Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 9, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 January 1919 — How Former Circus Clown Bore His Message Through Barrage [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

How Former Circus Clown Bore His Message Through Barrage

EVER since we have all been old enough to think behind the things we see we have wondered as we have watched the antics of a circus clown just what kind of a man he really is when out from under the. big tent and moving around-in the everyday-life of man. It isn’t likely, however, that we ever thought of a clown as being of such stuff as heroes are made, but here is the story of a former circus clown who became a real hero in the great war. Charles Klein of Brooklyn, N. Y.. became a inbmber of the American ,expeditionary forces. Early in the spring, before General Foch turned

upon the Germans and began to drive them . back to where they came from, Klein was* detailed to the motorcycle squad as a dispatch rider. One day early in May, Klein was sitting in a dugout watching the big shells as they went screaming and whistling overhead. , But while Klein was watching the bombardment he received orders to -report to the

commanding officer’of the unit to which he was attached. *This officer .gave Klein a message to deliver at once, the carrying of this message ineaning that he would have to ride straight through a hot«. barrage that had just been laid down. Without a moment’s hesitation, with eagerness even, the former clown—a. mighty serious-minded courier now—took the message, mounted his motorcycle and Started on his perilous ride. “The racket sounded as though a hundred boiler factories had broken loose,"-said-Klqlp-later, -

“but I put on. full steam, and the old motorcycle leaped ahead like a kangaroo. “Bing! A big shell busted only, ten feet from niy machine. Bang! Another exploded to the left of me, and I put on some more steam. Then —a. whopuer hissed over me. Just missirrg the top of my»tin derby, but I kept on going. “Say. once I rnrfp a white mule in the circus that no one else could ride—he broke my arm and tattooed me with cuts and bruises. The mule’s name was Snowball, and that animal seemed to have a hundred heels every time I tried to get on her back. But. believe me. one Boche shell is worse than a hundred Snowballs, ‘ It was the hardest work I ever did to dodge the holes in the road. Bing L A shell plunked . behind me and ripped off my back tire. Bing! A piece of shrapnel knocked off my helmet, but never touched me. Then I began to smell mustard gas. My eyes watered so that it was hard for me to see. I don!t know how I did it, but I delivered my. message, and when I wdke up I was in the hospital. “Talk about mules in a circus! Mustard gas is mighty rough stuff. I’m telling you, and it doesn’t help to make speed on a motorcycle, either.” And then, because of his smile and his ability as an entertainer in the hospital, Klein was nicknamed “Sunny Charles.”