Paul Galanti: A True American Hero

From June 17, 1966, when his A-4 Skyhawk was shot down during his 97^th and final combat mission until his release on February 12, 1973, Paul Galanti served his country as a prisoner of war in North Vietnam.

 

He spent most of that time in the internment camp known as the Hanoi Hilton. He endured deprivation, solitary confinement, torture, and the threat of death each time the door to his cell opened. Yet he persevered, he never lost hope, and he overcame.

 

“I didn’t have control over (my situation),” he said this past Friday during a visit to Collegiate. “A long time ago, my grandfather and my dad said, ‘If something’s broken, learn how to fix it, and fix it yourself. If you can’t fix it, learn that too. Don’t go beating your head against walls worrying about stuff you can’t control.’ I couldn’t control anything over there, so I just made up my mind to make the best of it and get through it.”

 

What a healthy attitude, I thought, considering that he experienced more during that lyrical passage of his life than he – or anyone, for that matter – could ever have imagined.

 

Indeed, he’s never been bitter, angry, or vindictive, he’s always been philosophical, and, when he reflects, he conveys a positive, upbeat, even lighthearted spirit that belies the horrors of captivity.

 

“How can you be bitter over something you can’t control?” the 1962 Naval Academy graduate said. “You press on. I’ve had a good life, you know. I just accept that for seven years, I was looking at it as sort of a time out.

           

“The good news is that when I came back, and my class from Annapolis had another 10^th reunion because we’d had to miss the one the year before.

I was in better shape and better looking than any of those guys. North Vietnam had a great weight reduction program.”

 

So how did you keep your sense of humor considering all that you went through? I asked him.

           

“I was sort of the clown,” he replied. “You have to have one of those. I was the entertainment for the big cell. I really don’t ever remember being down. There were a couple of times I thought, Oh, here we go again. How many more years is this going to be?”

 

OK, I pressed further, but what really kept you going when you didn’t know when the end would come or what it would be?

“Well, that was the worst part,” he replied. “They (the Navy) has a survival school that’s very accurate. They simulated the torture. They simulated getting beat up. In fact, I got one of the worst beatings I ever had in my life in the survival school. They had SEALS playing the bad guys, and I smart-mouthed one of them. That was a very good learning experience for me.”

 

Galanti, who retired in 1983 with the rank of commander, played a vital role in the Envision Richmond program this past week. He shared his experiences with a rapt group of 8^th graders who visited the Virginia War Memorial on Monday, then heard their presentation and offered feedback in the Reeves Center on Friday.

           

“I was most impressed with the fact that, at their young age, it’s more than just about them,” he said. “This is a school that’s in a very affluent area, an affluent community. I was impressed with their concern for other people who don’t have all the things they do.”

 

Then he offered them sage advice. Actually, any time Paul Galanti speaks, he offers sage advice. He has credibility beyond reproach. He is a study in excellence, resolve, and loyalty. He is duty, honor, and country incarnate. He’s the ultimate survivor. He isn’t simply a profile in courage. He wrote the book on courage and of grace under pressure. Though he scoffs at the notion, being in his presence is tantamount to going to the mountaintop.

           

“The big thing,” he said to the assemblage, “is that once you learn stuff and it’s up here in your head, nobody can take that away. Nobody. You can get beaten up, you can get crushed down, but they can’t take (what you’ve learned) away. Study. Study. Study. And study worthwhile things. Education is the key. You’re very fortunate to be here. It doesn’t get any better than Collegiate.

 

“When I was in solitary confinement, everything I learned in school came back to me. One of the things I didn’t want to do was think about all the guys in my squadron who I’d left. And I didn’t want to complain about Why me?! Why me?!   So I thought, Why not me? I didn’t want those guys to do this either.”

 

I knew of Paul Galanti long before I ever met him and was well aware of the tireless work of his wife Phyllis to free the POW’s. Like many, I sat glued to the television when they returned home and remember so well the February 26, 1973 issue of Newsweek that carried the iconic picture of the Galantis.

           

Paul and Phyllis ultimately settled in Richmond and sent their sons Jamie ’94 and Jeff ’97 to Collegiate. Phyllis served on the Board of Trustees from 1985 – 1991, and both Paul and Phyllis have always been positively involved in the life of the school.

 

Though they were well respected and highly acclaimed on the world stage, there has always been an informality, humility, and absolute lack of pretense about Paul and Phyllis that made us comfortable calling them by their first names. That said, I always regarded them with a true measure of respect, even reverence.

 

As we were parting company early Friday afternoon, I said, Paul, how do you respond when people call you a hero?

 

“I was just doing what I was trained to do,” he answered. “Sometimes, I wasn’t happy with myself. In retrospect, I didn’t do certain things as well as I could have or should have. But (serving my country was) what I wanted to do. I was unlucky enough to be in a single-engine airplane and the engine got hit. I didn’t have any choice. I was going down.”

 

But do you accept the label of hero? I asked.

 

“They can say that if they like,” he said, “but I don’t really like it.”

 

Sorry, my friend, I replied, but you are a hero, a true American hero. Absolutely. Positively. No question about it.
                                      -- Weldon Bradshaw

                                        
(Phyllis Galanti passed away on April 23, 2014. She left an incredible legacy of care, compassion, and stewardship.  She and Paul were married for 51 years. The Paul and Phyllis Galanti Education Center at the Virginia War Memorial is named in their honor.)