Sep 30 , 2025
Alonzo Cushing’s hands bled. The smoke choked the morning. Bullets tore through the air like curses from hell itself. But his cannon roared without faltering. Mortally wounded, he stayed where most...
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Sep 30 , 2025
Gunfire tore through the night. Explosions threw dirt like ash in the air. Amid that chaos, Sgt. Henry Johnson stood alone, outnumbered, bleeding, fighting ferociously—not for glory, but for the li...
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Sep 30 , 2025
Jacklyn Harold Lucas was not just a boy. He was a storm born in the crucible of war, sixteen years old, storming into Hell to shield his brothers. Two grenades slipped through the chaos, landing li...
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Sep 30 , 2025
Jacklyn Harold Lucas was a boy forged in fire before his time. Just 17 years old, he became a human shield on Peleliu’s shattered sands, hurling himself over not one, but two grenades. Flesh, bone,...
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Sep 30 , 2025
Jacklyn Harold Lucas was fourteen years old when hell came calling. Barely a man, he dove onto two live grenades—twice—smothering their fury with his own body. He bought his brothers time. Blood so...
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Sep 30 , 2025
There was a smoke-choked ridge at Gettysburg where no man should have stood. But Alonzo Cushing, Captain of Battery A, 4th U.S. Artillery, held that line. Despite a torrent of lead tearing through ...
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