Feb 25 , 2026
Explosions shook the hill, artillery shells tearing the sky open. Blood stained Alonzo Cushing’s hands—yet he gripped the wheel and fired on. His men fell around him, smoke choking the air, but the...
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Feb 24 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing’s final stand was the sound of thunder against a fury no man could shut down—not even death. His hands, swollen with pain, still gripped the wheel of a cannon as Union lines shattere...
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Feb 23 , 2026
They tore through Cemetery Ridge like devils determined to break the Union line that July day in 1863. Amid roars, smoke, and blood, Lieutenant Alonzo Cushing stood his ground. His artillery crew f...
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Feb 22 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing stood death’s edge behind a cannon. Bullets tore the air. Men dropped like trees around him. His hands, broken and bleeding, gripped the wheel. The orders were clear: hold the line o...
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Feb 20 , 2026
The roar of artillery filled the hellish July air. Smoke choked the hilltop. Blood slicked the ground beneath fading blue and the shattered Union flag. Amid the chaos, a young officer stood his gro...
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Feb 19 , 2026
Bloodied hands gripping cold iron, a single cannon roars defiance as the blue lines break and fall. Mortally wounded, Captain Alonzo Cushing keeps that artillery piece firing. The roar does not fad...
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