared in defiance. Amid the chaos, a young officer stood firm, bleeding from mortal wounds—yet his fingers gripped the lanyard of a cannon, commanding fire on Confederate lines. Alonzo Cushing did not flinch.

The Battle That Defined Him

July 3, 1863. Cemetery Ridge, Gettysburg. The Union line buckled under Pickett’s Charge, an ocean of gray surging forward, desperate to break the soul of the Union heartland. Amid that inferno stood Lieutenant Colonel Alonzo Cushing, artillery chief of Battery A, 4th U.S. Artillery.

The enemy closed, dozens rushing the breached batteries. Cushing refused to yield an inch. Despite wounds to his thigh, chest, and shoulder, he directed his men with iron resolve.

Another officer recalled, “He sat down on the ground, tore open his sleeve, tore open the wound, held his arm up and gave the command to fire” — he knew the guns had to keep roaring, even if he was dying.[^1]

His final act was an unbroken heartbeat of resistance. When Confederate rifle fire cut him down, Cushing was still urging that battery to hold fast and pound the advancing enemy.

Roots of Resolve: A Soldier’s Faith and Honor

Born 1841, Wisconsin soil hard under childhood feet. Cadet at West Point, Cushing was shaped not by comfort but by relentless discipline. The soldier’s path was etched early—blood for land, belief, and brotherhood.

He believed deeply in duty. A devout man, Cushing found strength in faith that no wound or death could extinguish. His father was an Episcopal priest, and scripture was constant company.

“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” (Philippians 4:13)

That verse was more than words. It was the mortar binding his courage. His code: protect his comrades, hold the line, and never falter before evil’s charge.

At the Epicenter of Hell: Holding Battery A

Cushing took command of the battery with deliberate severity. Under his leadership, that artillery unit became the nerve center of Union power at Cemetery Ridge.

When the Confederate wave thrashed forward, the battery faced being overrun. Guns jammed. Men fell. But Cushing’s will was unshaken.

At one point, he was shot through the thigh and chest but shouted orders with a voice raw as the battlefield mud. When the carriage of one cannon was destroyed, he rallied troops to escort it back into firing position.

He fought not for glory but to fulfill a sacred trust—his men’s lives, the Union cause, the future of a fractured nation.

He was killed that day, the last man standing beside an abandoned cannon. “He was the greatest hero of Gettysburg,” wrote General Winfield Scott Hancock, his commander.[^2]

Recognition Carved in Bronze and Blood

Cushing’s valor was recognized decades later. The Medal of Honor was awarded posthumously in 2014—the last Civil War soldier to receive it. The citation honored his “extraordinary heroism” and “undaunted courage” as artillery commander.[^3]

“Lieutenant Colonel Alonzo Cushing’s steadfast leadership and sacrifice on July 3, 1863, exemplify the highest traditions of military service.” — Secretary of the Army John McHugh, 2014[^3]

His story had been buried in history’s shadow for too long. His wounds, his stand, his sacrifice remained a blueprint for courage beyond measure.

Legacy in the Smoke: A Testament to Endurance and Redemption

Cushing’s courage was not a moment frozen in time—it’s a living testament. The weight of leadership, the price of valor, and the raw defiance in the face of death teach us survival is welded in sacrifice.

His blood on Cemetery Ridge is a call to remember: courage is not absence of fear but mastery over it. Faith is not a shield from suffering—but a source of strength within it.

His story, whispered in the wind above the battlefield, asks the living to carry the torch—of honor, sacrifice, and redemption.

In the darkest hours, when the enemy presses hard, when the body breaks and the soul screams, stand. Hold fast. Live free because others stood here first, bleeding for every breath you take.

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

Alonzo Cushing laid down his life so a nation might live. The scars he bore echo in every hero who answers the call today.

[^1]: Washington Post, "Alonzo H. Cushing and the Last Medal of Honor of the Civil War," 2014. [^2]: General Winfield Scott Hancock, official correspondence, July 1863. [^3]: U.S. Army Medal of Honor citation, Alonzo Cushing, 2014.