Just then Capt. Fleischmann came striding along the path. He greeted me with “Hello Daddy. Isn’t this awful?” D Co. had suffered even worse than we, and they had not enough men to carry in the wounded, though they had stripped the outguards as much as they dared. He asked me for men to carry in four wounded that were still at his Co. Hdq. I looked at the men lying on the ground asleep--the only ones available. They had been carrying all that awful night under the heavy shell fire, and I had not the heart to order them to make the trip again. But I woke them up and told them that D Co. had some men lying wounded, and asked for volunteers to take them in. They stared dully for a moment, too tired to understand. Then Joe Levy, who had been on the go all night, dragged himself to his feet, and said “Hell, I’ll go. Come on, fellows.” Nobody wanted to go, and nobody pretended to. But they went. It was one of the finest things I ever saw, and every man that went should have had a D. S. C. No excitement to it though; nothing to thrill the penny-a-liners, so they didn’t get it. When night fell, a detail went out to bring in the bodies of Weidman, Kindt and Laurencell. Cpl. Weidman had been hit right in the waist by a shell; his legs were lying several yards away from his body. It was a gruesome task bringing him and Laurencell in. We laid the bodies, covered with a blanket, near the graves of two H Co. men who had been killed, just off the path at the place when it crossed the good road--about point 368.8-242.3. The night passed comparatively quietly; we got the rations issued, and some water came up too late. Holly, one of the company runners, had twisted his knee badly, and could not walk; so Cole was made runner in his place; and a faithful, fearless lad he was, too. Wednesday, September 25th, dawned a bright fall day. About 10 A. M. Lt. Cressman, the regimental chaplain, came up. Winemiller, Cole, Cheery-O, and Slover went with us to bury our three comrades. We turned over their personal belongings to the chaplain, wrapped each poor mangled body in a blanket, and laid them side by side in the shallow graves--the best we had been able to dig. The chaplain read the burial service, while an occasional shell tore through the air far overhead. Then we filled in the graves. It was hard on our over-strained nerves, and when we got through most of us were crying more or less. We hadn’t as yet seen so much as one of the enemy to shoot at; it was all such a hopeless, dreadful, ghastly business. Winemiller and Cole made three little crosses and set them up at the head of the graves. At 2:30 P. M. a message came up for Capt. Fleischmann and myself to report at once to Btn. Hdq. We set out together wondering what was up; leaving Lts. Hultzen and Schuyler in command. We reported to Major Odom, who was studying his battle map by the light of a couple of candles. Louis Foulkes greeted us on the side and slipped me a couple of cigars.