Al as a Leader of Boys

Christian Service Brigade

When his own sons were of Boy Scout age, probably about 1959, Al started the Rockland branch of Christian Service Brigade, a Boy Scout look-a-like with a Christian theme. Captain Al Mills, and his friend and co-leader, Lieutenant Lloyd Argyle were the leaders of this club for many years in the 1960’s, meeting in the basement of the First Baptist Church on Main Street every Monday evening. The boys were organized by squads, with a squad leader, and with the entire troop knows as the battalion. A typical meeting would consist of boys running around wildly, playing made up games with whatever they had available until the official opening of the meeting at 7 p.m. Then the meeting would be called to order, and the squads would fall into attention in orderly lines, with the squad leader in front. The captain would ask for a roll call, and the squad leader would march forward one step, call out, “All present or accounted for, sir”, salute, and march back into line. When each of the four squads had reported in, the Captain called, “At ease,” and the boys would put their legs apart, with arms behind them, still in line. There would be an opening prayer, usually by Al or Lloyd. Then Al or Lloyd would spell out the evening’s activities, which might include a movie of the World Series, a guest appearance by the pastor playing the piano, a tug of war, a training session on how to apply a tourniquet and to splint a broken leg, a training session on knots, or an awards ceremony for achievement. There might also be some challenge that the squads would compete, maybe a long jump contest, or a poster contest, or making inspirational signs, or practicing passing the baton for a relay race. Then the battalion would break into squad meetings, led by the squad leader, in different parts of the basement. Sometimes the squad meetings included devotions, times for boys to testify, or read parts of the bible together, or have a round of prayer. But usually the squad meetings were to work on a project, such as a “float” for a children’s parade, or to plan a snow sculpture, or to plan some games. Then the squads would reconvene, report out to the Captain, and then there would be the big group activity such as described above, and might include a contest to find a verse in the Bible. The highlight of the evening, though, was game time. Dodge-ball, steal-the-bacon, streets-and-alleys, kick-the-can, and many more. Every week Captain Mills would introduce a new game, and then let the boys decide which of their favorite games to play. Always a new game, always some old favorites. His last game was always a quiet game, where people would sit on the floor in a circle and do something rhythmic, or repetitive, or meditative. This helped to calm the boys and get them ready for “campfire.” At campfire, an electric log “fire” that Al had built was brought to the center of the room, and all the other lights were turned out. This was a time for singing campfire songs, such as “John Jacob Jingle Heimer Schmidt” and “Do Your Ears Hang Low?” and “There’ll be a hot time in the old town tonight,” and the seemingly endless tune, “There’s a hole in the bottom of the sea.” The last few songs would be gospel songs, quiet contemplative songs. Then Al would step forward and tell a short inspirational story, lead the boys in prayer, and end with asking a squad leader to stand and announce: “Batallion, dissssss-MISSED!”

Al wanted the boys to have a healthy, Christian alternative to the pressures of being a wild teenager. So the basement of the annex at First Baptist became home to some other activities aimed at keeping boys involved. There was the BB gun firing range. There was the leather and wood workshop where boys cut scrap leather into patterns and sewed them together with gimp, and made things like moccasins, money pouches, wallets, and knife sheaths. Al bought one of the first Polaroid Land Cameras, the kind that made an instant print, and brought it to the boys so they could take pictures and enter them in contests. He taught them rudimentary photography. David got deeply into photography, buying equipment and chemicals to do his own developing and enlarging. Al taught boys to work with tools, to make projects with wood, cutting wood by hand with coping saws, and making projects to give as gifts to their mothers and grandmothers.

Brigade, as it was called, was associated with other Brigades from other churches around the state, and with Camp Puk-Wudgies on Bunganut pond in Alfred, Maine. This same camp was knows as Camp Cherith (pronounced KAIR-ith) when the girls of “Pioneer Girls” took over for other weeks of the summer. Occasionally there were meetings with these other boys organizations. One was at a camp on the ocean at Sandy Point near Searsport, a camp donated (with restrictions) to Christian Service Brigade. Another time there was a combined track meet at some outdoor race track facility in Old Town. But the big even of the season was Camp Puk-Wudgies, a camp which drew from all over New England, with boys living in about 15 or 20 cabins which were named as letters from the alphabet, strung out in a line just above the waterfront and sweeping hp the hill toward the office cabin. The cabins had little or no electricity, and bunk beds for a dozen boys each, and a bathroom. Up on the hill was the dining hall, and beside it was a parade ground where the squads would assemble each morning for the raising of the flag. Through the woods, through a pine grove, and down at the water’s edge was the campfire. Each evening, flashlight in hand, before sunset, the boys would go down the path and sit on logs around the campfire, a giant bonfire that roared as the boys gathered, sending sparks into the boughs above, settled into a steady burn during the singing of the funny songs, snapped and crackled during the singing of the soft gospel songs, and then glowed as embers during the devotions and the final prayer. After campfire, it was pitch dark, and the boys would pull out their flashlights, if they had any batteries left, and slip back up the trail and into their cabins, for last devotions, bathroom, the playing of Taps, and sleep. Well, we were supposed to be quiet, but a lot of whispering went on after Taps. There was a camp counselor in each cabin, an adult presence to enforce the law.

