promptness under fire never excelled, the regiment rallied and again opened on the enemy, which lasted but a few minutes, when reinforcements (a brigade from Sheridan's division), came rushing to our left. We recrossed the field, driving the enemy beyond our first position in the timber on the east side of the road, for hours without protection of any kind, at very close range. We had contended for the position of that road, and as the sun closed its gaze by passing behind the western hills we were masters of the situation. Over half of the company had fallen in two or three hours, desperate fighting, not as Greek meets Greek but as Americans meet Americans. Go view the fields, ye good people of Morrow County! Stand by that monument erected by the great State of Ohio to the memory of the 26th, 212 of whom fell in that bloody battle, three-fourths of them undoubtedly on the Vineyard Farm, and then, but a few yards away, see the one erected by the State of Georgia in memory of the 20th regiment infantry, C. S. A., from that state, and read their inscription ("This regiment went into battle with 23 officers; of this number 17 were killed and wounded"), and then read Vanhorn's description. In speaking of that part of the battlefield (the Vineyard Farm) he says: "Mapped upon field and forest in glaring insolation by the bodies of the slain." Chaplain Thomas B. Vanhorn was General Thomas' chosen historian. He superintended the moving of the bodies of the slain from Chickamauga to the National Cemetery at Chattanooga. As daylight faded and darkness began we closed our lines to the right, sent one guard from each company fifty paces to the front and supplied ourselves with a double quantity of cartridges. One cavalryman came to each company, secured their canteens, went to Crawfish Springs, over a mile away, and returned them to us filled with much-needed water. Thus the good Samaritan act was performed by them.