Jan 12 , 2026
Smoke chokes the morning sky over Cemetery Ridge. The sound of death thunders around Captain Alonzo Cushing’s artillery battery. His leg shattered, blood pouring down like a river, but his gun roar...
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Jan 12 , 2026
He stood alone at the guns, powder smoke choking the air, three bullets in his body, every breath a war cry. When the Confederate tide surged, he didn’t falter. Alonzo Cushing kept firing—until he ...
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Jan 11 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing never flinched as bullets tore the sky overhead. The ground shook beneath him, cannons roared, men cried out in agony. But he stayed planted, fists steady on his artillery’s wheel. W...
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Jan 09 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing’s hands gripped the wheel of his cannon as bullets tore the summer air. Blood slicked his fingers. A bullet ripped open his abdomen, yet he stayed—refusing to let the guns fall silen...
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Jan 08 , 2026
Alonzo Cushing’s hands didn’t falter. Blood poured, eyes blurred, but his cannon roared defiance atop Cemetery Ridge. Bullets tore flesh, artillery shells exploded, chaos unfurled all around. Yet, ...
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Jan 07 , 2026
Blood on the guns, smoke in the air, the world collapsing at Gettysburg. Alonzo Cushing stood his ground. Twice wounded, the youngest artillery officer held open the gates to defeat with cold steel...
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