The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1898-09-04
THREE ROUNDS BLANK"
Burial of n Brave American BOY on tn
shores of Manila Bay.

Burial of n Brave American Boy on tn
shores of Manila Bay.
From the New York Sun.
Cavite, July THE quavering wall OF
a hfe! Curious time for a mar to be play
ing a hfe. / o'clock in the afternoon. It's
coming down the navy yard street. and
other instruments with It. odd for a band
TO be out now. with the rain pouring
down as II Cavite were the cistern for all
the gutter pipes OF the heavens. They
point OF accountability. Now 1t is plain.
They re pl laying the funeral march. Some
poor fellow has answered his last roll call
and they are going to bury him In the
new national cemetery over on the DESC
late sand spit of Point Sangiei-
Down the street comes the little pro-
cession, TO the slow time of the mournful
march, and heads for the dock where lies
the gunboat Leyte. waiting 10 carry the
body and the funeral party across to the
burial place. The sullen sky hangs just
over the treetops and sends down its I'M
ceasing food upon the sodden ground.
which refuses to soak up more and turns
II off In rivulets to the sea. For three full
days IL has rained his way. and the
earth is sick with the deluge.
At the dock the band halts. The musi-
clans are wet through now, and it Is not
wise to send more men than are neces-
sary over to the grove to risk themselves
in the terrific rain. They stand there play
ing the march, and the sobbing tune rises
and falls as the little funeral party goes
by to the ship. A new flag covers the
body. it's bright red and blue in sharp
contrast with the gray, leader day. Be
hind the body march the dead mans
comrades, the members of his company,
with arms reversed. AT the ships side
they halt. The body is taken aboard.
washed-out wreaths of overs lie on the
dripping nag. The captain Is In his blue
uniform with white gloves. His sword
swings to his side.
Two squads from the left for the ffring
party" he says.
The two squads fall out and climb
aboard the little steamer. The rest fall In
behind the silent band and march back to
their quarters.
The rain drives down with undiminished
force. 1t carries through under the Swn-
ing over the quarterback and splashes
against the soaked flag and bedraggled
flowers. The chaplain climbs aboard with
the captain and the bugler. and away
the Leyte goes. Under the dreary sky, In
the pelting rain, the little procession,
much smaller now than at the start
forms again on the pier by the cemetery,
the captain, the chaplain and the bugler,
the body under its new nag. bright as II
swapping in the breeze and the gay sun
light at the head of its company swing
ing into battle, then the firing party,
with trailed arms. The last mournful
march is soon ended, and by the open
grave the chaplain bares his head to the
sweeping storm.
Man that is born of woman lie Of few
days and full of trouble. He CON-
eth up like a flower and is cut down.
. . Earth to earth, dust to dust, ash
es TO ashes
Slowly the body is lowered into the new
made grave, still under the beautiful fiag.
The bareheaded musician lifts his bugle
TO his lips, and across the dismal waste
OF sand and over the bay 10 the quarters
OF his comrades there float the notes of
taps" the last call for Sergeant Watson.
The firing squad falls in. With one I'M
pulse the fingers move the triggers. re-
peat and fire again. Three rounds,
blank" the salute TO death.
Lights out for Sergeant watson! On this
point the Spaniards had their best battery
Here they made their best fight that glo-
rious day when Dewey overmastereo
them. Here many a brave man died de-
Tending the sovereignty this brave young
American came over TO attack. Sid by
side they lie I'm the sleep that shall not be
broken until the last great reveille sum-
mons us all TO final muster.