honoring dale faler
by craig null
Faler in Cockpit
(Memorial Day honors the brave men and women who have sacrificed their lives in service to our country. These courageous individuals gave everything to defend our freedoms and way of life. The first national observance of Memorial Day, then known as Decoration Day, was declared on May 5, 1868. Over time it became an important national holiday, and in 1971, Congress declared Memorial Day a federal holiday to be celebrated on the last Monday in May. The following story features Dale Faler of Independence, who was a POW for 15 months during the Korean War. While fortunately, Faler returned to the United States, eventually retiring as a Captain in the U.S. Navy, his story serves as a solemn reminder of the high price of freedom and the debt of gratitude we owe to all our brave servicemen, especially to those who made the ultimate sacrifice. We who have long enjoyed such privileges must never forget all that was forfeited to win them. Memorial Day is a day to reflect on their sacrifice, honor their memory with gratitude, and reflect on the true cost of freedom and the liberty we enjoy.)
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“Freedom makes a huge requirement of every human being. The secret of happiness is freedom, and the secret of freedom, courage. Because with freedom comes responsibility – and a hero is someone who understands that responsibility. When a brave man takes a stand, the spines of others are often stiffened. So in the end, freedom cannot be bestowed; it must be achieved.”
Dale Faler loved God, the United States of America, his family, his hometown of Independence, Kansas – and freedom.
In June 1952, Ensign Faler also loved his lovely bride of just one year, Jean, and he loved protecting that way of life as a pilot and aviator for the U.S. Naval Reserves during the Korean War, serving aboard the USS Boxer (CVA-21).
Beginning with his first combat mission in April 1952, Faler had already flown 19 successful combat sorties over North Korea. As he lifted his AD-4 Douglas Skyraider off the deck of the aircraft carrier in the Sea of Japan during the early morning hours of June 17, 1952, he had no reason to believe that Mission No. 20 would be any different.
But for one of the rare times in his illustrious career of altruistic service – both as an aeronaut and as a civilian – Faler was mistaken.
Nicknamed “The Kid” by the fellow fliers in his squadron – a moniker still conveyed by shipmates when they held a reunion over four decades later – the young commissioned officer was oblivious to the fact that within hours, the 23-year-old pilot would have no contact with freedom for the next 15 months.
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The attack squadron from the USS Boxer headed to the east coast of North Korea. Their assignment involved a maximum-effort strike against a Communist rail supply center at Hamhŭng.
Douglas AD Skyraiders proved to be the “workhorse instrument of choice” employed by the United States during the Korean War. Held in high esteem due to its handling and dependability, many aviators still consider it “the best plane ever made for close-in attack.”
Faler and the rest of the attack squadron flew towards Hamhŭng, zeroed in on the rail supply center, and began their descent.
“However, anti-aircraft fire was extremely heavy that day,” Faler would later say. “We all were receiving intense fire.”
Faler had already made his dive and released his bombs and was starting to pull out of the dive when “my plane exploded” just as he reached down for his dive brakes.
He assumed that his plane was hit by an 88- or 90-millimeter shell from large NKA anti-aircraft installations in the area.
“As things ended up, our unit lost three planes during the day.”
The young Independence aviator was momentarily knocked unconscious by the burst and didn’t regain his senses until his plane had gone into a right-hand spin. The plane’s gas tank had exploded and the tail section was blown off just behind the cockpit. The left wing, canopy and the engine had also been blown off in the blast.
Faler attempted to bail out after the plane had reached about 12,000 feet, but he was unable to get out of the plane until it had fallen to just 500 feet.
“My helmet and goggles had been blown off and I couldn’t see because of the dust and dirt that had been blown into the air by the bombings,” Faler said. “I must have fallen another 200-300 feet before a ray of sunlight hit my parachute ring and I was able to grab it and release the chute.”
