The Last Roll-Call (Get the tissues)

[lelliott19]

"THE LAST ROLL-CALL" - C.B. LEWIS
Just an even hundred men answered "Here!" as the sergeant called the roll on the morning we awoke beside the Potomac. There were young men, middle-aged men, men from the town, and men from the farm. There was an even hundred as we marched away - as we took our first turn at picket - as we first sighted the enemy - as we went into battle for the first time. After the roar of the guns had died away and the dead had been buried, only eighty-nine men answered "Here!" to the sergeant's morning roll-call. The others were covered up in the long trenches, and their loss drew the living closer together.

A few weeks went by, and we stood shoulder to shoulder in battle line again. There were charge and counter-charge; men fell dead and uttered no cry. In the gloomy forest, by the light of a campfire, the sergeant called the roll, and now only seventy eight men answered "Here!" The red earth trenches had claimed more victims and the ties between the living were drawn still closer.

Then came Cold Harbor and the falling back to Malvern Hill. Cannon boomed and musketry crackled all day long and far into the night. Wounded men cursed and groaned as they limped away or fell helpless; men pitched forward with but a single cry and died with their faces hidden in the weeds and grass. After Malvern Hill, the sergeant called the roll again; not the same sergeant as before - another had taken his place - he was lying dead in the thickets at Fair Oaks.

And this time, only fifty-two men answered "Here!"

And so could you wonder that when recruits came to us, we looked upon them as intruders, even though they were good men and true and had come to help us win victories? What did they know of our dead, of our wearisome marches, of touching elbows with us as we waited for the word to charge the flaming guns? Their names were called with ours, and we heard them answer "Here!" But they were only with us; they could not be of us. They had come too late.

And after South Mountain and Antietam, and Second Manassas and Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville and Gettysburg and the Wilderness, the roll was called, and our dead were covered up and other men were sent down to take their places. We shook hands with them and pretended to be comrades, but we had no ties to them. They had not learned war with us. They could not go back to the beginning, - to our first dead. And at last came Appomattox and the surrender, and then peace and the return to Washington. We were almost a full company again as we turned out on the meadows of Arlington for the last roll call. Upward of seventy living men could have answered "Here!" to their names.

"Fall in, Company G! Attention to roll-call."
It was not the sergeant who had called the roll after Fredericksburg, after Chancellorsville, after Gettysburg, after the awful grapple in the thickets and swamps of the Wilderness. It was a new man, - one who had been promoted before his cheeks had scarcely been burned by the southern sun. But he had heard of the ties which bound the old veterans together; he realized what this last roll-call meant to the survivors.

And from the musty archives of the past, he took the roll of the dead, and called:
"Anson - Armstrong - Armitage - Alsdorf!"
No one replied.
"Berry - Bloomingdale - Benson - Barstow - Benham"
No one replied.
"Cary - Carter - Carnahan - Cummings - Comstock"
No one replied.
And so he called, and so the silence of the death-roll grew deeper and deeper, until the living felt a chill creep over them.
"Young - Yeomans - Yager"
No one replied.
"York!"
"Here!"
And so he of all was the sole survivor, the last living man of Company G, the only one who had the right to stand there in that line and answer to the last roll-call. The others - ninety and nine - were cripples at home, or sleeping their last on the hillsides, in the valleys, in the forest and thickets of Virginia.

The line cheered him as he stood apart - the last survivor of the glorious band which had fought in a dozen battles. But he turned away his head and wept.
The Speaker's Garland, Volume 9, Penn Publishing, 1897, page 27. The story was also reprinted in a number of period newspapers.
https://books.google.com/books?id=j...ered" as the sergeant called the roll&f=false

 

[JOHN42768]

Touching story

 

[Chattahooch33]

What regiment is this?

 

[John Hartwell]

Thank you, @lelliott19.

What regiment is this?

I believe it's fiction -- but a sad, beautiful story.

