Jan 27 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing stood alone in that hellish hail of iron and smoke, his cannon belching fury while his blood streamed down the hill. Wounded through the chest, his fingers gripped the ramrod like li...
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Jan 25 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing lay mortally wounded amid the hail of cannon fire, the roar of musketry burning like hell around him. Yet, finger stiff on the lanyard, he ordered his battery to fire again—unyieldin...
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Jan 23 , 2026
He bled where most men would have fallen. Amid the storm of musket fire and cannon smoke at Gettysburg, Alonzo Cushing stood defiantly—wounded, gasping, refusing to yield the guns that anchored the...
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Jan 21 , 2026
Blood runs like the rain on July 3, 1863. Cannons scream, dirt airborne like fireflies in the dusk. Amid the Hell of Pickett’s Charge, a young artillery officer, Alonzo Cushing, clings to his gun. ...
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Jan 19 , 2026
Bloodied but Steal-Eyed—The Last Stand of Alonzo Cushing His hands clenched the wheel of a cannon, the roar of Gettysburg’s hell swirling around him. Smoke thick as death, shells screaming overhead...
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Jan 17 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing gripped the cold iron of his cannon. Around him, the world burned—a cyclone of musket fire, screaming men, and smoke thick enough to choke the soul. His leg shattered. Blood poured d...
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