"Our stalwart leader has paid the supreme sacrifice. Though of average physical stature, he was head and shoulders above us in leadership and in his ability to get results. He led us by sharing all of his experiences with us."

"We shall continue to be led by his example though he is gone. His spirit affirms
'Keep 'em flying' until there is peace and tyranny is defeated. He often challenged us in the vein.' The only excuse for a Bomb Group is to get bombs on the target--results count.'
This can be applied to life for all of us."
 
 

     "I was his chief of Staff and was in the Wing Ops on this night when the division weather officer informed us that the fog might lift at last. Lt. Col. MacDonald was to lead the Wing and I was to be in the second group. The orders kept coming down--we were put on maximum effort--everything that could fly, even training aircraft, whether they had guns installed or not--then we were assigned to lead the 3rd Division. I realized then that if General Castle knew this he would take the lead himself. I told the people in the ops room that if he came in to keep busy and not to volunteer information about the mission unless they were asked a direct question. We all knew what he would do if he heard about the mission and we knew that Mac was a fine capable leader and wanted to go. Then we got the word that the 3rd Division was to lead the entire 8th Air Force on the biggest mission in history."
 

     "Shortly General Castle walked in looking very tired and said his driver had just let him out at ops and he only wanted to say he was home and on his way to bed. He asked if we were stood down again, and I said. No--we might be able to get off. He said, 'Fine. It's about time because we have to stop that breakthrough. I'll see them off in the morning, but right now I'm going to bed."
 
 

     "To our relief, he walked out after saying goodnight. But he didn't walk far, because in less than a minute he stuck his head in the door and asked who was leading the Division. I had to say the 4th Wing. He then came all the way in and asked who was leading the 8th Air Force and I had to say the 3rd Division. He thought a minute and said, 'I'm sorry Mac, I'm going to have to take your place tomorrow. This is the kind of  thing they pay me for, and this is the type of mission I am expected to lead.' He almost didn't fly that day. The next day, I was in the second group and over France I saw a great ball of flame in the lead group."

     In Western Europe in late December 1944, Field Marshal Karl von Rundstedt poured all the German troops he could spare into one last all-out assault against the weakest part of the Allied Battle lines. He was gambling on speed for a clean break-through to the Port of Antwerp. If he succeeded he would split the supply, thus thwarting the rapid Allied advance into Germany.

     South of  Liege, Belgium, the Germans penetrated to a depth of fifty miles. Allied reinforcements rushed to plug the gap, and a great deal of fierce fighting took place. The press called it the Battle of the Bulge.

     For the Allies, the situation looked somber. Rarely did General Eisenhower write one of his Orders of the Day. But three days before Christmas he sent out the message: "We can turn the enemy's great gamble into his worst defeat. So, I call upon every man to rise now to new heights of courage, resolution, and effort....." For every Allied soldier, Eisenhower's message was the guide light.

     Far back of the lines in England, senior generals in the United States Strategic Air Force readied 2,032 heavy bombers to strike for the hard-pressed Allied ground troops. For two years, the United States Eighth Air Force had been pounding German rail centers, manufacturing districts, hydroelectric stations, bridges and other key installations. But this new raid was to include the largest number of bombers the world had ever seen.

     The young officer selected to lead this force had risen from the rank of captain to brigadier general in two years. He was Brigadier General Fred Castle quite, restless, unusual. The men of the Eighth Air Force liked him because he was alert and informal. Castle came to their mess halls and ate with them. The men knew he was interested in them and that he also was eager to hear their ideas. He wanted faster ways of gassing planes, more potent systems for coordinating air strikes, and quicker methods of repairing planes damaged in combat. He was a genius at problem analysis, and his organizational ability helped build the Eighth Air Force into a tremendously effective fighting unit.

     One night, shortly before the new mission, General Castle was working late in his office on papers related to the raid. An adjutant interrupted him to announce that there were callers outside whom the general would enjoy seeing. They were a group of the general's  young friends. English boys from Bury Saint Edmunds, who occasionally came to see him. They liked General Castle because he always found time to see them and because his cheerful air was a kind of reassurance that soon the terrible war would end in victory. Castle told the boys that on December 25 he would give them a real, old fashioned Christmas party.

     On the day before Christmas, Brigadier General Fred Castle walked to his plane. The pilots who saw him knew that great danger lay ahead, because General Castle always flew when the missions were the most hazardous. He flew when heavy ACK-ACK and concentrations of enemey fighters could be expected. The pilots who saw him told one another, "Rough mission coming up." After Castle's plane had taken off, the people tending the airdromes said to one another, "Castle's in the air."

     Castle's awesome air armada, protected by 800 fighters, began assembling in the skies. It was about to take off on the greatest air strike anyone had ever envisioned. Fred Castle had 30-day leave orders in his pocket, but there was nio thought of leave when Eisenhower's Order of the Day had reached Bury Saint Edmunds. B-17s and B-24s from all over England left their airfields and droned into position. Castle was the lead B-17.

     The Red and Blue squadrons were five hundred feet higher than the lead squadron, and high above the three bomber squadrons flew the fighters. The formation extended as far back as the eye could see. The target: German airdromes in the Ardennes.

     At 22,000 feet, Castle and the nine members of his Flying Fortress crew were cold in spite of heavy jackets and furlined gloves. Down through the fuzzy, altostratus clouds, the English Channel looked like an irregular band of blue steel.

     When his plane was over Belgium, General Castle checked the course over the intercom with his three navigators. Thirty-five miles ahead, at 120 degrees, black smoke floating upward marked the city of Liege. At a point slightly northeast of the city, the flight would divide into three groups which would bombard their respective targets.