 

[Jimklag]

View attachment 171770

"THE LAST ROLL-CALL" - C.B. LEWIS
Just an even hundred men answered "Here!" as the sergeant called the roll on the morning we awoke beside the Potomac. There were young men, middle-aged men, men from the town, and men from the farm. There was an even hundred as we marched away - as we took our first turn at picket - as we first sighted the enemy - as we went into battle for the first time. After the roar of the guns had died away and the dead had been buried, only eighty-nine men answered "Here!" to the sergeant's morning roll-call. The others were covered up in the long trenches, and their loss drew the living closer together.

A few weeks went by, and we stood shoulder to shoulder in battle line again. There were charge and counter-charge; men fell dead and uttered no cry. In the gloomy forest, by the light of a campfire, the sergeant called the roll, and now only seventy eight men answered "Here!" The red earth trenches had claimed more victims and the ties between the living were drawn still closer.

Then came Cold Harbor and the falling back to Malvern Hill. Cannon boomed and musketry crackled all day long and far into the night. Wounded men cursed and groaned as they limped away or fell helpless; men pitched forward with but a single cry and died with their faces hidden in the weeds and grass. After Malvern Hill, the sergeant called the roll again; not the same sergeant as before - another had taken his place - he was lying dead in the thickets at Fair Oaks.

And this time, only fifty-two men answered "Here!"

And so could you wonder that when recruits came to us, we looked upon them as intruders, even though they were good men and true and had come to help us win victories? What did they know of our dead, of our wearisome marches, of touching elbows with us as we waited for the word to charge the flaming guns? Their names were called with ours, and we heard them answer "Here!" But they were only with us; they could not be of us. They had come too late.

And after South Mountain and Antietam, and Second Manassas and Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville and Gettysburg and the Wilderness, the roll was called, and our dead were covered up and other men were sent down to take their places. We shook hands with them and pretended to be comrades, but we had no ties to them. They had not learned war with us. They could not go back to the beginning, - to our first dead. And at last came Appomattox and the surrender, and then peace and the return to Washington. We were almost a full company again as we turned out on the meadows of Arlington for the last roll call. Upward of seventy living men could have answered "Here!" to their names.

"Fall in, Company G! Attention to roll-call."
It was not the sergeant who had called the roll after Fredericksburg, after Chancellorsville, after Gettysburg, after the awful grapple in the thickets and swamps of the Wilderness. It was a new man, - one who had been promoted before his cheeks had scarcely been burned by the southern sun. But he had heard of the ties which bound the old veterans together; he realized what this last roll-call meant to the survivors.

And from the musty archives of the past, he took the roll of the dead, and called:
"Anson - Armstrong - Armitage - Alsdorf!"
No one replied.
"Berry - Bloomingdale - Benson - Barstow - Benham"
No one replied.
"Cary - Carter - Carnahan - Cummings - Comstock"
No one replied.
And so he called, and so the silence of the death-roll grew deeper and deeper, until the living felt a chill creep over them.
"Young - Yeomans - Yager"
No one replied.
"York!"
"Here!"
And so he of all was the sole survivor, the last living man of Company G, the only one who had the right to stand there in that line and answer to the last roll-call. The others - ninety and nine - were cripples at home, or sleeping their last on the hillsides, in the valleys, in the forest and thickets of Virginia.

The line cheered him as he stood apart - the last survivor of the glorious band which had fought in a dozen battles. But he turned away his head and wept.
The Speaker's Garland, Volume 9, Penn Publishing, 1897, page 27. The story was also reprinted in a number of period newspapers.
https://books.google.com/books?id=jytNAAAAMAAJ&pg=RA3-PA26&lpg=RA3-PA26&dq="Just+an+even+hundred+men+answered"+as+the+sergeant+called+the+roll&source=bl&ots=RKYnUNDmsk&sig=dvQdQvr3SNNoXpEOFKYprIwR9wE&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiQ4f6Lw6jYAhVGRSYKHUkvDqAQ6AEILzAD#v=onepage&q="Just an even hundred men answered" as the sergeant called the roll&f=false

Kleenex is definitely required.