Camp Puk-wudgies was the source for new campfire songs for the weekly Battalion meetings. It was the affirmation that squads and formations and salutes were cool. It was a place to get your first swimming lessons, and where boys like the Mills boys learned to hold their breath under water, to dive rather than jump, to do the back stroke, the side stroke, the crawl stroke, the dead man’s float, and how to fake holding your eyes open under water. There were water races. There were canoes to paddle. There were times to practice swamping your canoe and then righting it. David got good at that, but Danny never learned to swim well enough to use the canoes. He watched the other guys having a great time, and longed for a chance he never got.

At Camp Pukwudgies there was a craft cabin, for learning to weave gimp into lanyards. You could learn to weave the diamond pattern, the square pattern, and more. Everyone who was anyone wanted to have a gimp lanyard with a whistle on the hooked end. What is gimp? A colored plastic strip, about 1/8 inch wide, thin like fettucine, and as long as you wanted, as it came wrapped on a roll. You got to pick your colors, pick your lanyard shape, and start weaving.

There was also a store cabin. Every day, after lunch, the store would open for an hour, and there would be lines of boys at the window wanting to buy candy and soda, or, as the Massachusetts kids called it, pop, or as the Connecticut kids called it, tonic. I once met a kid there who claimed he was from the Hershey family. He had bags and bags of candy, all you could eat, and plenty to share. He had an unlimited supply. He bought a few friends with that gimmick, for sure.

The Rockland group of Battalion had contests each year to win a free week at camp, and Captain Al Mills found donors for those free weeks. Of course we also raised money to pay for a week at camp. One year I won a free week, and bought myself a week. I went a week before all my friends came, and by the time they were due to arrive, I was so homesick, I went home, and skipped my second week at camp, the week I probably would have had the most fun.

Dad offered to be a camp counselor, taking his week of summer vacation from the cement plant to volunteer as a counselor. Mom, loyal and inventive and wanting to follow her family to camp volunteered to work as a cook in the dining hall. So that was a great year for the Mills family, all of us were at camp for the same week.

At camp we had track meets and softball games. We learned to do the running broad jump, the standing broad jump, the high jump, sprints, and long road races, not to mention unconventional races like the three-legged race, the sac race, and the wheelbarrow race. We saw our Dad hit long, long, long outs with the softball. He always hit an “almost” homerun, but someone always seemed to catch it. I thought there ought to be some reward for hitting the ball so far and high. We played capture the flag over great wide areas, the entire camp complex was the battleground for capture the flag. David would always tell about how far he had traveled through the woods to circle around to gain an advantage.

Bugle calls were the signal for assembly. So all of us who could toot a trumpet wanted to be the bugler for the week. “Reveille” to wake up, “Mess Call” at chow time, “To the Colors” to raise the flag, “Assembly” to call the boys to squad formation, “Tattoo” to lower the flag, and “Taps” at lights out. The calls took on great meaning, and to this day the sounding of Tatoo or Taps is sentimental, the sounding of the mess call is exciting. There was always someone better at trumpet than a Mills boy, but more than once I got to substitute for the regular bugler. I knew all the bugle calls, and several more that I had learned from books. David had a real bugle, and used it as the chief crossing guard in 6th grade to assemble his squad. Dan got to play Taps at Memorial Day with the high school band.

Al Mills always felt that his mission was to help the boys who were less fortunate. He took special interest in boys who grew up in families without a father in the house. He took special interest in boys who grew up in large families, the kid who got lost in the shuffle. He wanted to help the kid who was too poor to afford summer camp, or whose father worked shift work and was never home during the evening. He always sought out the kid who was disadvantaged somehow, and pulled him into the club. He made sure that kid got into the publicity photo from the newspaper. He made sure that kid got recognition in front of the entire squad. He gave him leadership opportunities. He rounded up assistance from church members to get the kid boots, or a jacket, or a Bible. He made sure the kid came along on camping trips, and had a tent to stay in. He didn’t have to say anything, he just lived his belief that every kid was important, especially the ones that needed a boost.