Oct 05 , 2025
He bled at the wheel of a cannon, grasping the reins even as death tore through his chest. Balls whistled past. Soulless bullets spun dirt at his feet. Alonzo Cushing held the line until his final ...
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Oct 04 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing gripped his cannon’s wheel. Blood slick on his hands. Bullets hammered past like death knocking at the door. Wounded—deep in the gut, bleeding fast—he refused to quit. His orders wer...
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Oct 03 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing’s hands trembled, blood mixing with dirt as cannon smoke thickened the July air at Gettysburg. Wounded three times, he refused the aide’s desperate plea to leave—his battery a linchp...
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Oct 03 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing gripped the wheel of his artillery caisson, blood spilling through shattered hands. The cannon roared again—once, twice—defying the shriek of musket balls and cannonballs tearing the...
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Sep 29 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing’s blood didn’t just stain the frozen earth of Gettysburg—it baptized the resolve in the heart of every man who stood with him. Shrapnel tore through his flesh. Fingers clenched the h...
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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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