 

[Dom71]

Very moving. Thank you for posting this.

 

[Cavalry Charger]

But they were only with us; they could not be of us. They had come too late.

What an eloquent piece of writing. Thank you for sharing @lelliott19 . As you can see, the above line stood out for me.

 

[David Knight]

Wow. I wonder if the caller knew that there was only one of the originals left?

 

[lelliott19]

What regiment is this?

I do not know. The regiment is not named in the original. Like John said....

I believe it's fiction -- but a sad, beautiful story.

I also believe it is fiction - perhaps written so that it could be applied to every regiment. It must've represented what the veterans really felt. I can imagine/empathize with their feelings - can you?

Wow. I wonder if the caller knew that there was only one of the originals left?

If something like this really happened (and I believe it did - probably with lots of regiments) then the roll caller would have likely know how many of the original members were still present. I am working on the first comprehensive regimental history of the 16th Georgia. One of the first things I did was to compare the roster from the surrender at Appomattox to the original muster rolls. It was certainly a realization for me.

 

[Cavalry Charger]

I can imagine/empathize with their feelings - can you?

Yes.

 

[lelliott19]

What an eloquent piece of writing. Thank you for sharing @lelliott19 . As you can see, the above line stood out for me.

Me too Cavalry Charger. And these....

What did they know of our dead, of our wearisome marches, of touching elbows with us as we waited for the word to charge the flaming guns?

And after South Mountain and Antietam, and Second Manassas and Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville and Gettysburg and the Wilderness, the roll was called, and our dead were covered up and other men were sent down to take their places.

The others - ninety and nine - were cripples at home, or sleeping their last on the hillsides, in the valleys, in the forest and thickets of Virginia.

 

[Cavalry Charger]

The line cheered him as he stood apart - the last survivor of the glorious band which had fought in a dozen battles. But he turned away his head and wept.

 

[Hawkeye Brehm]

View attachment 171770

"THE LAST ROLL-CALL" - C.B. LEWIS
Just an even hundred men answered "Here!" as the sergeant called the roll on the morning we awoke beside the Potomac. There were young men, middle-aged men, men from the town, and men from the farm. There was an even hundred as we marched away - as we took our first turn at picket - as we first sighted the enemy - as we went into battle for the first time. After the roar of the guns had died away and the dead had been buried, only eighty-nine men answered "Here!" to the sergeant's morning roll-call. The others were covered up in the long trenches, and their loss drew the living closer together.

A few weeks went by, and we stood shoulder to shoulder in battle line again. There were charge and counter-charge; men fell dead and uttered no cry. In the gloomy forest, by the light of a campfire, the sergeant called the roll, and now only seventy eight men answered "Here!" The red earth trenches had claimed more victims and the ties between the living were drawn still closer.

Then came Cold Harbor and the falling back to Malvern Hill. Cannon boomed and musketry crackled all day long and far into the night. Wounded men cursed and groaned as they limped away or fell helpless; men pitched forward with but a single cry and died with their faces hidden in the weeds and grass. After Malvern Hill, the sergeant called the roll again; not the same sergeant as before - another had taken his place - he was lying dead in the thickets at Fair Oaks.

And this time, only fifty-two men answered "Here!"

And so could you wonder that when recruits came to us, we looked upon them as intruders, even though they were good men and true and had come to help us win victories? What did they know of our dead, of our wearisome marches, of touching elbows with us as we waited for the word to charge the flaming guns? Their names were called with ours, and we heard them answer "Here!" But they were only with us; they could not be of us. They had come too late.

And after South Mountain and Antietam, and Second Manassas and Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville and Gettysburg and the Wilderness, the roll was called, and our dead were covered up and other men were sent down to take their places. We shook hands with them and pretended to be comrades, but we had no ties to them. They had not learned war with us. They could not go back to the beginning, - to our first dead. And at last came Appomattox and the surrender, and then peace and the return to Washington. We were almost a full company again as we turned out on the meadows of Arlington for the last roll call. Upward of seventy living men could have answered "Here!" to their names.

