Suddenly the jets approached from the north at high speed. A whoosh was heard, followed by a loud roar as they flew low over the event, then quickly disappeared in the southern horizon.

“Nothing can stop the U.S. Air Force,” said Brown County Veteran’s Service Officer Greg Peterson.

Not long after that, the jets returned, flying low and loud again from southwest to northeast over the cemetery tribute.

The fly-over was an aerial salute to New Ulm native Niemann, who was shot down over North Korea on April 12, 1953. He remains reported as missing in action (MIA).

1st Lt. Robert F. Niemann

A fly-over, sometimes called a “missing man formation,” is a memorial in memory of a fallen pilot. Two aircraft fly in formation with the flight leader at the point and his wingman on his right.

As the formation flies over the ceremony low enough to be clearly seen, one of the aircraft pulls up out of the formation, while the other continues in level flight until both aircraft are out of sight. The aircraft performing the pull-up is honoring the person who is missing, and it represents their departure.

Niemann was presumed Killed in Action (KIA) one year after he was shot down.

Hope was rekindled in 1993 when evidence consisting of photographs were discovered showing Niemann alive and being interrogated by Soviet officers.

Niemann’s daughter Ann Bakkensen of Portland, Ore. searched for her father and other MIA personnel from the Korean peninsula. At one point, she was president of the Korean Cold War Family Association of the Missing, a non-profit organization organized in 1993 by three daughters of Korean War MIAs.

Peterson read the poem “I Flew” by Brad Baker:

“I won’t remember the 0300 alerts, but only that I flew!

“I will not remember the crew rest in tents, nor recall how cold Arctic winds blew.

“I’ll try not to remember the times I got sick. But only that I flew!

“I will never forget when nature became angry, to challenge my intrepid crew.

“I’ll always remember the fear I felt. And the pride in knowing I flew.

“I’ll remember the sights my mortal eyes saw, all colored in multiple hues.

“Those beautiful lights on cold winter nights, seen only by those who flew.

“God was extremely good to me. He let me touch his face.

“He saw my crew through war and peace, and blessed us with His grace.

“So when I stand on St. Peter’s Gate, and tell him that I’m new, I’ll know he’ll smile and welcome me. Because he knows I flew!”

“What a beautiful day to see our flags fly,” said New Ulm Mayor Bob Beussman. “We have come here to express our solemn gratitude to Lt. Robert Niemann.”

“I understand that freedom is not free,” Bakkensen said. “My dad went to the University of Minnesota for a year before taking a West Point (U.S. Military Academy) appointment in hopes to being able to fly.

“The West Point motto is duty, honor and service. He was self-less when things got hard because it was the right thing to do. Dad, I hope you can hear me and I hope you are proud of me.”

Niemann’s son Bob, of Stillwater, said he felt his father had a strong sense of duty to serve his country in a courageous and self-less way.

“He was flying wingman in a defensive position when he was shot down. There was no radio communication with the other pilot and they became separated,” Bob Niemann said. He read the lyrics to the son “Forgotten Years” by the Australian band Midnight Oil.

Niemann’s brother Richard of Hopkins read a letter written by Meteo, an autistic, young great nephew of Niemann. Mateo used a letter board to write the letter.

A memorial wreath was placed on Niemann’s cemetery marker by family members.

After viewing the Brown County Historical Society’s Niemann exhibit debut that included many family photographs at the Brown County Museum, Bakkensen talked about searching for her father at the museum annex.

“This exhibit has been a dream of mine for several years. Thank you,” Bakkensen said. “My dad was in a four-plan group that flew swept-wing, F-86 Sabres, which like the MIG 15s they engaged, were considered hot, like a Corvette, with more speed and maneuverability than most other planes of that day. They were patrolling “MIG Alley” (the site of the first, large-scale jet vs. jet air battles).”

Bakkensen said her father was shot down deep in enemy territory where reconnaissance efforts were not possible. She read a newspaper story in 1993 that included information that Niemann was captured by North Korean forces and questioned by Soviet intelligence officers.

The story read that Niemann refused to answer questions because it was a violation of international law to interrogate a wounded POW. One report read that he had a leg injury.

“I worked on this for 15 years,” Bakkensen said. “It was a matter of who you knew and how they helped people. I joined the Korea-Cold War Families of the Missing. We met several times at year in Washington, D.C. With veteran’s groups, we did outreach to support family members.”

She told of meeting many government officials including a U.S. Defense Department analyst, even a North Korea government official. Bakkensen said the ultimate fate of her father remains inconclusive.

At one point, she was led to a Russian defense analyst whom she paid to track down a list of pilots believed to have been flying in the area when Niemann was shot down.

“He found the names of four pilots. One was still alive, but living in an area so remote, there was no communication with him or anyone else about him,” Bakkensen said.

She traveled to North Korea in 1998 as part of a joint recovery program with a number of veteran’s service organizations that tried to match DNA to track down MIA/POW information.

“I left information about my father with a North Korean official,” Bakkensen said. “If international relationships get better, maybe I’ll get lucky some day. We need more access to Soviet military archives. I worked with some wonderful people along the way. It’s been a wonderful process.”

fbusch@nujournal.com