The parachute opened just before Faler hit the ground, but slowed his descent enough to escape serious injury, although his right leg suffered a severe cut – either from anti-aircraft flak, or while he scrambled to escape what remained of his plummeting airplane.
“Because my chute was so late in opening, I was definitely all black and blue the next day, especially where my parachute harness was,” Faler said.
It was a near-death experience. But despite the harrowing close call while escaping his disintegrating aircraft, the pilot’s troubles were just beginning.
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Faler landed in a bombed-out building directly in the center of Hamhŭng. He straddled the remnants of the structure, one leg hung over the foundation of the building and the other dangling in the basement.
Before he could even remove his parachute, he was surrounded by a large group of people – including a military policeman with a drawn pistol aimed directly at the downed pilot.
Demonstrating his innate sense of combining self-effacing wit, drollness, and modesty – qualities that would serve the officer well over the next 15 months – Faler recalled:
“Being in no position to do otherwise, I put up my hands.”
The policeman took Faler’s revolver and tied him up with one of the shroud cords from his parachute.
One of the members of his flight group passed over the area at about 1,000 feet looking for him, but Faler said he didn’t think his fellow pilot saw any signs of him.
A second air raid started just as Faler was being taken to the outskirts of town, so the captured flier spent some time in a bomb crater during the raid.
He spent the rest of his first day in captivity in a bunker at the edge of town.
“He had a severe cut on his leg from his plane exploding,” daughter Susan Faler explained. “His captors didn’t care. They didn’t provide him any medical help. They tossed him some supplies and he had to stitch up his own leg.”
While Faler was sitting on a cot in the dugout, anxious about what fate awaited him, the Communists brought in John DeMasters, another pilot from the USS Boxer, whose plane had also been shot down during an afternoon sortie at Hamhŭng the same day.
“Boy,” exclaimed Faler, “am I glad to see you!”
Upon reflection, however, Faler mused, “But under the circumstances, DeMasters didn’t appear too happy to see me.”
“That,” DeMasters would later retort, “left me about as cold as anything. I’d known Faler had gone down in the morning, and the last thing I wanted to do was join him.”
After asking the pilots a few questions, the Communists took the aviators to a makeshift courtroom – but not before the route took them through the midst of a jeering, rock-throwing crowd.
Soon, Faler and McMasters realized the locals were going to hold a pseudo-trial and charge them as imperialist spies.
“They were charging us with espionage and treason,” Faler said. “We were probably facing execution.”
“My father never said too much about his time as a POW,” Susan recalled. “Oh, he would talk about it a bit, but only in generalities. If he did mention anything, he usually just made some joke or flippant remark about it. He spared us all the gruesome details of what really happened.
“For instance,” she added, “In the incident of his ‘trial,’ my father just said: ‘The gentleman who was supposed to be our attorney walks in, and he’s all bandaged up from injuries sustained from the bombs we just dropped. That’s when I knew … this just wasn’t my day.’”
DeMasters later told the Kansas City Star: “I had a Pointee-Talkee with me – a little book with English and Korean phrases you could point to. This guy with his arm in a sling wanted to know what one sentence meant, and I told him:
“I have come here to help the Korean people.”
“That kind of perturbed the guy with the arm in a sling, and Faler, who was sitting back in the pews with a bunch of civilians around him, burst out with a laugh,” McMasters noted. “Some guy with a briefcase full of papers was standing next to Faler and he really lowered the boom – almost knocked Faler cold.”
Faler said the scene became a near-riot at that point, as the civilians attempted to get at the pilots, but the American’s saving grace occurred when several American reconnaissance planes – sent from the USS Boxer to determine the extent of damage the day’s raids had inflicted – were heard overhead in the skies of Hamhŭng.
“They thought another raid was coming, so everyone dispersed,” he said.
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Late that evening, Faler and DeMasters were placed on a truck and left Hamhŭng. Early in the morning on June 18, they arrived at an interrogation center at Yong Hung.
