Nov 10 , 2025
The cannons roared through the smoke. Men fell like rag dolls. Amid the hellfire on July 3, 1863, Alonzo Cushing stood alone at his battery, blood pouring from wounds no man should bear, screaming ...
(0) Comments
Nov 04 , 2025
Blood seeps through frozen fingers. The roar of cannon fire drowns the screams. Lieutenant Alonzo Cushing grips his saber, then shoves it aside. His hands find the wheel of a single, battered canno...
(0) Comments
Nov 03 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing stood behind his gun at Gettysburg, blood bright on his uniform, every breath a battle against death. The air cracked with cannon fire, smoke thick enough to choke the soul. Around h...
(0) Comments
Oct 29 , 2025
The ground shook beneath relentless cannonade. Smoke choked the air, blood slicked the earth. Amid shattered limbs and falling comrades, a young artillery officer knelt, gripping the wheel of a wou...
(0) Comments
Oct 08 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing gripped the wheel of his artillery piece at Gettysburg, smoke choking the air, hot lead biting into flesh. Wounded three times, blood soaked through his uniform, his fingers clenched...
(0) Comments
Oct 03 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing gripped the wheel of his artillery caisson, blood spilling through shattered hands. The cannon roared again—once, twice—defying the shriek of musket balls and cannonballs tearing the...
(0) Comments