WWII soldier and former POW Albert Drapeau of Seekonk died a few weeks ago at 85 at his winter home in Florida; a memorial service was held Friday at the Seekonk Congregational Church, where items from his past were on display.

The Providence Journal / Steve Szydlowski Steve Szydlowski

In the tradition of Congregational churches, the sanctuary was clean and light. Friday, by 10 a.m., the pews were full. Several hundred had gathered before God here in Seekonk to say goodbye to Albert Drapeau.

It was mostly family and friends, of course, but I came, too, because a part of what America is today was given by soldiers like Drapeau.

Some might feel it would be more accurate to call him a humidification engineer, which is how he supported his wife Eleanor and their six children. But a shaping part of his life was that he fought, and sacrificed, in World War II. It is why, in saying farewell, Drapeau’s family wanted to honor him as a soldier. And so, a few hundred yards away, by Seekonk’s Vietnam Veterans’ Memorial, an honor detail team from the National Guard would soon report for duty with rifles and bugle in hand.

The Rev. Joy Utter stepped to the dais of the Seekonk Congregational Church. She told the attendees that all had gathered to celebrate the gift of Albert Drapeau, who was home now.

He was 85.

He died last month in Daytona Beach, where he and his wife spent part of each winter. But the memorial service had to be here. Drapeau lived most of his life only a mile away, in Luther’s Corners. He even married a girl from the neighborhood.

He was known for losing his glasses, running marathons in middle-age, loving the Red Sox, and like so many in his generation, seldom talking about what happened in the war. When he got home, it was time to simply focus on embracing the life he had fought to defend. For decades, he said almost nothing about his time as a prisoner of the Germans. When they were younger, his children did not even know he was a POW.

But people spoke of it today.

Drapeau was not an officer, which is apt, because his son Mark would say that Al was an infantryman at heart. He was the guy in the trenches. At the church, there was a table full of the medals he won, among them, notably, the Bronze Star. He had been offered a Purple Heart, but declined because he felt his injuries weren’t worthy of it, at least compared to his fellow soldiers, many of whom were killed.

His children took turns speaking to the congregation about their father. He taught them to love the flag, and their country. He also told them to never waste food, a philosophy he took from his time in POW camps. His healthy weight before the war was 165. One day, on a camp work detail, he noticed a large farm scale, and stepped onto it, and it read 125.

He was with the First Army, landing in Normandy six weeks after D-Day and joining the fight through Europe. Later in life, he did share some of those moments. A high point was August 29th 1944, when he marched in the American victory parade down the Champs Élysées in Paris. That day, Drapeau thought the war was all but over.

But that October, he was in the battle of the Hurtgen Forest, near Schmidt, Germany, which over weeks saw more than 6,000 U.S. casualties — greater than at Normandy. Along with many others, his unit of 300 was surrounded. They faced mortars, mud and machine guns until their ammunition was all but gone. Drapeau was among the 100 or so from that unit still alive when taken prisoner in November. By then, they were so short of supplies they were drinking rainwater and scavenging. As POWs, they had even less to eat: a sixth of a loaf of bread per day, and a small bowl of what the Americans called “grass soup.” Drapeau wasn’t freed until May 1945.

A few years ago, he was among many interviewed by my newspaper in a special about the war. This is what he said: “To this day I detest the sight of food being wasted. The sight of hungry people, particularly young children, bothers me. Whenever possible I volunteer some time to help the hungry in soup kitchens. Having been hungry for only a few months was an experience I will carry with me forever.”

All four of his brothers served in the military as well, two in World War II. One was a medic in the Pacific who saw things that left him with coping issues throughout his life.

Albert Drapeau never spoke of such burdens. But his children knew he often had nightmares.

The eulogies painted a portrait that might be familiar to many whose loved ones are of that generation. Albert Drapeau valued simple things. He was never into flashy cars or fancy clothes. His daughter remembered how, when she was a runner in high school, her dad never missed any of her races. A son said that every time he looks at an American flag, he will think of his father.

The town’s Vietnam Veterans’ Memorial is in a small park off Fall River Avenue called Seekonk Commons. The family chose it for Drapeau’s military honors.

A small wood table had been set up by the granite monument. A folded flag sat upon it. As the attendees walked the few blocks to the site, I approached the waiting honor guard. First Sgt. Albert Medeiros was the team leader. He said that the passing of the World War II generation, as well as Korea, has accelerated to a point where he works this detail six days a week. He added a surprising statistic. This day, he had 12 appointments.

When everyone had gathered, Drapeau’s son Mark said it was appropriate that they would be standing by a monument listing soldiers who fell in Vietnam. His dad, he said, would want to reflect honor upon others who sacrificed.

Across the Commons, Sgt. Medeiros called his team to attention. At his order, they fired three volleys. The bugler played taps. Then the detail marched forward, and as a memento from a grateful nation, presented a flag to Al Drapeau’s widow, Eleanor.

That ended it. I headed to my car.

When I looked back, all were still there, at this spot reflective of both Drapeau’s life and his service.

It seemed they did not want to leave.

mpatinkin@projo.com