There, most of the questioning was done by a Korean major who slapped Faler several times and ordered him shot on one occasion.
“I don’t know why they didn’t do it,” Faler later said. “But we often remarked that the Koreans and Chinese were most consistent at being inconsistent.”
About a week later, he was transported to another interrogation center at Pyongyang – the infamous “Pak’s Palace.”
Pak’s Palace was basically a cluster of hovels built facing a small court. But it became notorious during the Korean War. Food was scarce and nearly inedible. The work was filthy and hard for the prisoners. Making matters worse, the camp was unmarked and in the middle of a supply dump that was frequently bombed by U.N. forces.
While at Pak’s Palace, the naval officer endured everything from solitary confinement to his own self-imposed eight-day hunger strike.
“The guards thought I was on a hunger strike because of my ‘hostile’ attitude,” Faler recalled, “but it took eight days for the food to become palatable to me.”
But Pak’s Palace was most infamous for being the most exhaustive, intensive interrogation camp run by the Communist North Koreans.
Faler was a prisoner at Pak’s Palace for three months.
“During that time, we were questioned at least eight hours a day, seven days a week,” the pilot said.
“Terror is their chief weapon. They use psychological warfare to try to break you,” Faler remarked. “In Korea, the first interrogations were about technology. But the American military operates on a need-to-know basis. The men have limited technical information.
“After that they asked us questions about our families, and our economy. They were trying to get a handle on the country.
“But they use isolation and try to terrorize prisoners into believing that no one at home cares about them,” Faler continued. “Propaganda is a major tool. The worst part for the prisoners is that for so long they hear only one side – the worse side.
“And they hear that over and over.”
Eventually, the NKA had him on the move again, this time to Pyoktong. But it was only a two-night stay there before Faler was sent to the Camp P2 Annex – the place the officer would be imprisoned for the next year.
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Back in the United States, the agony of uncertainty tore at his wife, Jean Faler, and his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Herman Faler.
The Falers had last received a letter from their beloved aviator on May 28, but it was normal to go stretches without hearing from troops in combat zones.
But on June 18, an early afternoon telegram arrived from Western Union and turned their world upside down:
“I regret to inform you that a report just received states that your son Ensign Dale Faler US Naval Reserve is missing in action since 17 June 1952 while piloting a plane on a combat mission. All available resources are engeged (sic) in locating your son. Please be assured that any further reports received concerning him will be forwarded to you promptly. Vice Admiral Lt. Dubose, Chief of Naval Personnel.”
It would be nearly a year before any of the Falers received even a rumor that Dale might be a prisoner of war rather than missing in action.
“I can’t imagine the anguish that my mother must have felt during that time,” said Cheryl Landwehr, the middle daughter of three girls eventually born to Dale and Jean.
Jean Faler was a strong woman with steadfast faith, and she needed all that and more to endure the uncertainty she was about to face.
Losing a relative to armed conflict results in unbearable grief. But having a loved one who is Missing in Action brings about its own unique form of unmitigated torture. The uncertainty, ambiguity and agony results in implausible feelings of grief, anguish, and distress. The soul is tormented 24/7 from the “not knowing.”
“I’m sure people meant well, but some of them were offering condolences for her loss – when she didn’t know if her husband was dead or alive,” recalled Cheryl. “My mom later talked about how hard it was to have the uncertainty hanging over her head every day. The not knowing was unbearable. It didn’t help that some people – who I’m sure were trying to be sympathetic – but they would say things like ‘so very sorry about your loss.’ Well, he wasn’t ‘lost’ – he was missing – and those type of things were sort of emotional for her.”
Susan indicated her mom didn’t say much about that time, other than mentioning how stressful it was.
“About the only thing my mother said was that she tried to keep herself busy,” Susan said.
“Otherwise, she would get overwhelmed with worry.”
Faler had received his Navy wings and was commissioned an Ensign in the U.S. Naval Reserves, on May 31, 1951, in Pensacola, Fla.
