Thomas Brainerd, a Civil War veteran, is an enthusiastic old soldier and a firm believer in discipline. His household, which consists of his married daughter and his beloved grandson, Dick, is run on strict military rules, and if Dick objects to the early arrival of bedtime it needs only a word from grandpa on the subject of a soldier's first duty to bring the youngster to strict obedience. As Decoration Day approaches, Brainerd and his C.A.R. comrades meet and discuss the plans for the annual parade in the village. But Brainerd has been falling of late and, in spite of the doctor's efforts, seems to be getting weaker as time passes. The eventful day arrives and Brainerd, dressed in his best is ready to take his place in the line with his comrades, but as he takes his beloved rifle from its place his weakness is so apparent that his daughter finally prevails upon him to give up his idea of marching in the parade. He will watch from his chair in front of the house and insists that his daughter and little Dick take their places in the parade. Reluctantly they leave him and report his illness to his waiting comrades. The march to the soldier's monument is begun. As the stirring sound of fife and drum reaches his ears, Brainerd starts up, rifle in hand, and there comes to him a vision of battle. He is in the midst of the charge, the bursting shells, the cheers, the groans all come back to him. Only a moment and it passes away, but the sound of fife and drum are real, for there, passing before him, is his little band of comrades on parade. They cheer the old man as they pass on their way. At the monument the roll is called and many a name is left unanswered, but little Dick cannot remain silent when grandpa's name is called and bravely steps out and answers in his stead. Brainerd, too, has answered roll-call, but it is one of long ago, the vision comes back to him as if but yesterday as he steps out and answers to his name. At the monument they now fire a salute for their departed comrades. It sounds to Brainerd like the booming of "The Sunset Gun." He sees again the sinking sun of lung ago, the officer gives the command, the gun booms out and slowly the stars and stripes flutter to the ground. The vision disappears and Brainerd sinks exhausted into his chair. The exertion has been too great. There now floats to him from the monument the sounds of taps. How many times has he beard it in the stillness of the night! He sees it all once more, the bivouac at the end of the day's fighting. The trumpeter steps out. How sweet the notes sound upon the night air! The last call. All lights out. With a smile he sinks back and closes his eyes. His light is out, he has answered the last call. His returning comrades find him serene but cold, and reverently cover him with the tattered old battle flag.