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<em>Frederick Sherwood Porter, Jr.</em>, was born 30 September 1920 in Fairfield, Connecticut to Frederick S. and Ruth Clifford Porter. Fred’s was a strong New England heritage. He used to recall with fond memory his summers in North Edgecomb, Maine, at the family compound with his brother and many cousins. Part of growing up, also, was a paper route and Boy Scouts where he attained the rank of Eagle Scout. Fred graduated from high school in Connecticut and went to Stantons in Cornwall for one year before receiving his appointment to West Point.</p>
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Fred did not learn duty and honor at West Point; this was instilled in him as good, plain, Yankee virtues. Whether a student, an officer, a civilian, or a retiree, Fred’s day was never complete unless he had accomplished something. Frustrations of red tape, or idleness of weekends or vacations, were overlooked only if something were accomplished. Fred was tenacious to a fault—how he could endure—and his fortitude stood him in good stead when he was shot down. Fred had a great intellect; he was a listener rather than a talker and had a keen analytical mind. His sense of humor was a joy, and he would literally double over with laughter when someone was telling a story.</p>
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Fred was attached to the 356th Fighter Group and during World War II flew P-47’s out of England. He was an excellent pilot and obtained the nickname “Fireball” before he was shot down and became a prisoner of the Germans in March 1944. He was credited with destroying one enemy aircraft.</p>
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The first thing Fred did when he came home was marry Jean Gaynor, of Cornwall-on-Hudson, at the Cadet Chapel. In 1948 Fred graduated from Princeton University with a Master of Science Degree in Aeronautical Engineering, and in 1951 he graduated from the Air Force Institute of Technology at Wright-Patterson with a Master of Science Degree in Advanced Engineering Management. Among Fred’s first assignments were Air Inspector, Headquarters Second Air Force, Colorado Springs and student and instructor at Air Tactical School, Panama City, Florida. In July 1956 he was assigned as Assistant Chief, Test Office, Western Development Division in Inglewood, California. In October 1957 he became the chief of the Test Office. Between July 1959 and July 1960 he was a student at the Air War College. In July 1960 Fred became the Titan and Thor-Jupiter Project Officer, Headquarters United States Air Force, Washington. Until January 1964, he was associated very closely with the Titan Program. In July 1964 he became the Deputy Director, Deputy Chief of Staff for Systems, Headquarters Air Force Systems Command. One year later he became the director. In August 1967 Fred was assigned to Space and Missiles Systems Organization, Los Angeles, and in 1969 he became Deputy for Space Defense Systems. He held that position until he retired in February 1972.</p>
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Fred was a senior missileman, command pilot, and recipient of the Distinguished Service Medal, Legion of Merit, the Distinguished Flying Cross with one Oak Leaf Cluster, the Air Medal with three clusters, the Air Force Commendation Medal with one Oak Leaf Cluster, and the Purple Heart.</p>
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Fred never retired. He completed eight very satisfying years as a senior program manager with Space & Communications Group of Hughes Aircraft, and he was in his third career, that of farming. He was already knowledgeable and could hold his own with the local old timers. He had walked the fields, moved pipe, planted, and harvested; he could string barbed wire. This wonderful person still had so much to give—to his wife, who was always at his side, and to his two sons, Frederick S., Ill and Dean, who loved their father so much. They all had been very close through the years. He and Jean had built a large, beautiful home on Star Farms, in San Miguel so they could share their happy life with old friends passing through.</p>
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Fred read Longfellow in prison camp. This is a favorite quote from “<em>A Psalm of Life</em>.”</p>
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“...Lives of great men all remind us</p>
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We can make our lives sublime,</p>
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And, departing, leave behind us</p>
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Footprints on the sands of time.</p>
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Footprints, that perhaps another,</p>
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Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,</p>
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A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,</p>
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Seeing, shall take heart again. . . .” </p>
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Hasta manana, Fred.</p>
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