To celebrate, he married Jean later the same day.
But after a quick honeymoon in Pensacola, Faler received orders to join Attack Squadron Sixty-Five based at Santa Rosa, California. His squadron deployed the following February aboard the USS Boxer and headed for the Far East … meaning Jean had only seen her husband for parts of eight months.
And now she had no idea when – or if – she would see him again.
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The Camp P2 Annex – located near Obul and only about four miles from the Yalu River – was regimented and operated by the Chinese Army.
While at P2, Faler and the rest of the prisoners worked from sunrise to sunset; cutting trees and carrying stones; eating two sparse meals of rice a day.
Faler’s weight would eventually plummet to under 100 pounds – far below his normal fighting weight of about 160.
To irritate the enemy sentinels and make things bearable, Faler became the camp’s chief mastermind and instigator in matching wits, perpetrating hoaxes, and pranking the guards at every opportunity.
“One of our favorite games was to hide one of our fellow prisoners,” Faler once offered. “When the guards discovered his absence, they would detail all the available guards to search the mountains for the supposed escapee. Sometimes the searches continued all day and all night.
“Then at the following morning’s muster, the hidden prisoner would come out of hiding and join the assemblage,” Faler added. “When the head count was correct, the guards wouldn’t know what to think. They would be amazed and dumbfounded.”
Susan indicated her father told her he had pulled the trick himself on at least one occasion.
“He told me about digging the tunnel and then hiding all day. I asked him, ‘why did you do all that and not go ahead and try to escape?’” she said. “Instead of describing the horror of what would have happened had he been caught, he simply said, ‘Where was I going to go?’”
Faler is mentioned numerous times in fellow prisoner Duane Thorin’s book, “A Ride to Panmunjom,” albeit through a pseudonym.
One story described how when food was denied the prisoners – an oft-repeated occurrence – Faler lightened the mood.
“At times like this, I’m glad we never get much to eat – we lose so little when they take it away.”
Thorin was definitely a fan of Faler, heaping praises on his alias throughout the book.
“The Navy lieutenant was an inspiration in himself,” he wrote … “a man of integrity” … “the service needed men like him. Well, they were needed other places, too, and you could count on him to serve well, wherever he might be.” … “He and others were men of character, who had stood the test.”
Cheryl said her father would occasionally talk about the shenanigans they pulled, but not the torture that he most certainly also endured on a regular basis.
“He didn’t talk about it very much at all. The few times he did, he mainly just talked about the pranks they pulled, or the things they did to amuse themselves during captivity,” Cheryl said. “He spared us all of the gory details. He never talked about the bad stuff that happened.”
Cheryl did recall a couple of instances when her father let some emotions show.
“He never liked the name ‘Kim.’ Once I mentioned that I liked it, and he seemed unnerved,” Cheryl said. “He eventually told me that one of the prison guards (Thorin’s book described him as a turncoat from South Korea) had been named Kim, and he was mean, so ever since he didn’t like that name.” (Kim II Sung was also the ruler of North Korea at the time.)
“When I was a teenager and would go into my room and lock the door, it would really upset my dad,” Cheryl continued. “It was only years later that he explained it brought back all the emotions about being ‘a barrier’ or being ‘blocked off’ from somewhere or someone. I told him I wish you had confided this a long time ago. I might have cut you some slack and not done it.”
In retrospect, Faler shielded his family from the grisly details of his POW experience for good reason. Reportedly 39 percent of all United States POWs in the Korean War – nearly four out of every 10 – died while in captivity.
The POWs that survived were subjected to cruel, barbaric conditions on a daily basis. When not subjected to psychological warfare, interrogations or deluged with propaganda, men often endured horrific beatings, were placed in solitary confinement or denied food and water.
“I haven’t forgotten it,” he soberly ruminated four decades later. “It’s not as vivid now as it was then or for several years afterward. You have a tendency to forget the bad things that happen to you.”
