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Each Sunday of 1943, 21 year old Al Mills would slip into a pew in the outside aisle of of the Bluff Avenue Baptist Church in Fort Smith. As a young man from the coast of Maine he felt a bit out of place in the hot climate of Arkansas where people spoke with a drawl. America was struggling with Word War II in the Pacific against the Japanese Empire, and in Europe against the Third Reich of Nazi Germany. Al was a trained military policeman (MP) assigned to the 16th Armored Division that was training at Camp Chaffee in Fort Smith in preparation for going to war. He had been away from his family for two years, having volunteered for the army upon graduation from Rockland High School in 1942. Even though he was over a thousand miles from home, church was a place Al felt at home, and a place he had learned to respect. His army uniform was neatly pressed, with his private first class stripe sewn onto his left sleeve. He carried his bible under his arm. And as he stood to sing, his soft tenor voice blended in with the others. He knew the songs, 
he felt comfortable with the Sunday morning ceremony, but, being a bit shy, he was slow to get to know anyone at the church.
Sybel Butler was singing in the choir. At 18, she was a lovely, stylish girl, paying for her own nice clothes with her job at an insurance agency. She had graduated at 16 from Fort Smith High School because she doubled up on courses and took extra courses in the summer. She loved to read, so learning was easy for her, and since she took clerical courses in high school she was able to get a good job right out of school. She was the oldest of six siblings, all of whom were musical. She loved to play the piano, a style of gospel piano that was a melody in the right hand and a bass - chord pattern with the left. She often accompanied her trio of sisters as they sang in tight harmony for church events and socials. From the choir loft at the front of the Bluff Avenue Baptist Church she was able to look out on the congregation as they gathered. And she noticed that shy but handsome soldier who always came to church alone, the one who was sang like he knew every song by heart, and she made it her responsibility to make him feel welcome.
"Don't be taking after any soldier," her Daddy, Otis Butler, warned. "They only want one thing, to get you into the bushes and have their way with you, and then leave you without a thought about your condition."
"But Daddy, Al is not like that," she pleaded.
"I'm warning you, daughter, don't be taking up with any soldier."
And that was it. There was no talking to Otis. His job was to protect his daughter, and setting limits was the only way he knew to do it.
So for the longest time, Al and Sybel could not date. But, they could walk home from church. And that is what they would do, including warm summer nights after the evening service. Al, ever the gentleman, would walk Sybel home. He would even take her up to the door where Otis was waiting. Sometimes Sybel convinced her Daddy to invite Al in, just to be polite.
Falling in love with a girl gives a young man courage. And Al was not the least bit intimidated by Otis's bluster. Al set about to charm Otis out of his resistance, and did so by telling stories of the Army, of Maine, of his family, of his mother who died when he was only 10, and how his father had raised three boys alone, during the Great Depression, with the help of the First Baptist Church of Rockland. He told stories about being a paper boy, about fishing in the ocean, about sledding in the snow down the middle of Cedar Street, about building and racing his soap box derby in the championships in camden in the 1930's. He told Otis how he worked as an MP in Chicago, hauling drunks out of bars and off to the guardhouse, and walking the Chicago Loop, and going to Chicago Cubs baseball games at Soldiers Field. Though Otis never let on that he was softening to this soldier, he was able to hear from the stories that Al was a man of integrity, grit, hard work, honesty, adventure, and Christian values. Al did not drink, smoke, swear, dance, play cards, or deface his body with tattoos. And those self-imposed prohibitions said a lot about Al's worthiness to be a friend to the eldest Butler daughter, after all, there wasn't a southern boy alive who hadn't succumbed to at least one of those vices, so Al was proving himself to be a cut above.
he felt comfortable with the Sunday morning ceremony, but, being a bit shy, he was slow to get to know anyone at the church.
Sybel Butler was singing in the choir. At 18, she was a lovely, stylish girl, paying for her own nice clothes with her job at an insurance agency. She had graduated at 16 from Fort Smith High School because she doubled up on courses and took extra courses in the summer. She loved to read, so learning was easy for her, and since she took clerical courses in high school she was able to get a good job right out of school. She was the oldest of six siblings, all of whom were musical. She loved to play the piano, a style of gospel piano that was a melody in the right hand and a bass - chord pattern with the left. She often accompanied her trio of sisters as they sang in tight harmony for church events and socials. From the choir loft at the front of the Bluff Avenue Baptist Church she was able to look out on the congregation as they gathered. And she noticed that shy but handsome soldier who always came to church alone, the one who was sang like he knew every song by heart, and she made it her responsibility to make him feel welcome.
"Don't be taking after any soldier," her Daddy, Otis Butler, warned. "They only want one thing, to get you into the bushes and have their way with you, and then leave you without a thought about your condition."
"But Daddy, Al is not like that," she pleaded.
"I'm warning you, daughter, don't be taking up with any soldier."
And that was it. There was no talking to Otis. His job was to protect his daughter, and setting limits was the only way he knew to do it.
So for the longest time, Al and Sybel could not date. But, they could walk home from church. And that is what they would do, including warm summer nights after the evening service. Al, ever the gentleman, would walk Sybel home. He would even take her up to the door where Otis was waiting. Sometimes Sybel convinced her Daddy to invite Al in, just to be polite.
Falling in love with a girl gives a young man courage. And Al was not the least bit intimidated by Otis's bluster. Al set about to charm Otis out of his resistance, and did so by telling stories of the Army, of Maine, of his family, of his mother who died when he was only 10, and how his father had raised three boys alone, during the Great Depression, with the help of the First Baptist Church of Rockland. He told stories about being a paper boy, about fishing in the ocean, about sledding in the snow down the middle of Cedar Street, about building and racing his soap box derby in the championships in camden in the 1930's. He told Otis how he worked as an MP in Chicago, hauling drunks out of bars and off to the guardhouse, and walking the Chicago Loop, and going to Chicago Cubs baseball games at Soldiers Field. Though Otis never let on that he was softening to this soldier, he was able to hear from the stories that Al was a man of integrity, grit, hard work, honesty, adventure, and Christian values. Al did not drink, smoke, swear, dance, play cards, or deface his body with tattoos. And those self-imposed prohibitions said a lot about Al's worthiness to be a friend to the eldest Butler daughter, after all, there wasn't a southern boy alive who hadn't succumbed to at least one of those vices, so Al was proving himself to be a cut above.
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