Mar 08 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing gripped the cold iron of his cannon’s breech. The shell casings were slick with blood, but his hands never wavered. Around him, the thunder of musketry and artillery shook the earth....
(0) Comments
Mar 07 , 2026
He bled where freedom hung in the smoke. Blood ran cold, but his hands never shook. Amid the screaming cannon fire of July 3, 1863, Alonzo Cushing refused to quit. Three wounds. Three times the ear...
(0) Comments
Mar 04 , 2026
The cannon thundered. Smoke choked the air. Blood slicked the earth beneath his boots. Alonzo Cushing gripped the wheel of his artillery piece. Bullets tore through his flesh, but still, he would n...
(0) Comments
Feb 28 , 2026
He bled in the mud. Slowly. Relentlessly. The artillery guns roared behind him while he knelt, clutching his shattered leg, yet his eyes never wavered from the enemy’s approach. Smoke choked the ai...
(0) Comments
Feb 27 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing’s last stand was a crucible of fire and blood. Amid the shattered earth of Gettysburg’s Cemetery Ridge, with Union lines broken and Confederate shapes pressing in, Cushing — cannon c...
(0) Comments
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...
(2) Comments