Talmadge Floyd has been dead for more than 70 years, but his life — and the spirit in which he gave it — hasn’t been forgotten.

At Veterans Memorial Park Saturday, well-wishers honored Floyd, along with all the other local soldiers, through the years, who have laid down their lives for their country.

The solemn pre-Memorial Day ceremony, which drew a large crowd to the veterans’ pavilion at Sportsman Lake Park, highlighted the sacrifice of the many by pausing to reflect on the sacrifice made by one individual.

In Floyd’s case, the sacrifice was great indeed.

Talmadge Floyd died in Germany, in the waning days of World War II. His death affected a great many people. At age 23, Floyd left behind his wife Audie [Cagle], 4-month-old son Dwight, grieving parents, and a total of nine surviving siblings.

He was a product of Cullman County. He lived in the West Point community, and had gotten his schooling there. He had grown up on a farm.

Talmadge, an Army infantryman, also left behind a good friend and brother in arms: longtime Cullman resident Charlie Glover, who was with Floyd in Germany on a February day in 1945 when a German bullet killed him.

The tragedy, as well as its circumstances, would haunt Glover for the rest of his life.

“Charlie — he was in the foxhole with Talmadge,” said Bill Floyd of Cullman — Talmadge’s brother and a lifelong friend of Glover’s. “Just prior to Talmadge’s death, the sergeant had told the two of them to swap places, because one of them had a different type of weapon than the other.

“As soon as they changed places, basically, Talmadge was struck and killed.”

Floyd died instantly. His family did not know, for a long time, that he had died — they only knew that he was missing in action. Even after learning that their son had been killed, they didn’t know how he died; whether he had suffered; whether he had endured exposure in a brutal west German winter.

Glover sustained an injury the day after Talmadge died. But he recuperated, and eventually ended up safely back home. “And one of the first things Charlie did, once he was home, was to come to my mom and dad and tell them that no amount of medical attention could have saved Talmadge; that he died instantly,” said Bill Floyd.

“That really helped mother and dad’s feelings: to know that Talmadge had died with minimal — if any — suffering. It helped that Charlie had given my parents a peace of mind in eliminating the doubt they’d had about what had happened. Charlie and I grew to be very good, close friends throughout his life, and it just made a strong bond between him and me.”

Bill Floyd was 4 years old when his brother died in the war. Many of his memories of Talmadge translate as vivid snapshots:

At home in Cullman, holding Dwight — Talmadge’s infant son — as Talmadge drove the three of them along in his truck.

Impressions of his parents’ anxiety about Talmadge leaving to fight in Europe.

The scene in downtown Cullman when the buses came to take his brother, and other local recruits, away from their families and homes.

Though he was very young when all this happened, Bill Floyd still feels its emotional weight. It’s hard for him to share his memories without pausing to let his feelings run their course.

“He very much loved being at home, and being with his son,” Bill said. “His son was 4 months old when Talmadge was drafted. I just remember how attentive he was to Dwight.

“My dad farmed. Talmadge lived and worked at an adjoining farm, and he also worked at N.C. Arnold Lumber Company. And I remember dad working up there, too — working up there until Talmadge left for the Army, just so he could spend that time with him before he departed.”

At Saturday’s ceremony, the Cullman Veterans of Foreign Wars Post 2214 presented Talmadge’s sister Margaret, along with the rest of his family, with a commemorative flag honoring her brother.

VFW member Ken Brown narrated the events of Talmadge’s heroism before greeting Margaret with the flag.

“He left Cullman in September of 1944, went to basic training, sailed to Europe and arrived on the front line in December of that year, just in time for the Battle of the Bulge,” said Brown. “He was a rifleman in the 358th Regiment of the 90th Division. On Feb. 9, 1945 — just 90 days before the end of the war — Talmadge was killed as his unit attempted to penetrate the famous Siegfried Line into Germany.

“His friend from Cullman, Charlie Glover, was with him when it happened. When Charlie returned home, after the war, he was able to comfort the family, who had agonized and wondered about Talmadge suffering.

“…The 90th Division was in the thick of the action. When general [George] Patton was asked to recommend ten percent of his command for award of the Presidential Unit Citation, he singled out the 90th Division as the only entire unit to be so recognized.”

Honors for such valor are fitting and proper — the very least a grateful nation and its people can give in exchange for a freedom paid in blood.

Memories, though, tell the story of who these honored men really were. They intimate just how much these men meant to friends and loved ones; to the families waiting and praying for their soldiers’ safe return.

Above all, memories and anecdotes reveal these soldiers’ human side. They evoke not heroics, but rather personality and character. They remind the living that these men were people, before they were heroes.

One of Bill Floyd’s older sisters, Margaret Stallings of Cullman, was a little closer in age to Talmadge, and her well of memories necessarily runs a bit deeper than those of her younger brother. She remembers Talmadge — the oldest of all the Floyd children — at his liveliest; his most vital.

“He was a typical, young, kind of wild kid and teenager, like most young men are at that age,” she said Saturday. “We lived out at West Point — really, at the foot of what’s called Hog Mountain. And our house was built kind of like a shotgun house. In the middle of it we had a long hallway that kind of turned into a dining room.

“Well, let me tell you what kind of brother I had: I was still young when this happened, but one day, Talmadge got on a horse and rode it through the middle of our house. That’s the kind of kid he was — a lot of energy and a lot of fun.”

Did he get in trouble? Did the parents come down hard?

“Nope,” said Margaret, smiling.

* Benjamin Bullard can be reached by phone at 256-734-2131 ext. 145.