Alonzo Cushing's Valor at Gettysburg's Cemetery Ridge

Nov 22 , 2025

Alonzo Cushing's Valor at Gettysburg's Cemetery Ridge

When the guns roared on Cemetery Ridge, a young artillery officer gripped his cannon’s wheel, blood seeping through shattered ribs. The enemy surged in relentless waves, but Alonzo Cushing stayed put — refusing to quit, refusing to let the line fall. He kept firing, even as death claimed him piece by piece. This was valor carved in flesh and steel.

Roots of Resolve

Born in 1841, Alonzo Cushing came of age under a sky burdened with more than clouds. West Point forged him in discipline and duty. Raised in Wisconsin and educated in the artillery arts, he carried with him a fierce sense of sacred purpose. This was no mere soldier’s march; it was a covenant. His faith, whispered in prayer and steadfast hope, anchored him through the war’s chaos.

His family’s devotion to country and God found its echo deep in his heart. Cushing’s courage was born from conviction, not bravado. He believed in sacrifice as a calling — a weight to bear for something far greater than self.

The Battle That Defined Him

July 3, 1863 — the bloodiest day at Gettysburg. The Union line teetered under Confederate assault. Cushing’s artillery battery stood on Cemetery Ridge, the crux of the defense. As waves of Rebel infantry closed, he manned his cannon with a ferocity that would become legend.

A bullet tore through his abdomen; later, a shell shattered bones. Pain wracked his body. Nearly pinned down by hostile fire, he refused to abandon his post. Reports say he took the place of fallen gunners, loading and firing his piece alone. Blood ran down his face, yet the cannon never fell silent. The gunstorm blazed until the last Confederate attack ebbed.

Brigadier General John Gibbon later wrote, “No man was more brave or deliberate.” Cushing’s wheel turned with the grit of a man who knew his time was short. As the Bible says, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” (Psalm 23:4)

Recognition Amid Silence

Alonzo Cushing died on that ridge, only 22 years old. The nation honored thousands at Gettysburg, but his heroism lingered unnoticed—until decades passed. In 2014, President Barack Obama awarded Cushing the Medal of Honor posthumously, correcting a historical silence.

The citation captures the essence:

“Lieutenant Cushing distinguished himself by conspicuous gallantry... Remaining at his post and directing the fire of his batteries until he fell, mortally wounded.”

Generals spoke of his “indomitable spirit” and “unwavering courage.” Fellow soldiers recalled a young leader who chose duty over life itself—the true measure of valor.

Legacy of Faith and Sacrifice

Alonzo Cushing’s story is blood and prayer on the hallowed fields where freedom hung by a thread. His sacrifice embodies the cost borne silently by millions — men who answer a call to stand and fight when no one else can.

This legacy demands remembrance beyond medals and monuments. It urges understanding that courage is not absence of fear, but command over it; that true heroism endures in the struggle, even unto death.

Veterans who walk battlefields in service today share Cushing’s resolve. His bloodied hands grip the wheels of history’s cannons, reminding us all what redemption looks like—raw, painful, and fiercely hopeful.

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

Alonzo Cushing laid down more than life; he laid down a challenge—stand firm in your fight. Hold fast in your darkest moments. Because in that crucible, the warrior's soul is forged. And in that forging, redemption waits.