"Fall in, Company G! Attention to roll-call."
It was not the sergeant who had called the roll after Fredericksburg, after Chancellorsville, after Gettysburg, after the awful grapple in the thickets and swamps of the Wilderness. It was a new man, - one who had been promoted before his cheeks had scarcely been burned by the southern sun. But he had heard of the ties which bound the old veterans together; he realized what this last roll-call meant to the survivors.

And from the musty archives of the past, he took the roll of the dead, and called:
"Anson - Armstrong - Armitage - Alsdorf!"
No one replied.
"Berry - Bloomingdale - Benson - Barstow - Benham"
No one replied.
"Cary - Carter - Carnahan - Cummings - Comstock"
No one replied.
And so he called, and so the silence of the death-roll grew deeper and deeper, until the living felt a chill creep over them.
"Young - Yeomans - Yager"
No one replied.
"York!"
"Here!"
And so he of all was the sole survivor, the last living man of Company G, the only one who had the right to stand there in that line and answer to the last roll-call. The others - ninety and nine - were cripples at home, or sleeping their last on the hillsides, in the valleys, in the forest and thickets of Virginia.

The line cheered him as he stood apart - the last survivor of the glorious band which had fought in a dozen battles. But he turned away his head and wept.
The Speaker's Garland, Volume 9, Penn Publishing, 1897, page 27. The story was also reprinted in a number of period newspapers.
https://books.google.com/books?id=jytNAAAAMAAJ&pg=RA3-PA26&lpg=RA3-PA26&dq="Just+an+even+hundred+men+answered"+as+the+sergeant+called+the+roll&source=bl&ots=RKYnUNDmsk&sig=dvQdQvr3SNNoXpEOFKYprIwR9wE&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiQ4f6Lw6jYAhVGRSYKHUkvDqAQ6AEILzAD#v=onepage&q="Just an even hundred men answered" as the sergeant called the roll&f=false

I love this!

 

[jackt62]

Very emotional, especially the calling of the names.

 

[jackt62]

I just finished watching "The Long Road Home," the story of an ambush of American soldiers in Iraq in 2004. The last scene is reminiscent of "The Last Roll Call" in which the platoon commander doing the roll call which includes 8 members that were KIA, repeats each fallen soldier's name as if hoping for a response.

 

[Drew]

GG grandfather left a written account of the war. He started out in Jefferson, TX in 1861 and made it all the way to Gettysburg and back through the Overland Campaign. In the beginning, he recorded the names of the men who died and then...it stops. He stopped it I am sure because there were simply too many lost.

This thread is a good reminder. Tissues, indeed...

 

[Dom71]

Writings such as these are a not so subtle reminder to us that it's not just dates and campaigns, and names of battles. Their were human beings involved, on both sides fighting and dying for whatever there own personal reasons were. I think when I make my yearly pilgrimage to Gettysburg, and Antietam this year, I may read this again if for no other reason then it seems appropriate.

 

[Burning Billy]

I just finished watching "The Long Road Home," the story of an ambush of American soldiers in Iraq in 2004. The last scene is reminiscent of "The Last Roll Call" in which the platoon commander doing the roll call which includes 8 members that were KIA, repeats each fallen soldier's name as if hoping for a response.

The original post reminded me of a passage in Robert Leckie's Helmet for My Pillow. Leckie served in the 1st Marine Division in World War Two and was a veteran of the battles of Guadalcanal, Cape Gloucester, and Peleliu. He was seriously wounded on Peleliu and evacuated to a hospital ship. When he had recovered sufficiently to be mobile he wandered up to the top deck of the ship and ran into an old friend from boot camp serving with a different unit who had also been wounded on Peleliu. As the two asked each other about the whereabouts of other friends from basic training, the reply kept coming back, dead, killed in action, ect.

 

[mofederal]

What a great story. Thanks for posting it @lelliott19. it was really both touching and enjoyable.

 

[E_just_E]

Sounds like the Bloody 8th (VA) after Gettysburg. They lost 92.2% of their soldiers there