     Down on the ground, infantry and armored divisions of the First United States Army were hurrying into position to reinforce hard-pressed Allied troops against the onrushing Germans.

     Suddenly, without warning, fire blazed from the right, out-winged moter of Gereral Castle's plane. Its propeller spun to a stop, looking like a bleak sign post. The co-pilot shut down the number four engine and actuated "the fire bottle" but the moter continued to blaze.

     Castle switched on the intercom so that each member of the crew could listen in on his orders. He called his second-in-command ( in the plane just behind), the leaders of the other two bomber squadrons, and the comander of the fighters. His voice was crisp, but lacked any hint of panic. He said, "Purple Leader calling Purple Two, Red Leader, Blue Leader, and Rapier-Echo Eight. Lost number four engine. Purple Two take over and command mission. Will follow at lower altitude. Will try 20,000. Purple Two acknowledge. Out!"

     Castle dropped his plane to 20,000 feet, but it vibrated badly. He pushed the nose of the Fortress downward again. At 17,000 feet, the air speed fell to 130 miles per hour. When Fred Castle leveled the plane and rechecked with the navigator, the ball-turret gunner cut into the conversation and reported to the General that seven Messerchmidts were tailing the general's B-17.

     Red tracer bullets darted by the wings of the Fortress. The radar navigator, strapped in his seat, slumped forward over his table. Blood spurted from four wounds in the neck and shoulders. The tail gunner announced over the intercom, "General, I am wounded."

     The Messerchmidts split. Three of them made passes at the disabled bomber from a 90 degree angle; the other three circled and attacked again from the rear. The B-17 could not try evasive tactics because of its heavy load of bombs and gasoline. Two other engines caught fire.

     The B-17 floundered. General Castle would not jettison his bombs because of the men of the First United States Army below. It would be disastrous to let the bombs fall on American infantrymen.

     Castle wrestled with thecontrols to keep the plane level. The plane shook as if it were coming apart. He snapped over the intercom, "This is it, men. Bail out!"

     The crew chief opened the door and the wind slammed into the plane. The regular pilot appeared at the door and shouted to Major Paul Biri, young bombardier navigator from New Orleans, Louisiana, "I can't find my parachute."

     "It's probably in the cockpit," shouted Biri. At that moment, Biri's hair caught fire and he jumped and floated safely to the ground.

     At 12,000 feet the Messerschmidts roared back. Their bullets set the fuel tanks and oxygyn systems of the crippled plane on fire. Castle's Flying Fortress looked like a flaming coffin. The Messerschmidts turned their machine guns on the men in the parachutes.

     Castle guided the plane toward an open field where it would not injure American infantrymen. Near the ground, the plane went into a spin. It crashed with the noise of the explosion of an atomic cannon.

     Infantrymen rushed to the site, but there was nothing they could do. They found two burned bodies in the wrecked plane. The chared body at the controls bore identification tags reading, FRED W.CASTLE, BRIG. GEN.,USAF.

     That night, General Carl Spaatz, Strategic Air Force Commander, called Washington on the transatlantic telephone, and gave General Henry H. Arnold, Chief of the United States Air Force, the sad news of Fred Castle's death. The Eighth Air Force had helped the ground forces, but at the cost of a fearless pilot, a top leader.

     On January 20th, 1945, Lt./ Col. Beirne Lay, Jr., a friend and noteworthy combat leader in his own right, wrote an article about General Castle which was published in the Washington Post. It was titled, "A Comrade's Tribute to Brigadier General Frederick W. Castle:"

     "The heart is torn of late by almost daily reports of heroes killed in action: Bottcher, Preddy and now Castle. They all seem to have been made from a knightly stamp, gallant and chivalrous, men whom the gods themselves will welcome. Brigadier General Frederick W. Castle, killed while leading and Air Division of B-17's over Europe, lived in Washington. He had earned a rare distinction among the younger Air Crop Generals."

     "Many of these officers have risen quickly to high rank because of their ability as staff officers. Others have won stars as combat leaders. Castle was outstanding both as a staff officer and a combat leader. Although he had been a civilian for eight years when he donned a Captain's uniform in 1942, he promptly shouldered one of the most formidable jobs of the war. He was to go to Europe with General Eaker to help create what is now the Eighth Air Force. Castle, as Air Chief of Staff, was responsible for the planning of an elaborate system of air bases, spare parts and overhaul depots, and supply installations for a huge Air Force not yet in existence. He worked for a year in his key position with brilliant effectiveness. But his urge for flying combat got the upper hand, and he was given command early in 1943 of a heavy bombardment group of B-17's which he often led against the Luftwaffe."
 

     "The 'Flying Colonel' had a propensity for ducking the easy missions. But when the tough missions came through on the Field Order, Castle was in the lead ship at takeoff time." The crews said: "Whenever Colonel Castle led a mission we knew it would be a rough one. But we also knew he would take care of us."

     "Castle must have known that the percentages were accumulating against him. But that was secondary in his mind and heart to giving his last full contribution to duty. Castle's enormous capacity for work appalled his colleagues when he was a staff officer. He flogged himself on beyond the point of normal endurance. Arising from the same real devotion to duty was a sense of self consecration that drove him into the cockpit before a scheduled mission whenever the worst fighter opposition and the blackest flak loomed ahead. No man can say how far it is to the top of the sky. But those who have fought the enemy in the blue upper levels where the vapor trails form, and where the mist between life and death is thin, believe that men like Castle fly on at that high altitude from which none return to earth."