Sep 25 , 2025
The sky tore open with cannon fire. Smoke choked the July air at Gettysburg, 1863. Amid the chaos, a young artillery captain stood firm on Cemetery Ridge, bleeding through a wound that should have ...
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Sep 24 , 2025
He was bleeding out, his arms useless slabs of broken bones, yet Alonzo Cushing kept his artillery battery firing. The air was thick with smoke, the screams of dying men biting into the night. Gett...
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Sep 23 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing’s hands trembled, bleeding through the grip on the wheel of his battery’s caisson. Shells screamed overhead. Bullets tore the air and flesh alike. The relentless hail of fire crushed...
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Sep 22 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing gripped his sword arm with bloodied fingers. Shells screamed overhead. The enemy swarmed—waves of rebels closing in on his battery at Cemetery Ridge. For hours, he’d refused to quit,...
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Sep 20 , 2025
Blood seeps through frozen fingertips. The roar never ends. Captain Alonzo Cushing crouched behind his gun, shards of shell and splinters ripping the air. The Battle of Gettysburg had turned Devil’...
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