More than likely, it was rather an attempt to forget how bad it was.
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Faler spent Christmas 1952 with his fellow prisoners at P2.
“It was cold,” he recalled, “But prisoners were actually allowed special privileges on holidays. We could sleep late and stay up late. A group was even allowed outside of the compound to cut down a tree.”
Faler said the Communists attached great propaganda value to letting the prisoners celebrate their holidays – a fact the men quickly utilized to their own advantage.
“We celebrated Washington’s birthday, Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and every other day we could think of until the Reds got wise to us,” Faler chuckled. “They especially liked the Fourth of July, because they understood the celebration was of a revolution.”
The captives even had a Santa Claus, notwithstanding St. Nick’s outfit was recognizable only by a slim piece of red paper pinned to his regular prison uniform.
“Santa came in carrying a gunny sack full of peanuts,” Faler said. “He read several letters, purportedly from the prisoners, asking for Christmas presents such as Marilyn Monroe, or an extra mess kit for a man noted for his appetite.
“It wasn’t the most enjoyable Christmas I’ve ever spent,” Faler admitted, but noted the prisoners were resilient and made the most of what they had, – as they did in every instance. “We tried our best to make it look like a real Christmas.”
Faler said the food was terrible at every compound, but said it was worse when the North Koreans were in charge as compared to the Chinese.
One of the inventions by the prisoners was “burnt rice coffee.”
“We would scorch some rice on the stove, then boil them in water … then drink the water,” Faler explained.
“What did it taste like? Burnt rice.”
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In May 1953 – nearly an entire year since his plane had been shot down – the first report that Faler might possibly be alive and a prisoner of war – reached his wife and parents in Independence. But even then, the report “could not be verified.”
The Falers received a telegram from Vice Admiral J.L. Holloway stating “I have received information that your son … was reported as being in an enemy prison camp. I regret that the authenticity of the report cannot be verified at this time, so he must continue to be carried in as missing in action status” …
But the question of the report’s validity did little to dampen the heightened spirits of Mrs. Faler.
“I’ve waited so long to hear, I can hardly realize it’s true,” Jean told the local newspaper. “I had never given up hope that my husband was still alive, due to the report by other pilots that a parachute was seen opening following the explosion of a plane in the air that day … although it was never certain whether or not it had been Dale’s plane.”
Jean later confided that during one of her lowest points of “not knowing,” a few other wives of servicemen talked her into going with them to see a fortune teller in nearby Coffeyville.
“They told me to go last,” she later said. “The fortune teller used Tarot Cards. She went through the entire deck twice and told me my husband was in a prison camp on the side of a hill with an injured leg. He was hit by an airplane (his leg was injured by his own plane). There are other camps around on the side of the hill.”
Cheryl said after her father was released, her mother confided that she had gone to a fortune teller.
“He had this skeptical smirk on his face, and said, ‘Oh, really. What did she tell you?’ Well, after mom relayed that info, dad’s face changed from a smirk to a wide-eyed, open jaw look of disbelief. He couldn’t believe she had said all of that.”
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After the Korean Armistice Agreement was signed July 27 at Panmunjom, plans were made for the repatriation of prisoners from both sides. Faler was moved from P2 to Kaesong. But while prisoner exchanges began Aug. 5, it was not until Sept. 5, 1953 – the next-to-last day of “Operation Big Switch” – that Faler was finally repatriated.
While never confirmed, some believed Faler’s release was deliberately postponed until the final few groups in retaliation for him having continually been a thorn in the collective side of his Communist captors.
“I asked him about being in one of the last groups to get out,” Susan recalled. “I wanted to know if they were punishing him for the pranks he had pulled while there?
“He just gave me a little grin and said, ‘Nah … they just liked me.’”
One of the sticking points in the long drug-out peace negotiations concerned a large number of Communist POWs who wanted to refuse repatriation. Less than two dozen U.S. captives voluntarily stayed with the Communists.
