|
|
|
Jewish World Review Oct. 18, 2007 / 6 Mar-Cheshvan 5768 ‘My son, the Navy Captain’ By Jonathan Tobin
Meet the doctor's son who leads the USS Harry S. Truman into action
Yet the sound that seems to garner the most attention on board the USS
Harry S. Truman is, ironically, among the softest they will hear: the
even tones of the voice of Capt. Herman "Herm" Shelanski.
"I've never heard him even raise his voice," confides one of
Shelanski's officers, who admits that this low-key style is hardly
typical of naval behavior when it comes to the person in charge. "But
he's always in command of the situation. He's the sort of a person who
makes you want to meet or exceed his expectations."
As another officer put it, referring to the captain's average height
(approximately 5 feet 7 inches), "His physical stature isn't so big.
But his presence is huge. Everyone on board feels it."
Shelanski, a Philadelphia suburb native, is a veteran of 27 years of naval
service, during which he has risen from a young aviator piloting E-2
Hawkeyes to now being the commanding officer of one of the Navy's elite
weapon systems: a Nimitz-class nuclear aircraft carrier, whose air wing
of more than 80 tactical and support aircraft (including squadrons of
the latest F-18 Hornets and Super-Hornet jets) can project America's
strength around the world.
Shelanski, who is married and the father of two teenagers, took command
of the Truman in the spring of this year. In the Atlantic in September,
some 200 miles from its home port of Norfolk, Va., the Truman will put
to sea and sail to the Persian Gulf, where its aircraft and pilots will
be flying missions providing support for U.S. troops fighting in Iraq.
Shelanski's role is to be, as he put it, "mayor of the city" — of a
floating airport that's home to more than 5,000 sailors and aviators.
As long as the Empire State Building is tall, the Truman is an enormous
vessel whose maze-like compartments below decks can take sailors weeks
to find their way around.
While its namesake's trademark "Give 'Em Hell" slogan is emblazoned
around the ship as a symbol of its crew's fighting spirit, another of
the 33rd president's favorite sayings is embodied in the conduct of the
man who commands it: "The Buck Stops Here."
"There's a lot of different leadership styles and a lot of pressure to
be who you are not," says Shelanski. "But I'm a believer in being who
you are and treating people with respect."
A GRANDSON OF IMMIGRANTS
When asked what would prompt the son of a prominent doctor, who was a
Bar Mitzvah at Har Zion Temple and a graduate of Lower Merion High
School in the 1970s to join the Navy, his answer is simple: "I always
wanted to serve my country," says Shelanski. "And a lot of that has do
to with being Jewish."
Military service was hardly the norm for middle-class Jewish young
people in the 1970s, but Shelanski says that the message of pride and
patriotism in America was a big part of his upbringing.
On his desk in his spacious and luxurious in-board cabin (used mostly
for dinners and ceremonies) are pictures of his father, Morris
Shelanski, who served as a doctor in the Navy during World War II, and
a cousin who was a naval aviator. Their example of service was and
remains important to the captain.
'A TEMPORARY JOB'
Yet a career in the Navy was not really in his plans when he left the
area to attend the University of Colorado, where he graduated in 1979.
A self-described "outdoor kid" with an itch to fly, the following year
found him at a naval-aviation officers candidate school from which he
emerged with the newly minted rank of ensign. Two years later, he
earned his wings and was flying E-2C Hawkeyes.
"But it was only going to be a temporary job," recalls Shelanski. "I
was going to do it for a while, and then go and be a doctor," following
in his father's footsteps.
What changed his plans?
"I was having too much fun to stop," the captain acknowledges. "I
really enjoyed what I did. The intensity, the excitement and the thrill
of it was what kept me in."
And the fact that he was very good at his job.
It's clear from his record that, from the start of his career,
Shelanski was selected by his superiors for special responsibilities.
Flying the Hawkeye — the Navy's tactical airborne
warning-and-control-system platform — made him "the quarterback" of air
missions.
During his first sea deployment, he says that he found himself on the
spot during a confrontation with Soviet aircraft that were attempting
to track his carrier during a Cold War exercise in the Pacific.
As a lieutenant junior grade, he decided to change his air wing's plans
to meet the potential threat while in the air. Shelanski radioed the
change of plans down to the commanding admiral on his ship and waited
for the answer to chutzpah with baited breath.
After a pause, he says, the response came back. "Roger that" — terse
approval that was all he needed.
"It was a big thrill," he says.
From there, it was a steady progression of promotions as he rose to be
a commander of a Hawkeye squadron, stints as executive officer of an
aircraft carrier, the USS Ronald Reagan, commander of a fighting
command ship, the USS La Salle, as well as various naval staff
positions in the United States and at NATO.
Along the way, he picked up a Master of Science in electrical
engineering and space engineering from the Naval Postgraduate School in
Monterey, Calif., and studied at the Armed Forces Staff College, as
well as receiving nuclear-power training. His duties have taken him to
various parts of the globe, including postings in Italy and Bahrain, a
place that was no less foreign to him than some parts of the United
States and which differed greatly from his Northeast upbringing.
Physically fit at the age of 50, though he doesn't fly very much
anymore, he still works out daily in the ship's gym and planned to
compete with crew members in physical-fitness tests.
KEEPING THE FAITH
Though he knows that anti-Semitism was commonplace in the military in
his father's day, Shelanski says that he has discovered little
prejudice, though a lot of ignorance, about Judaism and Jews.
"It's a little bit more responsibility," he says of being the first Jew
a sailor may meet.
"I always understood and loved Judaism. To me, being Jewish means
asking how do you treat the stranger because we were strangers,"
explains Shelanski.
