Dec 15 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing gripped his artillery piece through the smoke and roar, blood seeping from a wound that should have taken him down. But he stayed—steady, focused, relentless. The cannon never falter...
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Dec 13 , 2025
The roar of cannon fire swallowed the world. Smoke choked the air. Amid the chaos, Lieutenant Alonzo Cushing stood unmoved at his battery, blood seeping through torn flesh, refusing to cease the fi...
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Dec 11 , 2025
Death doesn’t always come silent. Sometimes it screams through the roar of cannon fire, the clash of steel, and the cries of dying men. July 3, 1863—amid the blood and smoke of Gettysburg, one youn...
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Dec 09 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing stood at the heart of a maelstrom, a small artillery battery surrounded by the thunder of cannon and the crush of Confederate steel. Bullets sliced the air. Blood soaked his uniform....
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Dec 07 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing lay in a muddy slit trench on Cemetery Hill, artillery piece roaring in defiance as Confederate shells shrieked overhead. Blood soaked his uniform, vision blurring, but he would not ...
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Dec 06 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing’s hands were bloodied and trembling, yet he gripped the wheel of his cannon like a man chained to fate. The roar of musket fire cracked the air over Cemetery Ridge, July 3, 1863, as ...
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