Still, enough captives had been coerced into making statements critical of America or its allies that lengthy debriefings were conducted of our own troops once they returned to free soil.
“Some people have condemned the POWs for their statements, but everyone has a breaking point. In my particular case, I just didn’t get to it,” Faler would later say. “But I can’t condemn someone else for reaching his.”
When news of a historic POW exchange was made public, Faler’s family was hopeful. That feeling soon turned anxious, however, as group list after group list of those released were void of Faler’s name.
Finally, late in the evening of Sept. 5, 1953, a friend called Jean Faler with the long-awaited news: Dale’s name had been included on a radio broadcast of the final list of prisoners slated to be repatriated.
“Faith was all we needed,” Jean told the Independence Reporter amidst a deluge of additional congratulatory telephone calls. “When I was informed Dale’s name had come over the radio … I was just numb. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry – but as it were, I cried.”
Two days later Faler sent a telegram to his wife from Tokyo:
Arrived safe in U.N. territory and free again. Headed home alive and am feeling fine. Tell the folks.”
Remarkably, one of the first individuals Faler met after walking through Freedom Gate at Panmunjom the evening of Sept. 4 was S-Sgt. William J. Simmons of Elk City, who had attended Independence High School with Faler.
Simmons was among the crew of the plane flying Faler and other released POWs from Panmunjom to Tokyo.
“I was really surprised to see Dale Faler coming up the loading ramps,” Simmons wrote his parents. “I had been watching for his name in the lists, but I had missed a few ‘Stars and Stripes’ so I thought I might have missed his name.
“I was really glad to see him. We had a pretty good visit coming home, but of course I was busy quite a bit of the time … (Faler) is in good shape except for the fact he’s a little underweight.”
Arriving back in the states Sept. 17, Faler was met in Fairfield, California, by his entire family –
his parents, his wife, and his three brothers: Carl, Doyle and Vernon.
On Oct. 4, 1953, the city of Independence held a large celebration at Memorial Hall to recognize Faler and all Korean War veterans.
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Faler continued on active duty as a career naval officer, obtaining the rank of Captain in 1971. His flying duties included carrier and shore-based operations at Jacksonville, Florida; Norfolk, Virginia; and Pensacola, Florida. Shore duties were performed at NAS Olathe, Kansas; NAS Los Alamitos, California; the Bureau of Naval Personnel, Navy Recruiting Command HQ, and the Naval Air Reserve Training Unit, all at Washington, D.C.
During his Naval career, Capt. Faler received the Air Medal, Purple Heart, Prisoner of War Medal, National Defense Medal with one star, Korean Theater with four stars, Sigmund Rhee Citation, Armed Forces Reserve Medal with hour glass, and the Meritorious Service Medal.
Following 24 years of active duty, Capt. Faler retired in July 1973, and returned home to Independence, Kansas.
But he was far from being done serving – he just moved his focus from country to community. Faler was involved in every civic organization imaginable. He was a member of the Mirza Shrine, the Shrine Jokers Unit, the Independence Lions Club, the Experimental Aircraft Association, and was a lifetime member of the VFW.
Faler served seven years as executive vice president of the Independence Chamber of Commerce, was on the board of directors of the Main Street program from 1989-1991, and was selected Outstanding Volunteer for the Kansas Main Street Program in 1990. He also served five years on the Independence City Commission, and was Mayor of Independence for one year, ending in April 1988.
Faler was appointed to the Airport Task Force Committee and was instrumental in securing the arrangement which brought Cessna to Independence.
“My father was all about community. He loved his country, he loved his family, and he loved Independence,” Susan remarked. “They broke the mold when they made him. He was one of a kind.
“One of the things I always loved doing with my father was to help put up the flags at the Mount Hope Cemetery for Memorial Day,” she added. “Those who have not had family members in the military just don’t understand the camaraderie, and how important that flag is, and what it means – especially to those who have been in the military.”
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