Jan 06 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing knelt behind his cannon, smoke choking the air, as bullets tore through the steely haze. His hand, shattered and bleeding, gripped the lanyard tight. The Confederate tide surged forw...
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Jan 05 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing manned his cannon as shells screamed over Cemetery Ridge. Blood pooled beneath his feet, but his hands never wavered from the wheel or lanyard. Wounded, fading, he kept the guns firi...
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Jan 04 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing’s final stand bled into the seared soil beneath a blazing July sky. The roar of cannon fire shook the air; smoke cloaked the fields of Gettysburg like a shroud. Mortally wounded, str...
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Jan 03 , 2026
The cannon roared beneath him, smoke choking the air as musket balls tore through bone and flesh. Alonzo Cushing gripped the wheel of his artillery piece, bleeding from a wound that should’ve ended...
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Jan 02 , 2026
The cannon smoke clouded the dawn sky. A young officer, barely twenty-five, stood firm in the cratered fields of Gettysburg. Bullets ripped past, artillery rounds tore the earth around his position...
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Jan 01 , 2026
They thought the guns would fall silent. Smoke choked the air. Bullets ripped the chaos around him. But Alonzo Cushing did not quit. Not then. Not ever. The Battle That Defined Him July 3, 1863—th...
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