Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 176, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 August 1918 — WILL RETURN TO UNITED STATES [ARTICLE]

WILL RETURN TO UNITED STATES

REV*. GEORGE W. TITUS HAS BEEN “OVER THERE” SINCE LAST FEBRUARY. The following letter was just received from Rev. Titus, a former pastor of the First Christian church of this place, since and on a year’s leave of absence from his church at Mishawaka. He is with the Young Men’s Christian Association in France. The letter. is dated June 26, 1918, and reads as follows: Dear Bro. Hamilton:

It was a great pleasure to receive your letter, etc. I think you already know how much letters are appreciated over here, and how much they mean to every man who has come across. I have seen many a good, dinner ’thrown to the winds becatfse the mail call happened to be sounded at “chow time.” I have had many a good service broken up because the mail whistle was blown. right in the middle of my speech. Only last Sunday, when I was making the best speech of my career, the sergeant had; mail call. The men did not go, out of consideration for me, but I said, “go to it fellows, school’s out” and they sure “hiked.” The people from back home can do no better service than to write frequently to these men who are so far away from home. I

received a letter from Fred, much to my surprise, and I was very glad indeed to hear from him. He seems to be very cheerful and sure has had some experience. It seems awfully good to get news from Rensselaer, as I have always looked upon the place as my home. It has been a long time since I have bad any news coming from friends there.

I don’t know, but that dear old Rensselaer, would be more than inviting to me yet, but the trouble is I am so happily situated in my new church at Mishawaka, If anything would happen that my work at Mishawaka should close, believe me, I would be only too glad to go back to that good old church. I expect to visit you on my return, which no doubt, will be quite soon, and will be glad to give you a talk on the experiences that have come to me here.

I fancy you were quite surprised at my coming over here to France, in view of the fact that new and great responsibilities had come upon" me in the way of a family. Well, I always felf a desire- to do something that would count. I could not conscientiously preach war sermons, and urge other men io make their sacrifice, and stay at home myself. My whble nature cried out against it, and I never would have had a contented moment, unless I made my response. You do not know how rejoiced I was when the opportunity presented itself to come over in “Y” work. Of course, my good wife had the real struggle, but, as in every case, she proved her metal and made the sacrifice—thus permitting me to do my bit. Let me say that after this thing is over, our good women will be entitled to the palm, for they have risen to the occasion and made every supreme sacrifice. Well, here I am any how, it has been a happy feeling to jne in knowing that I have tried to do a little bit in these days of awful conflict. You will no doubt wish to know something of my experience since coming over, and I shall narrate for you some of the things that have impressed themselves upon me.

Well, I landed here in February, just early enough to get acquainted with the cold, dreary and disagreeable winter that belongs to France. After spending a very few days in Paris, they “shunted” me right up to the “front,” of course, with our American forces. I do not know why they decided to send me to the trenches—perhaps some of the fellows have seen some of my “girations” in the pulpit. Anyhow they concluded that it would not matter much if I did get “beaned.” Perhaps it would be better to explain the plan of our work over here. You know our troops are scattered all over France. Our workers are billed with them. Very few, in fact, ( only fifty of our men were assigned to the trenches, which you see is an extremely small per centage of our entire oversea forces. 'Naturally, I was glad I drew my assignment and with two others that were going to the same place, we became, of course, objects of envy.- Well, we finally started. Now for my first night. Will I ever forget it? No, not if I put Methusalahon on the self. We left the last civilian town in a Ford—one of those little but mighty handy utensils that's helping to win the war. They planted a tin-pot (helmet) on my head, and twisted a hideous falseface on me, that looked like it woulc scare Satan out of Hades itself. They slung a canteen over my shoulder, and wished me good bye—go to jt, and I was’ off. After one hours’ ride, I was landed in what was to be

my station for some time to come. It was once a town with typical French houses—red roof and gray stone. O! how different now. The hand of the despoiler and assasin had been at work. What was once a happy home, was now a heap of suing. What was once a little playyard where they plan and prattle of little children could be heard was now a desolate waste, and wilderness of sorrow. My hut was located in this town within sight of the* German lines. As I began my work I saw how eager the boys were to welcome any man who wanted to serve them. In a few minutes-1 began behind the counter with a long line in front of me waiting to be supplied. Soon came d heavy crash, then an-

other, and another, and then what seemed to be a million of them.- I asked 'a sergeant the meaning ofjt and he informed me that it was a barrage, coming from Uncle Sam’s side. Then it was answered by Fritz, for shell after shell caine. crashing over. It occured to me that all the thunders of the universe, even since the beginning of time had been turned loose upon us. Pretty

soon crash, a piece of shell came tearing through our tent. Yes, I know you are asking whether ! Was scared? Right here let me say that when a man says he is never afraid as he goes in for the first time, he is either a fool or a- coward. Every sane man must feel it. Of course, I was scared; but I went out to look at it. I shall never forget the sight. The heavens were ablaze with the flashing of the guns; and the roar was deafening. I felt a creeping sensation crawling up my back. My bones began to rattle. I felt worse than the day I preached my first sermon. After standing thus for sometime, I gathered my several baskets of fragments together, and said, look here, you spalpeen, what about all those patriotic sernions and speeches you made, get into the game. Well, that was enough and I ♦ soon found myself whistling “Yankee Doodle,” and “Indiana.” that I think I couM have gone clear through the German lines, right up tc Berlin, with nothing but a peashooter in my hand. Confined tomorrow.