The Last Bugle Call: A Seattle Boy’s Final Resting Place in Manila
Private Allan Carlyle of the Washington Volunteers dies of disease in the Philippines; his comrades in Seattle mourn a life cut short by the very war they helped send.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
A Washington Boy Dead at Manila.
Private Allan Carlyle, of Company I, Washington Volunteers, who had not an enemy in death, lies in that silent city, awaiting some day to meet all our final step. Last night he was laid to rest by his loving comrades. That last long roll over the grave failed to awaken him from the slumber of the dead; and the deep note of the bugle—'tap-tap'—soothed the spirits of the weeping soldiers, though the soul of the departed had long before found a place far more comforting in that bright city which we see only in our prayers.
Although greatly limited by lack of time and material, arrangements were at once made for as fine a funeral as can be given in Manila. With silk flowers, some home-made streamers and a sprig of thistle, three companies laid half the night and the floral pieces which resulted were the most beautiful I have ever seen. With the sum of $100 collected in the company, a metallic casket was purchased and a vault in the catacomb-like cemetery on 'H.' A firing squad under command of Special Allen Smith fired the requisite three 'Voll' and Trooper Buffum sounded 'tap-tap' as a fitting close.
As the remains were lowered to their final resting place, a quartet of Sergeant Roche, Quartermaster Hen E. Shuck and Andrew T. Amos sang 'Nearer, My God, to Thee' with much feeling and pathos.
The funeral services were conducted by Private Robert Hudson of Company I.
It seems hard in us his comrades, who were with him almost to the last, and it must be doubly hard for them, his relatives and friends, for they have our most sincere sympathy in this great affliction, and perhaps they may find some comfort in the knowledge that not one thing could be done or forgotten. What he has spared none but his Maker knows, and then he is in his divine mercy has seen fit to take from us a life far better than the thoughts of us poor mortals to do the wisdom of His choice.
This obituary highlights the human cost of the Spanish-American War, a conflict that brought Seattle soldiers to the Philippines. While modern military funerals are highly standardized and state-funded, this account reveals the improvisation and emotional weight borne by fellow soldiers in 1899, turning a distant colonial outpost into a place of intimate grief for a young man from the Pacific Northwest.
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