His philosophy has always been to "be open and honest, to care for
people and to take care of people. The secret of success as a leader is
to understand people. I got that from my parents, especially my dad."
Despite the difficulties of being cut off from all the usual Jewish
connections, he found ways of holding on to who he was while staying
close to his comrades.
In one instance, he recalls, while serving with a squadron in a remote
location where all were away from their families on the holidays, he
served as a yarmulke-wearing Santa Claus to cheer up his friends at a
Christmas party. Under all circumstances, he says, "I wanted to say who
I was."
And when the only food available at stops at Navy bases was pork, he
says, non-Jewish friends usually found him a piece of chicken or
something else that he could eat, showing the closeness and mutual
respect that is part of naval life.
While keeping Judaism was tough as a junior officer, it's much easier
for a naval captain.
On board the Truman, Shelanski not only has his own private stores of
food, but has hosted kosher seders in his quarters for the crew. He
also regularly attends Friday-night Shabbat services in the ship's
chapel along with the approximately 12 to 15 other Jewish crew members,
a group that includes a cross-section of the crew: officers, aviators
and enlisted personnel who say the Sabbath service provides an oasis of
rest amid the stress of their 24/7 workdays at sea.
The centerpiece of Jewish life on the Truman is a Torah kept in an ark
donated by the chapel of the Naval Academy. The scroll, which was
dedicated in a formal ceremony this past June, originated in Lithuania,
where it was saved from the Holocaust. At the ceremony was another
Torah, the one that Israel's first president Chaim Weizmann gave as a
gift to President Truman and which was on temporary loan from the Harry
S. Truman Library in Independence, Mo.
For this affiliated Conservative Jew, the Torah dedication was "very
emotional," as well as something that brought both the Norfolk Jewish
community and the Navy closer together.
As was the case on the Reagan, where he also helped bring a Torah to
the chapel, most sailors didn't know what it was.
"I wasn't sure what the sailors would think," admits Shelanski. "But
the response was tremendous. There wasn't a dry eye in the place as
non-Jews felt the importance of it. I've found that people liked to
learn about Judaism. And Christians see it as a way to go back to their
roots."
Indeed, faith can be important in a profession in which lethal danger
is commonplace.
That was brought home to the crew of the Truman even before their
deployment in Iraq, when one of their Hawkeye radar planes crashed into
the ocean after a takeoff at night during an August training session
for a young pilot.
Shelanski, who was asleep in his other, much smaller cabin just off the
bridge, where he spends most of his time, reports that he was at the
helm directing the search-and-rescue efforts within seconds.
The search lasted 36 hours, but it was rapidly apparent, he says, that
the plane and the three people on board would not survive. What they
found, he adds, was "heartbreaking" — wreckage and helmets, but no
bodies.
It was the first crash of a Navy Hawkeye in 14 years. And it proves to
Shelanski that the worst thing that can happen on board is
"complacency," something he continues to fight.
"Carrier duty is very unforgiving of mistakes. We have to learn from
our mistakes," concludes the captain.
In the Gulf, the Truman's planes are scheduled to fly as support for
soldiers and marines. Some of the crew are also slated to be on the
ground, serving as liaisons between the troops there and the ship to
coordinate missions.
Everyone and everything must be constantly checked and re-qualified, he
explains. While in the Persian Gulf, he says, "we know the pilots are
going to be flying into harm's way. There's always a risk. The better
we train, the better our chance of success."
HISTORY LESSONS
"Most sailors and officers here are aware of the history. We know what
happened when another nation [Nazi Germany] that made threats of
annihilation was ignored. The sailors are happy that we're standing up
to these people, and hopefully, our presence will deter them."
As with Iraq, he defers to civilian leaders to make the decisions about
what to do. Still, Shelanski says that he hopes diplomacy and a
coalition of Western powers will cause Iran to step back from the brink.
But, he warns, the Iranians "should understand that we have more than
enough to stop them."
The crew of the Truman hopes to return home to Norfolk after several
months at war sometime next summer. When it does, the first order of
business for its captain will be to attend the Bat Mitzvah of his
daughter, which has been postponed from earlier in 2008 to a date when
he may be available.
That's all part of the job for a naval officer who has taken his family
all over the world many times and dreads the long separations that sea
duty demands.
As to his own future after his term as captain of the Truman ends (he
is scheduled to leave it in early 2009), Shelanski is uncertain. Some
in the Navy consider him a serious candidate for promotion to the rank
of admiral.
Though flattered by the idea, he says that is a decision that will have
to be made by his family. He's not certain that he wants to uproot them
again, which would be a certainty if he is promoted.
"We'll figure that out when we get there," he remarks.
But before the homecoming that he's already looking forward to, duty in
a war theater awaits.
With that in mind, would he want his own children to follow in his
footsteps?
His answer is in the affirmative.
"I'd like my children to serve," at least for one hitch, he says, so
they can give back to his country as he has done.
"But that makes you think about what's important enough to send my
[children] out to get killed," notes the captain. "Unfortunately, there
are times when we must do that."
Noting that all aboard the Truman are volunteers, he also says that
"they're all someone's children."
Most on board tend to speak of themselves as "warriors," but their
captain is aware of the cost of combat.
"I understand as a father what it means to see the consequences of
war," he says. "I know my sailors. They're not numbers. They're people.
My goal is to bring everyone here home."
Every weekday JewishWorldReview.com publishes what many in Washington and in the media consider "must reading." Sign up for the daily JWR update. It's free. Just click here.
JWR contributor Jonathan S. Tobin is executive editor of the Philadelphia Jewish Exponent.
Let him know what you think by clicking here.
© 2007, Jonathan Tobin
| ||||||||||
